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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17617-8.txt b/17617-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f51974 --- /dev/null +++ b/17617-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11903 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, David Harum, by Edward Noyes Westcott + + +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: David Harum + A Story of American Life + + +Author: Edward Noyes Westcott + + + +Release Date: January 28, 2006 [eBook #17617] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID HARUM*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia, Janet B, and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/) + + + +DAVID HARUM + +A Story of American Life + +by + +EDWARD NOYES WESTCOTT + + + + + + + +New York +D. Appleton and Company +1899 +Copyright, 1898, +By D. Appleton and Company. + + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + The's as much human nature in some folks as th' is in others, if + not more.--DAVID HARUM. + + +One of the most conspicuous characteristics of our contemporary native +fiction is an increasing tendency to subordinate plot or story to the +bold and realistic portrayal of some of the types of American life and +manners. And the reason for this is not far to seek. The extraordinary +mixing of races which has been going on here for more than a century has +produced an enormously diversified human result; and the products of +this "hybridization" have been still further differentiated by an +environment that ranges from the Everglades of Florida to the glaciers +of Alaska. The existence of these conditions, and the great literary +opportunities which they contain, American writers long ago perceived; +and, with a generally true appreciation of artistic values, they have +created from them a gallery of brilliant _genre_ pictures which to-day +stand for the highest we have yet attained in the art of fiction. + +Thus it is that we have (to mention but a few) studies of Louisiana and +her people by Mr. Cable; of Virginia and Georgia by Thomas Nelson Page +and Joel Chandler Harris; of New England by Miss Jewett and Miss +Wilkins; of the Middle West by Miss French (Octave Thanet); of the great +Northwest by Hamlin Garland; of Canada and the land of the _habitans_ by +Gilbert Parker; and finally, though really first in point of time, the +Forty-niners and their successors by Bret Harte. This list might be +indefinitely extended, for it is growing daily, but it is long enough as +it stands to show that every section of our country has, or soon will +have, its own painter and historian, whose works will live and become a +permanent part of our literature in just the degree that they are +artistically true. Some of these writers have already produced many +books, while others have gained general recognition and even fame by the +vividness and power of a single study, like Mr. Howe with The Story of a +Country Town. But each one, it will be noticed, has chosen for his field +of work that part of our country wherein he passed the early and +formative years of his life; a natural selection that is, perhaps, an +unconscious affirmation of David Harum's aphorism: "Ev'ry hoss c'n do a +thing better 'n' spryer if he's ben broke to it as a colt." + +In the case of the present volume the conditions are identical with +those just mentioned. Most of the scenes are laid in central New York, +where the author, Edward Noyes Westcott, was born, September 24, 1847, +and where he died of consumption, March 31, 1898. Nearly all his life +was passed in his native city of Syracuse, and although banking and not +authorship was the occupation of his active years, yet his sensitive and +impressionable temperament had become so saturated with the local +atmosphere, and his retentive memory so charged with facts, that when at +length he took up the pen he was able to create in David Harum a +character so original, so true, and so strong, yet withal so +delightfully quaint and humorous, that we are at once compelled to admit +that here is a new and permanent addition to the long list of American +literary portraits. + +The book is a novel, and throughout it runs a love story which is +characterized by sympathetic treatment and a constantly increasing +interest; but the title rôle is taken by the old country banker, +David Harum: dry, quaint, somewhat illiterate, no doubt, but possessing +an amazing amount of knowledge not found in printed books, and holding +fast to the cheerful belief that there is nothing wholly bad or useless +in this world. Or, in his own words: "A reasonable amount of fleas +is good for a dog--they keep him f'm broodin' on bein' a dog." +This horse-trading country banker and reputed Shylock, but real +philanthropist, is an accurate portrayal of a type that exists in the +rural districts of central New York to-day. Variations of him may be +seen daily, driving about in their road wagons or seated in their "bank +parlors," shrewd, sharp-tongued, honest as the sunlight from most points +of view, but in a horse trade much inclined to follow the rule laid down +by Mr. Harum himself for such transactions: "Do unto the other feller +the way he'd like to do unto you--an' do it fust." + +The genial humor and sunny atmosphere which pervade these pages are in +dramatic contrast with the circumstances under which they were written. +The book was finished while the author lay upon his deathbed, but, +happily for the reader, no trace of his sufferings appears here. It was +not granted that he should live to see his work in its present completed +form, a consummation he most earnestly desired; but it seems not +unreasonable to hope that the result of his labors will be appreciated, +and that David Harum will endure. + +FORBES HEERMANS. + +SYRACUSE, N.Y., _August 20, 1898._ + + + + +DAVID HARUM. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +David poured half of his second cup of tea into his saucer to lower its +temperature to the drinking point, and helped himself to a second cut of +ham and a third egg. Whatever was on his mind to have kept him unusually +silent during the evening meal, and to cause certain wrinkles in his +forehead suggestive of perplexity or misgiving, had not impaired his +appetite. David was what he called "a good feeder." + +Mrs. Bixbee, known to most of those who enjoyed the privilege of her +acquaintance as "Aunt Polly," though nieces and nephews of her blood +there were none in Homeville, Freeland County, looked curiously at her +brother, as, in fact, she had done at intervals during the repast; and +concluding at last that further forbearance was uncalled for, relieved +the pressure of her curiosity thus: + +"Guess ye got somethin' on your mind, hain't ye? You hain't hardly said +aye, yes, ner no sence you set down. Anythin' gone 'skew?" + +David lifted his saucer, gave the contents a precautionary blow, and +emptied it with sundry windy suspirations. + +"No," he said, "nothin' hain't gone exac'ly wrong, 's ye might say--not +yet; but I done that thing I was tellin' ye of to-day." + +"Done what thing?" she asked perplexedly. + +"I telegraphed to New York," he replied, "fer that young feller to come +on--the young man General Wolsey wrote me about. I got a letter from him +to-day, an' I made up my mind 'the sooner the quicker,' an' I +telegraphed him to come 's soon 's he could." + +"I forgit what you said his name was," said Aunt Polly. + +"There's his letter," said David, handing it across the table. "Read it +out 'loud." + +"You read it," she said, passing it back after a search in her pocket; +"I must 'a' left my specs in the settin'-room." + +The letter was as follows: + + "DEAR SIR: I take the liberty of addressing you at the + instance of General Wolsey, who spoke to me of the matter of your + communication to him, and was kind enough to say that he would + write you in my behalf. My acquaintance with him has been in the + nature of a social rather than a business one, and I fancy that he + can only recommend me on general grounds. I will say, therefore, + that I have had some experience with accounts, but not much + practice in them for nearly three years. Nevertheless, unless the + work you wish done is of an intricate nature, I think I shall be + able to accomplish it with such posting at the outset as most + strangers would require. General Wolsey told me that you wanted + some one as soon as possible. I have nothing to prevent me from + starting at once if you desire to have me. A telegram addressed to + me at the office of the Trust Company will reach me promptly. + + "Yours very truly, + + "JOHN K. LENOX." + +"Wa'al," said David, looking over his glasses at his sister, "what do +you think on't?" + +"The' ain't much brag in't," she replied thoughtfully. + +"No," said David, putting his eyeglasses back in their case, "th' ain't +no brag ner no promises; he don't even say he'll do his best, like most +fellers would. He seems to have took it fer granted that I'll take it +fer granted, an' that's what I like about it. Wa'al," he added, "the +thing's done, an' I'll be lookin' fer him to-morrow mornin' or evenin' +at latest." + +Mrs. Bixbee sat for a moment with her large, light blue, and rather +prominent eyes fixed on her brother's face, and then she said, with a +slight undertone of anxiety, "Was you cal'latin' to have that young man +from New York come here?" + +"I hadn't no such idee," he replied, with a slight smile, aware of what +was passing in her mind. "What put that in your head?" + +"Wa'al," she answered, "you know the' ain't scarcely anybody in the +village that takes boarders in the winter, an' I was wonderin' what he +would do." + +"I s'pose he'll go to the Eagle," said David. "I dunno where else, +'nless it's to the Lake House." + +"The Eagil!" she exclaimed contemptuously. "Land sakes! Comin' here from +New York! He won't stan' it there a week." + +"Wa'al," replied David, "mebbe he will an' mebbe he won't, but I don't +see what else the' is for it, an' I guess 'twon't kill him for a spell +The fact is--" he was proceeding when Mrs. Bixbee interrupted him. + +"I guess we'd better adjourn t' the settin'-room an' let Sairy clear off +the tea-things," she said, rising and going into the kitchen. + +"What was you sayin'?" she asked, as she presently found her brother in +the apartment designated, and seated herself with her mending-basket in +her lap. + +"The fact is, I was sayin'," he resumed, sitting with hand and forearm +resting on a round table, in the centre of which was a large kerosene +lamp, "that my notion was, fust off, to have him come here, but when I +come to think on't I changed my mind. In the fust place, except that +he's well recommended, I don't know nothin' about him; an' in the +second, you'n I are pretty well set in our ways, an' git along all right +just as we be. I may want the young feller to stay, an' then agin I may +not--we'll see. It's a good sight easier to git a fishhook in 'n 'tis to +git it out. I expect he'll find it putty tough at first, but if he's a +feller that c'n be drove out of bus'nis by a spell of the Eagle Tavern, +he ain't the feller I'm lookin' fer--though I will allow," he added with +a grimace, "that it'll be a putty hard test. But if I want to say to +him, after tryin' him a spell, that I guess me an' him don't seem likely +to hitch, we'll both take it easier if we ain't livin' in the same +house. I guess I'll take a look at the Trybune," said David, unfolding +that paper. + +Mrs. Bixbee went on with her needlework, with an occasional side glance +at her brother, who was immersed in the gospel of his politics. Twice +or thrice she opened her lips as if to address him, but apparently some +restraining thought interposed. Finally, the impulse to utter her mind +culminated. "Dave," she said, "d' you know what Deakin Perkins is sayin' +about ye?" + +David opened his paper so as to hide his face, and the corners of his +mouth twitched as he asked in return, "Wa'al, what's the deakin sayin' +now?" + +"He's sayin'," she replied, in a voice mixed of indignation and +apprehension, "thet you sold him a balky horse, an' he's goin' to hev +the law on ye." David's shoulders shook behind the sheltering page, and +his mouth expanded in a grin. + +"Wa'al," he replied after a moment, lowering the paper and looking +gravely at his companion over his glasses, "next to the deakin's +religious experience, them of lawin' an' horse-tradin' air his strongest +p'ints, an' he works the hull on 'em to once sometimes." + +The evasiveness of this generality was not lost on Mrs. Bixbee, and she +pressed the point with, "Did ye? an' will he?" + +"Yes, an' no, an' mebbe, an' mebbe not," was the categorical reply. + +"Wa'al," she answered with a snap, "mebbe you call that an answer. I +s'pose if you don't want to let on you won't, but I do believe you've +ben playin' some trick on the deakin, an' won't own up. I do wish," she +added, "that if you hed to git rid of a balky horse onto somebody you'd +hev picked out somebody else." + +"When you got a balker to dispose of," said David gravely, "you can't +alwus pick an' choose. Fust come, fust served." Then he went on more +seriously: "Now I'll tell ye. Quite a while ago--in fact, not long +after I come to enjoy the priv'lidge of the deakin's acquaintance--we +hed a deal. I wasn't jest on my guard, knowin' him to be a deakin an' +all that, an' he lied to me so splendid that I was took in, clean over +my head, he done me so brown I was burnt in places, an' you c'd smell +smoke 'round me fer some time." + +"Was it a horse?" asked Mrs. Bixbee gratuitously. + +"Wa'al," David replied, "mebbe it _had_ ben some time, but at that +partic'lar time the only thing to determine that fact was that it wa'n't +nothin' else." + +"Wa'al, I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee, wondering not more at the +deacon's turpitude than at the lapse in David's acuteness, of which she +had an immense opinion, but commenting only on the former. "I'm 'mazed +at the deakin." + +"Yes'm," said David with a grin, "I'm quite a liar myself when it comes +right down to the hoss bus'nis, but the deakin c'n give me both bowers +ev'ry hand. He done it so slick that I had to laugh when I come to think +it over--an' I had witnesses to the hull confab, too, that he didn't +know of, an' I c'd 've showed him up in great shape if I'd had a mind +to." + +"Why didn't ye?" said Aunt Polly, whose feelings about the deacon were +undergoing a revulsion. + +"Wa'al, to tell ye the truth, I was so completely skunked that I hadn't +a word to say. I got rid o' the thing fer what it was wuth fer hide an' +taller, an' stid of squealin' 'round the way you say he's doin', like a +stuck pig, I kep' my tongue between my teeth an' laid to git even some +time." + +"You ort to 've hed the law on him," declared Mrs. Bixbee, now fully +converted. "The old scamp!" + +"Wa'al," was the reply, "I gen'all prefer to settle out of court, an' in +this partic'lar case, while I might 'a' ben willin' t' admit that I hed +ben did up, I didn't feel much like swearin' to it. I reckoned the time +'d come when mebbe I'd git the laugh on the deakin, an' it did, an' +we're putty well settled now in full." + +"You mean this last pufformance?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. "I wish you'd quit +beatin' about the bush, an' tell me the hull story." + +"Wa'al, it's like this, then, if you _will_ hev it. I was over to +Whiteboro a while ago on a little matter of worldly bus'nis, an' I seen +a couple of fellers halter-exercisin' a hoss in the tavern yard. I stood +'round a spell watchin' 'em, an' when he come to a standstill I went an' +looked him over, an' I liked his looks fust rate. + +"'Fer sale?' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' says the chap that was leadin' him, 'I never see the hoss that +wa'n't if the price was right.' + +"'Your'n?' I says. + +"'Mine an' his'n,' he says, noddin' his head at the other feller. + +"'What ye askin' fer him?' I says. + +"'One-fifty,' he says. + +"I looked him all over agin putty careful, an' once or twice I kind o' +shook my head 's if I didn't quite like what I seen, an' when I got +through I sort o' half turned away without sayin' anythin', 's if I'd +seen enough. + +"'The' ain't a scratch ner a pimple on him,' says the feller, kind o' +resentin' my looks. 'He's sound an' kind, an' 'll stand without +hitchin', an' a lady c'n drive him 's well 's a man."' + +"'I ain't got anythin' agin him,' I says, 'an' prob'ly that's all true, +ev'ry word on't; but one-fifty's a consid'able price fer a hoss these +days. I hain't no pressin' use fer another hoss, an', in fact,' I says, +'I've got one or two fer sale myself.' + +"'He's wuth two hunderd jest as he stands,' the feller says. 'He hain't +had no trainin', an' he c'n draw two men in a road-wagin better'n +fifty.' + +"Wa'al, the more I looked at him the better I liked him, but I only +says, 'Jes' so, jes' so, he may be wuth the money, but jest as I'm fixed +now he ain't wuth it to _me_, an' I hain't got that much money with me +if he was,' I says. The other feller hadn't said nothin' up to that +time, an' he broke in now. 'I s'pose you'd take him fer a gift, wouldn't +ye?' he says, kind o' sneerin'. + +"'Wa'al, yes,' I says, 'I dunno but I would if you'd throw in a pound of +tea an' a halter.' + +"He kind o' laughed an' says, 'Wa'al, this ain't no gift enterprise, an' +I guess we ain't goin' to trade, but I'd like to know,' he says, 'jest +as a matter of curios'ty, what you'd say he _was_ wuth to ye?' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I come over this mornin' to see a feller that owed me +a trifle o' money. Exceptin' of some loose change, what he paid me 's +all I got with me,' I says, takin' out my wallet. 'That wad's got a +hunderd an' twenty-five into it, an' if you'd sooner have your hoss an' +halter than the wad,' I says, 'why, I'll bid ye good-day.' + +"'You're offerin' one-twenty-five fer the hoss an' halter?' he says. + +"'That's what I'm doin',' I says. + +"'You've made a trade,' he says, puttin' out his hand fer the money an' +handin' the halter over to me." + +"An' didn't ye suspicion nuthin' when he took ye up like that?" asked +Mrs. Bixbee. + +"I did smell woolen some," said David, "but I had the _hoss_ an' they +had the _money_, an', as fur 's I c'd see, the critter was all right. +Howsomever, I says to 'em: 'This here's all right, fur 's it's gone, but +you've talked putty strong 'bout this hoss. I don't know who you fellers +be, but I c'n find out,' I says. Then the fust feller that done the +talkin' 'bout the hoss put in an' says, 'The' hain't ben one word said +to you about this hoss that wa'n't gospel truth, not one word.' An' when +I come to think on't afterward," said David with a half laugh, "it mebbe +wa'n't _gospel_ truth, but it was good enough _jury_ truth. I guess this +ain't over 'n' above interestin' to ye, is it?" he asked after a pause, +looking doubtfully at his sister. + +"Yes, 'tis," she asserted. "I'm lookin' forrered to where the deakin +comes in, but you jest tell it your own way." + +"I'll git there all in good time," said David, "but some of the point of +the story'll be lost if I don't tell ye what come fust." + +"I allow to stan' it 's long 's you can," she said encouragingly, +"seein' what work I had gettin' ye started. Did ye find out anythin' +'bout them fellers?" + +"I ast the barn man if he knowed who they was, an' he said he never seen +'em till the yestiddy before, an' didn't know 'em f'm Adam. They come +along with a couple of hosses, one drivin' an' t'other leadin'--the one +I bought. I ast him if they knowed who I was, an' he said one on 'em +ast him, an' he told him. The feller said to him, seein' me drive up: +'That's a putty likely-lookin' hoss. Who's drivin' him?' An' he says to +the feller: 'That's Dave Harum, f'm over to Homeville. He's a great +feller fer hosses,' he says." + +"Dave," said Mrs. Bixbee, "them chaps jest laid fer ye, didn't they?" + +"I reckon they did," he admitted; "an' they was as slick a pair as was +ever drawed to," which expression was lost upon his sister. David rubbed +the fringe of yellowish-gray hair which encircled his bald pate for a +moment. + +"Wa'al," he resumed, "after the talk with the barn man, I smelt woolen +stronger'n ever, but I didn't say nothin', an' had the mare hitched an' +started back. Old Jinny drives with one hand, an' I c'd watch the new +one all right, an' as we come along I begun to think I wa'n't stuck +after all. I never see a hoss travel evener an' nicer, an' when we come +to a good level place I sent the old mare along the best she knew, an' +the new one never broke his gait, an' kep' right up 'ithout 'par'ntly +half tryin'; an' Jinny don't take most folks' dust neither. I swan! +'fore I got home I reckoned I'd jest as good as made seventy-five +anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +"Then the' wa'n't nothin' the matter with him, after all," commented +Mrs. Bixbee in rather a disappointed tone. + +"The meanest thing top of the earth was the matter with him," declared +David, "but I didn't find it out till the next afternoon, an' then I +found it out good. I hitched him to the open buggy an' went 'round by +the East road, 'cause that ain't so much travelled. He went along all +right till we got a mile or so out of the village, an' then I slowed him +down to a walk. Wa'al, sir, scat my ----! He hadn't walked more'n a rod +'fore he come to a dead stan'still. I clucked an' git-app'd, an' finely +took the gad to him a little; but he only jest kind o' humped up a +little, an' stood like he'd took root." + +"Wa'al, now!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee. + +"Yes'm," said David; "I was stuck in ev'ry sense of the word." + +"What d'ye do?" + +"Wa'al, I tried all the tricks I knowed--an' I could lead him--but when +I was in the buggy he wouldn't stir till he got good an' ready; 'n' then +he'd start of his own accord an' go on a spell, an'--" + +"Did he keep it up?" Mrs. Bixbee interrupted. + +"Wa'al, I s'd say he did. I finely got home with the critter, but I +thought one time I'd either hev to lead him or spend the night on the +East road. He balked five sep'rate times, varyin' in length, an' it was +dark when we struck the barn." + +"I should hev thought you'd a wanted to kill him," said Mrs. Bixbee; +"an' the fellers that sold him to ye, too." + +"The' _was_ times," David replied, with a nod of his head, "when if he'd +a fell down dead I wouldn't hev figgered on puttin' a band on my hat, +but it don't never pay to git mad with a hoss; an' as fur 's the feller +I bought him of, when I remembered how he told me he'd stand without +hitchin', I swan! I had to laugh. I did, fer a fact. 'Stand without +hitchin'!' He, he, he!" + +"I guess you wouldn't think it was so awful funny if you hadn't gone an' +stuck that horse onto Deakin Perkins--an' I don't see how you done it." + +"Mebbe that _is_ part of the joke," David allowed, "an' I'll tell ye th' +rest on't. Th' next day I hitched the new one to th' dem'crat wagin an' +put in a lot of straps an' rope, an' started off fer the East road agin. +He went fust rate till we come to about the place where we had the fust +trouble, an', sure enough, he balked agin. I leaned over an' hit him a +smart cut on the off shoulder, but he only humped a little, an' never +lifted a foot. I hit him another lick, with the selfsame result. Then I +got down an' I strapped that animal so't he couldn't move nothin' but +his head an' tail, an' got back into the buggy. Wa'al, bom-by, it may +'a' ben ten minutes, or it may 'a' ben more or less--it's slow work +settin' still behind a balkin' hoss--he was ready to go on his own +account, but he couldn't budge. He kind o' looked around, much as to +say, 'What on earth's the matter?' an' then he tried another move, an' +then another, but no go. Then I got down an' took the hopples off an' +then climbed back into the buggy, an' says 'Cluck, to him, an' off he +stepped as chipper as could be, an' we went joggin' along all right +mebbe two mile, an' when I slowed up, up he come agin. I gin him another +clip in the same place on the shoulder, an' I got down an' tied him up +agin, an' the same thing happened as before, on'y it didn't take him +quite so long to make up his mind about startin', an' we went some +further without a hitch. But I had to go through the pufformance the +third time before he got it into his head that if he didn't go when _I_ +wanted he couldn't go when _he_ wanted, an' that didn't suit him; an' +when he felt the whip on his shoulder it meant bus'nis." + +"Was that the end of his balkin'?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. + +"I had to give him one more go-round," said David, "an' after that I +didn't have no more trouble with him. He showed symptoms at times, but a +touch of the whip on the shoulder alwus fetched him. I alwus carried +them straps, though, till the last two or three times." + +"Wa'al, what's the deakin kickin' about, then?" asked Aunt Polly. +"You're jest sayin' you broke him of balkin'." + +"Wa'al," said David slowly, "some hosses will balk with some folks an' +not with others. You can't most alwus gen'ally tell." + +"Didn't the deakin have a chance to try him?" + +"He had all the chance he ast fer," replied David. "Fact is, he done +most of the sellin', as well 's the buyin', himself." + +"How's that?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "it come about like this: After I'd got the hoss +where I c'd handle him I begun to think I'd had some int'restin' an' +valu'ble experience, an' it wa'n't scurcely fair to keep it all to +myself. I didn't want no patent on't, an' I was willin' to let some +other feller git a piece. So one mornin', week before last--let's see, +week ago Tuesday it was, an' a mighty nice mornin' it was, too--one o' +them days that kind o' lib'ral up your mind--I allowed to hitch an' +drive up past the deakin's an' back, an' mebbe git somethin' to +strengthen my faith, et cetery, in case I run acrost him. Wa'al, 's I +come along I seen the deakin putterin' 'round, an' I waved my hand to +him an' went by a-kitin'. I went up the road a ways an' killed a little +time, an' when I come back there was the deakin, as I expected. He was +leanin' over the fence, an' as I jogged up he hailed me, an' I pulled +up. + +"'Mornin', Mr. Harum,' he says. + +"'Mornin', deakin,' I says. 'How are ye? an' how's Mis' Perkins these +days?' + +"'I'm fair,' he says; 'fair to middlin', but Mis' Perkins is ailin' +some--as _usyul_' he says." + +"They do say," put in Mrs. Bixbee, "thet Mis' Perkins don't hev much of +a time herself." + +"Guess she hez all the time the' is," answered David. "Wa'al," he went +on, "we passed the time o' day, an' talked a spell about the weather an' +all that, an' finely I straightened up the lines as if I was goin' on, +an' then I says: 'Oh, by the way,' I says, 'I jest thought on't. I heard +Dominie White was lookin' fer a hoss that 'd suit him.' 'I hain't +heard,' he says; but I see in a minute he had--an' it really was a +fact--an' I says: 'I've got a roan colt risin' five, that I took on a +debt a spell ago, that I'll sell reasonable, that's as likely an' nice +ev'ry way a young hoss as ever I owned. I don't need him,' I says, 'an' +didn't want to take him, but it was that or nothin' at the time an' glad +to git it, an' I'll sell him a barg'in. Now what I want to say to you, +deakin, is this: That hoss 'd suit the dominie to a tee in my opinion, +but the dominie won't come to me. Now if _you_ was to say to him--bein' +in his church an' all thet,' I says, 'that you c'd get him the right +kind of a hoss, he'd believe you, an' you an' me 'd be doin' a little +stroke of bus'nis, an' a favor to the dominie into the bargain. The +dominie's well off,' I says, 'an' c'n afford to drive a good hoss.'" + +"What did the deakin say?" asked Aunt Polly as David stopped for breath. + +"I didn't expect him to jump down my throat," he answered; "but I seen +him prick up his ears, an' all the time I was talkin' I noticed him +lookin' my hoss over, head an' foot. 'Now I 'member,' he says, 'hearin' +sunthin' 'bout Mr. White's lookin' fer a hoss, though when you fust +spoke on't it had slipped my mind. Of course,' he says, 'the' ain't any +real reason why Mr. White shouldn't deal with you direct, an' yit mebbe +I _could_ do more with him 'n you could. But,' he says, 'I wa'n't +cal'latin' to go t' the village this mornin', an' I sent my hired man +off with my drivin' hoss. Mebbe I'll drop 'round in a day or two,' he +says, 'an' look at the roan.' + +"'You mightn't ketch me,' I says, 'an' I want to show him myself; an' +more'n that,' I says, 'Dug Robinson's after the dominie. I'll tell ye,' +I says, 'you jest git in 'ith me an' go down an' look at him, an' I'll +send ye back or drive ye back, an' if you've got anythin' special on +hand you needn't be gone three quarters of an hour,' I says." + +"He come, did he?" inquired Mrs. Bixbee. + +"He done _so_," said David sententiously. "Jest as I knowed he would, +after he'd hem'd an' haw'd about so much, an' he rode a mile an' a half +livelier 'n he done in a good while, I reckon. He had to pull that old +broad-brim of his'n down to his ears, an' don't you fergit it. He, he, +he, he! The road was jest _full_ o' hosses. Wa'al, we drove into the +yard, an' I told the hired man to unhitch the bay hoss an' fetch out the +roan, an' while he was bein' unhitched the deakin stood 'round an' never +took his eyes off'n him, an' I knowed I wouldn't sell the deakin no roan +hoss _that_ day, even if I wanted to. But when he come out I begun to +crack him up, an' I talked hoss fer all I was wuth. The deakin looked +him over in a don't-care kind of a way, an' didn't 'parently give much +heed to what I was sayin'. Finely I says, 'Wa'al, what do you think of +him?' 'Wa'al,' he says, 'he seems to be a likely enough critter, but I +don't believe he'd suit Mr. White--'fraid not,' he says. 'What you +askin' fer him?' he says. 'One-fifty,' I says, 'an' he's a cheap hoss at +the money'; but," added the speaker with a laugh, "I knowed I might 's +well of said a thousan'. The deakin wa'n't buyin' no roan colts that +mornin'." + +"What did he say?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'wa'al, I guess you ought to git that much fer him, +but I'm 'fraid he ain't what Mr. White wants.' An' then, 'That's quite +a hoss we come down with,' he says. 'Had him long?' 'Jest long 'nough to +git 'quainted with him,' I says. 'Don't you want the roan fer your own +use?' I says. 'Mebbe we c'd shade the price a little.' 'No,' he says, 'I +guess not. I don't need another hoss jest now.' An' then, after a minute +he says: 'Say, mebbe the bay hoss we drove 'd come nearer the mark fer +White, if he's all right. Jest as soon I'd look at him?' he says. +'Wa'al, I hain't no objections, but I guess he's more of a hoss than the +dominie 'd care for, but I'll go an' fetch him out,' I says. So I +brought him out, an' the deakin looked him all over. I see it was a case +of love at fust sight, as the story-books says. 'Looks all right,' he +says. 'I'll tell ye,' I says, 'what the feller I bought him of told me.' +'What's that?' says the deakin. 'He said to me,' I says, '"that hoss +hain't got a scratch ner a pimple on him. He's sound an' kind, an' 'll +stand without hitchin', an' a lady c'd drive him as well 's a man."' + +"'That's what he said to me,' I says, 'an' it's every word on't true. +You've seen whether or not he c'n travel,' I says, 'an', so fur 's I've +seen, he ain't 'fraid of nothin'.' 'D'ye want to sell him?' the deakin +says. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I ain't offerin' him fer sale. You'll go a good +ways,' I says, ''fore you'll strike such another; but, of course, he +ain't the only hoss in the world, an' I never had anythin' in the hoss +line I wouldn't sell at _some_ price.' 'Wa'al,' he says, 'what d' ye ask +fer him?' 'Wa'al,' I says, 'if my own brother was to ask me that +question I'd say to him two hunderd dollars, cash down, an' I wouldn't +hold the offer open an hour,' I says." + +"My!" ejaculated Aunt Polly. "Did he take you up?" + +"'That's more'n I give fer a hoss 'n a good while,' he says, shakin' his +head, 'an' more'n I c'n afford, I'm 'fraid.' 'All right,' I says; 'I c'n +afford to keep him'; but I knew I had the deakin same as the woodchuck +had Skip. 'Hitch up the roan,' I says to Mike; 'the deakin wants to be +took up to his house.' 'Is that your last word?' he says. 'That's what +it is,' I says. 'Two hunderd, cash down.'" + +"Didn't ye dast to trust the deakin?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. + +"Polly," said David, "the's a number of holes in a ten-foot ladder." +Mrs. Bixbee seemed to understand this rather ambiguous rejoinder. + +"He must 'a' squirmed some," she remarked. David laughed. + +"The deakin ain't much used to payin' the other feller's price," he +said, "an' it was like pullin' teeth; but he wanted that hoss more'n a +cow wants a calf, an' after a little more squimmidgin' he hauled out his +wallet an' forked over. Mike come out with the roan, an' off the deakin +went, leadin' the bay hoss." + +"I don't see," said Mrs. Bixbee, looking up at her brother, "thet after +all the' was anythin' you said to the deakin thet he could ketch holt +on." + +"The' wa'n't nothin'," he replied. "The only thing he c'n complain +about's what I _didn't_ say to him." + +"Hain't he said anythin' to ye?" Mrs. Bixbee inquired. + +"He, he, he, he! He hain't but once, an' the' wa'n't but little of it +then." + +"How?" + +"Wa'al, the day but one after the deakin sold himself Mr. +Stickin'-Plaster I had an arrant three four mile or so up past his +place, an' when I was comin' back, along 'bout four or half past, it +come on to rain like all possessed. I had my old umbrel'--though it +didn't hender me f'm gettin' more or less wet--an' I sent the old mare +along fer all she knew. As I come along to within a mile f'm the +deakin's house I seen somebody in the road, an' when I come up closter I +see it was the deakin himself, in trouble, an' I kind o' slowed up to +see what was goin' on. There he was, settin' all humped up with his ole +broad-brim hat slopin' down his back, a-sheddin' water like a roof. Then +I seen him lean over an' larrup the hoss with the ends of the lines fer +all he was wuth. It appeared he hadn't no whip, an' it wouldn't done him +no good if he'd had. Wa'al, sir, rain or no rain, I jest pulled up to +watch him. He'd larrup a spell, an' then he'd set back; an' then he'd +lean over an' try it agin, harder'n ever. Scat my ----! I thought I'd +die a-laughin'. I couldn't hardly cluck to the mare when I got ready to +move on. I drove alongside an' pulled up. 'Hullo, deakin,' I says, +'what's the matter?' He looked up at me, an' I won't say he was the +maddest man I ever see, but he was long ways the maddest-lookin' man, +an' he shook his fist at me jest like one o' the unregen'rit. 'Consarn +ye, Dave Harum!' he says, 'I'll hev the law on ye fer this.' 'What fer?' +I says. 'I didn't make it come on to rain, did I?' I says. 'You know +mighty well what fer,' he says. 'You sold me this _damned beast_,' he +says, 'an' he's balked with me _nine_ times this afternoon, an' I'll fix +ye for 't,' he says. 'Wa'al, deakin,' I says, 'I'm 'fraid the squire's +office 'll be shut up 'fore you _git_ there, but I'll take any word +you'd like to send. You know I told ye,' I says, 'that he'd stand +'ithout hitchin'.' An' at that he only jest kind o' choked an' +sputtered. He was so mad he couldn't say nothin', an' on I drove, an' +when I got about forty rod or so I looked back, an' there was the deakin +a-comin' along the road with as much of his shoulders as he could git +under his hat an' _leadin'_ his new hoss. He, he, he, he! Oh, my stars +an' garters! Say, Polly, it paid me fer bein' born into this vale o' +tears. It did, I declare for't!" Aunt Polly wiped her eyes on her apron. + +"But, Dave," she said, "did the deakin really say--_that word_?" + +"Wa'al," he replied, "if 'twa'n't that it was the puttiest imitation +on't that ever I heard." + +"David," she continued, "don't you think it putty mean to badger the +deakin so't he swore, an' then laugh 'bout it? An' I s'pose you've told +the story all over." + +"Mis' Bixbee," said David emphatically, "if I'd paid good money to see a +funny show I'd be a blamed fool if I didn't laugh, wouldn't I? That +specticle of the deakin cost me consid'able, but it was more'n wuth it. +But," he added, "I guess, the way the thing stands now, I ain't so much +out on the hull." + +Mrs. Bixbee looked at him inquiringly. + +"Of course, you know Dick Larrabee?" he asked. + +She nodded. + +"Wa'al, three four days after the shower, an' the story 'd got aroun' +some--as _you_ say, the deakin _is_ consid'able of a talker--I got holt +of Dick--I've done him some favors an' he natur'ly expects more--an' I +says to him: 'Dick,' I says, 'I hear 't Deakin Perkins has got a hoss +that don't jest suit him--hain't got knee-action enough at times,' I +says, 'an' mebbe he'll sell him reasonable.' 'I've heerd somethin' about +it,' says Dick, laughin'. 'One of them kind o' hosses 't you don't like +to git ketched out in the rain with,' he says. 'Jes' so,' I says. 'Now,' +I says, 'I've got a notion 't I'd like to own that hoss at a price, an' +that mebbe _I_ c'd git him home even if it did rain. Here's a hunderd +an' ten,' I says, 'an' I want you to see how fur it'll go to buyin' him. +If you git me the hoss you needn't bring none on't back. Want to try?' I +says. 'All right,' he says, an' took the money. 'But,' he says, 'won't +the deakin suspicion that it comes from you?' 'Wa'al,' I says, 'my +portrit ain't on none o' the bills, an' I reckon _you_ won't tell him +so, out an' out,' an' off he went. Yistidy he come in, an' I says, +'Wa'al, done anythin'?' 'The hoss is in your barn,' he says. 'Good fer +you!' I says. 'Did you make anythin'?' 'I'm satisfied,' he says. 'I made +a ten-dollar note.' An' that's the net results on't," concluded David, +"that I've got the hoss, an' he's cost me jest thirty-five dollars." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Master Jacky Carling was a very nice boy, but not at that time in his +career the safest person to whom to intrust a missive in case its sure +and speedy delivery were a matter of importance. But he protested with +so much earnestness and good will that it should be put into the very +first post-box he came to on his way to school, and that nothing could +induce him to forget it, that Mary Blake, his aunt, confidante and not +unfrequently counsel and advocate, gave it him to post, and dismissed +the matter from her mind. Unfortunately the weather, which had been very +frosty, had changed in the night to a summer-like mildness. As Jacky +opened the door, three or four of his school-fellows were passing. He +felt the softness of the spring morning, and to their injunction to +"Hurry up and come along!" replied with an entreaty to "Wait a minute +till he left his overcoat" (all boys hate an overcoat), and plunged back +into the house. + +If John Lenox (John Knox Lenox) had received Miss Blake's note of +condolence and sympathy, written in reply to his own, wherein, besides +speaking of his bereavement, he had made allusion to some changes in his +prospects and some necessary alterations in his ways for a time, he +might perhaps have read between the lines something more than merely a +kind expression of her sorrow for the trouble which had come upon him, +and the reminder that he had friends who, if they could not do more to +lessen his grief, would give him their truest sympathy. And if some days +later he had received a second note, saying that she and her people were +about to go away for some months, and asking him to come and see them +before their departure, it is possible that very many things set forth +in this narrative would not have happened. + + * * * * * + +Life had always been made easy for John Lenox, and his was not the +temperament to interpose obstacles to the process. A course at Andover +had been followed by two years at Princeton; but at the end of the +second year it had occurred to him that practical life ought to begin +for him, and he had thought it rather fine of himself to undertake a +clerkship in the office of Rush & Co., where in the ensuing year and a +half or so, though he took his work in moderation, he got a fair +knowledge of accounts and the ways and methods of "the Street." But that +period of it was enough. He found himself not only regretting the +abandonment of his college career, but feeling that the thing for which +he had given it up had been rather a waste of time. He came to the +conclusion that, though he had entered college later than most, even now +a further acquaintance with text-books and professors was more to be +desired than with ledgers and brokers. His father (somewhat to his +wonderment, and possibly a little to his chagrin) seemed rather to +welcome the suggestion that he spend a couple of years in Europe, taking +some lectures at Heidelberg or elsewhere, and traveling; and in the +course of that time he acquired a pretty fair working acquaintance with +German, brought his knowledge of French up to about the same point, and +came back at the end of two years with a fine and discriminating taste +in beer, and a scar over his left eyebrow which could be seen if +attention were called to it. + +He started upon his return without any definite intentions or for any +special reason, except that he had gone away for two years and that the +two years were up. He had carried on a desultory correspondence with his +father, who had replied occasionally, rather briefly, but on the whole +affectionately. He had noticed that during the latter part of his stay +abroad the replies had been more than usually irregular, but had +attributed no special significance to the fact. It was not until +afterward that it occurred to him that in all their correspondence his +father had never alluded in any way to his return. + +On the passenger list of the Altruria John came upon the names of Mr. +and Mrs. Julius Carling and Miss Blake. + +"Blake, Blake," he said to himself. "Carling--I seem to remember to have +known that name at some time. It must be little Mary Blake whom I knew +as a small girl years ago, and, yes, Carling was the name of the man her +sister married. Well, well, I wonder what she is like. Of course, I +shouldn't know her from Eve now, or she me from Adam. All I can remember +seems to be a pair of very slim and active legs, a lot of flying hair, a +pair of brownish-gray or grayish-brown eyes, and that I thought her a +very nice girl, as girls went. But it doesn't in the least follow that +I might think so now, and shipboard is pretty close quarters for seven +or eight days." + +Dinner is by all odds the chief event of the day on board ship to those +who are able to dine, and they will leave all other attractions, even +the surpassingly interesting things which go on in the smoking-room, at +once on the sound of the gong of promise. On this first night of the +voyage the ship was still in smooth water at dinner time, and many a +place was occupied which would know its occupant for the first, and very +possibly for the last, time. The passenger list was fairly large, but +not full. John had assigned to him a seat at a side table. He was +hungry, having had no luncheon but a couple of biscuits and a glass of +"bitter," and was taking his first mouthful of Perrier-Jouet, after the +soup, and scanning the dinner card when the people at his table came in. +The man of the trio was obviously an invalid of the nervous variety, and +the most decided type. The small, dark woman who took the corner seat at +his left was undoubtedly, from the solicitous way in which she adjusted +a small shawl about his shoulders--to his querulous uneasiness--his +wife. There was a good deal of white in the dark hair, brushed smoothly +back from her face. + +A tall girl, with a mass of brown hair under a felt traveling hat, took +the corner seat at the man's right. That was all the detail of her +appearance which the brief glance that John allowed himself revealed to +him at the moment, notwithstanding the justifiable curiosity which he +had with regard to the people with whom he was likely to come more or +less in contact for a number of days. But though their faces, so far as +he had seen them, were unfamiliar to him, their identity was made plain +to him by the first words which caught his ear. There were two soups on +the _menu_, and the man's mind instantly poised itself between them. + +"Which soup shall I take?" he asked, turning with a frown of uncertainty +to his wife. + +"I should say the _consommé_, Julius," was the reply. + +"I thought I should like the broth better," he objected. + +"I don't think it will disagree with you," she said. + +"Perhaps I had better have the _consommé_," he argued, looking with +appeal to his wife and then to the girl at his right. "Which would you +take, Mary?" + +"I?" said the young woman; "I should take both in my present state of +appetite.--Steward, bring both soups.--What wine shall I order for you, +Julius? I want some champagne, and I prescribe it for you. After your +mental struggle over the soup question you need a quick stimulant." + +"Don't you think a red wine would be better for me?" he asked; "or +perhaps some sauterne? I'm afraid that I sha'n't go to sleep if I drink +champagne. In fact, I don't think I had better take any wine at all. +Perhaps some ginger ale or Apollinaris water." + +"No," she said decisively, "whatever you decide upon, you know that +you'll think whatever I have better for you, and I shall want more than +one glass, and Alice wants some, too. Oh, yes, you do, and I shall order +a quart of champagne.--Steward"--giving her order--"please be as quick +as you can." + +John had by this fully identified his neighbors, and the talk which +ensued between them, consisting mostly of controversies between the +invalid and his family over the items of the bill of fare, every course +being discussed as to its probable effect upon his stomach or his +nerves--the question being usually settled with a whimsical +high-handedness by the young woman--gave him a pretty good notion of +their relations and the state of affairs in general. Notwithstanding +Miss Blake's benevolent despotism, the invalid was still wrangling +feebly over some last dish when John rose and went to the smoking room +for his coffee and cigarette. + +When he stumbled out in search of his bath the next morning the steamer +was well out, and rolling and pitching in a way calculated to disturb +the gastric functions of the hardiest. But, after a shower of sea water +and a rub down, he found himself with a feeling for bacon and eggs that +made him proud of himself, and he went in to breakfast to find, rather +to his, surprise, that Miss Blake was before him, looking as +fresh--well, as fresh as a handsome girl of nineteen or twenty and in +perfect health could look. She acknowledged his perfunctory bow as he +took his seat with a stiff little bend of the head; but later on, when +the steward was absent on some order, he elicited a "Thank you!" by +handing her something which he saw she wanted, and, one thing leading to +another, as things have a way of doing where young and attractive people +are concerned, they were presently engaged in an interchange of small +talk, but before John was moved to the point of disclosing himself on +the warrant of a former acquaintance she had finished her breakfast. + +The weather continued very stormy for two days, and during that time +Miss Blake did not appear at table. At any rate, if she breakfasted +there it was either before or after his appearance, and he learned +afterward that she had taken luncheon and dinner in her sister's room. + +The morning of the third day broke bright and clear. There was a long +swell upon the sea, but the motion of the boat was even and endurable to +all but the most susceptible. As the morning advanced the deck began to +fill with promenaders, and to be lined with chairs, holding wrapped-up +figures, showing faces of all shades of green and gray. + +John, walking for exercise, and at a wholly unnecessary pace, turning at +a sharp angle around the deck house, fairly ran into the girl about whom +he had been wondering for the last two days. She received his somewhat +incoherent apologies, regrets, and self-accusations in such a spirit of +forgiveness that before long they were supplementing their first +conversation with something more personal and satisfactory; and when he +came to the point of saying that half by accident he had found out her +name, and begged to be allowed to tell her his own, she looked at him +with a smile of frank amusement and said: "It is quite unnecessary, Mr. +Lenox. I knew you instantly when I saw you at table the first night; +but," she added mischievously, "I am afraid your memory for people you +have known is not so good as mine." + +"Well," said John, "you will admit, I think, that the change from a +little girl in short frocks to a tall young woman in a tailor-made gown +might be more disguising than what might happen with a boy of fifteen or +so. I saw your name in the passenger list with Mr. and Mrs. Carling, and +wondered if it could be the Mary Blake whom I really did remember, and +the first night at dinner, when I heard your sister call Mr. Carling +'Julius,' and heard him call you 'Mary,' I was sure of you. But I hardly +got a fair look at your face, and, indeed, I confess that if I had had +no clew at all I might not have recognized you." + +"I think you would have been quite excusable," she replied, "and whether +you would or would not have known me is 'one of those things that no +fellow can find out,' and isn't of supreme importance anyway. We each +know who the other is now, at all events." + +"Yes," said John, "I am happy to think that we have come to a conclusion +on that point. But how does it happen that I have heard nothing of you +all these years, or you of me, as I suppose?" + +"For the reason, I fancy," she replied, "that during that period of +short frocks with me my sister married Mr. Carling and took me with her +to Chicago, where Mr. Carling was in business. We have been back in New +York only for the last two or three years." + +"It might have been on the cards that I should come across you in +Europe," said John. "The beaten track is not very broad. How long have +you been over?" + +"Only about six months," she replied. "We have been at one or another of +the German Spas most of the time, as we went abroad for Mr. Carling's +health, and we are on our way home on about such an impulse as that +which started us off--he thinks now that he will be better off there." + +"I am afraid you have not derived much pleasure from your European +experiences," said John. + +"Pleasure!" she exclaimed. "If ever you saw a young woman who was glad +and thankful to turn her face toward home, _I_ am that person. I think +that one of the heaviest crosses humanity has to bear is to have +constantly to decide between two or more absolutely trivial conclusions +in one's own affairs; but when one is called upon to multiply one's +useless perplexities by, say, ten, life is really a burden. + +"I suppose," she added after a pause, "you couldn't help hearing our +discussions at dinner the other night, and I have wondered a little what +you must have thought." + +"Yes," he said, "I did hear it. Is it the regular thing, if I may ask?" + +"Oh, yes," she replied, with a tone of sadness; "it has grown to be." + +"It must be very trying at times," John remarked. + +"It is, indeed," she said, "and would often be unendurable to me if it +were not for my sense of humor, as it would be to my sister if it were +not for her love, for Julius is really a very lovable man, and I, too, +am very fond of him. But I must laugh sometimes, though my better nature +should rather, I suppose, impel me to sighs.'" + +"'A little laughter is much more worth,'" he quoted. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +They were leaning upon the rail at the stern of the ship, which was +going with what little wind there was, and a following sea, with which, +as it plunged down the long slopes of the waves, the vessel seemed to be +running a victorious race. The sea was a deep sapphire, and in the wake +the sunlight turned the broken water to vivid emerald. The air was of a +caressing softness, and altogether it was a day and scene of +indescribable beauty and inspiration. For a while there was silence +between them, which John broke at last. + +"I suppose," he said, "that one would best show his appreciation of all +this by refraining from the comment which must needs be comparatively +commonplace, but really this is so superb that I must express some of my +emotion even at the risk of lowering your opinion of my good taste, +provided, of course, that you have one." + +"Well," she said, laughing, "it may relieve your mind, if you care, to +know that had you kept silent an instant longer I should have taken the +risk of lowering your opinion of my good taste, provided, of course, +that you have one, by remarking that this was perfectly magnificent." + +"I should think that this would be the sort of day to get Mr. Carling +on deck. This air and sun would brace him up," said John. + +She turned to him with a laugh, and said: "That is the general opinion, +or was two hours ago; but I'm afraid it's out of the question now, +unless we can manage it after luncheon." + +"What do you mean?" he asked with a puzzled smile at the mixture of +annoyance and amusement visible in her face. "Same old story?" + +"Yes," she replied, "same old story. When I went to my breakfast I +called at my sister's room and said, '"Come, boys and girls, come out to +play, the sun doth shine as bright as day," and when I've had my +breakfast I'm coming to lug you both on deck. It's a perfectly glorious +morning, and it will do you both no end of good after being shut up so +long.' 'All right,' my sister answered, 'Julius has quite made up his +mind to go up as soon as he is dressed. You call for us in half an hour, +and we will be ready.'" + +"And wouldn't he come?" John asked; "and why not?" + +"Oh," she exclaimed with a laugh and a shrug of her shoulders, "shoes." + +"Shoes!" said John. "What do you mean?" + +"Just what I say," was the rejoinder. "When I went back to the room I +found my brother-in-law sitting on the edge of the lounge, or what you +call it, all dressed but his coat, rubbing his chin between his finger +and thumb, and gazing with despairing perplexity at his feet. It seems +that my sister had got past all the other dilemmas, but in a moment of +inadvertence had left the shoe question to him, with the result that he +had put on one russet shoe and one black one, and had laced them up +before discovering the discrepancy." + +"I don't see anything very difficult in that situation," remarked John. + +"Don't you?" she said scornfully. "No, I suppose not, but it was quite +enough for Julius, and more than enough for my sister and me. His first +notion was to take off _both_ shoes and begin all over again, and +perhaps if he had been allowed to carry it out he would have been all +right; but Alice was silly enough to suggest the obvious thing to +him--to take off one, and put on the mate to the other--and then the +trouble began. First he was in favor of the black shoes as being thicker +in the sole, and then he reflected that they hadn't been blackened since +coming on board. It seemed to him that the russets were more appropriate +anyway, but the blacks were easier to lace. Had I noticed whether the +men on board were wearing russet or black as a rule, and did Alice +remember whether it was one of the russets or one of the blacks that he +was saying the other day pinched his toe? He didn't quite like the looks +of a russet shoe with dark trousers, and called us to witness that those +he had on were dark; but he thought he remembered that it was the black +shoe which pinched him. He supposed he could change his trousers--and so +on, and so on, _al fine_, _de capo_, _ad lib._, sticking out first one +foot and then the other, lifting them alternately to his knee for +scrutiny, appealing now to Alice and now to me, and getting more +hopelessly bewildered all the time. It went on that way for, it seemed +to me, at least half an hour, and at last I said, 'Oh, come now, Julius, +take off the brown shoe--it's too thin, and doesn't go with your dark +trousers, and pinches your toe, and none of the men are wearing +them--and just put on the other black one, and come along. We're all +suffocating for some fresh air, and if you don't get started pretty soon +we sha'n't get on deck to-day.' 'Get on deck!' he said, looking up at me +with a puzzled expression, and holding fast to the brown shoe on his +knee with both hands, as if he were afraid I would take it away from him +by main strength--'get on deck! Why--why--I believe I'd better not go +out this morning, don't you?'" + +"And then?" said John after a pause. + +"Oh," she replied, "I looked at Alice, and she shook her head as much to +say, 'It's no use for the present,' and I fled the place." + +"M'm!" muttered John. "He must have been a nice traveling companion. Has +it been like that all the time?" + +"Most of it," she said, "but not quite all, and this morning was rather +an exaggeration of the regular thing. But getting started on a journey +was usually pretty awful. Once we quite missed our train because he +couldn't make up his mind whether to put on a light overcoat or a heavy +one. I finally settled the question for him, but we were just too late." + +"You must be a very amiable person," remarked John. + +"Indeed, I am not," she declared, "but Julius is, and it's almost +impossible to be really put out with him, particularly in his condition. +I have come to believe that he can not help it, and he submits to my +bullying with such sweetness that even my impatience gives way." + +"Have you three people been alone together all the time?" John asked. + +"Yes," she replied, "except for four or five weeks. We visited some +American friends in Berlin, the Nollises, for a fortnight, and after our +visit to them they traveled with us for three weeks through South +Germany and Switzerland. We parted with them at Metz only about three +weeks since." + +"How did Mr. Carling seem while you were all together?" asked John, +looking keenly at her. + +"Oh," she replied, "he was more like himself than I have seen him for a +long time--since he began to break down, in fact." + +He turned his eyes from her face as she looked up at him, and as he did +not speak she said suggestively, "You are thinking something you don't +quite like to say, but I think I know pretty nearly what it is." + +"Yes?" said John, with a query. + +"You think he has had too much feminine companionship, or had it too +exclusively. Is that it? You need not be afraid to say so." + +"Well," said John, "if you put it 'too exclusively,' I will admit that +there was something of the sort in my mind, and," he added, "if you will +let me say so, it must at times have been rather hard for him to be +interested or amused--that it must have--that is to say--" + +"Oh, _say_ it!" she exclaimed. "It must have been very _dull_ for him. +Is that it?" + +"'Father,'" said John with a grimace, "'I can not tell a lie!'" + +"Oh," she said, laughing, "your hatchet isn't very sharp. I forgive you. +But really," she added, "I know it has been. You will laugh when I tell +you the one particular resource we fell back upon." + +"Bid me to laugh, and I will laugh," said John. + +"Euchre!" she said, looking at him defiantly. "Two-handed euchre! We +have played, as nearly as I can estimate, fifteen hundred games, in +which he has held both bowers and the ace of trumps--or something +equally victorious--I should say fourteen hundred times. Oh!" she +cried, with an expression of loathing, "may I never, never, never see a +card again as long as I live!" John laughed without restraint, and after +a petulant little _moue_ she joined him. + +"May I light up my pipe?" he said. "I will get to leeward." + +"I shall not mind in the least," she assented. + +"By the way," he asked, "does Mr. Carling smoke?" + +"He used to," she replied, "and while we were with the Nollises he +smoked every day, but after we left them he fell back into the notion +that it was bad for him." + +John filled and lighted his pipe in silence, and after a satisfactory +puff or two said: "Will Mr. Carling go in to dinner to-night?" + +"Yes," she replied, "I think he will if it is no rougher than at +present." + +"It will probably be smoother," said John. "You must introduce me to +him--" + +"Oh," she interrupted, "of course, but it will hardly be necessary, as +Alice and I have spoken so often to him of you--" + +"I was going to say," John resumed, "that he may possibly let me take +him off your hands a little, and after dinner will be the best time. I +think if I can get him into the smoking room that a cigar +and--and--something hot with a bit of lemon peel and so forth later on +may induce him to visit with me for a while, and pass the evening, or +part of it." + +"You want to be an angel!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I--we--shall be so +obliged. I know it's just what he wants--some _man_ to take him in +hand." + +"I'm in no hurry to be an angel," said John, laughing, and, with a bow, +"It's better sometimes to be _near_ the rose than to _be_ the rose, and +you are proposing to overpay me quite. I shall enjoy doing what I +proposed, if it be possible." + +Their talk then drifted off into various channels as topics suggested +themselves until the ship's bell sounded the luncheon hour. Miss Blake +went to join her sister and brother-in-law, but John had some bread and +cheese and beer in the smoking room. It appeared that the ladies had +better success than in the morning, for he saw them later on in their +steamer chairs with Mr. Carling, who was huddled in many wraps, with the +flaps of his cap down over his ears. All the chairs were full--his own +included (as happens to easy-tempered men)--and he had only a brief +colloquy with the party. He noticed, however, that Mr. Carling had on +the russet shoes, and wondered if they pinched him. In fact, though he +couldn't have said exactly why, he rather hoped that they did. He had +just that sympathy for the nerves of two-and-fifty which is to be +expected from those of five-and-twenty--that is, very little. + +When he went in to dinner the Carlings and Miss Blake had been at table +some minutes. There had been the usual controversy about what Mr. +Carling would drink with his dinner, and he had decided upon +Apollinaris water. But Miss Blake, with an idea of her own, had given an +order for champagne, and was exhibiting some consternation, real or +assumed, at the fact of having a whole bottle brought in with the cork +extracted--a customary trick at sea. + +"I hope you will help me out," she said to John as he bowed and seated +himself. "'Some one has blundered,' and here is a whole bottle of +champagne which must be drunk to save it. Are you prepared to help turn +my, or somebody's, blunder into hospitality?" + +"I am prepared to make any sacrifice," said John, laughing, "in the +sacred cause." + +"No less than I expected of you," she said. "_Noblesse oblige!_ Please +fill your glass." + +"Thanks," said John. "Permit me," and he filled her own as well. + +As the meal proceeded there was some desultory talk about the weather, +the ship's run, and so on; but Mrs. Carling was almost silent, and her +husband said but little more. Even Miss Blake seemed to have something +on her mind, and contributed but little to the conversation. Presently +Mr. Carling said, "Mary, do you think a mouthful of wine would hurt me?" + +"Certainly not," was the reply. "It will do you good," reaching over for +his glass and pouring the wine. + +"That's enough, that's enough!" he protested as the foam came up to the +rim of the glass. She proceeded to fill it up to the brim and put it +beside him, and later, as she had opportunity, kept it replenished. + +As the dinner concluded, John said to Mr. Carling: "Won't you go up to +the smoking room with me for coffee? I like a bit of tobacco with mine, +and I have some really good cigars and some cigarettes--if you prefer +them--that I can vouch for." + +As usual, when the unexpected was presented to his mind, Mr. Carling +passed the perplexity on to his women-folk. At this time, however, his +dinner and the two glasses of wine which Miss Blake had contrived that +he should swallow had braced him up, and John's suggestion was so warmly +seconded by the ladies that, after some feeble protests and misgivings, +he yielded, and John carried him off. + +"I hope it won't upset Julius," said Mrs. Carling doubtfully. + +"It won't do anything of the sort," her sister replied. "He will get +through the evening without worrying himself and you into fits, and, if +Mr. Lenox succeeds, you won't see anything of him till ten o'clock or +after, and not then, I hope. Mind, you're to be sound asleep when he +comes in--snore a little if necessary--and let him get to bed without +any talk at all." + +"Why do you say 'if Mr. Lenox succeeds'?" asked Mrs. Carling. + +"It was his suggestion," Miss Blake answered. "We had been talking about +Julius, and he finally told me he thought he would be the better of an +occasional interval of masculine society, and I quite agreed with him. +You know how much he enjoyed being with George Nollis, and how much like +himself he appeared." + +"That is true," said Mrs. Carling. + +"And you know that just as soon as he got alone again with us two women +he began backing and filling as badly as ever. I believe Mr. Lenox is +right, and that Julius is just petticoated to death between us." + +"Did Mr. Lenox say that?" asked Mrs. Carling incredulously. + +"No," said her sister, laughing, "he didn't make use of precisely that +figure, but that was what he thought plainly enough." + +"What do you think of Mr. Lenox?" said Mrs. Carling irrelevantly. "Do +you like him? I thought that he looked at you very admiringly once or +twice to-night," she added, with her eyes on her sister's face. + +"Well," said Mary, with a petulant toss of the head, "except that I've +had about an hour's talk with him, and that I knew him when we were +children--at least when I was a child--he is a perfect stranger to me, +and I do wish," she added in a tone of annoyance, "that you would give +up that fad of yours, that every man who comes along is going to--to--be +a nuisance." + +"He seems very pleasant," said Mrs. Carling, meekly ignoring her +sister's reproach. + +"Oh, yes," she replied indifferently, "he's pleasant enough. Let us go +up and have a walk on deck. I want you to be sound asleep when Julius +comes in." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +John found his humane experiment pleasanter than he expected. Mr. +Carling, as was to be anticipated, demurred a little at the coffee, and +still more at the cigarette; but having his appetite for tobacco +aroused, and finding that no alarming symptoms ensued, he followed it +with a cigar and later on was induced to go the length of "Scotch and +soda," under the pleasant effect of which--and John's sympathetic +efforts--he was for the time transformed, the younger man being +surprised to find him a man of interesting experience, considerable +reading, and, what was most surprising, a jolly sense of humor and a +fund of anecdotes which he related extremely well. The evening was a +decided success, perhaps the best evidence of it coming at the last, +when, at John's suggestion that they supplement their modest potations +with a "night-cap," Mr. Carling cheerfully assented upon the condition +that they should "have it with him"; and as he went along the deck after +saying "Good night," John was positive that he heard a whistled tune. + +The next day was equally fine, but during the night the ship had run +into the swell of a storm, and in the morning there was more motion than +the weaker ones could relish. The sea grew quieter as the day advanced. +John was early, and finished his breakfast before Miss Blake came in. +He found her on deck about ten o'clock. She gave him her hand as they +said good morning, and he turned and walked by her side. + +"How is your brother-in-law this morning?" he inquired. + +"Oh," she said, laughing, "he's in a mixture of feeling very well and +feeling that he ought not to feel so, but, as they are coming up pretty +soon, it would appear that the misgivings are not overwhelming. He came +in last night, and retired without saying a word. My sister pretended to +be asleep. She says he went to sleep at once, and that she was awake at +intervals and knows that he slept like a top. He won't make any very +sweeping admissions, however, but has gone so far as to concede that he +had a very pleasant evening--which is going a long way for him--and to +say that you are a very agreeable young man. There! I didn't intend to +tell you that, but you have been so good that perhaps so much as a +second-hand compliment is no more than your due." + +"Thank you very much," said John. "Mr. Carling is evidently a very +discriminating person. Really it wasn't good of me at all. I was quite +the gainer, for he entertained me more than I did him. We had a very +pleasant evening, and I hope we shall have more of them, I do, indeed. I +got an entirely different impression of him," he added. + +"Yes," she said, "I can imagine that you did. He can be very agreeable, +and he is really a man of a great deal of character when he is himself. +He has been goodness itself to me, and has managed my affairs for years. +Even to-day his judgment in business matters is wonderfully sound. If +it had not been for him," she continued, "I don't know but I should have +been a pauper. My father left a large estate, but he died very suddenly, +and his affairs were very much spread out and involved and had to be +carried along. Julius put himself into the breach, and not only saved +our fortunes, but has considerably increased them. Of course, Alice is +his wife, but I feel very grateful to him on my own account. I did not +altogether appreciate it at the time, but now I shudder to think that I +might have had either to 'fend for myself' or be dependent." + +"I don't think that dependence would have suited your book," was John's +comment as he took in the lines of her clear-cut face. + +"No," she replied, "and I thank heaven that I have not had to endure it. +I am not," she added, "so impressed with what money procures for people +as what it saves them from." + +"Yes," said John, "I think your distinction is just. To possess it is to +be free from some of the most disagreeable apprehensions certainly, but +I confess, whether to my credit or my shame I don't know, I have never +thought much about it. I certainly am not rich positively, and I haven't +the faintest notion whether I may or not be prospectively. I have always +had as much as I really needed, and perhaps more, but I know absolutely +nothing about the future." They were leaning over the rail on the port +side. + +"I should think," she said after a moment, looking at him thoughtfully, +"that it was, if you will not think me presuming, a matter about which +you might have some justifiable curiosity." + +"Oh, not at all," he assured her, stepping to leeward and producing a +cigar. "I have had some stirrings of late. And please don't think me an +incorrigible idler. I spent nearly two years in a down-town office and +earned--well, say half my salary. In fact, my business instincts were so +strong that I left college after my second year for that purpose, but +seeing no special chance of advancement in the race for wealth, and as +my father seemed rather to welcome the idea, I broke off and went over +to Germany. I haven't been quite idle, though I should be puzzled, I +admit, to find a market for what I have to offer to the world. Would you +be interested in a schedule of my accomplishments." + +"Oh," she said, "I should be charmed, but as I am every moment expecting +the advent of my family, and as I am relied upon to locate them and tuck +them up, I'm afraid I shall not have time to hear it." + +"No," he said, laughing, "it's quite too long." + +She was silent for some moments, gazing down into the water, apparently +debating something in her mind, and quite unconscious of John's +scrutiny. Finally she turned to him with a little laugh. "You might +begin on your list, and if I am called away you can finish it at another +time." + +"I hope you didn't think I was speaking in earnest," he said. + +"No," she replied, "I did not think you really intended to unpack your +wares, but, speaking seriously--and at the risk, I fear, that you may +think me rather 'cheeky,' if I may be allowed that expression--I know a +good many men in America, and I think that without an exception they are +professional men or business men, or, being neither--and I know but few +such--have a competence or more; and I was wondering just now after what +you told me what a man like you would or could do if he were thrown upon +his own resources. I'm afraid that is rather frank for the acquaintance +of a day, isn't it?" she asked with a slight flush, "but it really is +not so personal as it may sound to you." + +"My dear Miss Blake," he replied, "our acquaintance goes back at least +ten years. Please let that fact count for something in your mind. The +truth is, I have done some wondering along that same line myself without +coming to any satisfactory conclusion. I devoutly hope I may not be so +thrown absolutely, for the truth is I haven't a marketable commodity. 'A +little Latin, and less Greek,' German and French enough to read and +understand and talk--on the surface of things--and what mathematics, +history, et cetera, I have not forgotten. I know the piano well enough +to read and play an accompaniment after a fashion, and I have had some +good teaching for the voice, and some experience in singing, at home and +abroad. In fact, I come nearer to a market there, I think, than in any +other direction perhaps. I have given some time to fencing in various +schools, and before I left home Billy Williams would sometimes speak +encouragingly of my progress with the gloves. There! That is my list, +and not a dollar in it from beginning to end, I'm afraid." + +"Who is Billy Williams?" she asked. + +"Billy," said John, "is the very mild-mannered and gentlemanlike +'bouncer' at the Altman House, an ex-prize-fighter, and about the most +accomplished member of his profession of his day and weight, who is +employed to keep order and, if necessary, to thrust out the riotous who +would disturb the contemplations of the lovers of art that frequent the +bar of that hotel." It was to be seen that Miss Blake was not +particularly impressed by this description of Billy and his functions, +upon which she made no comment. + +"You have not included in your list," she remarked, "what you acquired +in the down-town office you told me of." + +"No, upon my word I had forgotten that, and it's about the only thing of +use in the whole category," he answered. "If I were put to it, and could +find a place, I think I might earn fifty dollars a month as a clerk or +messenger, or something. Hullo! here are your people." + +He went forward with his companion and greeted Mrs. Carling and her +husband, who returned his "Good morning" with a feeble smile, and +submitted to his ministrations in the matter of chair and rugs with an +air of unresisting invalidism, which was almost too obvious, he thought. +But after luncheon John managed to induce him to walk for a while, to +smoke a cigarette, and finally to brave the perils of a sherry and +bitters before dinner. The ladies had the afternoon to themselves. John +had no chance of a further visit with Mary during the day, a loss only +partially made good to him by a very approving smile and a remark which +she made to him at dinner, that he must be a lineal descendant of the +Samaritan. Mr. Carling submitted himself to him for the evening. Indeed, +it came about that for the rest of the voyage he had rather more of the +company of that gentleman, who fairly attached himself to him, than, +under all the circumstances, he cared for; but the gratitude of the +ladies was so cordial that he felt paid for some sacrifices of his +inclinations. And there was an hour or so every morning--for the fine +weather lasted through--which he spent with Mary Blake, with increasing +interest and pleasure, and he found himself inwardly rejoicing over a +mishap to the engine which, though of no very great magnitude, would +retard the passage by a couple of days. + +There can hardly be any conditions more favorable to the forming of +acquaintanceships, friendships, and even more tender relations than are +afforded by the life on board ship. There is opportunity, propinquity, +and the community of interest which breaks down the barriers of ordinary +reserve. These relations, to be sure, are not always of the most lasting +character, and not infrequently are practically ended before the parties +thereto are out of the custom-house officer's hands and fade into +nameless oblivion, unless one happens to run across the passenger list +among one's souvenirs. But there are exceptions. If at this time the +question had been asked our friend, even by himself, whether, to put it +plainly, he were in love with Mary Blake, he would, no doubt, have +strenuously denied it; but it is certain that if any one had said or +intimated that any feature or characteristic of hers was faulty or +susceptible of any change for the better, he would have secretly +disliked that person, and entertained the meanest opinion of that +person's mental and moral attributes. He would have liked the voyage +prolonged indefinitely, or, at any rate, as long as the provisions held +out. + +It has been remarked by some one that all mundane things come to an end +sooner or later, and, so far as my experience goes, it bears out that +statement. The engines were successfully repaired, and the ship +eventually came to anchor outside the harbor about eleven o'clock on the +night of the last day. Mary and John were standing together at the +forward rail. There had been but little talk between them, and only of a +desultory and impersonal character. As the anchor chains rattled in the +hawse-pipes, John said, "Well, that ends it." + +"What ends what?" she asked. + +"The voyage, and the holiday, and the episode, and lots of things," he +replied. "We have come to anchor." + +"Yes," she said, "the voyage is over, that is true; but, for my part, if +the last six months can be called a holiday, its end is welcome, and I +should think you might be glad that your holiday is over, too. But I +don't quite understand what you mean by 'the episode and lots of +things.'" + +There was an undertone in her utterance which her companion did not +quite comprehend, though it was obvious to him. + +"The episode of--of--our friendship, if I may call it so," he replied. + +"I call it so," she said decisively. "You have certainly been a friend +to _all_ of us. This episode is over to be sure, but is there any more +than that?" + +"Somebody says that 'friendship is largely a matter of streets,'" said +John gloomily. "To-morrow you will go your way and I shall go mine." + +"Yes," she replied, rather sharply, "that is true enough; but if that +cynical quotation of yours has anything in it, it's equally true, isn't +it, that friendship is a matter of cabs, and street cars, and the +elevated road? Of course, we can hardly be expected to look you up, but +Sixty-ninth Street isn't exactly in California, and the whole question +lies with yourself. I don't know if you care to be told so, but Julius +and my sister like you very much, and will welcome you heartily always." + +"Thanks, very much!" said John, staring straight out in front of him, +and forming a determination that Sixty-ninth Street would see but +precious little of _him_. She gave a side glance at him as he did not +speak further. There was light enough to see the expression of his +mouth, and she read his thought almost in words. She had thought that +she had detected a suggestion of sentimentality on his part which she +intended to keep strictly in abeyance, but in her intention not to seem +to respond to it she had taken an attitude of coolness and a tone which +was almost sarcastic, and now perceived that, so far as results were +apparent, she had carried matters somewhat further than she intended. +Her heart smote her a little, too, to think that he was hurt. She really +liked him very much, and contritely recalled how kind and thoughtful and +unselfish he had been, and how helpful, and she knew that it had been +almost wholly for her. Yes, she was willing--and glad--to think so. But +while she wished that she had taken a different line at the outset, she +hated desperately to make any concession, and the seconds of their +silence grew into minutes. She stole another glance at his face. It was +plain that negotiations for harmony would have to begin with her. +Finally she said in a quiet voice: + +"'Thanks, very much,' is an entirely polite expression, but it isn't +very responsive." + +"I thought it met your cordiality quite half way," was the rejoinder. +"Of course, I am glad to be assured of Mr. and Mrs. Carling's regard, +and that they would be glad to see me, but I think I might have been +justified in hoping that you would go a little further, don't you +think?" + +He looked at her as he asked the question, but she did not turn her +head. Presently she said in a low voice, and slowly, as if weighing her +words: + +"Will it be enough if I say that I shall be very sorry if you do not +come?" He put his left hand upon her right, which was resting on the +rail, and for two seconds she let it stay. + +"Yes," he said, "thanks--very--much!" + +"I must go now," she said, turning toward him, and for a moment she +looked searchingly in his face. "Good night," she said, giving him her +hand, and John looked after her as she walked down the deck, and he knew +how it was with him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +John saw Miss Blake the next morning in the saloon among the passengers +in line for the customs official. It was an easy conjecture that Mr. +Carling's nerves were not up to committing himself to a "declaration" of +any sort, and that Miss Blake was undertaking the duty for the party. He +did not see her again until he had had his luggage passed and turned it +over to an expressman. As he was on his way to leave the wharf he came +across the group, and stopped to greet them and ask if he could be of +service, and was told that their houseman had everything in charge, and +that they were just going to their carriage, which was waiting. "And," +said Miss Blake, "if you are going up town, we can offer you a seat." + +"Sha'n't I discommode you?" he asked. "If you are sure I shall not, I +shall be glad to be taken as far as Madison Avenue and Thirty-third +Street, for I suppose that will be your route." + +"Quite sure," she replied, seconded by the Carlings, and so it happened +that John went directly home instead of going first to his father's +office. The weather was a chilly drizzle, and he was glad to be spared +the discomfort of going about in it with hand-bag, overcoat, and +umbrella, and felt a certain justification in concluding that, after +two years, a few hours more or less under the circumstances would make +but little difference. And then, too, the prospect of half or +three-quarters of an hour in Miss Blake's company, the Carlings +notwithstanding, was a temptation to be welcomed. But if he had hoped or +expected, as perhaps would have been not unnatural, to discover in that +young woman's air any hint or trace of the feeling she had exhibited, +or, perhaps it should be said, to a degree permitted to show itself, +disappointment was his portion. Her manner was as much in contrast with +that of the last days of their voyage together as the handsome street +dress and hat in which she was attired bore to the dress and headgear of +her steamer costume, and it almost seemed to him as if the contrasts +bore some relation to each other. After the question of the carriage +windows--whether they should be up or down, either or both, and how +much--had been settled, and, as usual in such dilemmas, by Miss Blake, +the drive up town was comparatively a silent one. John's mind was +occupied with sundry reflections and speculations, of many of which his +companion was the subject, and to some extent in noting the changes in +the streets and buildings which an absence of two years made noticeable +to him. + +Mary looked steadily out of window, lost in her own thoughts save for an +occasional brief response to some casual comment or remark of John's. +Mr. Carling had muffled himself past all talking, and his wife preserved +the silence which was characteristic of her when unurged. + +John was set down at Thirty-third Street, and, as he made his adieus, +Mrs. Carling said, "Do come and see us as soon as you can, Mr. Lenox"; +but Miss Blake simply said "Good-by" as she gave him her hand for an +instant, and he went on to his father's house. + +He let himself in with the latch-key which he had carried through all +his absence, but was at once encountered by Jeffrey, who, with his wife, +had for years constituted the domestic staff of the Lenox household. + +"Well, Jeff," said John, as he shook hands heartily with the old +servant, "how are you? and how is Ann? You don't look a day older, and +the climate seems to agree with you, eh?" + +"You're welcome home, Mr. John," replied Jeffrey, "and thank you, sir. +Me and Ann is very well, sir. It's a pleasure to see you again and home. +It is, indeed." + +"Thank you, Jeff," said John. "It's rather nice to be back. Is my room +ready?" + +"Yes, sir," said Jeffrey, "I think it's all right, though we thought +that maybe it 'd be later in the day when you got here, sir. We thought +maybe you'd go to Mr. Lenox's office first." + +"I did intend to," said John, mounting the stairs, followed by Jeffrey +with his bag, "but I had a chance to drive up with some friends, and the +day is so beastly that I took advantage of it. How is my father?" he +asked after entering the chamber, which struck him as being so strangely +familiar and so familiarly strange. + +"Well, sir," said Jeffrey, "he's much about the same most ways, and then +again he's different, too. Seeing him every day, perhaps I wouldn't +notice so much; but if I was to say that he's kind of quieter, perhaps +that'd be what I mean, sir." + +"Well," said John, smiling, "my father was about the quietest person I +ever knew, and if he's grown more so--what do you mean?" + +"Well, sir," replied the man, "I notice at table, sir, for one thing. +We've been alone here off and on a good bit, sir, and he used always to +have a pleasant word or two to say to me, and may be to ask me questions +and that, sir; but for a long time lately he hardly seems to notice me. +Of course, there ain't any need of his saying anything, because I know +all he wants, seeing I've waited on him so long, but it's different in a +way, sir." + +"Does he go out in the evening to his club?" asked John. + +"Very rarely, sir," said Jeffrey. "He mostly goes to his room after +dinner, an' oftentimes I hear him walking up an' down, up an' down, and, +sir," he added, "you know he often used to have some of his friends to +dine with him, and that ain't happened in, I should guess, for a year." + +"Have things gone wrong with him in any way?" said John, a sudden +anxiety overcoming some reluctance to question a servant on such a +subject. + +"You mean about business, and such like?" replied Jeffrey. "No, sir, not +so far as I know. You know, Mr. John, sir, that I pay all the house +accounts, and there hasn't never been no--no shortness, as I might say, +but we're living a bit simpler than we used to--in the matter of wine +and such like--and, as I told you, we don't have comp'ny no more." + +"Is that all?" asked John, with some relief. + +"Well, sir," was the reply, "perhaps it's because Mr. Lenox is getting +older and don't care so much about such things, but I have noticed that +he hasn't had anything new from the tailor in a long time, and really, +sir, though perhaps I oughtn't to say it, his things is getting a bit +shabby, sir, and he used to be always so partic'lar." + +John got up and walked over to the window which looked out at the rear +of the house. The words of the old servant disquieted him, +notwithstanding that there was nothing so far that could not be +accounted for without alarm. Jeffrey waited for a moment and then asked: + +"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. John? Will you be having +luncheon here, sir?" + +"No, thank you, Jeff," said John; "nothing more now, and I will lunch +here. I'll come down and see Ann presently." + +"Thank you, sir," said Jeffrey, and withdrew. + +The view from the back windows of most city houses is not calculated to +arouse enthusiasm at the best of times, and the day was singularly +dispiriting: a sky of lead and a drizzling rain, which emphasized the +squalor of the back yards in view. It was all very depressing. Jeffrey's +talk, though inconclusive, had stirred in John's mind an uneasiness +which was near to apprehension. He turned and walked about the familiar +room, recognizing the well-known furniture, his mother's picture over +the mantel, the bookshelves filled with his boyhood's accumulations, the +well-remembered pattern of the carpet, and the wall-paper--nothing was +changed. It was all as he had left it two years ago, and for the time it +seemed as if he had merely dreamed the life and experiences of those +years. Indeed, it was with difficulty that he recalled any of them for +the moment. And then suddenly there came into his mind the thought that +he was at the beginning of a new epoch--that on this day his boyhood +ended, for up to then he had been but a boy. The thought was very vivid. +It had come, the time when he must take upon himself the +responsibilities of his own life, and make it for himself; the time +which he had looked forward to as to come some day, but not hitherto at +any particular moment, and so not to be very seriously considered. + +It has been said that life had always been made easy for him, and that +he had accepted the situation without protest. To easy-going natures the +thought of any radical change in the current of affairs is usually +unwelcome, but he was too young to find it really repugnant; and then, +too, as he walked about the room with his hands in his pockets, it was +further revealed to him that he had recently found a motive and impulse +such as he had never had before. He recalled the talk that he had had +with the companion of his voyage. He thought of her as one who could be +tender to misfortune and charitable to incapacity, but who would have +nothing but scorn for shiftlessness and malingering; and he realized +that he had never cared for anything as for the good opinion of that +young woman. No, there should be for him no more sauntering in the vales +and groves, no more of loitering or dallying. He would take his place in +the working world, and perhaps--some day-- + +A thought came to him with the impact of a blow: What could he do? What +work was there for him? How could he pull his weight in the boat? All +his life he had depended upon some one else, with easy-going +thoughtlessness. Hardly had it ever really occurred to him that he +might have to make a career for himself. Of business he had thought as +something which he should undertake some time, but it was always a +business ready made to his hand, with plenty of capital not of his own +acquiring--something for occupation, not of necessity. It came home to +him that his father was his only resource, and that of his father's +affairs he knew next to nothing. + +In addition to his affection for him, he had always had an unquestioning +confidence in his father. It was his earliest recollection, and he still +retained it to almost a childish extent. There had always been plenty. +His own allowance, from time to time increased, though never +extravagant, had always been ample, and on the one occasion when he had +grievously exceeded it the excess had been paid with no more protest +than a gentle "I think you ought not to have done this." The two had +lived together when John was at home without ostentation or any +appearance of style, but with every essential of luxury. The house and +its furnishings were old-fashioned, but everything was of the best, and +when three or four of the elder man's friends would come to dine, as +happened occasionally, the contents of the cellar made them look at each +other over their glasses. Mr. Lenox was very reticent in all matters +relating to himself, and in his talks with his son, which were mostly at +the table, rarely spoke of business matters in general, and almost never +of his own. He had read well, and was fond of talking of his reading +when he felt in the vein of talking, which was not always; but John had +invariably found him ready with comment and sympathy upon the topics in +which he himself had interest, and there was a strong if undemonstrative +affection between the father and son. + +It was not strange, perhaps, all things considered, that John had come +even to nearly six-and-twenty with no more settled intentions; that his +boyhood should have been so long. He was not at all of a reckless +disposition, and, notwithstanding the desultory way in which he had +spent time, he had strong mental and moral fiber, and was capable of +feeling deeply and enduringly. He had been desultory, but never before +had he had much reason or warning against it. But now, he reflected, a +time had come. Work he must, if only for work's sake, and work he would; +and there was a touch of self-reproach in the thought of his father's +increasing years and of his lonely life. He might have been a help and a +companion during those two years of his not very fruitful European +sojourn, and he would lose no time in finding out what there was for him +to do, and in setting about it. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The day seemed very long. He ate his luncheon, having first paid a visit +to Ann, who gave him an effusive welcome. Jeffrey waited, and during the +meal they had some further talk, and among other things John said to +him, "Does my father dress for dinner nowadays?" + +"No, sir," was the reply, "I don't know when I've seen your father in +his evenin' clothes, sir. Not for a long time, and then maybe two or +three times the past year when he was going out to dinner, but not here, +sir. Maybe it'll be different now you're back again, sir." + +After luncheon John's luggage arrived, and he superintended the +unpacking, but that employment was comparatively brief. The day dragged +with him. Truly his home-coming was rather a dreary affair. How +different had been yesterday, and the day before, and all those days +before when he had so enjoyed the ship life, and most of all the daily +hour or more of the companionship which had grown to be of such +surpassing interest to him, and now seemed so utterly a thing of the +past. + +Of course, he should see her again. (He put aside a wonder if it would +be within the proprieties on that evening or, at latest, the next.) But, +in any case, "the episode," as he had said to her, was done, and it had +been very pleasant--oh, yes, very dear to him. He wondered if she was +finding the day as interminable as it seemed to him, and if the interval +before they saw each other again would seem as long as his impatience +would make it for him. Finally, the restless dullness became +intolerable. He sallied forth into the weather and went to his club, +having been on non-resident footing during his absence, and, finding +some men whom he knew, spent there the rest of the afternoon. + +His father was at home and in his room when John got back. + +"Well, father," he said, "the prodigal has returned." + +"He is very welcome," was the reply, as the elder man took both his +son's hands and looked at him affectionately. "You seem very well." + +"Yes," said John; "and how are you, sir?" + +"About as usual, I think," said Mr. Lenox. + +They looked at each other for a moment in silence. John thought that his +father seemed thinner than formerly, and he had instantly observed that +a white beard covered the always hitherto smooth-shaven chin, but he +made no comment. + +"The old place appears very familiar," he remarked. "Nothing is changed +or even moved, as I can see, and Ann and Jeff are just the same old +sixpences as ever." + +"Yes," said his father, "two years make less difference with old people +and their old habits than with young ones. You will have changed more +than we have, I fancy." + +"Do we dress for dinner?" asked John, after some little more unimportant +talk. + +"Yes," said his father, "in honor of the occasion, if you like. I +haven't done it lately," he added, a little wearily. + + * * * * * + +"I haven't had such a glass of wine since I left home," John remarked as +they sat together after dinner. + +"No," said his father, looking thoughtfully at his glass, "it's the old +'Mouton,' and pretty nearly the last of it; it's very old and wants +drinking," he observed as he held his glass up to get the color. "It has +gone off a bit even in two years." + +"All right," said John cheerfully, "we'll drink it to save it, if needs +be." The elder man smiled and filled both glasses. + +There had been more or less talk during the meal, but nothing of special +moment. John sat back in his chair, absently twirling the stem of his +glass between thumb and fingers. Presently he said, looking straight +before him at the table: "I have been thinking a good deal of late--more +than ever before, positively, in fact--that whatever my prospects may +be," (he did not see the momentary contraction of his father's brow) "I +ought to begin some sort of a career in earnest. I'm afraid," he +continued, "that I have been rather unmindful, and that I might have +been of some use to you as well as myself if I had stayed at home +instead of spending the last two years in Europe." + +"I trust," said his father, "that they have not been entirely without +profit." + +"No," said John, "perhaps not wholly, but their cash value would not be +large, I'm afraid." + +"All value is not to be measured in dollars and cents," remarked Mr. +Lenox. "If I could have acquired as much German and French as I presume +you have, to say nothing of other things, I should look back upon the +time as well spent at almost any cost. At your age a year or two more or +less--you don't realize it now, but you will if you come to my +age--doesn't count for so very much, and you are not too old," he +smiled, "to begin at a beginning." + +"I want to begin," said John. + +"Yes," said his father, "I want to have you, and I have had the matter a +good deal in my mind. Have you any idea as to what you wish to do?" + +"I thought," said John, "that the most obvious thing would be to go into +your office." Mr. Lenox reached over for the cigar-lamp. His cigar had +gone out, and his hand shook as he applied the flame to it. He did not +reply for a moment. + +"I understand," he said at last. "It would seem the obvious thing to do, +as you say, but," he clicked his teeth together doubtfully, "I don't see +how it can be managed at present, and I don't think it is what I should +desire for you in any case. The fact is," he went on, "my business has +always been a sort of specialty, and, though it is still worth doing +perhaps, it is not what it used to be. Conditions and methods have +changed--and," he added, "I am too old to change with them." + +"I am not," said John. + +"In fact," resumed his father, ignoring John's assertion, "as things are +going now, I couldn't make a place for you in my office unless I +displaced Melig and made you my manager, and for many reasons I couldn't +do that. I am too dependent on Melig. Of course, if you came with me it +would be as a partner, but--" + +"No," said John, "I should be a poor substitute for old Melig for a good +while, I fancy." + +"My idea would be," said Mr. Lenox, "that you should undertake a +profession--say the law. It is a fact that the great majority of men +fail in business, and then most of them, for lack of training or special +aptitude, fall into the ranks of clerks and subordinates. On the other +hand, a man who has a profession--law, medicine, what not--even if he +does not attain high rank, has something on which he can generally get +along, at least after a fashion, and he has the standing. That is my +view of the matter, and though I confess I often wonder at it in +individual cases, it is my advice to you." + +"It would take three or four years to put me where I could earn anything +to speak of," said John, "even providing that I could get any business +at the end of the time." + +"Yes," said his father, "but the time of itself isn't of so much +consequence. You would be living at home, and would have your +allowance--perhaps," he suggested, "somewhat diminished, seeing that you +would be here--" + +"I can get on with half of it," said John confidently. + +"We will settle that matter afterward," said Mr. Lenox. + +They sat in silence for some minutes, John staring thoughtfully at the +table, unconscious of the occasional scrutiny of his father's glance. At +last he said, "Well, sir, I will do anything that you advise." + +"Have you anything to urge against it?" asked Mr. Lenox. + +"Not exactly on my own account," replied John, "though I admit that the +three years or more seems a long time to me, but I have been drawing on +you exclusively all my life, except for the little money I earned in +Rush & Company's office, and--" + +"You have done so, my dear boy," said his father gently, "with my +acquiescence. I may have been wrong, but that is a fact. If in my +judgment the arrangement may be continued for a while longer, and in the +mean time you are making progress toward a definite end, I think you +need have no misgivings. It gratifies me to have you feel as you do, +though it is no more than I should have expected of you, for you have +never caused me any serious anxiety or disappointment, my son." + +Often in the after time did John thank God for that assurance. + +"Thank you, sir," he said, putting down his hand, palm upward, on the +table, and his eyes filled as the elder man laid his hand in his, and +they gave each other a lingering pressure. + +Mr. Lenox divided the last of the wine in the bottle between the two +glasses, and they drank it in silence, as if in pledge. + +"I will go in to see Carey & Carey in the morning, and if they are +agreeable you can see them afterward," said Mr. Lenox. "They are not one +of the great firms, but they have a large and good practice, and they +are friends of mine. Shall I do so?" he asked, looking at his son. + +"If you will be so kind," John replied, returning his look. And so the +matter was concluded. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +This history will not concern itself to any extent with our friend's +career as a law clerk, though, as he promised himself, he took it +seriously and laboriously while it lasted, notwithstanding that after +two years of being his own master, and the rather desultory and +altogether congenial life he had led, he found it at first even more +irksome than he had fancied. The novice penetrates but slowly the +mysteries of the law, and, unless he be of unusual aptitude and +imagination, the interesting and remunerative part seems for a long time +very far off. But John stuck manfully to the reading, and was diligent +in all that was put upon him to do; and after a while the days spent in +the office and in the work appointed to him began to pass more quickly. + +He restrained his impulse to call at Sixty-ninth Street until what +seemed to him a fitting interval had elapsed; one which was longer than +it would otherwise have been, from an instinct of shyness not habitual +to him, and a distrustful apprehension that perhaps his advent was not +of so much moment to the people there as to him. But their greeting was +so cordial on every hand that Mrs. Carling's remark that they had been +almost afraid he had forgotten them embarrassed while it pleased him, +and his explanations were somewhat lame. Miss Blake, as usual, came to +the rescue, though John's disconcert was not lessened by the suspicion +that she saw through his inventions. He had conceived a great opinion of +that young person's penetration. + +His talk for a while was mostly with Mr. Carling, who was in a pleasant +mood, being, like most nervous people, at his best in the evening. Mary +made an occasional contributory remark, and Mrs. Carling, as was her +wont, was silent except when appealed to. Finally, Mr. Carling rose and, +putting out his hand, said: "I think I will excuse myself, if you will +permit me. I have had to be down town to-day, and am rather tired." Mrs. +Carling followed him, saying to John as she bade him good night: "Do +come, Mr. Lenox, whenever you feel like it. We are very quiet people, +and are almost always at home." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Carling," responded John, with much sincerity. "I shall +be most glad to. I am so quiet myself as to be practically noiseless." + +The hall of the Carlings' house was their favorite sitting place in the +evening. It ran nearly the whole depth of the house, and had a wide +fireplace at the end. The further right hand portion was recessed by the +stairway, which rose from about the middle of its length. + +Miss Blake sat in a low chair, and John took its fellow at the other +angle of the fireplace, which contained the smoldering remnant of a wood +fire. She had a bit of embroidery stretched over a circular frame like a +drum-head. Needlework was not a passion with her, but it was understood +in the Carling household that in course of time a set of table doilies +of elaborate devices in colored silks would be forthcoming. It has been +deplored by some philosopher that custom does not sanction such little +occupations for masculine hands. It would be interesting to speculate +how many embarrassing or disastrous consequences might have been averted +if at a critical point in a negotiation or controversy a needle had had +to be threaded or a dropped stitch taken up before a reply was made, to +say nothing of an excuse for averting features at times without +confession of confusion. + +The great and wise Charles Reade tells how his hero, who had an island, +a treasure ship, and a few other trifles of the sort to dispose of, +insisted upon Captain Fullalove's throwing away the stick he was +whittling, as giving the captain an unfair advantage. The value of the +embroidered doily as an article of table napery may be open to question, +but its value, in an unfinished state, as an adjunct to discreet +conversation, is beyond all dispute. + +"Ought I to say good night?" asked John with a smile, as he seated +himself on the disappearance of Mr. and Mrs. Carling. + +"I don't see any reason," she replied. "It isn't late. Julius is in one +of his periods of retiring early just now. By and by he will be sure to +take up the idea again that his best sleep is after midnight. At present +he is on the theory that it is before twelve o'clock." + +"How has he been since your return?" John asked. + +"Better in some ways, I think," she replied. "He seems to enjoy the home +life in contrast with the traveling about and living in hotels; and +then, in a moderate way, he is obliged to give some attention to +business matters, and to come in contact with men and affairs +generally." + +"And you?" said John. "You find it pleasant to be back?" + +"Yes," she said, "I do. As my sister said, we are quiet people. She goes +out so little that it is almost not at all, and when I go it has nearly +always to be with some one else. And then, you know that while Alice and +I are originally New Yorkers, we have only been back here for two or +three years. Most of the people, really, to whose houses we go are those +who knew my father. But," she added, "it is a comfort not to be carrying +about a traveling bag in one hand and a weight of responsibility in the +other." + +"I should think," said John, laughing, "that your maid might have taken +the bag, even if she couldn't carry your responsibilities." + +"No," she said, joining in his laugh, "that particular bag was too +precious, and Eliza was one of my most serious responsibilities. She had +to be looked after like the luggage, and I used to wish at times that +she could be labeled and go in the van. How has it been with you since +your return? and," as she separated a needleful of silk from what seemed +an inextricable tangle, "if I may ask, what have you been doing? I was +recalling," she added, putting the silk into the needle, "some things +you said to me on the Altruria. Do you remember?" + +"Perfectly," said John. "I think I remember every word said on both +sides, and I have thought very often of some things you said to me. In +fact, they had more influence upon my mind than you imagined." + +She turned her work so that the light would fall a little more directly +upon it. + +"Really?" she asked. "In what way?" + +"You put in a drop or two that crystallized the whole solution," he +answered. She looked up at him inquiringly. + +"Yes," he said, "I always knew that I should have to stop drifting some +time, but there never seemed to be any particular time. Some things you +said to me set the time. I am under 'full steam a-head' at present. +Behold in me," he exclaimed, touching his breast, "the future chief of +the Supreme Court of the United States, of whom you shall say some time +in the next brief interval of forty years or so, 'I knew him as a young +man, and one for whom no one would have predicted such eminence!' and +perhaps you will add, 'It was largely owing to me.'" + +She looked at him with an expression in which amusement and curiosity +were blended. + +"I congratulate you," she said, laughing, "upon the career in which it +appears I had the honor to start you. Am I being told that you have +taken up the law?" + +"Not quite the whole of it as yet," he said; "but when I am not doing +errands for the office I am to some extent taken up with it," and then +he told her of his talk with his father and what had followed. She +overcame a refractory kink in her silk before speaking. + +"It takes a long time, doesn't it, and do you like it?" she asked. + +"Well," said John, laughing a little, "a weaker word than 'fascinating' +would describe the pursuit, but I hope with diligence to reach some of +the interesting features in the course of ten or twelve years." + +"It is delightful," she remarked, scrutinizing the pattern of her work, +"to encounter such enthusiasm." + +"Isn't it?" said John, not in the least wounded by her sarcasm. + +"Very much so," she replied, "but I have always understood that it is a +mistake to be too sanguine." + +"Perhaps I'd better make it fifteen years, then," he said, laughing. "I +should have a choice of professions by that time at any rate. You know +the proverb that 'At forty every man is either a fool or a physician.'" +She looked at him with a smile. "Yes," he said, "I realize the +alternative." She laughed a little, but did not reply. + +"Seriously," he continued, "I know that in everything worth +accomplishing there is a lot of drudgery to be gone through with at the +first, and perhaps it seems the more irksome to me because I have been +so long idly my own master. However," he added, "I shall get down to it, +or up to it, after a while, I dare say. That is my intention, at any +rate." + +"I don't think I have ever wished that I were a man," she said after a +moment, "but I often find myself envying a man's opportunities." + +"Do not women have opportunities, too?" he said. "Certainly they have +greatly to do with the determination of affairs." + +"Oh, yes," she replied, "it is the usual answer that woman's part is to +influence somebody. As for her own life, it is largely made for her. +She has, for the most part, to take what comes to her by the will of +others." + +"And yet," said John, "I fancy that there has seldom been a great career +in which some woman's help or influence was not a factor." + +"Even granting that," she replied, "the career was the man's, after all, +and the fame and visible reward. A man will sometimes say, 'I owe all my +success to my wife, or my mother, or sister,' but he never really +believes it, nor, in fact, does any one else. It is _his_ success, after +all, and the influence of the woman is but a circumstance, real and +powerful though it may be. I am not sure," she added, "that woman's +influence, so called, isn't rather an overrated thing. Women like to +feel that they have it, and men, in matters which they hold lightly, +flatter them by yielding, but I am doubtful if a man ever arrives at or +abandons a settled course or conviction through the influence of a +woman, however exerted." + +"I think you are wrong," said John, "and I feel sure of so much as this: +that a man might often be or do for a woman's sake that which he would +not for its sake or his own." + +"That is quite another thing," she said. "There is in it no question of +influence; it is one of impulse and motive." + +"I have told you to-night," said John, "that what you said to me had +influenced me greatly." + +"Pardon me," she replied, "you employed a figure which exactly defined +your condition. You said I supplied the drop which caused the solution +to crystallize--that is, to elaborate your illustration, that it was +already at the point of saturation with your own convictions and +intentions." + +"I said also," he urged, "that you had set the time for me. Is the idea +unpleasant to you?" he asked after a moment, while he watched her face. +She did not at once reply, but presently she turned to him with slightly +heightened color and said, ignoring his question: + +"Would you rather think that you had done what you thought right because +you so thought, or because some one else wished to have you? Or, I +should say, would you rather think that the right suggestion was +another's than your own?" + +He laughed a little, and said evasively: "You ought to be a lawyer, Miss +Blake. I should hate to have you cross-examine me unless I were very +sure of my evidence." + +She gave a little shrug of her shoulders in reply as she turned and +resumed her embroidery. They talked for a while longer, but of other +things, the discussion of woman's influence having been dropped by +mutual consent. + +After John's departure she suspended operations on the doily, and sat +for a while gazing reflectively into the fire. She was a person as frank +with herself as with others, and with as little vanity as was compatible +with being human, which is to say that, though she was not without it, +it was of the sort which could be gratified but not flattered--in fact, +the sort which flattery wounds rather than pleases. But despite her +apparent skepticism she had not been displeased by John's assertion that +she had influenced him in his course. She had expressed herself truly, +believing that he would have done as he had without her intervention; +but she thought that he was sincere, and it was pleasant to her to have +him think as he did. + +Considering the surroundings and conditions under which she had lived, +she had had her share of the acquaintance and attentions of agreeable +men, but none of them had ever got with her beyond the stage of mere +friendliness. There had never been one whose coming she had particularly +looked forward to, or whose going she had deplored. She had thought of +marriage as something she might come to, but she had promised herself +that it should be on such conditions as were, she was aware, quite +improbable of ever being fulfilled. She would not care for a man because +he was clever and distinguished, but she felt that he must be those +things, and to have, besides, those qualities of character and person +which should attract her. She had known a good many men who were clever +and to some extent distinguished, but none who had attracted her +personally. John Lenox did not strike her as being particularly clever, +and he certainly was not distinguished, nor, she thought, ever very +likely to be; but she had had a pleasure in being with him which she had +never experienced in the society of any other man, and underneath some +boyish ways she divined a strength and steadfastness which could be +relied upon at need. And she admitted to herself that during the ten +days since her return, though she had unsparingly snubbed her sister's +wonderings why he did not call, she had speculated a good deal upon the +subject herself, with a sort of resentful feeling against both herself +and him that she should care-- + +Her face flushed as she recalled the momentary pressure of his hand upon +hers on that last night on deck. She rang for the servant, and went up +to her room. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +It is not the purpose of this narrative to dwell minutely upon the +events of the next few months. Truth to say, they were devoid of +incidents of sufficient moment in themselves to warrant chronicle. What +they led up to was memorable enough. + +As time went on John found himself on terms of growing intimacy with the +Carling household, and eventually it came about that if there passed a +day when their door did not open to him it was _dies non_. + +Mr. Carling was ostensibly more responsible than the ladies for the +frequency of our friend's visits, and grew to look forward to them. In +fact, he seemed to regard them as paid primarily to himself, and ignored +an occasional suggestion on his wife's part that it might not be wholly +the pleasure of a chat and a game at cards with him that brought the +young man so often to the house. And when once she ventured to concern +him with some stirrings of her mind on the subject, he rather testily +(for him) pooh-poohed her misgivings, remarking that Mary was her own +mistress, and, so far as he had ever seen, remarkably well qualified to +regulate her own affairs. Had she ever seen anything to lead her to +suppose that there was any particular sentiment existing between Lenox +and her sister? + +"No," said Mrs. Carling, "perhaps not exactly, but you know how those +things go, and he always stays after we come up when she is at home." To +which her husband vouchsafed no reply, but began a protracted wavering +as to the advisability of leaving the steam on or turning it off for the +night, which was a cold one--a dilemma which, involving his personal +welfare or comfort at the moment, permitted no consideration of other +matters to share his mind. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Carling had not spoken to her sister upon the subject. She thought +that that young woman, if she were not, as Mr. Carling said, "remarkably +well qualified to regulate her own affairs," at least held the opinion +that she was, very strongly. + +The two were devotedly fond of each other, but Mrs. Carling was the +elder by twenty years, and in her love was an element of maternal +solicitude to which her sister, while giving love for love in fullest +measure, did not fully respond. The elder would have liked to share +every thought, but she was neither so strong nor so clever as the girl +to whom she had been almost as a mother, and who, though perfectly +truthful and frank when she was minded to express herself, gave, as a +rule, little satisfaction to attempts to explore her mind, and on some +subjects was capable of meeting such attempts with impatience, not to +say resentment--a fact of which her sister was quite aware. But as time +went on, and the frequency of John's visits and attentions grew into a +settled habit, Mrs. Carling's uneasiness, with which perhaps was mingled +a bit of curiosity, got the better of her reserve, and she determined +to get what satisfaction could be obtained for it. + +They were sitting in Mrs. Carling's room, which was over the +drawing-room in the front of the house. A fire of cannel blazed in the +grate. + +A furious storm was whirling outside. Mrs. Carling was occupied with +some sort of needlework, and her sister, with a writing pad on her lap, +was composing a letter to a friend with whom she carried on a desultory +and rather one-sided correspondence. Presently she yawned slightly, and, +putting down her pad, went over to the window and looked out. + +"What a day!" she exclaimed. "It seems to get worse and worse. +Positively you can't see across the street. It's like a western +blizzard." + +"It is, really," said Mrs. Carling; and then, moved by the current of +thought which had been passing in her mind of late, "I fancy we shall +spend the evening by ourselves to-night." + +"That would not be so unusual as to be extraordinary, would it?" said +Mary. + +"Wouldn't it?" suggested Mrs. Carling in a tone that was meant to be +slightly quizzical. + +"We are by ourselves most evenings, are we not?" responded her sister, +without turning around. "Why do you particularize to-night?" + +"I was thinking," answered Mrs. Carling, bending a little closer over +her work, "that even Mr. Lenox would hardly venture out in such a storm +unless it were absolutely necessary." + +"Oh, yes, to be sure, Mr. Lenox; very likely not," was Miss Blake's +comment, in a tone of indifferent recollection. + +"He comes here very often, almost every night, in fact," remarked Mrs. +Carling, looking up sideways at her sister's back. + +"Now that you mention it," said Mary dryly, "I have noticed something of +the sort myself." + +"Do you think he ought to?" asked her sister, after a moment of silence. + +"Why not?" said the girl, turning to her questioner for the first time. +"And why should I think he should or should not? Doesn't he come to see +Julius, and on Julius's invitation? I have never asked him--but once," +she said, flushing a little as she recalled the occasion and the wording +of the invitation. + +"Do you think," returned Mrs. Carling, "that his visits are wholly on +Julius's account, and that he would come so often if there were no other +inducement? You know," she continued, pressing her point timidly but +persistently, "he always stays after we go upstairs if you are at home, +and I have noticed that when you are out he always goes before our time +for retiring." + +"I should say," was the rejoinder, "that that was very much the proper +thing. Whether or not he comes here too often is not for me to say--I +have no opinion on the subject. But, to do him justice, he is about the +last man to wait for a tacit dismissal, or to cause you and Julius to +depart from what he knows to be your regular habit out of politeness to +him. He is a person of too much delicacy and good breeding to stay +when--if--that is to say--" She turned again to the window without +completing her sentence, and, though Mrs. Carling thought she could +complete it for her, she wisely forbore. After a moment of silence, Mary +said in a voice devoid of any traces of confusion: + +"You asked me if I thought Mr. Lenox would come so often if there were +no object in his coming except to see Julius. I can only say that if +Julius were out of the question I think he would come here but seldom; +but," she added, as she left the window and resumed her seat, "I do not +quite see the object of this discussion, and, indeed, I am not quite +sure of what we are discussing. Do you object," she asked, looking +curiously at her sister and smiling slightly, "to Mr. Lenox's coming +here as he does, and if so, why?" This was apparently more direct than +Mrs. Carling was quite prepared for. "And if you do," Mary proceeded, +"what is to be done about it? Am I to make him understand that it is not +considered the proper thing? or will you? or shall we leave it to +Julius?" + +Mrs. Carling looked up into her sister's face, in which was a smile of +amused penetration, and looked down again in visible embarrassment. + +The young woman laughed as she shook her finger at her. + +"Oh, you transparent goose!" she cried. "What did he say?" + +"What did who say?" was the evasive response. + +"Julius," said Mary, putting her finger under her sister's chin and +raising her face. "Tell me now. You've been talking with him, and I +insist upon knowing the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the +truth. So there!" + +"Well," she admitted hesitatingly, "I said to him something like what I +have to you, that it seemed to me that Mr. Lenox came very often, and +that I did not believe it was all on his account, and that he" (won't +somebody please invent another pronoun?) "always stayed when you were +at home--" + +"--and," broke in her sister, "that you were afraid my young affections +were being engaged, and that, after all, we didn't know much if anything +about the young man, or, perhaps, that he was forming a hopeless +attachment, and so on." + +"No," said Mrs. Carling, "I didn't say that exactly. I--" + +"Didn't you, really?" said Mary teasingly. "One ought to be explicit in +such cases, don't you think? Well, what did Julius say? Was he very much +concerned?" Mrs. Carling's face colored faintly under her sister's +raillery, and she gave a little embarrassed laugh. + +"Come, now," said the girl relentlessly, "what did he say?" + +"Well," answered Mrs. Carling, "I must admit that he said 'Pooh!' for +one thing, and that you were your own mistress, and, so far as he had +seen, you were very well qualified to manage your own affairs." + +Her sister clapped her hands. "Such discrimination have I not seen," she +exclaimed, "no, not in Israel! What else did he say?" she demanded, with +a dramatic gesture. "Let us know the worst." + +Mrs. Carling laughed a little. "I don't remember," she admitted, "that +he said anything more on the subject. He got into some perplexity about +whether the steam should be off or on, and after that question was +settled we went to bed." Mary laughed outright. + +"So Julius doesn't think I need watching," she said. + +"Mary," protested her sister in a hurt tone, "you don't think I ever +did or could watch you? I don't want to pry into your secrets, dear," +and she looked up with tears in her eyes. The girl dropped on her knees +beside her sister and put her arms about her neck. + +"You precious old lamb!" she cried, "I know you don't. You couldn't pry +into anybody's secrets if you tried. You couldn't even try. But I +haven't any, dear, and I'll tell you every one of them, and, rather than +see a tear in your dear eyes, I would tell John Lenox that I never +wanted to see him again; and I don't know what you have been thinking, +but I haven't thought so at all" (which last assertion made even Mrs. +Carling laugh), "and I know that I have been teasing and horrid, and if +you won't put me in the closet I will be good and answer every question +like a nice little girl." Whereupon she gave her sister a kiss and +resumed her seat with an air of abject penitence which lasted for a +minute. Then she laughed again, though there was a watery gleam in her +own eyes. Mrs. Carling gave her a look of great love and admiration. + +"I ought not to have brought up the subject," she said, "knowing as I do +how you feel about such discussions, but I love you so much that +sometimes I can't help--" + +"Alice," exclaimed the girl, "please have the kindness to call me a +selfish P--I--G. It will relieve my feelings." + +"But I do not think you are," said Mrs. Carling literally. + +"But I am at times," declared Mary, "and you deserve not only to have, +but to be shown, all the love and confidence that I can give you. It's +only this, that sometimes your solicitude makes you imagine things that +do not exist, and you think I am withholding my confidence; and then, +again, I am enough like other people that I don't always know exactly +what I do think. Now, about this matter--" + +"Don't say a word about it, dear," her sister interrupted, "unless you +would rather than not." + +"I wish to," said Mary. "Of course I am not oblivious of the fact that +Mr. Lenox comes here very often, nor that he seems to like to stay and +talk with me, because, don't you know, if he didn't he could go when you +do, and I don't mind admitting that, as a general thing, I like to have +him stay; but, as I said to you, if it weren't for Julius he would not +come here very often." + +"Don't you think," said Mrs. Carling, now on an assured footing, "that +if it were not for you he would not come so often?" + +Perhaps Mary overestimated the attraction which her brother-in-law had +for Mr. Lenox, and she smiled slightly as she thought that it was quite +possible. "I suppose," she went on, with a little shrug of the +shoulders, "that the proceeding is not strictly conventional, and that +the absolutely correct thing would be for him to say good night when you +and Julius do, and that there are those who would regard my permitting a +young man in no way related to me to see me very often in the evening +without the protection of a duenna as a very unbecoming thing." + +"I never have had such a thought about it," declared Mrs. Carling. + +"I never for a moment supposed you had, dear," said Mary, "nor have I. +We are rather unconventional people, making very few claims upon +society, and upon whom 'society' makes very few." + +"I am rather sorry for that on your account," said her sister. + +"You needn't be," was the rejoinder. "I have no yearnings in that +direction which are not satisfied with what I have." She sat for a +minute or two with her hands clasped upon her knee, gazing reflectively +into the fire, which, in the growing darkness of the winter afternoon, +afforded almost the only light in the room. Presently she became +conscious that her sister was regarding her with an air of expectation, +and resumed: "Leaving the question of the conventions out of the +discussion as settled," she said, "there is nothing, Alice, that you +need have any concern about, either on Mr. Lenox's account or mine." + +"You like him, don't you?" asked Mrs. Carling. + +"Yes," said Mary frankly, "I like him very much. We have enough in +common to be rather sympathetic, and we differ enough not to be dull, +and so we get on very well. I never had a brother," she continued, after +a momentary pause, "but I feel toward him as I fancy I should feel +toward a brother of about my own age, though he is five or six years +older than I am." + +"You don't think, then," said Mrs. Carling timidly, "that you are +getting to care for him at all?" + +"In the sense that you use the word," was the reply, "not the least in +the world. If there were to come a time when I really believed I should +never see him again, I should be sorry; but if at any time it were a +question of six months or a year, I do not think my equanimity would be +particularly disturbed." + +"And how about him?" suggested Mrs. Carling. There was no reply. + +"Don't you think he may care for you, or be getting to?" + +Mary frowned slightly, half closing her eyes and stirring a little +uneasily in her chair. + +"He hasn't said anything to me on the subject," she replied evasively. + +"Would that be necessary?" asked her sister. + +"Perhaps not," was the reply, "if the fact were very obvious." + +"Isn't it?" persisted Mrs. Carling, with unusual tenacity. + +"Well," said the girl, "to be quite frank with you, I have thought once +or twice that he entertained some such idea--that is--no, I don't mean +to put it just that way. I mean that once or twice something has +occurred to give me that idea. That isn't very coherent, is it? But even +if it be so," she went on after a moment, with a wave of her hands, +"what of it? What does it signify? And if it does signify, what can I do +about it?" + +"You have thought about it, then?" said her sister. + +"As much as I have told you," she answered. "I am not a very sentimental +person, I think, and not very much on the lookout for such things, but I +know there is such a thing as a man's taking a fancy to a young woman +under circumstances which bring them often together, and I have been led +to believe that it isn't necessarily fatal to the man even if nothing +comes of it. But be that as it may," she said with a shrug of her +shoulders, "what can I do about it? I can't say to Mr. Lenox, 'I think +you ought not to come here so much,' unless I give a reason for it, and +I think we have come to the conclusion that there is no reason except +the danger--to put it in so many words--of his falling in love with me. +I couldn't quite say that to him, could I?" + +"No, I suppose not," acquiesced Mrs. Carling faintly. + +"No, I should say not," remarked the girl. "If he were to say anything +to me in the way of--declaration is the word, isn't it?--it would be +another matter. But there is no danger of that." + +"Why not, if he is fond of you?" asked her sister. + +"Because," said Mary, with an emphatic nod, "I won't let him," which +assertion was rather weakened by her adding, "and he wouldn't, if I +would." + +"I don't understand," said her sister. + +"Well," said Mary, "I don't pretend to know all that goes on in his +mind; but allowing, or rather conjecturing, that he does care for me in +the way you mean, I haven't the least fear of his telling me so, and one +of the reasons is this, that he is wholly dependent upon his father, +with no other prospect for years to come." + +"I had the idea somehow," said Mrs. Carling, "that his father was very +well-to-do. The young man gives one the impression of a person who has +always had everything that he wanted." + +"I think that is so," said Mary, "but he told me one day, coming over on +the steamer, that he knew nothing whatever of his own prospects or his +father's affairs. I don't remember--at least, it doesn't matter--how he +came to say as much, but he did, and afterward gave me a whimsical +catalogue of his acquirements and accomplishments, remarking, I +remember, that 'there was not a dollar in the whole list'; and lately, +though you must not fancy that he discusses his own affairs with me, he +has now and then said something to make me guess that he was somewhat +troubled about them." + +"Is he doing anything?" asked Mrs. Carling. + +"He told me the first evening he called here," said Mary, "that he was +studying law, at his father's suggestion; but I don't remember the name +of the firm in whose office he is." + +"Why doesn't he ask his father about his prospects?" said Mrs. Carling. + +Mary laughed. "You seem to be so much more interested in the matter than +I am," she said, "why don't you ask him yourself?" To which +unjustifiable rejoinder her sister made no reply. + +"I don't see why he shouldn't," she remarked. + +"I think I understand," said Mary. "I fancy from what he has told me +that his father is a singularly reticent man, but one in whom his son +has always had the most implicit confidence. I imagine, too, that until +recently, at any rate, he has taken it for granted that his father was +wealthy. He has not confided any misgivings to me, but if he has any he +is just the sort of person not to ask, and certainly not to press a +question with his father." + +"It would seem like carrying delicacy almost too far," remarked Mrs. +Carling. + +"Perhaps it would," said her sister, "but I think I can understand and +sympathize with it." + +Mrs. Carling broke the silence which followed for a moment or two as if +she were thinking aloud. "You have plenty of money," she said, and +colored at her inadvertence. Her sister looked at her for an instant +with a humorous smile, and then, as she rose and touched the bell +button, said, "That's another reason." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +I think it should hardly be imputed to John as a fault or a shortcoming +that he did not for a long time realize his father's failing powers. +True, as has been stated, he had noted some changes in appearance on his +return, but they were not great enough to be startling, and, though he +thought at times that his father's manner was more subdued than he had +ever known it to be, nothing really occurred to arouse his suspicion or +anxiety. After a few days the two men appeared to drop into their +accustomed relation and routine, meeting in the morning and at dinner; +but as John picked up the threads of his acquaintance he usually went +out after dinner, and even when he did not his father went early to his +own apartment. + +From John's childhood he had been much of the time away from home, and +there had never, partly from that circumstance and partly from the older +man's natural and habitual reserve, been very much intimacy between +them. The father did not give his own confidence, and, while always kind +and sympathetic when appealed to, did not ask his son's; and, loving his +father well and loyally, and trusting him implicitly, it did not occur +to John to feel that there was anything wanting in the relation. It was +as it had always been. He was accustomed to accept what his father did +or said without question, and, as is very often the case, had always +regarded him as an old man. He had never felt that they could be in the +same equation. In truth, save for their mutual affection, they had +little in common; and if, as may have been the case, his father had any +cravings for a closer and more intimate relation, he made no sign, +acquiescing in his son's actions as the son did in his, without question +or suggestion. They did not know each other, and such cases are not +rare, more is the pity. + +But as time went on even John's unwatchful eye could not fail to notice +that all was not well with his father. Haggard lines were multiplying in +the quiet face, and the silence at the dinner table was often unbroken +except by John's unfruitful efforts to keep some sort of a conversation +in motion. More and more frequently it occurred that his father would +retire to his own room immediately after dinner was over, and the food +on his plate would be almost untouched, while he took more wine than had +ever been his habit. John, retiring late, would often hear him stirring +uneasily in his room, and it would be plain in the morning that he had +spent a wakeful, if not a sleepless, night. Once or twice on such a +morning John had suggested to his father that he should not go down to +the office, and the suggestion had been met with so irritable a negative +as to excite his wonder. + + * * * * * + +It was a day in the latter part of March. The winter had been unusually +severe, and lingered into spring with a heart-sickening tenacity, +occasional hints of clemency and promise being followed by recurrences +which were as irritating as a personal affront. + +John had held to his work in the office, if not with positive +enthusiasm, at least with industry, and thought that he had made some +progress. On the day in question the managing clerk commented briefly +but favorably on something of his which was satisfactory, and, such +experiences being rare, he was conscious of a feeling of mild elation. +He was also cherishing the anticipation of a call at Sixty-ninth Street, +where, for reasons unnecessary to recount, he had not been for a week. +At dinner that night his father seemed more inclined than for a long +time to keep up a conversation which, though of no special import, was +cheerful in comparison with the silence which had grown to be almost the +rule, and the two men sat for a while over the coffee and cigars. +Presently, however, the elder rose from the table, saying pleasantly, "I +suppose you are going out to-night." + +"Not if you'd like me to stay in," was the reply. "I have no definite +engagement." + +"Oh, no," said Mr. Lenox, "not at all, not at all," and as he passed his +son on the way out of the room he put out his hand and taking John's, +said, "Good night." + +As John stood for a moment rather taken aback, he heard his father mount +the stairs to his room. He was puzzled by the unexpected and unusual +occurrence, but finally concluded that his father, realizing how +taciturn they had become of late, wished to resume their former status, +and this view was confirmed to his mind by the fact that they had been +more companionable than usual that evening, albeit that nothing of any +special significance had been said. + +As has been stated, a longer interval than usual had elapsed since +John's last visit to Sixty-ninth Street, a fact which had been commented +on by Mr. Carling, but not mentioned between the ladies. When he found +himself at that hospitable house on that evening, he was greeted by Miss +Blake alone. + +"Julius did not come down to-night, and my sister is with him," she +said, "so you will have to put up with my society--unless you'd like me +to send up for Alice. Julius is strictly _en retraite_, I should say." + +"Don't disturb her, I beg," protested John, laughing, and wondering a +bit at the touch of coquetry in her speech, something unprecedented in +his experience of her, "if you are willing to put up with my society. I +hope Mr. Carling is not ill?" + +They seated themselves as she replied: "No, nothing serious, I should +say. A bit of a cold, I fancy; and for a fortnight he has been more +nervous than usual. The changes in the weather have been so great and so +abrupt that they have worn upon his nerves. He is getting very uneasy +again. Now, after spending the winter, and when spring is almost at +hand, I believe that if he could make up his mind where to go he would +be for setting off to-morrow." + +"Really?" said John, in a tone of dismay. + +"Quite so," she replied with a nod. + +"But," he objected, "it seems too late or too early. Spring may drop in +upon us any day. Isn't this something very recent?" + +"It has been developing for a week or ten days," she answered, "and +symptoms have indicated a crisis for some time. In fact," she added, +with a little vexed laugh, "we have talked of nothing for a week but the +advantages and disadvantages of Florida, California, North Carolina, +South Carolina, and Virginia at large; besides St. Augustine, Monterey, +Santa Barbara, Aiken, Asheville, Hot Springs, Old Point Comfort, +Bermuda, and I don't know how many other places, not forgetting Atlantic +City and Lakewood, and only not Barbadoes and the Sandwich Islands +because nobody happened to think of them. Julius," remarked Miss Blake, +"would have given a forenoon to the discussion of the two latter places +as readily as to any of the others." + +"Can't you talk him along into warm weather?" suggested John, with +rather a mirthless laugh. "Don't you think that if the weather were to +change for good, as it's likely to do almost any time now, he might put +off going till the usual summer flitting?" + +"The change in his mind will have to come pretty soon if I am to retain +my mental faculties," she declared. "He might possibly, but I am afraid +not," she said, shaking her head. "He has the idea fixed in his mind, +and considerations of the weather here, while they got him started, are +not now so much the question. He has the moving fever, and I am afraid +it will have to run its course. I think," she said, after a moment, +"that if I were to formulate a special anathema, it would be, 'May +traveling seize you!'" + +"Or restlessness," suggested John. + +"Yes," she said, "that's more accurate, perhaps, but it doesn't sound +quite so smart. Julius is in that state of mind when the only place that +seems desirable is somewhere else." + +"Of course you will have to go," said John mournfully. + +"Oh, yes," she replied, with an air of compulsory resignation. "I shall +not only have to go, of course, but I shall probably have to decide +where in order to save my mind. But it will certainly be somewhere, so I +might as well be packing my trunks." + +"And you will be away indefinitely, I suppose?" + +"Yes, I imagine so." + +"Dear me!" John ejaculated in a dismal tone. + +They were sitting as described on a former occasion, and the young woman +was engaged upon the second (perhaps the third, or even the fourth) of +the set of doilies to which she had committed herself. She took some +stitches with a composed air, without responding to her companion's +exclamation. + +"I'm awfully sorry," he said presently, leaning forward with his elbows +on his knees, his hands hanging in an attitude of unmistakable +dejection, and staring fixedly into the fire. + +"I am very sorry myself," she said, bending her head a little closer +over her work. "I think I like being in New York in the spring better +than at any other time; and I don't at all fancy the idea of living in +my trunks again for an indefinite period." + +"I shall miss you horribly," he said, turning his face toward her. + +Her eyes opened with a lift of the brows, but whether the surprise so +indicated was quite genuine is a matter for conjecture. + +"Yes," he declared desperately, "I shall, indeed." + +"I should fancy you must have plenty of other friends," she said, +flushing a little, "and I have wondered sometimes whether Julius's +demands upon you were not more confident than warrantable, and whether +you wouldn't often rather have gone elsewhere than to come here to play +cards with him." She actually said this as if she meant it. + +"Do you suppose--" he exclaimed, and checked himself. "No," he said, "I +have come because--well, I've been only too glad to come, and--I suppose +it has got to be a habit," he added, rather lamely. "You see, I've never +known any people in the way I have known you. It has seemed to me more +like home life than anything I've ever known. There has never been any +one but my father and I, and you can have no idea what it has been to me +to be allowed to come here as I have, and--oh, you must know--" He +hesitated, and instantly she advanced her point. + +Her face was rather white, and the hand which lay upon the work in her +lap trembled a little, while she clasped the arm of the chair with the +other; but she broke in upon his hesitation with an even voice: + +"It has been very pleasant for us all, I'm sure," she said, "and, +frankly, I'm sorry that it must be interrupted for a while, but that is +about all there is of it, isn't it? We shall probably be back not later +than October, I should say, and then you can renew your contests with +Julius and your controversies with me." + +Her tone and what she said recalled to him their last night on board the +ship, but there was no relenting on this occasion. He realized that for +a moment he had been on the verge of telling the girl that he loved her, +and he realized, too, that she had divined his impulse and prevented the +disclosure; but he registered a vow that he would know before he saw her +again whether he might consistently tell her his love, and win or lose +upon the touch. + +Miss Blake made several inaccurate efforts to introduce her needle at +the exact point desired, and when that endeavor was accomplished broke +the silence by saying, "Speaking of 'October,' have you read the novel? +I think it is charming." + +"Yes," said John, with his vow in his mind, but not sorry for the +diversion, "and I enjoyed it very much. I thought it was immensely +clever, but I confess that I didn't quite sympathize with the love +affairs of a hero who was past forty, and I must also confess that I +thought the girl was, well--to put it in plain English--a fool." + +Mary laughed, with a little quaver in her voice. "Do you know," she +said, "that sometimes it seems to me that I am older than you are?" + +"I know you're awfully wise," said John with a laugh, and from that +their talk drifted off into the safer channels of their usual +intercourse until he rose to say good night. + +"Of course, we shall see you again before we go," she said as she gave +him her hand. + +"Oh," he declared, "I intend regularly to haunt the place." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +When John came down the next morning his father, who was, as a rule, the +most punctual of men, had not appeared. He opened the paper and sat down +to wait. Ten minutes passed, fifteen, twenty. He rang the bell. "Have +you heard my father this morning?" he said to Jeffrey, remembering for +the first time that he himself had not. + +"No, sir," said the man. "He most generally coughs a little in the +morning, but I don't think I heard him this morning, sir." + +"Go up and see why he doesn't come down," said John, and a moment later +he followed the servant upstairs, to find him standing at the chamber +door with a frightened face. + +"He must be very sound asleep, sir," said Jeffrey. "He hasn't answered +to my knockin' or callin', sir." John tried the door. He found the chain +bolt on, and it opened but a few inches. "Father!" he called, and then +again, louder. He turned almost unconsciously to Jeffrey, and found his +own apprehensions reflected in the man's face. "We must break in the +door," he said. "Now, together!" and the bolt gave way. + +His father lay as if asleep. "Go for the doctor at once! Bring him back +with you. Run!" he cried to the servant. Custom and instinct said, +"Send for the doctor," but he knew in his heart that no ministrations +would ever reach the still figure on the bed, upon which, for the +moment, he could not look. It was but a few minutes (how long such +minutes are!) before the doctor came--Doctor Willis, who had brought +John into the world, and had been a lifelong friend of both father and +son. He went swiftly to the bed without speaking, and made a brief +examination, while John watched him with fascinated eyes; and as the +doctor finished, the son dropped on his knees by the bed, and buried his +face in it. The doctor crossed the room to Jeffrey, who was standing in +the door with an awe-stricken face, and in a low voice gave him some +directions. Then, as the man departed, he first glanced at the kneeling +figure and then looked searchingly about the room. Presently he went +over to the grate in which were the ashes of an extinct fire, and, +taking the poker, pressed down among them and covered over a three or +four ounce vial. He had found what he was looking for. + + * * * * * + +There is no need to speak of the happenings of the next few days, nor is +it necessary to touch at any length upon the history of some of the +weeks and months which ensued upon this crisis in John Lenox's life, a +time when it seemed to him that everything he had ever cared for had +been taken. And yet, with that unreason which may perhaps be more easily +understood than accounted for, the one thing upon which his mind most +often dwelt was that he had had no answer to his note to Mary Blake. We +know what happened to her missive. It turned up long afterward in the +pocket of Master Jacky Carling's overcoat; so long afterward that John, +so far as Mary was concerned, had disappeared altogether. The discovery +of Jacky's dereliction explained to her, in part at least, why she had +never seen him or heard from him after that last evening at Sixty-ninth +Street. The Carlings went away some ten days later, and she did, in +fact, send another note to his house address, asking him to see them +before their departure; but John had considered himself fortunate in +getting the house off his hands to a tenant who would assume the lease +if given possession at once, and had gone into the modest apartment +which he occupied during the rest of his life in the city, and so the +second communication failed to reach him. Perhaps it was as well. Some +weeks later he walked up to the Carlings' house one Sunday afternoon, +and saw that it was closed, as he had expected. By an impulse which was +not part of his original intention--which was, indeed, pretty nearly +aimless--he was moved to ring the doorbell; but the maid, a stranger to +him, who opened the door could tell him nothing of the family's +whereabouts, and Mr. Betts (the house man in charge) was "hout." So John +retraced his steps with a feeling of disappointment wholly +disproportionate to his hopes or expectations so far as he had defined +them to himself, and never went back again. + + * * * * * + +He has never had much to say of the months that followed. + +It came to be the last of October. An errand from the office had sent +him to General Wolsey, of the Mutual Trust Company, of whom mention has +been made by David Harum. The general was an old friend of the elder +Lenox, and knew John well and kindly. When the latter had discharged his +errand and was about to go, the general said: "Wait a minute. Are you in +a hurry? If not, I want to have a little talk with you." + +"Not specially," said John. + +"Sit down," said the general, pointing to a chair. "What are your plans? +I see you are still in the Careys' office, but from what you told me +last summer I conclude that you are there because you have not found +anything more satisfactory." + +"That is the case, sir," John replied. "I can't be idle, but I don't see +how I can keep on as I am going now, and I have been trying for months +to find something by which I can earn a living. I am afraid," he added, +"that it will be a longer time than I can afford to wait before I shall +be able to do that out of the law." + +"If you don't mind my asking," said the general, "what are your +resources? I don't think you told me more than to give me to understand +that your father's affairs were at a pretty low ebb. Of course, I do not +wish to pry into your affairs--" + +"Not at all," John interposed; "I am glad to tell you, and thank you for +your interest. I have about two thousand dollars, and there is some +silver and odds and ends of things stored. I don't know what their value +might be--not very much, I fancy--and there were a lot of mining stocks +and that sort of thing which have no value so far as I can find out--no +available value, at any rate. There is also a tract of half-wild land +somewhere in Pennsylvania. There is coal on it, I believe, and some +timber; but Melig, my father's manager, told me that all the large +timber had been cut. So far as available value is concerned, the +property is about as much of an asset as the mining stock, with the +disadvantage that I have to pay taxes on it." + +"H'm," said the general, tapping the desk with his eyeglasses. +"H'm--well, I should think if you lived very economically you would have +about enough to carry you through till you can be admitted, provided you +feel that the law is your vocation," he added, looking up. + +"It was my father's idea," said John, "and if I were so situated that I +could go on with it, I would. But I am so doubtful with regard to my +aptitude that I don't feel as if I ought to use up what little capital I +have, and some years of time, on a doubtful experiment, and so I have +been looking for something else to do." + +"Well," said the general, "if you were very much interested--that is, if +you were anxious to proceed with your studies--I should advise you to go +on, and at a pinch I should be willing to help you out; but, feeling as +you do, I hardly know what to advise. I was thinking of you," he went +on, "before you came in, and was intending to send for you to come in to +see me." He took a letter from his desk. + +"I got this yesterday," he said. "It is from an old acquaintance of mine +by the name of Harum, who lives in Homeville, Freeland County. He is a +sort of a banker there, and has written me to recommend some one to take +the place of his manager or cashier whom he is sending away. It's rather +a queer move, I think, but then," said the general with a smile, "Harum +is a queer customer in some ways of his own. There is his letter. Read +it for yourself." + +The letter stated that Mr. Harum had had some trouble with his cashier +and wished to replace him, and that he would prefer some one from out of +the village who wouldn't know every man, woman, and child in the whole +region, and "blab everything right and left." "I should want," wrote Mr. +Harum, "to have the young man know something about bookkeeping and so +on, but I should not insist upon his having been through a trainer's +hands. In fact, I would rather break him in myself, and if he's willing +and sound and no vice, I can get him into shape. I will pay a thousand +to start on, and if he draws and travels all right, may be better in the +long run," etc. John handed back the letter with a slight smile, which +was reflected in the face of the general. "What do you think of it?" +asked the latter. + +"I should think it might be very characteristic," remarked John. + +"Yes," said the general, "it is, to an extent. You see he writes pretty +fair English, and he can, on occasion, talk as he writes, but usually, +either from habit or choice, he uses the most unmitigated dialect. But +what I meant to ask you was, what do you think of the proposal?" + +"You mean as an opportunity for _me_?" asked John. + +"Yes," said General Wolsey, "I thought of you at once." + +"Thank you very much," said John. "What would be your idea?" + +"Well," was the reply, "I am inclined to think I should write to him if +I were you, and I will write to him about you if you so decide. You have +had some office experience, you told me--enough, I should say, for a +foundation, and I don't believe that Harum's books and accounts are very +complicated." + +John did not speak, and the general went on: "Of course, it will be a +great change from almost everything you have been used to, and I dare +say that you may find the life, at first at least, pretty dull and +irksome. The stipend is not very large, but it is large for the country, +where your expenses will be light. In fact, I'm rather surprised at his +offering so much. At any rate, it is a living for the present, and may +lead to something better. The place is a growing one, and, more than +that, Harum is well off, and keeps more irons in the fire than one, and +if you get on with him you may do well." + +"I don't think I should mind the change so much," said John, rather +sadly. "My present life is so different in almost every way from what it +used to be, and I think I feel it in New York more even than I might in +a country village; but the venture seems a little like burning my +bridges." + +"Well," replied the general, "if the experiment should turn out a +failure for any reason, you won't be very much more at a loss than at +present, it seems to me, and, of course, I will do anything I can should +you wish me to be still on the lookout for you here." + +"You are exceedingly kind, sir," said John earnestly, and then was +silent for a moment or two. "I will make the venture," he said at +length, "and thank you very much." + +"You are under no special obligations to the Careys, are you?" asked the +general. + +"No, I think not," said John with a laugh. "I fancy that their business +will go on without me, after a fashion," and he took his leave. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +And so it came about that certain letters were written as mentioned in a +previous chapter, and in the evening of a dripping day early in November +John Lenox found himself, after a nine hours' journey, the only traveler +who alighted upon the platform of the Homeville station, which was near +the end of a small lake and about a mile from the village. As he stood +with his bag and umbrella, at a loss what to do, he was accosted by a +short and stubby individual with very black eyes and hair and a round +face, which would have been smooth except that it had not been shaved +for a day or two. "Goin' t' the village?" he said. + +"Yes," said John, "that is my intention, but I don't see any way of +getting there." + +"Carry ye over fer ten cents," said the man. "Carryall's right back the +deepo. Got 'ny baggidge?" + +"Two trunks," said John. + +"That'll make it thirty cents," said the native. "Where's your checks? +All right; you c'n jest step 'round an' git in. Mine's the only rig that +drew over to-night." + +It was a long clumsy affair, with windows at each end and a door in the +rear, but open at the sides except for enamel cloth curtains, which +were buttoned to the supports that carried a railed roof extending as +far forward as the dashboard. The driver's seat was on a level with +those inside. John took a seat by one of the front windows, which was +open but protected by the roof. + +His luggage having been put on board, they began the journey at a walk, +the first part of the road being rough and swampy in places, and +undergoing at intervals the sort of repairs which often prevails in +rural regions--namely, the deposit of a quantity of broken stone, which +is left to be worn smooth by passing vehicles, and is for the most part +carefully avoided by such whenever the roadway is broad enough to drive +round the improvement. But the worst of the way having been +accomplished, the driver took opportunity, speaking sideways over his +shoulder, to allay the curiosity which burned within him, "Guess I never +seen you before." John was tired and hungry, and generally low in his +mind. + +"Very likely not," was his answer. Mr. Robinson instantly arrived at the +determination that the stranger was "stuck up," but was in no degree +cast down thereby. + +"I heard Chet Timson tellin' that the' was a feller comin' f'm N'York to +work in Dave Harum's bank. Guess you're him, ain't ye?" + +No answer this time: theory confirmed. + +"My name's Robinson," imparted that individual. "I run the prince'ple +liv'ry to Homeville." + +"Ah!" responded the passenger. + +"What d'you say your name was?" asked Mr. Robinson, after he had steered +his team around one of the monuments to public spirit. + +"It's Lenox," said John, thinking he might concede something to such +deserving perseverance, "but I don't remember mentioning it." + +"Now I think on't, I guess you didn't," admitted Mr. Robinson. "Don't +think I ever knowed anybody of the name," he remarked. "Used to know +some folks name o' Lynch, but they couldn't 'a' ben no relations o' +your'n, I guess." This conjecture elicited no reply. + +"Git up, goll darn ye!" he exclaimed, as one of the horses stumbled, and +he gave it a jerk and a cut of the whip. "Bought that hoss of Dave +Harum," he confided to his passenger. "Fact, I bought both on 'em of +him, an' dum well stuck I was, too," he added. + +"You know Mr. Harum, then," said John, with a glimmer of interest. "Does +he deal in horses?" + +"Wa'al, I guess I make eout to know him," asserted the "prince'ple +liv'ryman," "an' he'll git up 'n the middle o' the night any time to git +the best of a hoss trade. Be you goin' to work fer him?" he asked, +encouraged to press the question. "Goin' to take Timson's place?" + +"Really," said John, in a tone which advanced Mr. Robinson's opinion to +a rooted conviction, "I have never heard of Mr. Timson." + +"He's the feller that Dave's lettin' go," explained Mr. Robinson. "He's +ben in the bank a matter o' five or six year, but Dave got down on him +fer some little thing or other, an' he's got his walkin' papers. He says +to me, says he, 'If any feller thinks he c'n come up here f'm N'York or +anywheres else, he says, 'an' do Dave Harum's work to suit him, he'll +find he's bit off a dum sight more'n he c'n chaw. He'd better keep his +gripsack packed the hull time,' Chet says." + +"I thought I'd sock it to the cuss a little," remarked Mr. Robinson in +recounting the conversation subsequently; and, in truth, it was not +elevating to the spirits of our friend, who found himself speculating +whether or no Timson might not be right. + +"Where you goin' to put up?" asked Mr. Robinson after an interval, +having failed to draw out any response to his last effort. + +"Is there more than one hotel?" inquired the passenger. + +"The's the Eagle, an' the Lake House, an' Smith's Hotel," replied Jehu. + +"Which would you recommend?" asked John. + +"Wa'al," said Robinson, "I don't gen'ally praise up one more'n another. +You see, I have more or less dealin' with all on 'em." + +"That's very diplomatic of you, I'm sure," remarked John, not at all +diplomatically. "I think I will try the Eagle." + +Mr. Robinson, in his account of the conversation, said in +confidence--not wishing to be openly invidious--that "he was dum'd if he +wa'n't almost sorry he hadn't recommended the Lake House." + +It may be inferred from the foregoing that the first impression which +our friend made on his arrival was not wholly in his favor, and Mr. +Robinson's conviction that he was "stuck up," and a person bound to get +himself "gen'ally disliked," was elevated to an article of faith by his +retiring to the rear of the vehicle, and quite out of ordinary range. +But they were nearly at their journey's end, and presently the carryall +drew up at the Eagle Hotel. + +It was a frame building of three stories, with a covered veranda running +the length of the front, from which two doors gave entrance--one to the +main hall, the other to the office and bar combined. This was rather a +large room, and was also to be entered from the main hall. + +John's luggage was deposited, Mr. Robinson was settled with, and took +his departure without the amenities which might have prevailed under +different conditions, and the new arrival made his way into the office. + +Behind the bar counter, which faced the street, at one end of which was +a small high desk and at the other a glazed case containing three or +four partly full boxes of forlorn-looking cigars, but with most +ambitious labels, stood the proprietor, manager, clerk, and what not of +the hostelry, embodied in the single person of Mr. Amos Elright, who was +leaning over the counter in conversation with three or four loungers who +sat about the room with their chairs tipped back against the wall. + +A sketch of Mr. Elright would have depicted a dull "complected" person +of a tousled baldness, whose dispirited expression of countenance was +enhanced by a chin whisker. His shirt and collar gave unmistakable +evidence that pajamas or other night-gear were regarded as +superfluities, and his most conspicuous garment as he appeared behind +the counter was a cardigan jacket of a frowsiness beyond compare. A +greasy neck scarf was embellished with a gem whose truthfulness was +without pretence. The atmosphere of the room was accounted for by a +remark which was made by one of the loungers as John came in. "Say, +Ame," the fellow drawled, "I guess the' was more skunk cabbidge 'n pie +plant 'n usual 'n that last lot o' cigars o' your'n, wa'n't the'?" to +which insinuation "Ame" was spared the necessity of a rejoinder by our +friend's advent. + +"Wa'al, guess we c'n give ye a room. Oh, yes, you c'n register if you +want to. Where is the dum thing? I seen it last week somewhere. Oh, +yes," producing a thin book ruled for accounts from under the counter, +"we don't alwus use it," he remarked--which was obvious, seeing that the +last entry was a month old. + +John concluded that it was a useless formality. "I should like something +to eat," he said, "and desire to go to my room while it is being +prepared; and can you send my luggage up now?" + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Elright, looking at the clock, which showed the hour +of half-past nine, and rubbing his chin perplexedly, "supper's ben +cleared off some time ago." + +"I don't want very much," said John; "just a bit of steak, and some +stewed potatoes, and a couple of boiled eggs, and some coffee." He might +have heard the sound of a slap in the direction of one of the sitters. + +"I'm 'fraid I can't 'commodate ye fur's the steak an' things goes," +confessed the landlord. "We don't do much cookin' after dinner, an' I +reckon the fire's out anyway. P'r'aps," he added doubtfully, "I c'd hunt +ye up a piece o' pie 'n some doughnuts, or somethin' like that." + +He took a key, to which was attached a huge brass tag with serrated +edges, from a hook on a board behind the bar--on which were suspended a +number of the like--lighted a small kerosene lamp, carrying a single +wick, and, shuffling out from behind the counter, said, "Say, Bill, +can't you an' Dick carry the gentleman's trunks up to 'thirteen?'" and, +as they assented, he gave the lamp and key to one of them and left the +room. The two men took a trunk at either end and mounted the stairs, +John following, and when the second one came up he put his fingers into +his waistcoat pocket suggestively. + +"No," said the one addressed as Dick, "that's all right. We done it to +oblige Ame." + +"I'm very much obliged to you, though," said John. + +"Oh, that's all right," remarked Dick as they turned away. + +John surveyed the apartment. There were two small-paned windows +overlooking the street, curtained with bright "Turkey-red" cotton; near +to one of them a small wood stove and a wood box, containing some odds +and ends of sticks and bits of bark; a small chest of drawers, serving +as a washstand; a malicious little looking-glass; a basin and ewer, +holding about two quarts; an earthenware mug and soap-dish, the latter +containing a thin bit of red translucent soap scented with sassafras; an +ordinary wooden chair and a rocking-chair with rockers of divergent +aims; a yellow wooden bedstead furnished with a mattress of "excelsior" +(calculated to induce early rising), a dingy white spread, a gray +blanket of coarse wool, a pair of cotton sheets which had too obviously +done duty since passing through the hands of the laundress, and a pair +of flabby little pillows in the same state, in respect to their cases, +as the sheets. On the floor was a much used and faded ingrain carpet, in +one place worn through by the edge of a loose board. A narrow strip of +unpainted pine nailed to the wall carried six or seven wooden pegs to +serve as wardrobe. Two diminutive towels with red borders hung on the +rail of the washstand, and a battered tin slop jar, minus a cover, +completed the inventory. + +"Heavens, what a hole!" exclaimed John, and as he performed his +ablutions (not with the sassafras soap) he promised himself a speedy +flitting. There came a knock at the door, and his host appeared to +announce that his "tea" was ready, and to conduct him to the +dining-room--a good-sized apartment, but narrow, with a long table +running near the center lengthwise, covered with a cloth which bore the +marks of many a fray. Another table of like dimensions, but bare, was +shoved up against the wall. Mr. Elright's ravagement of the larder had +resulted in a triangle of cadaverous apple pie, three doughnuts, some +chunks of soft white cheese, and a plate of what are known as oyster +crackers. + +"I couldn't git ye no tea," he said. "The hired girls both gone out, an' +my wife's gone to bed, an' the' wa'n't no fire anyway." + +"I suppose I could have some beer," suggested John, looking dubiously at +the banquet. + +"We don't keep no ale," said the proprietor of the Eagle, "an' I guess +we're out o' lawger. I ben intendin' to git some more," he added. + +"A glass of milk?" proposed the guest, but without confidence. + +"Milkman didn't come to-night," said Mr. Elright, shuffling off in his +carpet slippers, worn out in spirit with the importunities of the +stranger. There was water on the table, for it had been left there from +supper time. John managed to consume a doughnut and some crackers and +cheese, and then went to his room, carrying the water pitcher with him, +and, after a cigarette or two and a small potation from his flask, to +bed. Before retiring, however, he stripped the bed with the intention of +turning the sheets, but upon inspection thought better of it, and +concluded to leave them as they were. So passed his first night in +Homeville, and, as he fondly promised himself, his last at the Eagle +Hotel. + +When Bill and Dick returned to the office after "obligin' Ame," they +stepped with one accord to the counter and looked at the register. "Why, +darn it," exclaimed Bill, "he didn't sign his name, after all." + +"No," said Dick, "but I c'n give a putty near guess who he is, all the +same." + +"Some drummer?" suggested Bill. + +"Naw," said Richard scornfully. "What 'd a drummer be doin' here this +time o' year? That's the feller that's ousted Chet Timson, an' I'll bet +ye the drinks on't. Name's Linx or Lenx, or somethin' like that. Dave +told me." + +"So that's the feller, is it?" said Bill. "I guess he won't stay 'round +here long. I guess you'll find he's a little too toney fer these parts, +an' in pertic'ler fer Dave Harum. Dave'll make him feel 'bout as +comf'table as a rooster in a pond. Lord," he exclaimed, slapping his leg +with a guffaw, "'d you notice Ame's face when he said he didn't want +much fer supper, only beefsteak, an' eggs, an' tea, an' coffee, an' a +few little things like that? I thought I'd split." + +"Yes," said Dick, laughing, "I guess the' ain't nothin' the matter with +Ame's heart, or he'd 'a' fell down dead.--Hullo, Ame!" he said when the +gentleman in question came back after ministering to his guest, "got the +Prince o' Wales fixed up all right? Did ye cut that pickled el'phant +that come last week?" + +"Huh!" grunted Amos, whose sensibilities had been wounded by the events +of the evening, "I didn't cut no el'phant ner no cow, ner rob no hen +roost neither, but I guess he won't starve 'fore mornin'," and with that +he proceeded to fill up the stove and shut the dampers. + +"That means 'git,' I reckon," remarked Bill as he watched the operation. + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Elright, "if you fellers think you've spent enough +time droolin' 'round here swapping lies, I think _I'll_ go to bed," +which inhospitable and injurious remark was by no means taken in bad +part, for Dick said, with a laugh: + +"Well, Ame, if you'll let me run my face for 'em, Bill 'n I'll take a +little somethin' for the good o' the house before we shed the partin' +tear." This proposition was not declined by Mr. Elright, but he felt +bound on business principles not to yield with too great a show of +readiness. + +"Wa'al, I don't mind for this once," he said, going behind the bar and +setting out a bottle and glasses, "but I've gen'ally noticed that it's a +damn sight easier to git somethin' _into_ you fellers 'n 't is to git +anythin' _out_ of ye." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +The next morning at nine o'clock John presented himself at Mr. Harum's +banking office, which occupied the first floor of a brick building some +twenty or twenty-five feet in width. Besides the entrance to the bank, +there was a door at the south corner opening upon a stairway leading to +a suite of two rooms on the second floor. + +The banking office consisted of two rooms--one in front, containing the +desks and counters, and what may be designated as the "parlor" (as used +to be the case in the provincial towns) in the rear, in which were Mr. +Harum's private desk, a safe of medium size, the necessary assortment of +chairs, and a lounge. There was also a large Franklin stove. + +The parlor was separated from the front room by a partition, in which +were two doors, one leading into the inclosed space behind the desks and +counters, and the other into the passageway formed by the north wall and +a length of high desk, topped by a railing. The teller's or cashier's +counter faced the street opposite the entrance door. At the left of this +counter (viewed from the front) was a high-standing desk, with a rail. +At the right was a glass-inclosed space of counter of the same height as +that portion which was open, across which latter the business of paying +and receiving was conducted. + +As John entered he saw standing behind this open counter, framed, as it +were, between the desk on the one hand, and the glass inclosure on the +other, a person whom he conjectured to be the "Chet" (short for Chester) +Timson of whom he had heard. This person nodded in response to our +friend's "Good morning," and anticipated his inquiry by saying: + +"You lookin' for Dave?" + +"I am looking for Mr. Harum," said John. "Is he in the office?" + +"He hain't come in yet," was the reply. "Up to the barn, I reckon, but +he's liable to come in any minute, an' you c'n step into the back room +an' wait fer him," indicating the direction with a wave of his hand. + +Business had not begun to be engrossing, though the bank was open, and +John had hardly seated himself when Timson came into the back room and, +taking a chair where he could see the counter in the front office, +proceeded to investigate the stranger, of whose identity he had not the +smallest doubt. But it was not Mr. Timson's way to take things for +granted in silence, and it must be admitted that his curiosity in this +particular case was not without warrant. After a scrutiny of John's face +and person, which was not brief enough to be unnoticeable, he said, with +a directness which left nothing in that line to be desired, "I reckon +you're the new man Dave's ben gettin' up from the city." + +"I came up yesterday," admitted John. + +"My name's Timson," said Chet. + +"Happy to meet you," said John, rising and putting out his hand. "My +name is Lenox," and they shook hands--that is, John grasped the ends of +four limp fingers. After they had subsided into their seats, Chet's +opaquely bluish eyes made another tour of inspection, in curiosity and +wonder. + +"You alwus lived in the city?" he said at last. + +"It has always been my home," was the reply. + +"What put it in your head to come up here?" with another stare. + +"It was at Mr. Harum's suggestion," replied John, not with perfect +candor; but he was not minded to be drawn out too far. + +"D'ye know Dave?" + +"I have never met him." Mr. Timson looked more puzzled than ever. + +"Ever ben in the bankin' bus'nis?" + +"I have had some experience of such accounts in a general way." + +"Ever keep books?" + +"Only as I have told you," said John, smiling at the little man. + +"Got any idee what you'll have to do up here?" asked Chet. + +"Only in a general way." + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Timson, "I c'n tell ye; an', what's _more_, I c'n tell +ye, young man, 't you hain't no idee of what you're undertakin', an' ef +you don't wish you was back in New York 'fore you git through I ain't no +guesser." + +"That is possible," said John readily, recalling his night and his +breakfast that morning. + +"Yes, sir," said the other. "Yes, _sir_; if you do what I've had to do, +you'll do the hull darned thing, an' nobody to help you but Pele +Hopkins, who don't count fer a row o' crooked pins. As fer's Dave's +concerned," asserted the speaker with a wave of his hands, "he don't +know no more about bankin' 'n a cat. He couldn't count a thousan' +dollars in an hour, an', as for addin' up a row o' figures, he couldn't +git it twice alike, I don't believe, if he was to be hung for't." + +"He must understand the meaning of his own books and accounts, I should +think," remarked John. + +"Oh," said Chet scornfully, "anybody c'd do that. That's easy 'nough; +but as fur 's the real bus'nis is concerned, he don't have nothin' to do +with it. It's all ben left to me: chargin' an' creditin', postin', +individule ledger, gen'ral ledger, bill-book, discount register, +tickler, for'n register, checkin' off the N'York accounts, drawin' off +statemunts f'm the ledgers an' bill-book, writin' letters--why, the' +ain't an hour 'n the day in bus'nis hours some days that the's an hour +'t I ain't busy 'bout somethin'. No, sir," continued Chet, "Dave don't +give himself no trouble about the bus'nis. All he does is to look after +lendin' the money, an' seein' that it gits paid when the time comes, an' +keep track of how much money the' is here an' in N'York, an' what notes +is comin' due--an' a few things like that, that don't put pen to paper, +ner take an hour of his time. Why, a man'll come in an' want to git a +note done, an' it'll be 'All right,' or, 'Can't spare the money to-day,' +all in a minute. He don't give it no thought at all, an' he ain't 'round +here half the time. Now," said Chet, "when I work fer a man I like to +have him 'round so 't I c'n say to him: 'Shall I do it so? or shall I do +it _so_? shall I? or sha'n't I?' an' then when I make a mistake--'s +anybody's liable to--he's as much to blame 's I be." + +"I suppose, then," said John, "that you must have to keep Mr. Harum's +private accounts also, seeing that he knows so little of details. I have +been told that he is interested in a good many matters besides this +business." + +"Wa'al," replied Timson, somewhat disconcerted, "I suppose he must keep +'em himself in _some_ kind of a fashion, an' I don't know a thing about +any outside matters of his'n, though I suspicion he has got quite a few. +He's got some books in that safe" (pointing with his finger) "an' he's +got a safe in the vault, but if you'll believe _me_"--and the speaker +looked as if he hardly expected it--"I hain't never so much as seen the +inside of either one on 'em. No, sir," he declared, "I hain't no more +idee of what's in them safes 'n you have. He's close, Dave Harum is," +said Chet with a convincing motion of the head; "on the hull, the +clostest man I ever see. I believe," he averred, "that if he was to lay +out to keep it shut that lightnin' might strike him square in the mouth +an' it wouldn't go in an eighth of an inch. An' yet," he added, "he c'n +talk by the rod when he takes a notion." + +"Must be a difficult person to get on with," commented John dryly. + +"I couldn't stan' it no longer," declared Mr. Timson with the air of one +who had endured to the end of virtue, "an' I says to him the other day, +'Wa'al,' I says, 'if I can't suit ye, mebbe you'd better suit +yourself.'" + +"Ah!" said John politely, seeing that some response was expected of him; +"and what did he say to that?" + +"He ast me," replied Chet, "if I meant by that to throw up the +situation. 'Wa'al,' I says 'I'm sick enough to throw up most anythin',' +I says, 'along with bein' found fault with fer nothin'.'" + +"And then?" queried John, who had received the impression that the +motion to adjourn had come from the other side of the house. + +"Wa'al," replied Chet, not quite so confidently, "he said somethin' +about my requirin' a larger spear of action, an' that he thought I'd do +better on a mile track--some o' his hoss talk. That's another thing," +said Timson, changing the subject. "He's all fer hosses. He'd sooner +make a ten-dollar note on a hoss trade than a hunderd right here 'n this +office. Many's the time right in bus'nis hours, when I've wanted to ask +him how he wanted somethin' done, he'd be busy talkin' hoss, an' +wouldn't pay no attention to me more'n 's if I wa'n't there." + +"I am glad to feel," said John, "that you can not possibly have any +unpleasant feeling toward me, seeing that you resigned as you did." + +"Cert'nly not, cert'nly not," declared Timson, a little uneasily. "If it +hadn't 'a' ben you, it would 'a' had to ben somebody else, an' now I +seen you an' had a talk with you--Wa'al, I guess I better git back into +the other room. Dave's liable to come in any minute. But," he said in +parting, "I will give ye piece of advice: You keep enough laid by to pay +your gettin' back to N'York. You may want it in a hurry," and with this +parting shot the rejected one took his leave. + + * * * * * + +The bank parlor was lighted by a window and a glazed door in the rear +wall, and another window on the south side. Mr. Harum's desk was by the +rear, or west, window, which gave view of his house, standing some +hundred feet back from the street. The south, or side, window afforded a +view of his front yard and that of an adjoining dwelling, beyond which +rose the wall of a mercantile block. Business was encroaching upon +David's domain. Our friend stood looking out of the south window. To the +left a bit of Main Street was visible, and the naked branches of the +elms and maples with which it was bordered were waving defiantly at +their rivals over the way, incited thereto by a northwest wind. + +We invariably form a mental picture of every unknown person of whom we +think at all. It may be so faint that we are unconscious of it at the +time, or so vivid that it is always recalled until dissipated by seeing +the person himself, or his likeness. But that we do so make a picture is +proved by the fact that upon being confronted by the real features of +the person in question we always experience a certain amount of +surprise, even when we have not been conscious of a different conception +of him. + +Be that as it may, however, there was no question in John Lenox's mind +as to the identity of the person who at last came briskly into the back +office and interrupted his meditations. Rather under the middle height, +he was broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with a clean-shaven, red face, +with--not a mole--but a slight protuberance the size of half a large pea +on the line from the nostril to the corner of the mouth; bald over the +crown and to a line a couple of inches above the ear, below that thick +and somewhat bushy hair of yellowish red, showing a mingling of gray; +small but very blue eyes; a thick nose, of no classifiable shape, and a +large mouth with the lips so pressed together as to produce a slightly +downward and yet rather humorous curve at the corners. He was dressed in +a sack coat of dark "pepper-and-salt," with waistcoat and trousers to +match. A somewhat old-fashioned standing collar, flaring away from the +throat, was encircled by a red cravat, tied in a bow under his chin. A +diamond stud of perhaps two carats showed in the triangle of spotless +shirt front, and on his head was a cloth cap with ear lappets. He +accosted our friend with, "I reckon you must be Mr. Lenox. How are you? +I'm glad to see you," tugging off a thick buckskin glove, and putting +out a plump but muscular hand. + +John thanked him as they shook hands, and "hoped he was well." + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, "I'm improvin' slowly. I've got so 'st I c'n +set up long enough to have my bed made. Come last night, I s'pose? +Anybody to the deepo to bring ye over? This time o' year once 'n a while +the' don't nobody go over for passengers." + +John said that he had had no trouble. A man by the name of Robinson had +brought him and his luggage. + +"E-up!" said David with a nod, backing up to the fire which was burning +in the grate of the Franklin stove, "'Dug' Robinson. 'D he do the p'lite +thing in the matter of questions an' gen'ral conversation?" he asked +with a grin. John laughed in reply to this question. + +"Where'd you put up?" asked David, John said that he passed the night +at the Eagle Hotel. Mr. Harum had seen Dick Larrabee that morning and +heard what he had to say of our friend's reception, but he liked to get +his information from original sources. + +"Make ye putty comf'table?" he asked, turning to eject a mouthful into +the fire. + +"I got along pretty well under the circumstances," said John. + +Mr. Harum did not press the inquiry. "How'd you leave the gen'ral?" he +inquired. + +"He seemed to be well," replied John, "and he wished to be kindly +remembered to you." + +"Fine man, the gen'ral," declared David, well pleased. "Fine man all +'round. Word's as good as his bond. Yes, sir, when the gen'ral gives his +warrant, I don't care whether I see the critter or not. Know him much?" + +"He and my father were old friends, and I have known him a good many +years," replied John, adding, "he has been very kind and friendly to +me." + +"Set down, set down," said Mr. Harum, pointing to a chair. Seating +himself, he took off his cap and dropped it with his gloves on the +floor. "How long you ben here in the office?" he asked. + +"Perhaps half an hour," was the reply. + +"I meant to have ben here when you come," said the banker, "but I got +hendered about a matter of a hoss I'm looking at. I guess I'll shut that +door," making a move toward the one into the front office. + +"Allow me," said John, getting up and closing it. + +"May's well shut the other one while you're about it. Thank you," as +John resumed his seat. "I hain't got nothin' very private, but I'm +'fraid of distractin' Timson's mind. Did he int'duce himself?" + +"Yes," said John, "we introduced ourselves and had a few minutes +conversation." + +"Gin ye his hull hist'ry an' a few relations throwed in?" + +"There was hardly time for that," said John, smiling. + +"Rubbed a little furn'ture polish into my char'cter an' repitation?" +insinuated Mr. Harum. + +"Most of our talk was on the subject of his duties and +responsibilities," was John's reply. ("Don't cal'late to let on any +more'n he cal'lates to," thought David to himself.) + +"Allowed he run the hull shebang, didn't he?" + +"He seemed to have a pretty large idea of what was required of one in +his place," admitted the witness. + +"Kind o' friendly, was he?" asked David. + +"Well," said John, "after we had talked for a while I said to him that I +was glad to think that he could have no unpleasant feeling toward me, +seeing that he had given up the place of his own preference, and he +assured me that he had none." + +David turned and looked at John for an instant, with a twinkle in his +eye. The younger man returned the look and smiled slightly. David +laughed outright. + +"I guess you've seen folks before," he remarked. + +"I have never met any one exactly like Mr. Timson, I think," said our +friend with a slight laugh. + +"Fortunitly them kind is rare," observed Mr. Harum dryly, rising and +going to his desk, from a drawer of which he produced a couple of +cigars, one of which he proffered to John, who, for the first time in +his life, during the next half hour regretted that he was a smoker. +David sat for two or three minutes puffing diligently, and then took the +weed out of his mouth and looked contemplatively at it. + +"How do you like that cigar?" he inquired. + +"It burns very nicely," said the victim. Mr. Harum emitted a cough which +was like a chuckle, or a chuckle which was like a cough, and relapsed +into silence again. Presently he turned his head, looked curiously at +the young man for a moment, and then turned his glance again to the +fire. + +"I've ben wonderin' some," he said, "pertic'lerly since I see you, how +'t was 't you wanted to come up here to Homeville. Gen'l Wolsey gin his +warrant, an' so I reckon you hadn't ben gettin' into no scrape nor +nothin'," and again he looked sharply at the young man at his side. + +"Did the general say nothing of my affairs?" the latter asked. + +"No," replied David, "all 't he said was in a gen'ral way that he'd +knowed you an' your folks a good while, an' he thought you'd be jest the +feller I was lookin' fer. Mebbe he reckoned that if you wanted your +story told, you'd ruther tell it yourself." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +Whatever might have been John's repugnance to making a confidant of the +man whom he had known but for half an hour, he acknowledged to himself +that the other's curiosity was not only natural but proper. He could not +but know that in appearance and manner he was in marked contrast with +those whom the man had so far seen. He divined the fact that his coming +from a great city to settle down in a village town would furnish matter +for surprise and conjecture, and felt that it would be to his advantage +with the man who was to be his employer that he should be perfectly and +obviously frank upon all matters of his own which might be properly +mentioned. He had an instinctive feeling that Harum combined acuteness +and suspiciousness to a very large degree, and he had also a feeling +that the old man's confidence, once gained, would not be easily shaken. +So he told his hearer so much of his history as he thought pertinent, +and David listened without interruption or comment, save an occasional +"E-um'm." + +"And here I am," John remarked in conclusion. + +"Here you _be_, fer a fact," said David. "Wa'al, the's worse places 'n +Homeville--after you git used to it," he added in qualification. "I ben +back here a matter o' thirteen or fourteen year now, an' am gettin' to +feel my way 'round putty well; but not havin' ben in these parts fer +putty nigh thirty year, I found it ruther lonesome to start with, an' I +guess if it hadn't 'a' ben fer Polly I wouldn't 'a' stood it. But up to +the time I come back she hadn't never ben ten mile away f'm here in her +hull life, an' I couldn't budge her. But then," he remarked, "while +Homeville aint a metrop'lis, it's some a diff'rent place f'm what it +used to be--in some _ways_. Polly's my sister," he added by way of +explanation. + +"Well," said John, with rather a rueful laugh, "if it has taken you all +that time to get used to it the outlook for me is not very encouraging, +I'm afraid." + +"Wa'al," remarked Mr. Harum, "I'm apt to speak in par'bles sometimes. I +guess you'll git along after a spell, though it mayn't set fust rate on +your stomech till you git used to the diet. Say," he said after a +moment, "if you'd had a couple o' thousan' more, do you think you'd 'a' +stuck to the law bus'nis?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," replied John, "but I am inclined to think not. +General Wolsey told me that if I were very anxious to go on with it he +would help me, but after what I told him he advised me to write to you." + +"He did, did he?" + +"Yes," said John, "and after what I had gone through I was not +altogether sorry to come away." + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum thoughtfully, "if I was to lose what little I've +got, an' had to give up livin' in the way I was used to, an' couldn't +even keep a hoss, I c'n allow 't I might be willin' fer a change of +scene to make a fresh start in. Yes, sir, I guess I would. Wa'al," +looking at his watch, "I've got to go now, an' I'll see ye later, mebbe. +You feel like takin' holt to-day?" + +"Oh, yes," said John with alacrity. + +"All right," said Mr. Harum. "You tell Timson what you want, an' make +him show you everythin'. He understands, an' I've paid him for't. He's +agreed to stay any time in reason 't you want him, but I guess," he +added with a laugh, "'t you c'n pump him dry 'n a day or two. It haint +rained wisdom an' knowlidge in his part o' the country fer a consid'able +spell." + +David stood for a moment drawing on his gloves, and then, looking at +John with his characteristic chuckle, continued: + +"Allowed he'd ben drawin' the hull load, did he? Wa'al, sir, the truth +on't is 't he never come to a hill yet, 'f 't wa'n't more 'n a foot +high, but what I had to git out an' push; nor never struck a turn in the +road but what I had to take him by the head an' lead him into it." With +which Mr. Harum put on his overcoat and cap and departed. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Timson was leaning over the counter in animated controversy with a +man on the outside who had evidently asserted or quoted (the quotation +is the usual weapon: it has a double barb and can be wielded with +comparative safety) something of a wounding effect. + +"No, sir," exclaimed Chet, with a sounding slap on the counter, "no, +sir! The' ain't one word o' truth in't. I said myself, 'I won't stan' +it,' I says, 'not f'm you ner nobody else,' I says, 'an' what's more,' +says I--" The expression in the face of Mr. Timson's tormentor caused +that gentleman to break off and look around. The man on the outside +grinned, stared at John a moment, and went out, and Timson turned and +said, as John came forward, "Hello! The old man picked ye to pieces all +he wanted to?" + +"We are through for the day, I fancy," said our friend, smiling, "and if +you are ready to begin my lessons I am ready to take them. Mr. Harum +told me that you would be good enough to show me what was necessary." + +"All right," said Mr. Timson readily enough, and so John began his first +day's work in David's office. He was surprised and encouraged to find +how much his experience in Rush & Company's office stood him in hand, +and managed to acquire in a comparatively short time a pretty fair +comprehension of the system which prevailed in "Harum's bank," +notwithstanding the incessant divagations of his instructor. + +It was decided between Timson and our friend that on the following day +the latter should undertake the office work under supervision, and the +next morning John was engaged upon the preliminaries of the day's +business when his employer came in and seated himself at his desk in the +back room. After a few minutes, in which he was busy with his letters, +he appeared in the doorway of the front room. He did not speak, for John +saw him, and, responding to a backward toss of the head, followed him +into the "parlor," and at an intimation of the same silent character +shut the doors. Mr. Harum sat down at his desk, and John stood awaiting +his pleasure. + +"How 'd ye make out yestidy?" he asked. "Git anythin' out of old +tongue-tied?" pointing with his thumb toward the front room. + +"Oh, yes," said John, smiling, as he recalled the unceasing flow of +words which had enveloped Timson's explanations. + +"How much longer do you think you'll have to have him 'round?" asked Mr. +Harum. + +"Well," said John, "of course your customers are strangers to me, but so +far as the routine of the office is concerned I think I can manage after +to-day. But I shall have to appeal to you rather often for a while until +I get thoroughly acquainted with my work." + +"Good fer you," said David. "You've took holt a good sight quicker 'n I +thought ye would, an' I'll spend more or less time 'round here fer a +while, or be where you c'n reach me. It's like this," he continued; +"Chet's a helpless kind of critter, fer all his braggin' an' talk, an' I +ben feelin' kind o' wambly about turnin' him loose--though the Lord +knows," he said with feeling, "'t I've had bother enough with him to +kill a tree. But anyway I wrote to some folks I know up to Syrchester to +git something fer him to do, an' I got a letter to send him along, an' +mebbe they'd give him a show. See?" + +"Yes, sir," said John, "and if you are willing to take the chances of my +mistakes I will undertake to get on without him." + +"All right," said the banker, "we'll call it a heat--and, say, don't let +on what I've told you. I want to see how long it'll take to git all over +the village that he didn't ask no odds o' nobody. Hadn't ben out o' a +job three days 'fore the' was a lot o' chances, an' all 't he had to do +was to take his pick out o' the lot on 'em." + +"Really?" said John. + +"Yes, sir," said David. "Some folks is gaited that way. Amusin', ain't +it?--Hullo, Dick! Wa'al?" + +"Willis'll give two hunderd fer the sorr'l colt," said the incomer, whom +John recognized as one of the loungers in the Eagle bar the night of his +arrival. + +"E-um'm!" said David. "Was he speakin' of any pertic'ler colt, or sorril +colts in gen'ral? I hain't got the only one the' is, I s'pose." + +Dick merely laughed. "Because," continued the owner of the "sorril +colt," "if Steve Willis wants to lay in sorril colts at two hunderd a +piece, I ain't goin' to gainsay him, but you tell him that +two-forty-nine ninety-nine won't buy the one in my barn." Dick laughed +again. + +John made a move in the direction of the front room. + +"Hold on a minute," said David. "Shake hands with Mr. Larrabee." + +"Seen ye before," said Dick, as they shook hands. "I was in the barroom +when you come in the other night," and then he laughed as at the +recollection of something very amusing. + +John flushed a little and said, a bit stiffly, "I remember you were kind +enough to help about my luggage." + +"Excuse me," said Dick, conscious of the other's manner. "I wa'n't +laughin' at you, that is, not in pertic'ler. I couldn't see your face +when Ame offered ye pie an' doughnuts instid of beefsteak an' fixins. I +c'd only guess at that; but Ame's face was enough fer me," and Dick +went off into another cachinnation. + +David's face indicated some annoyance. "Oh, shet up," he exclaimed. +"You'd keep that yawp o' your'n goin', I believe, if it was the judgment +day." + +"Wa'al," said Dick with a grin, "I expect the' might be some fun to be +got out o' _that_, if a feller wa'n't worryin' too much about his own +skin; an' as fur's I'm concerned----" Dick's further views on the +subject of that momentous occasion were left unexplained. A significant +look in David's face caused the speaker to break off and turn toward the +door, through which came two men, the foremost a hulking, shambling +fellow, with an expression of repellent sullenness. He came forward to +within about ten feet of David's desk, while his companion halted near +the door. David eyed him in silence. + +"I got this here notice this mornin'," said the man, "sayin' 't my note +'d be due to-morrer, an' 'd have to be paid." + +"Wa'al," said David, with his arm over the back of his chair and his +left hand resting on his desk, "that's so, ain't it?" + +"Mebbe so," was the fellow's reply, "fur 's the comin' due 's concerned, +but the payin' part 's another matter." + +"Was you cal'latin' to have it renewed?" asked David, leaning a little +forward. + +"No," said the man coolly, "I don't know 's I want to renew it fer any +pertic'ler time, an' I guess it c'n run along fer a while jest as 't +is." John looked at Dick Larrabee. He was watching David's face with an +expression of the utmost enjoyment. David twisted his chair a little +more to the right and out from the desk. + +"You think it c'n run along, do ye?" he asked suavely. "I'm glad to have +your views on the subject. Wa'al, I guess it kin, too, until _to-morro'_ +at four o'clock, an' after that you c'n settle with lawyer Johnson or +the sheriff." The man uttered a disdainful laugh. + +"I guess it'll puzzle ye some to c'lect it," he said. Mr. Harum's bushy +red eyebrows met above his nose. + +"Look here, Bill Montaig," he said, "I know more 'bout this matter 'n +you think for. I know 't you ben makin' your brags that you'd fix me in +this deal. You allowed that you'd set up usury in the fust place, an' if +that didn't work I'd find you was execution proof anyways. That's so, +ain't it?" + +"That's about the size on't," said Montaig, putting his feet a little +farther apart. David had risen from his chair. + +"You didn't talk that way," proceeded the latter, "when you come whinin' +'round here to git that money in the fust place, an' as I reckon some o' +the facts in the case has slipped out o' your mind since that time, I +guess I'd better jog your mem'ry a little." + +It was plain from the expression of Mr. Montaig's countenance that his +confidence in the strength of his position was not quite so assured as +at first, but he maintained his attitude as well as in him lay. + +"In the fust place," David began his assault, "_I_ didn't _lend_ ye the +money. I borr'ed it for ye on my indorsement, an' charged ye fer doin' +it, as I told ye at the time; an' another thing that you appear to +forgit is that you signed a paper statin' that you was wuth, in good and +available pusson'ls, free an' clear, over five hunderd dollars, an' that +the statement was made to me with the view of havin' me indorse your +note fer one-fifty. Rec'lect that?" David smiled grimly at the look of +disconcert which, in spite of himself, appeared in Bill's face. + +"I don't remember signin' no paper," he said doggedly. + +"Jest as like as not," remarked Mr. Harum. "What _you_ was thinkin' of +about that time was gittin' that _money_." + +"I'd like to see that paper," said Bill, with a pretence of incredulity. + +"You'll see it when the time comes," asserted David, with an emphatic +nod. He squared himself, planting his feet apart, and, thrusting his +hands deep in his coat pockets, faced the discomfited yokel. + +"Do you think, Bill Montaig," he said, with measureless contempt, "that +I didn't know who I was dealin' with? that I didn't know what a +low-lived, roost-robbin' skunk you was? an' didn't know how to protect +myself agin such an'muls as you be? Wa'al, I did, an' don't you stop +thinkin' 'bout it--an'," he added, shaking his finger at the object of +his scorn, "_you'll pay that note_ or I'll put ye where the dogs won't +bite ye," and with that he turned on his heel and resumed his seat. Bill +stood for a minute with a scowl of rage and defeat in his lowering face. + +"Got any further bus'nis with me?" inquired Mr. Harum. "Anythin' more 't +I c'n oblige ye about?" There was no answer. + +"I asked you," said David, raising his voice and rising to his feet, +"if you had any further bus'nis with me." + +"I dunno's I have," was the sullen response. + +"All right," said David. "That bein' the case, an' as I've got somethin' +to do beside wastin' my time on such wuthless pups as you be, I'll thank +you to git out. There's the door," he added, pointing to it. + +"He, he, he, he, ho, ho, ha, h-o-o-o-o-o!" came from the throat of Dick +Larrabee. This was too much for the exasperated Bill, and he erred (to +put it mildly) in raising his arm and advancing a step toward his +creditor. He was not swift enough to take the second, however, for +David, with amazing quickness, sprang upon him, and twisting him around, +rushed him out of the door, down the passage, and out of the front door, +which was obligingly held open by an outgoing client, who took in the +situation and gave precedence to Mr. Montaig. His companion, who so far +had taken no part, made a motion to interfere, but John, who stood +nearest to him, caught him by the collar and jerked him back, with the +suggestion that it would be better to let the two have it out by +themselves. David came back rather breathless and very red in the face, +but evidently in exceeding good humor. + +"Scat my ----!" he exclaimed. "Hain't had such a good tussle I dunno +when." + +"Bill's considered ruther an awk'ard customer," remarked Dick. "I guess +he hain't had no such handlin' fer quite a while." + +"Sho!" exclaimed Mr. Harum. "The' ain't nothin' to him but wind an' +meanness. Who was that feller with him?" + +"Name 's Smith, I believe," replied Dick. "Guess Bill brought him along +fer a witness, an' I reckon he seen all he wanted to. I'll bet _his_ +neck's achin' some," added Mr. Larrabee with a laugh. + +"How's that?" asked David. + +"Well, he made a move to tackle you as you was escortin' Bill out, an' +Mr. Lenox there caught him in the collar an' gin him a jerk that'd 'a' +landed him on his back," said Dick, "if," turning to John, "you hadn't +helt holt of him. You putty nigh broke his neck. He went off--he, he, +he, he, ho!--wrigglin' it to make sure." + +"I used more force than was necessary, I'm afraid," said Billy +Williams's pupil, "but there wasn't much time to calculate." + +"Much obliged," said David with a nod. + +"Not at all," protested John, laughing. "I have enjoyed a great deal +this morning." + +"It _has_ ben ruther pleasant," remarked David with a chuckle, "but you +mustn't cal'late on havin' such fun ev'ry mornin'." + +John went into the business office, leaving the banker and Dick. + +"Say," said the latter when they were alone, "that young man o' your'n +'s quite a feller. He took care o' that big Smith chap with one hand; +an' say, _you_ c'n git round on your pins 'bout 's lively 's they make +'em, I guess. I swan!" he exclaimed, slapping his thigh and shaking with +laughter, "the hull thing head-an'-shouldered any show I seen lately." +And then for a while they fell to talking of the "sorril colt" and other +things. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +When John went back to the office after the noonday intermission it was +manifest that something had happened to Mr. Timson, and that the +something was of a nature extremely gratifying to that worthy gentleman. +He was beaming with satisfaction and rustling with importance. Several +times during the afternoon he appeared to be on the point of confiding +his news, but in the face of the interruptions which occurred, or which +he feared might check the flow of his communication, he managed to +restrain himself till after the closing of the office. But scarcely were +the shutters up (at the willing hands of Peleg Hopkins) when he turned +to John and, looking at him sharply, said, "Has Dave said anythin' 'bout +my leavin'?" + +"He told me he expected you would stay as long as might be necessary to +get me well started," said John non-committally, mindful of Mr. Harum's +injunction. + +"Jest like him," declared Chet. "Jest like him for all the world; but +the fact o' the matter is 't I'm goin' to-morro'. I s'pose he thought," +reflected Mr. Timson, "thet he'd ruther you'd find it out yourself than +to have to break it to ye, 'cause then, don't ye see, after I was gone +he c'd lay the hull thing at my door." + +"Really," said John, "I should have said that he ought to have told me." + +"Wa'al," said Chet encouragingly, "mebbe you'll git along somehow, +though I'm 'fraid you'll have more or less trouble; but I told Dave that +as fur 's I c'd see, mebbe you'd do 's well 's most anybody he c'd git +that didn't know any o' the customers, an' hadn't never done any o' this +kind o' work before." + +"Thank you very much," said John. "And so you are off to-morrow, are +you?" + +"Got to be," declared Mr. Timson. "I'd 'a' liked to stay with you a +spell longer, but the's a big concern f'm out of town that as soon as +they heard I was at libe'ty wrote for me to come right along up, an' I +s'pose I hadn't ought to keep 'em waitin'." + +"No, I should think not," said John, "and I congratulate you upon having +located yourself so quickly." + +"Oh!" said Mr. Timson, with ineffable complacency, "I hain't give myself +no worry; I hain't lost no sleep. I've allowed all along that Dave +Harum'd find out that he wa'n't the unly man that needed my kind o' +work, an' I ain't meanin' any disrispect to you when I say 't--" + +"Just so," said John. "I quite understand. Nobody could expect to take +just the place with him that you have filled. And, by the way," he +added, "as you are going in the morning, and I may not see you again, +would you kindly give me the last balance sheets of the two ledgers and +the bill-book. I suppose, of course, that they are brought down to the +first of the month, and I shall want to have them." + +"Oh, yes, cert'nly, of course--wa'al I guess Dave's got 'em," replied +Chet, looking considerably disconcerted, "but I'll look 'em up in the +mornin'. My train don't go till ten o'clock, an' I'll see you 'bout any +little last thing in the mornin'--but I guess I've got to go now on +account of a lot of things. You c'n shut up, can't ye?" + +Whereupon Mr. Timson made his exit, and not long afterward David came +in. By that time everything had been put away, the safe and vault +closed, and Peleg had departed with the mail and his freedom for the +rest of the day. + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, lifting himself to a seat on the counter, +"how've you made out? All O.K.?" + +"Yes," replied John, "I think so." + +"Where's Chet?" + +"He went away some few minutes ago. He said he had a good many things to +attend to as he was leaving in the morning." + +"E-um'm!" said David incredulously. "I guess 't won't take him long to +close up his matters. Did he leave ev'rything in good shape? Cash all +right, an' so on?" + +"I think so," said John. "The cash is right I am sure." + +"How 'bout the books?" + +"I asked him to let me have the balance sheets, and he said that you +must have them, but that he would come in in the morning and--well, what +he said was that he would see me in the morning, and, as he put it, look +after any little last thing." + +"E-um'm!" David grunted. "He won't do no such a thing. We've seen the +last of him, you bet, an' a good riddance. He'll take the nine o'clock +to-night, that's what he'll do. Drawed his pay, I guess, didn't he?" + +"He said he was to be paid for this month," answered John, "and took +sixty dollars. Was that right?" + +"Yes," said David, nodding his head absently. "What was it he said about +them statements?" he inquired after a moment. + +"He said he guessed you must have them." + +"E-um'm!" was David's comment. "What'd he say about leavin'?" + +John laughed and related the conversation as exactly as he could. + +"What'd I tell ye," said Mr. Harum, with a short laugh. "Mebbe he won't +go till to-morro', after all," he remarked. "He'll want to put in a +leetle more time tellin' how he was sent for in a hurry by that big +concern f'm out of town 't he's goin' to." + +"Upon my word, I can't understand it," said John, "knowing that you can +contradict him." + +"Wa'al," said David, "he'll allow that if he gits in the fust word, +he'll take the pole. It don't matter anyway, long 's he's gone. I guess +you an' me c'n pull the load, can't we?" and he dropped down off the +counter and started to go out. "By the way," he said, halting a moment, +"can't you come in to tea at six o'clock? I want to make ye acquainted +with Polly, an' she's itchin' to see ye." + +"I shall be delighted," said John. + + * * * * * + +"Polly," said David, "I've ast the young feller to come to tea, but +don't you say the word 'Eagle,' to him. You c'n show your ign'rance +'bout all the other kinds of birds an' animals you ain't familiar +with," said the unfeeling brother, "but leave eagles alone." + +"What you up to now?" she asked, but she got no answer but a laugh. + +From a social point of view the entertainment could not be described as +a very brilliant success. Our friend was tired and hungry. Mr. Harum was +unusually taciturn, and Mrs. Bixbee, being under her brother's interdict +as regarded the subject which, had it been allowed discussion, might +have opened the way, was at a loss for generalities. But John afterward +got upon terms of the friendliest nature with that kindly soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Some weeks after John's assumption of his duties in the office of David +Harum, Banker, that gentleman sat reading his New York paper in the +"wing settin'-room," after tea, and Aunt Polly was occupied with the +hemming of a towel. The able editorial which David was perusing was +strengthening his conviction that all the intelligence and virtue of the +country were monopolized by the Republican party, when his meditations +were broken in upon by Mrs. Bixbee, who knew nothing and cared less +about the Force Bill or the doctrine of protection to American +industries. + +"You hain't said nothin' fer quite a while about the bank," she +remarked. "Is Mr. Lenox gittin' along all right?" + +"Guess he's gittin' into condition as fast as c'd be expected," said +David, between two lines of his editorial. + +"It must be awful lonesome fer him," she observed, to which there was no +reply. + +"Ain't it?" she asked, after an interval. + +"Ain't what?" said David, looking up at her. + +"Awful lonesome," she reiterated. + +"Guess nobody ain't ever very lonesome when you're 'round an' got your +breath," was the reply. "What you talkin' about?" + +"I ain't talkin' about you, 't any rate," said Mrs. Bixbee. "I was +sayin' it must be awful lonesome fer Mr. Lenox up here where he don't +know a soul hardly, an' livin' at that hole of a tavern." + +"I don't see 't you've any cause to complain long's he don't," said +David, hoping that it would not come to his sister's ears that he had, +for reasons of his own, discouraged any attempt on John's part to better +his quarters, "an' he hain't ben very lonesome daytimes, I guess, so +fur, 'thout he's ben makin' work fer himself to kill time." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "we found that Chet hadn't done more 'n to give +matters a lick an' a promise in most a year. He done just enough to keep +up the day's work an' no more an' the upshot on't is that John's had to +put in consid'able time to git things straightened out." + +"What a shame!" exclaimed Aunt Polly. + +"Keeps him f'm bein' lonesome," remarked her brother with a grin. + +"An' he hain't had no time to himself!" she protested. "I don't believe +you've made up your mind yet whether you're goin' to like him, an' I +don't believe he'll _stay_ anyway." + +"I've told more 'n forty-leven times," said Mr. Harum, looking up over +his paper, "that I thought we was goin' to make a hitch of it, an' he +cert'nly hain't said nuthin' 'bout leavin', an' I guess he won't fer a +while, tavern or no tavern. He's got a putty stiff upper lip of his own, +I reckon," David further remarked, with a short laugh, causing Mrs. +Bixbee to look up at him inquiringly, which look the speaker answered +with a nod, saying, "Me an' him had a little go-round to-day." + +"You hain't had no _words_, hev ye?" she asked anxiously. + +"Wa'al, we didn't have what ye might call _words_. I was jest tryin' a +little experiment with him." + +"Humph," she remarked, "you're alwus tryin' exper'ments on somebody, an' +you'll be liable to git ketched at it some day." + +"Exceptin' on you," said David. "You don't think I'd try any experiments +on you, do ye?" + +"Me!" she cried. "You're at me the hull endurin' time, an' you know it." + +"Wa'al, but Polly," said David insinuatingly, "you don't know how +int'restin' you _be_." + +"Glad you think so," she declared, with a sniff and a toss of the head. +"What you ben up to with Mr. Lenox?" + +"Oh, nuthin' much," replied Mr. Harum, making a feint of resuming his +reading. + +"Be ye goin' to tell me, or--air ye too _'shamed_ on't?" she added with +a little laugh, which somewhat turned the tables on her teasing brother. + +"Wa'al, I laid out to try an' read this paper," he said, spreading it +out on his lap, "but," resignedly, "I guess 't ain't no use. Do you know +what a count'fit bill is?" he asked. + +"I dunno 's I ever see one," she said, "but I s'pose I do. They're agin +the law, ain't they?" + +"The's a number o' things that's agin the law," remarked David dryly. + +"Wa'al?" ejaculated Mrs. Bixbee after a moment of waiting. + +"Wa'al," said David, "the' ain't much to tell, but it's plain I don't +git no peace till you git it out of me. It was like this: The young +feller's took holt everywhere else right off, but handlin' the money +bothered him consid'able at fust. It was slow work, an' I c'd see it +myself; but he's gettin' the hang on't now. Another thing I expected +he'd run up agin was count'fits. The' ain't so very many on 'em round +now-a-days, but the' is now an' then one. He allowed to me that he was +liable to get stuck at fust, an' I reckoned he would. But I never said +nuthin' about it, nor ast no questions until to-day; an' this afternoon +I come in to look 'round, an' I says to him, 'What luck have you had +with your money? Git any bad?' I says. 'Wa'al,' he says, colorin' up a +little, 'I don't know how many I may have took in an' paid out agin +without knowin' it,' he says, 'but the' was a couple sent back from New +York out o' that package that went down last Friday.'" + +"'What was they?' I says. + +"'A five an' a ten,' he says. + +"'Where be they?' I says. + +"'They're in the draw there--they're ruther int'restin' objects of +study,' he says, kind o' laughin' on the wrong side of his mouth. + +"'Countin' 'em in the cash?' I says, an' with that he kind o' reddened +up agin. 'No, sir,' he says, 'I charged 'em up to my own account, an' +I've kept 'em to compare with.' + +"'You hadn't ought to done that,' I says. + +"'You think I ought to 'a' put 'em in the fire at once?' says he. + +"'No,' I says, 'that wa'n't what I meant. Why didn't you mix 'em up with +the other money, an' let 'em go when you was payin' out? Anyways,' I +says, 'you charge 'em up to profit an' loss if you're goin' to charge +'em to anythin', an' let me have 'em,' I says. + +"'What'll you do with 'em?' he says to me, kind o' shuttin' his jaws +together. + +"'I'll take care on 'em,' I says. 'They mayn't be good enough to send +down to New York,' I says, 'but they'll go around here all right--jest +as good as any other,' I says, 'long 's you keep 'em movin'.'" + +"David Harum!" cried Polly, who, though not quite comprehending some of +the technicalities of detail, was fully alive to the turpitude of the +suggestion. "I hope to gracious he didn't think you was in earnest. Why, +s'pose they was passed around, wouldn't somebody git stuck with 'em in +the long run? You know they would." Mrs. Bixbee occasionally surprised +her brother with unexpected penetration, but she seldom got much +recognition of it. + +"I see by the paper," he remarked, "that the' was a man died in +Pheladelphy one day last week," which piece of barefaced irrelevancy +elicited no notice from Mrs. Bixbee. + +"What more did he say?" she demanded. + +"Wa'al," responded Mr. Harum with a laugh, "he said that he didn't see +why I should be a loser by his mistakes, an' that as fur as the bills +was concerned they belonged to him, an' with that," said the narrator, +"Mister Man gits 'em out of the draw an' jest marches into the back room +an' puts the dum things int' the fire." + +"He done jest right," declared Aunt Polly, "an' you know it, don't ye +now?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "f'm his standpoint--f'm his standpoint, I guess he +did, an'," rubbing his chin with two fingers of his left hand, "it's a +putty dum good standpoint too. I've ben lookin'," he added reflectively, +"fer an honest man fer quite a number o' years, an' I guess I've found +him; yes'm, I guess I've found him." + +"An' be you goin' to let him lose that fifteen dollars?" asked the +practical Polly, fixing her brother with her eyes. + +"Wa'al," said David, with a short laugh, "what c'n I do with such an +obst'nit critter 's he is? He jest backed into the britchin', an' I +couldn't do nothin' with him." Aunt Polly sat over her sewing for a +minute or two without taking a stitch. + +"I'm sorry you done it," she said at last. + +"I dunno but I did make ruther a mess of it," admitted Mr. Harum. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +It was the 23d of December, and shortly after the closing hour. Peleg +had departed and our friend had just locked the vault when David came +into the office and around behind the counter. + +"Be you in any hurry?" he asked. + +John said he was not, whereupon Mr. Harum hitched himself up onto a high +office stool, with his heels on the spindle, and leaned sideways upon +the desk, while John stood facing him with his left arm upon the desk. + +"John," said David, "do ye know the Widdo' Cullom?" + +"No" said John, "but I know who she is--a tall, thin woman, who walks +with a slight stoop and limp. I noticed her and asked her name because +there was something about her looks that attracted my attention--as +though at some time she might have seen better days." + +"That's the party," said David. "She has seen better days, but she's eat +an' drunk sorro' mostly fer goin' on thirty year, an' darned little else +good share o' the time, I reckon." + +"She has that appearance certainly," said John. + +"Yes sir," said David, "she's had a putty tough time, the widdo' has, +an' yet," he proceeded after a momentary pause, "the' was a time when +the Culloms was some o' the king-pins o' this hull region. They used to +own quarter o' the county, an' they lived in the big house up on the +hill where Doc Hays lives now. That was considered to be the finest +place anywheres 'round here in them days. I used to think the Capitol to +Washington must be somethin' like the Cullom house, an' that Billy P. +(folks used to call him Billy P. 'cause his father's name was William +an' his was William Parker), an' that Billy P. 'd jest 's like 's not be +president. I've changed my mind some on the subject of presidents since +I was a boy." + +Here Mr. Harum turned on his stool, put his right hand into his +sack-coat pocket, extracted therefrom part of a paper of "Maple Dew," +and replenished his left cheek with an ample wad of "fine-cut." John +took advantage of the break to head off what he had reason to fear might +turn into a lengthy digression from the matter in hand by saying, "I beg +pardon, but how does it happen that Mrs. Cullom is in such +circumstances? Has the family all died out?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "they're most on 'em dead, all on 'em, in fact, +except the widdo's son Charley, but as fur 's the family 's concerned, +it more 'n _died_ out--it _gin_ out! 'D ye ever hear of Jim Wheton's +calf? Wa'al, Jim brought three or four veals into town one spring to +sell. Dick Larrabee used to peddle meat them days. Dick looked 'em over +an' says, 'Look here, Jim,' he says, 'I guess you got a "deakin" in that +lot,' he says. 'I dunno what you mean,' says Jim. 'Yes, ye do, goll darn +ye!' says Dick, 'yes, ye do. You didn't never kill that calf, an' you +know it. That calf died, that's what that calf done. Come, now, own +up,' he says. 'Wa'al,' says Jim, 'I didn't _kill_ it, an' it didn't +_die_ nuther--it jest kind o' _gin out_.'" + +John joined in the laugh with which the narrator rewarded his own +effort, and David went on: "Yes, sir, they jest petered out. Old Billy, +Billy P.'s father, inheritid all the prop'ty--never done a stroke of +work in his life. He had a collidge education, went to Europe, an' all +that', an' before he was fifty year old he hardly ever come near the old +place after he was growed up. The land was all farmed out on shares, an' +his farmers mostly bamboozled him the hull time. He got consid'able +income, of course, but as things went along and they found out how slack +he was they kept bitin' off bigger chunks all the time, an' sometimes he +didn't git even the core. But all the time when he wanted money--an' he +wanted it putty often I tell ye--the easiest way was to stick on a +morgidge; an' after a spell it got so 't he'd have to give a morgidge to +pay the int'rist on the other morgidges." + +"But," said John, "was there nothing to the estate but land?" + +"Oh, yes," said David, "old Billy's father left him some consid'able +pers'nal, but after that was gone he went into the morgidge bus'nis as I +tell ye. He lived mostly up to Syrchester and around, an' when he got +married he bought a place in Syrchester and lived there till Billy P. +was about twelve or thirteen year old, an' he was about fifty. By that +time he'd got 'bout to the end of his rope, an' the' wa'n't nothin' for +it but to come back here to Homeville an' make the most o' what the' was +left--an' that's what he done, let alone that he didn't make the most +on't to any pertic'ler extent. Mis' Cullom, his wife, wa'n't no help to +him. She was a city woman an' didn't take to the country no way, but +when she died it broke old Billy up wus 'n ever. She peaked an' pined, +an' died when Billy P. was about fifteen or so. Wa'al, Billy P. an' the +old man wrastled along somehow, an' the boy went to collidge fer a year +or so. How they ever got along 's they did I dunno. The' was a story +that some far-off relation left old Billy some money, an' I guess that +an' what they got off'm what farms was left carried 'em along till Billy +P. was twenty-five or so, an' then he up an' got married. That was the +crownin' stroke," remarked David. "She was one o' the village +girls--respectable folks, more 'n ordinary good lookin' an' high +steppin', an' had had some schoolin'. But the old man was prouder 'n a +cock-turkey, an' thought nobody wa'n't quite good enough fer Billy P., +an' all along kind o' reckoned that he'd marry some money an' git a new +start. But when he got married--on the quiet, you know, cause he knowed +the old man would kick--wa'al, that killed the trick, an' the old man +into the bargain. It took the gumption all out of him, an' he didn't +live a year. Wa'al, sir, it was curious, but, 's I was told, putty much +the hull village sided with the old man. The Culloms was kind o' kings +in them days, an' folks wa'n't so one-man's-good's-anotherish as they be +now. They thought Billy P. done wrong, though they didn't have nothin' +to say 'gainst the girl neither--an' she's very much respected, Mis' +Cullom is, an' as fur's I'm concerned, I've alwus guessed she kept Billy +P. goin' full as long 's any one could. But 't wa'n't no use--that is +to say, the sure thing come to pass. He had a nom'nal title to a good +deal o' prop'ty, but the equity in most on't if it had ben to be put up +wa'n't enough to pay fer the papers. You see, the' ain't never ben no +real cash value in farm prop'ty in these parts. The' ain't ben hardly a +dozen changes in farm titles, 'cept by inher'tance or foreclosure, in +thirty years. So Billy P. didn't make no effort. Int'rist's one o' them +things that keeps right on nights an' Sundays. He jest had the deeds +made out and handed 'em over when the time came to settle. The' was some +village lots though that was clear, that fetched him in some money from +time to time until they was all gone but one, an' that's the one Mis' +Cullom lives on now. It was consid'able more'n a lot--in fact, a putty +sizable place. She thought the sun rose an' set where Billy P. was, but +she took a crotchit in her head, and wouldn't ever sign no papers fer +that, an' lucky fer him too. The' was a house on to it, an' he had a +roof over his head anyway when he died six or seven years after he +married, an' left her with a boy to raise. How she got along all them +years till Charley got big enough to help, I swan! I don't know. She +took in sewin' an' washin', an' went out to cook an' nurse, an' all +that, but I reckon the' was now an' then times when they didn't overload +their stomechs much, nor have to open the winders to cool off. But she +held onto that prop'ty of her'n like a pup to a root. It was putty well +out when Billy P. died, but the village has growed up to it. The's some +good lots could be cut out on't, an' it backs up to the river where the +current's enough to make a mighty good power fer a 'lectric light. I +know some fellers that are talkin' of startin' a plant here, an' it +ain't out o' sight that they'd pay a good price fer the river front, an' +enough land to build on. Fact on't is, it's got to be a putty valu'ble +piece o' prop'ty, more 'n she cal'lates on, I reckon." + +Here Mr. Harum paused, pinching his chin with thumb and index finger, +and mumbling his tobacco. John, who had listened with more attention +than interest--wondering the while as to what the narrative was leading +up to--thought something might properly be expected of him to show that +he had followed it, and said, "So Mrs. Cullom has kept this last piece +clear, has she?" + +"No," said David, bringing down his right hand upon the desk with +emphasis, "that's jest what she hain't done, an' that's how I come to +tell ye somethin' of the story, an' more on't 'n you've cared about +hearin', mebbe." + +"Not at all," John protested. "I have been very much interested." + +"You have, have you?" said Mr. Harum. "Wa'al, I got somethin' I want ye +to do. Day after to-morro' 's Chris'mus, an' I want ye to drop Mis' +Cullom a line, somethin' like this, 'That Mr. Harum told ye to say that +that morgidge he holds, havin' ben past due fer some time, an' no +int'rist havin' ben paid fer, let me see, more'n a year, he wants to +close the matter up, an' he'll see her Chris'mus mornin' at the bank at +nine o'clock, he havin' more time on that day; but that, as fur as he +can see, the bus'nis won't take very long'--somethin' like that, you +understand?" + +"Very well, sir," said John, hoping that his employer would not see in +his face the disgust and repugnance he felt as he surmised what a +scheme was on foot, and recalled what he had heard of Harum's hard and +unscrupulous ways, though he had to admit that this, excepting perhaps +the episode of the counterfeit money, was the first revelation to him +personally. But this seemed very bad to him. + +"All right," said David cheerfully, "I s'pose it won't take you long to +find out what's in your stockin', an' if you hain't nothin' else to do +Chris'mus mornin' I'd like to have you open the office and stay 'round a +spell till I git through with Mis' Cullom. Mebbe the' 'll be some papers +to fill out or witniss or somethin'; an' have that skeezicks of a boy +make up the fires so'st the place'll be warm." + +"Very good, sir," said John, hoping that the interview was at an end. + +But the elder man sat for some minutes apparently in a brown study, and +occasionally a smile of sardonic cunning wrinkled his face. At last he +said: "I've told ye so much that I may as well tell ye how I come by +that morgidge. 'Twont take but a minute, an' then you can run an' play," +he added with a chuckle. + +"I trust I have not betrayed any impatience," said John, and instantly +conscious of his infelicitous expression, added hastily, "I have really +been very much interested." + +"Oh, no," was the reply, "you hain't _betrayed_ none, but I know old +fellers like me gen'rally tell a thing twice over while they're at it. +Wa'al," he went on, "it was like this. After Charley Cullom got to be +some grown he helped to keep the pot a-bilin', 'n they got on some +better. 'Bout seven year ago, though, he up an' got married, an' then +the fat ketched fire. Finally he allowed that if he had some money he'd +go West 'n take up some land, 'n git along like pussly 'n a flower +gard'n. He ambitioned that if his mother 'd raise a thousan' dollars on +her place he'd be sure to take care of the int'rist, an' prob'ly pay off +the princ'ple in almost no time. Wa'al, she done it, an' off he went. +She didn't come to me fer the money, because--I dunno--at any rate she +didn't, but got it of 'Zeke Swinney. + +"Wa'al, it turned out jest 's any fool might 've predilictid, fer after +the first year, when I reckon he paid it out of the thousan', Charley +never paid no int'rist. The second year he was jest gettin' goin', an' +the next year he lost a hoss jest as he was cal'latin' to pay, an' the +next year the grasshoppers smote him, 'n so on; an' the outcome was that +at the end of five years, when the morgidge had one year to run, +Charley'd paid one year, an' she'd paid one, an' she stood to owe three +years' int'rist. How old Swinney come to hold off so was that she used +to pay the cuss ten dollars or so ev'ry six months 'n git no credit fer +it, an' no receipt an' no witniss, 'n he knowed the prop'ty was +improving all the time. He may have had another reason, but at any rate +he let her run, and got the shave reg'lar. But at the time I'm tellin' +you about he'd begun to cut up, an' allowed that if she didn't settle up +the int'rist he'd foreclose, an' I got wind on't an' I run across her +one day an' got to talkin' with her, an' she gin me the hull narration. +'How much do you owe the old critter?' I says. 'A hunderd an' eighty +dollars,' she says, 'an' where I'm goin' to git it,' she says, 'the Lord +only knows.' 'An' He won't tell ye, I reckon,' I says. Wa'al, of course +I'd known that Swinney had a morgidge because it was a matter of record, +an' I knowed him well enough to give a guess what his game was goin' to +be, an' more'n that I'd had my eye on that piece an' parcel an' I +figured that he wa'n't any likelier a citizen 'n I was." ("Yes," said +John to himself, "where the carcase is the vultures are gathered +together.") + +"'Wa'al,' I says to her, after we'd had a little more talk, 's'posen you +come 'round to my place to-morro' 'bout 'leven o'clock, an' mebbe we c'n +cipher this thing out. I don't say positive that we kin,' I says, 'but +mebbe, mebbe.' So that afternoon I sent over to the county seat an' got +a description an' had a second morgidge drawed up fer two hundred +dollars, an' Mis' Cullom signed it mighty quick. I had the morgidge made +one day after date, 'cause, as I said to her, it was in the nature of a +temp'rary loan, but she was so tickled she'd have signed most anythin' +at that pertic'ler time. 'Now,' I says to her, 'you go an' settle with +old Step-an'-fetch-it, but don't you say a word where you got the +money,' I says. 'Don't ye let on nothin'--stretch that conscience o' +your'n if nes'sary,' I says, 'an' be pertic'ler if he asks you if Dave +Harum give ye the money you jest say, "No, he didn't." That wont be no +lie,' I says, 'because I aint _givin'_ it to ye,' I says. Wa'al, she +done as I told her. Of course Swinney suspicioned fust off that I was +mixed up in it, but she stood him off so fair an' square that he didn't +know jest what _to_ think, but his claws was cut fer a spell, anyway. + +"Wa'al, things went on fer a while, till I made up my mind that I ought +to relieve Swinney of some of his anxieties about worldly bus'nis, an' +I dropped in on him one mornin' an' passed the time o' day, an' after +we'd eased up our minds on the subjects of each other's health an' such +like I says, 'You hold a morgidge on the Widder Cullom's place, don't +ye?' Of course he couldn't say nothin' but 'yes.' 'Does she keep up the +int'rist all right?' I says. 'I don't want to be pokin' my nose into +your bus'nis,' I says, 'an' don't tell me nothin' you don't want to.' +Wa'al, he knowed Dave Harum was Dave Harum, an' that he might 's well +spit it out, an' he says, 'Wa'al, she didn't pay nothin' fer a good +while, but last time she forked over the hull amount. 'But I hain't no +notion,' he says, 'that she'll come to time agin.' 'An' s'posin' she +don't,' I says, 'you'll take the prop'ty, won't ye?' 'Don't see no other +way,' he says, an' lookin' up quick, 'unless you over-bid me,' he says. +'No,' I says, 'I ain't buyin' no real estate jest now, but the thing I +come in fer,' I says, 'leavin' out the pleasure of havin' a talk with +you, was to say that I'd take that morgidge off'm your hands.' + +"Wa'al, sir, he, he, he, he! Scat my ----! At that he looked at me fer a +minute with his jaw on his neck, an' then he hunched himself, 'n drawed +in his neck like a mud turtle. 'No,' he says, 'I ain't sufferin' fer the +money, an' I guess I'll keep the morgidge. It's putty near due now, but +mebbe I'll let it run a spell. I guess the secur'ty's good fer it.' +'Yes,' I says, 'I reckon you'll let it run long enough fer the widder to +pay the taxes on't once more anyhow; I guess the secur'ty's good enough +to take that resk; but how 'bout _my_ secur'ty?' I says. 'What d'you +mean?' he says. 'I mean,' says I, 'that I've got a second morgidge on +that prop'ty, an' I begin to tremble fer my secur'ty. You've jest told +me,' I says, 'that you're goin' to foreclose an' I cal'late to protect +myself, an' I _don't_ cal'late,' I says, 'to have to go an' bid on that +prop'ty, an' put in a lot more money to save my investment, unless I'm +'bleeged to--not _much_! an' you can jest sign that morgidge over to me, +an' the sooner the quicker,' I says." + +David brought his hand down on his thigh with a vigorous slap, the +fellow of the one which, John could imagine, had emphasized his demand +upon Swinney. The story, to which he had at first listened with polite +patience merely, he had found more interesting as it went on, and, +excusing himself, he brought up a stool, and mounting it, said, "And +what did Swinney say to that?" Mr. Harum emitted a gurgling chuckle, +yawned his quid out of his mouth, tossing it over his shoulder in the +general direction of the waste basket, and bit off the end of a cigar +which he found by slapping his waistcoat pockets. John got down and +fetched him a match, which he scratched in the vicinity of his hip +pocket, lighted his cigar (John declining to join him on some plausible +pretext, having on a previous occasion accepted one of the brand), and +after rolling it around with his lips and tongue to the effect that the +lighted end described sundry eccentric curves, located it firmly with an +upward angle in the left-hand corner of his mouth, gave it a couple of +vigorous puffs, and replied to John's question. + +"Wa'al, 'Zeke Swinney was a perfesser of religion some years ago, an' +mebbe he is now, but what he said to me on this pertic'ler occasion was +that he'd see me in hell fust, an' _then_ he wouldn't. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'mebbe you won't, mebbe you will, it's alwus a +pleasure to meet ye,' I says, 'but in that case this morgidge bus'nis +'ll be a question fer our executors,' I says, 'fer _you_ don't never +foreclose that morgidge, an' don't you fergit it,' I says. + +"'Oh, you'd like to git holt o' that prop'ty yourself. I see what you're +up to,' he says. + +"'Look a-here, 'Zeke Swinney,' I says, 'I've got an int'rist in that +prop'ty, an' I propose to p'tect it. You're goin' to sign that morgidge +over to me, or I'll foreclose and surrygate ye,' I says, 'unless you +allow to bid in the prop'ty, in which case we'll see whose weasel-skin's +the longest. But I guess it won't come to that,' I says. 'You kin take +your choice,' I says. 'Whether I want to git holt o' that prop'ty myself +ain't neither here nor there. Mebbe I do, an' mebbe I don't, but +anyways,' I says, '_you_ don't git it, nor wouldn't ever, for if I can't +make you sign over, I'll either do what I said or I'll back the widder +in a defence fer usury. Put that in your pipe an' smoke it,' I says. + +"'What do you mean?' he says, gittin' half out his chair. + +"'I mean this,' I says, 'that the fust six months the widder couldn't +pay she gin you ten dollars to hold off, an' the next time she gin you +fifteen, an' that you've bled her fer shaves to the tune of sixty odd +dollars in three years, an' then got your int'rist in full.' + +"That riz him clean out of his chair," said David. "'She can't prove +it,' he says, shakin' his fist in the air. + +"'Oh, ho! ho!' I says, tippin' my chair back agin the wall. 'If Mis' +Cullom was to swear how an' where she paid you the money, givin' +chapter an' verse, and showin' her own mem'randums even, an' I was to +swear that when I twitted you with gittin' it you didn't deny it, but +only said that she couldn't _prove_ it, how long do you think it 'ould +take a Freeland County jury to find agin ye? I allow, 'Zeke Swinney,' I +says, 'that you wa'n't born yestyd'y, but you ain't so old as you look, +not by a dum sight!' an' then how I did laugh! + +"Wa'al," said David, as he got down off the stool and stretched himself, +yawning, "I guess I've yarned it enough fer one day. Don't fergit to +send Mis' Cullom that notice, an' make it up an' up. I'm goin' to git +the thing off my mind this trip." + +"Very well, sir," said John, "but let me ask, did Swinney assign the +mortgage without any trouble?" + +"O Lord! yes," was the reply. "The' wa'n't nothin' else fer him to do. I +had another twist on him that I hain't mentioned. But he put up a great +show of doin' it to obleege me. Wa'al, I thanked him an' so on, an' when +we'd got through I ast him if he wouldn't step over to the 'Eagil' an' +take somethin', an' he looked kind o' shocked an' said he never drinked +nothin'. It was 'gin his princ'ples, he said. Ho, ho, ho, ho! Scat my +----! Princ'ples!" and John heard him chuckling to himself all the way +out of the office. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Considering John's relations with David Harum, it was natural that he +should wish to think as well of him as possible, and he had not (or +thought he had not) allowed his mind to be influenced by the disparaging +remarks and insinuations which had been made to him, or in his presence, +concerning his employer. He had made up his mind to form his opinion +upon his own experience with the man, and so far it had not only been +pleasant but favorable, and far from justifying the half-jeering, +half-malicious talk that had come to his ears. It had been made manifest +to him, it was true, that David was capable of a sharp bargain in +certain lines, but it seemed to him that it was more for the pleasure of +matching his wits against another's than for any gain involved. Mr. +Harum was an experienced and expert horseman, who delighted above all +things in dealing in and trading horses, and John soon discovered that, +in that community at least, to get the best of a "hoss-trade" by almost +any means was considered a venial sin, if a sin at all, and the +standards of ordinary business probity were not expected to govern those +transactions. + +David had said to him once when he suspected that John's ideas might +have sustained something of a shock, "A hoss-trade ain't like anythin' +else. A feller may be straighter 'n a string in ev'rythin' else, an' +never tell the truth--that is, the hull truth--about a hoss. I trade +hosses with hoss-traders. They all think they know as much as I do, an' +I dunno but what they do. They hain't learnt no diff'rent anyway, an' +they've had chances enough. If a feller come to me that didn't think he +knowed anythin' about a hoss, an' wanted to buy on the square, he'd git, +fur's I knew, square treatment. At any rate I'd tell him all 't I knew. +But when one o' them smart Alecks comes along and cal'lates to do up old +Dave, why he's got to take his chances, that's all. An' mind ye," +asserted David, shaking his forefinger impressively, "it ain't only them +fellers. I've ben wuss stuck two three time by church members in good +standin' than anybody I ever dealed with. Take old Deakin Perkins. He's +a terrible feller fer church bus'nis; c'n pray an' psalm-sing to beat +the Jews, an' in spiritual matters c'n read his title clear the hull +time, but when it comes to hoss-tradin' you got to git up very early in +the mornin' or he'll skin the eyeteeth out of ye. Yes, sir! Scat my +----! I believe the old critter _makes_ hosses! But the deakin," added +David, "he, he, he, he! the deakin hain't hardly spoke to me fer some +consid'able time, the deakin hain't. He, he, he! + +"Another thing," he went on, "the' ain't no gamble like a hoss. You may +think you know him through an' through, an' fust thing you know he'll be +cuttin' up a lot o' didos right out o' nothin'. It stands to reason that +sometimes you let a hoss go all on the square--as you know him--an' the +feller that gits him don't know how to hitch him or treat him, an' he +acts like a diff'rent hoss, an' the feller allows you swindled him. You +see, hosses gits used to places an' ways to a certain extent, an' when +they're changed, why they're apt to act diff'rent. Hosses don't know but +dreadful little, really. Talk about hoss sense--wa'al, the' ain't no +such thing." + +Thus spoke David on the subject of his favorite pursuit and pastime, and +John thought then that he could understand and condone some things he +had seen and heard, at which at first he was inclined to look askance. +But this matter of the Widow Cullom's was a different thing, and as he +realized that he was expected to play a part, though a small one, in it, +his heart sank within him that he had so far cast his fortunes upon the +good will of a man who could plan and carry out so heartless and cruel +an undertaking as that which had been revealed to him that afternoon. He +spent the evening in his room trying to read, but the widow's affairs +persistently thrust themselves upon his thoughts. All the unpleasant +stories he had heard of David came to his mind, and he remembered with +misgiving some things which at the time had seemed regular and right +enough, but which took on a different color in the light in which he +found himself recalling them. He debated with himself whether he should +not decline to send Mrs. Cullom the notice as he had been instructed, +and left it an open question when he went to bed. + +He wakened somewhat earlier than usual to find that the thermometer had +gone up, and the barometer down. The air was full of a steady downpour, +half snow, half rain, about the most disheartening combination which the +worst climate in the world--that of central New York--can furnish. He +passed rather a busy day in the office in an atmosphere redolent of the +unsavory odors raised by the proximity of wet boots and garments to the +big cylinder stove outside the counter, a compound of stale smells from +kitchen and stable. + +After the bank closed he dispatched Peleg Hopkins, the office boy, with +the note for Mrs. Cullom. He had abandoned his half-formed intention to +revolt, but had made the note not only as little peremptory as was +compatible with a clear intimation of its purport as he understood it, +but had yielded to a natural impulse in beginning it with an expression +of personal regret--a blunder which cost him no little chagrin in the +outcome. + +Peleg Hopkins grumbled audibly when he was requested to build the fires +on Christmas day, and expressed his opinion that "if there warn't Bible +agin workin' on Chris'mus, the' 'd ort ter be"; but when John opened the +door of the bank that morning he found the temperature in comfortable +contrast to the outside air. The weather had changed again, and a +blinding snowstorm, accompanied by a buffeting gale from the northwest, +made it almost impossible to see a path and to keep it. In the central +part of the town some tentative efforts had been made to open walks, but +these were apparent only as slight and tortuous depressions in the +depths of snow. In the outskirts, the unfortunate pedestrian had to wade +to the knees. + +As John went behind the counter his eye was at once caught by a small +parcel lying on his desk, of white note paper, tied with a cotton +string, which he found to be addressed, "Mr. John Lenox, Esq., Present," +and as he took it up it seemed heavy for its size. + +Opening it, he found a tiny stocking, knit of white wool, to which was +pinned a piece of paper with the legend, "A Merry Christmas from Aunt +Polly." Out of the stocking fell a packet fastened with a rubber strap. +Inside were five ten-dollar gold pieces and a slip of paper on which was +written, "A Merry Christmas from Your Friend David Harum." For a moment +John's face burned, and there was a curious smarting of the eyelids as +he held the little stocking and its contents in his hand. Surely the +hand that had written "Your Friend" on that scrap of paper could not be +the hand of an oppressor of widows and orphans. "This," said John to +himself, "is what he meant when 'he supposed it wouldn't take me long to +find out what was in my stocking.'" + + * * * * * + +The door opened and a blast and whirl of wind and snow rushed in, +ushering the tall, bent form of the Widow Cullom. The drive of the wind +was so strong that John vaulted over the low cash counter to push the +door shut again. The poor woman was white with snow from the front of +her old worsted hood to the bottom of her ragged skirt. + +"You are Mrs. Cullom?" said John. "Wait a moment till I brush off the +snow, and then come to the fire in the back room. Mr. Harum will be in +directly, I expect." + +"Be I much late?" she asked. "I made 's much haste 's I could. It don't +appear to me 's if I ever see a blusteriner day, 'n I ain't as strong +as I used to be. Seemed as if I never would git here." + +"Oh, no," said John, as he established her before the glowing grate of +the Franklin stove in the bank parlor, "not at all. Mr. Harum has not +come in himself yet. Shall you mind if I excuse myself a moment while +you make yourself as comfortable as possible?" She did not apparently +hear him. She was trembling from head to foot with cold and fatigue and +nervous excitement. Her dress was soaked to the knees, and as she sat +down and put up her feet to the fire John saw a bit of a thin cotton +stocking and her deplorable shoes, almost in a state of pulp. A +snow-obliterated path led from the back door of the office to David's +house, and John snatched his hat and started for it on a run. As he +stamped off some of the snow on the veranda the door was opened for him +by Mrs. Bixbee. "Lord sakes!" she exclaimed. "What on earth be you +cavortin' 'round for such a mornin' 's this without no overcoat, an' on +a dead run? What's the matter?" + +"Nothing serious," he answered, "but I'm in a great hurry. Old Mrs. +Cullom has walked up from her house to the office, and she is wet +through and almost perished. I thought you'd send her some dry shoes and +stockings, and an old shawl or blanket to keep her wet skirt off her +knees, and a drop of whisky or something. She's all of a tremble, and +I'm afraid she will have a chill." + +"Certain! certain!" said the kind creature, and she bustled out of the +room, returning in a minute or two with an armful of comforts. "There's +a pair of bedroom slips lined with lamb's wool, an' a pair of woolen +stockin's, an' a blanket shawl. This here petticut, 't ain't what ye'd +call bran' new, but it's warm and comf'table, an' I don't believe she's +got much of anythin' on 'ceptin' her dress, an' I'll git ye the whisky, +but"--here she looked deprecatingly at John--"it ain't gen'ally known 't +we keep the stuff in the house. I don't know as it's right, but though +David don't hardly ever touch it he will have it in the house." + +"Oh," said John, laughing, "you may trust my discretion, and we'll swear +Mrs. Cullom to secrecy." + +"Wa'al, all right," said Mrs. Bixbee, joining in the laugh as she +brought the bottle; "jest a minute till I make a passel of the things to +keep the snow out. There, now, I guess you're fixed, an' you kin hurry +back 'fore she ketches a chill." + +"Thanks very much," said John as he started away. "I have something to +say to you besides 'Merry Christmas,' but I must wait till another +time." + +When John got back to the office David had just preceded him. + +"Wa'al, wa'al," he was saying, "but you be in a putty consid'able state. +Hullo, John! what you got there? Wa'al, you air the stuff! Slips, +blanket-shawl, petticut, stockin's--wa'al, you an' Polly ben puttin' +your heads together, I guess. What's that? Whisky! Wa'al, scat my ----! +I didn't s'pose wild hosses would have drawed it out o' Polly to let on +the' was any in the house, much less to fetch it out. Jest the thing! +Oh, yes ye are, Mis' Cullom--jest a mouthful with water," taking the +glass from John, "jest a spoonful to git your blood a-goin', an' then +Mr. Lenox an' me 'll go into the front room while you make yourself +comf'table." + +"Consarn it all!" exclaimed Mr. Harum as they stood leaning against the +teller's counter, facing the street, "I didn't cal'late to have Mis' +Cullom hoof it up here the way she done. When I see what kind of a day +it was I went out to the barn to have the cutter hitched an' send for +her, an' I found ev'rythin' topsy-turvy. That dum'd uneasy sorril colt +had got cast in the stall, an' I ben fussin' with him ever since. I +clean forgot all 'bout Mis' Cullom till jest now." + +"Is the colt much injured?" John asked. + +"Wa'al, he won't trot a twenty gait in some time, I reckon," replied +David. "He's wrenched his shoulder some, an' mebbe strained his inside. +Don't seem to take no int'rist in his feed, an' that's a bad sign. +Consarn a hoss, anyhow! If they're wuth anythin' they're more bother 'n +a teethin' baby. Alwus some dum thing ailin' 'em, an' I took consid'able +stock in that colt too," he added regretfully, "an' I could 'a' got +putty near what I was askin' fer him last week, an' putty near what he +was wuth, an' I've noticed that most gen'ally alwus when I let a good +offer go like that, some cussed thing happens to the hoss. It ain't a +bad idee, in the hoss bus'nis anyway, to be willin' to let the other +feller make a dollar once 'n a while." + +After that aphorism they waited in silence for a few minutes, and then +David called out over his shoulder, "How be you gettin' along, Mis' +Cullom?" + +"I guess I'm fixed," she answered, and David walked slowly back into the +parlor, leaving John in the front office. He was annoyed to realize +that in the bustle over Mrs. Cullom and what followed, he had forgotten +to acknowledge the Christmas gift; but, hoping that Mr. Harum had been +equally oblivious, promised himself to repair the omission later on. He +would have preferred to go out and leave the two to settle their affair +without witness or hearer, but his employer, who, as he had found, +usually had a reason for his actions, had explicitly requested him to +remain, and he had no choice. He perched himself upon one of the office +stools and composed himself to await the conclusion of the affair. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Mrs. Cullom was sitting at one corner of the fire, and David drew a +chair opposite to her. + +"Feelin' all right now? whisky hain't made ye liable to no disorderly +conduct, has it?" he asked with a laugh. + +"Yes, thank you," was the reply, "the warm things are real comfortin', +'n' I guess I hain't had licker enough to make me want to throw things. +You got a kind streak in ye, Dave Harum, if you did send me this here +note--but I s'pose ye know your own bus'nis," she added with a sigh of +resignation. "I ben fearin' fer a good while 't I couldn't hold on t' +that prop'ty, an' I don't know but what you might's well git it as 'Zeke +Swinney, though I ben hopin' 'gainst hope that Charley 'd be able to do +more 'n he has." + +"Let's see the note," said David curtly. "H'm, humph, 'regret to say +that I have been instructed by Mr. Harum'--wa'al, h'm'm, cal'lated to +clear his own skirts anyway--h'm'm--'must be closed up without further +delay' (John's eye caught the little white stocking which still lay on +his desk)--wa'al, yes, that's about what I told Mr. Lenox to say fur's +the bus'nis part's concerned--I might 'a' done my own regrettin' if I'd +wrote the note myself." (John said something to himself.) "'T ain't the +pleasantest thing in the world fer ye, I allow, but then you see, +bus'nis is bus'nis." + +John heard David clear his throat, and there was a hiss in the open +fire. Mrs. Cullom was silent, and David resumed: + +"You see, Mis' Cullom, it's like this. I ben thinkin' of this matter fer +a good while. That place ain't ben no real good to ye sence the first +year you signed that morgidge. You hain't scurcely more'n made ends +meet, let alone the int'rist, an' it's ben simply a question o' time, +an' who'd git the prop'ty in the long run fer some years. I reckoned, +same as you did, that Charley 'd mebbe come to the front--but he hain't +done it, an' 't ain't likely he ever will. Charley's a likely 'nough boy +some ways, but he hain't got much 'git there' in his make-up, not more'n +enough fer one anyhow, I reckon. That's about the size on't, ain't it?" + +Mrs. Cullom murmured a feeble admission that she was "'fraid it was." + +"Wa'al," resumed Mr. Harum, "I see how things was goin', an' I see that +unless I played euchre, 'Zeke Swinney 'd git that prop'ty, an' whether I +wanted it myself or not, I didn't cal'late he sh'd git it anyway. He put +a spoke in my wheel once, an' I hain't forgot it. But that hain't +neither here nor there. Wa'al," after a short pause, "you know I helped +ye pull the thing along on the chance, as ye may say, that you an' your +son 'd somehow make a go on't." + +"You ben very kind, so fur," said the widow faintly. + +"Don't ye say that, don't ye say that," protested David. "'T wa'n't no +kindness. It was jest bus'nis: I wa'n't takin' no chances, an' I s'pose +I might let the thing run a spell longer if I c'd see any use in't. But +the' ain't, an' so I ast ye to come up this mornin' so 't we c'd settle +the thing up without no fuss, nor trouble, nor lawyer's fees, nor +nothin'. I've got the papers all drawed, an' John--Mr. Lenox--here to +take the acknowlidgments. You hain't no objection to windin' the thing +up this mornin', have ye?" + +"I s'pose I'll have to do whatever you say," replied the poor woman in a +tone of hopeless discouragement, "an' I might as well be killed to once, +as to die by inch pieces." + +"All right then," said David cheerfully, ignoring her lethal suggestion, +"but before we git down to bus'nis an' signin' papers, an' in order to +set myself in as fair a light 's I can in the matter, I want to tell ye +a little story." + +"I hain't no objection 's I know of," acquiesced the widow graciously. + +"All right," said David, "I won't preach more 'n about up to the +sixthly--How'd you feel if I was to light up a cigar? I hain't much of a +hand at a yarn, an' if I git stuck, I c'n puff a spell. Thank ye. Wa'al, +Mis' Cullom, you used to know somethin' about my folks. I was raised on +Buxton Hill. The' was nine on us, an' I was the youngest o' the lot. My +father farmed a piece of about forty to fifty acres, an' had a small +shop where he done odd times small jobs of tinkerin' fer the neighbors +when the' was anythin' to do. My mother was his second, an' I was the +only child of that marriage. He married agin when I was about two year +old, an' how I ever got raised 's more 'n I c'n tell ye. My sister Polly +was 'sponsible more 'n any one, I guess, an' the only one o' the whole +lot that ever gin me a decent word. Small farmin' ain't cal'lated to +fetch out the best traits of human nature--an' keep 'em out--an' it +seems to me sometimes that when the old man wa'n't cuffin' my ears he +was lickin' me with a rawhide or a strap. Fur 's that was concerned, all +his boys used to ketch it putty reg'lar till they got too big. One on +'em up an' licked him one night, an' lit out next day. I s'pose the old +man's disposition was sp'iled by what some feller said farmin' was, +'workin' all day, an' doin' chores all night,' an' larrupin' me an' all +the rest on us was about all the enjoyment he got. My brothers an' +sisters--'ceptin' of Polly--was putty nigh as bad in respect of cuffs +an' such like; an' my step-marm was, on the hull, the wust of all. She +hadn't no childern o' her own, an' it appeared 's if I was jest pizen to +her. 'T wa'n't so much slappin' an' cuffin' with her as 't was tongue. +She c'd say things that 'd jest raise a blister like pizen ivy. I s'pose +I _was_ about as ord'nary, no-account-lookin', red-headed, freckled +little cuss as you ever see, an' slinkin' in my manners. The air of our +home circle wa'n't cal'lated to raise heroes in. + +"I got three four years' schoolin', an' made out to read an' write an' +cipher up to long division 'fore I got through, but after I got to be +six year old, school or no school, I had to work reg'lar at anything I +had strength fer, an' more too. Chores before school an' after school, +an' a two-mile walk to git there. As fur 's clo'es was concerned, any +old thing that 'd hang together was good enough fer me; but by the time +the older boys had outgrowed their duds, an' they was passed on to me, +the' wa'n't much left on 'em. A pair of old cowhide boots that leaked +in more snow an' water 'n they kept out, an' a couple pairs of woolen +socks that was putty much all darns, was expected to see me through the +winter, an' I went barefoot f'm the time the snow was off the ground +till it flew agin in the fall. The' wa'n't but two seasons o' the year +with me--them of chilblains an' stun-bruises." + +The speaker paused and stared for a moment into the comfortable glow of +the fire, and then discovering to his apparent surprise that his cigar +had gone out, lighted it from a coal picked out with the tongs. + +"Farmin' 's a hard life," remarked Mrs. Cullom with an air of being +expected to make some contribution to the conversation. + +"An' yit, as it seems to me as I look back on't," David resumed +pensively, "the wust on't was that nobody ever gin me a kind word, 'cept +Polly. I s'pose I got kind o' used to bein' cold an' tired; dressin' in +a snowdrift where it blowed into the attic, an' goin' out to fodder +cattle 'fore sun-up; pickin' up stun in the blazin' sun, an' doin' all +the odd jobs my father set me to, an' the older ones shirked onto me. +That was the reg'lar order o' things; but I remember I never _did_ git +used to never pleasin' nobody. 'Course I didn't expect nothin' f'm my +step-marm, an' the only way I ever knowed I'd done my stent fur 's +father was concerned, was that he didn't say nothin'. But sometimes the +older ones 'd git settin' 'round, talkin' an' laughin', havin' pop corn +an' apples, an' that, an' I'd kind o' sidle up, wantin' to join 'em, an' +some on 'em 'd say, 'What _you_ doin' here? time you was in bed,' an' +give me a shove or a cuff. Yes, ma'am," looking up at Mrs. Cullom, "the +wust on't was that I was kind o' scairt the hull time. Once in a while +Polly 'd give me a mossel o' comfort, but Polly wa'n't but little older +'n me, an' bein' the youngest girl, was chored most to death herself." + +It had stopped snowing, and though the wind still came in gusty blasts, +whirling the drift against the windows, a wintry gleam of sunshine came +in and touched the widow's wrinkled face. + +"It's amazin' how much trouble an' sorrer the' is in the world, an' how +soon it begins," she remarked, moving a little to avoid the sunlight. "I +hain't never ben able to reconcile how many good things the' be, an' how +little most on us gits o' them. I hain't ben to meetin' fer a long spell +'cause I hain't had no fit clo'es, but I remember most of the preachin' +I've set under either dwelt on the wrath to come, or else on the Lord's +doin' all things well, an' providin'. I hope I ain't no wickeder 'n than +the gen'ral run, but it's putty hard to hev faith in the Lord's +providin' when you hain't got nothin' in the house but corn meal, an' +none too much o' that." + +"That's so, Mis' Cullom, that's so," affirmed David. "I don't blame ye a +mite. 'Doubts assail, an' oft prevail,' as the hymn-book says, an' I +reckon it's a sight easier to have faith on meat an' potatoes 'n it is +on corn meal mush. Wa'al, as I was sayin'--I hope I ain't tirin' ye with +my goin's on?" + +"No," said Mrs. Cullom, "I'm engaged to hear ye, but nobody 'd suppose +to see ye now that ye was such a f'lorn little critter as you make out." + +"It's jest as I'm tellin' ye, an' more also, as the Bible says," +returned David, and then, rather more impressively, as if he were +leading up to his conclusion, "it come along to a time when I was 'twixt +thirteen an' fourteen. The' was a cirkis billed to show down here in +Homeville, an' ev'ry barn an' shed fer miles around had pictures stuck +onto 'em of el'phants, an' rhinoceroses, an' ev'ry animul that went into +the ark; an' girls ridin' bareback an' jumpin' through hoops, an' +fellers ridin' bareback an' turnin' summersets, an' doin' turnovers on +swings; an' clowns gettin' hoss-whipped, an' ev'ry kind of a thing that +could be pictered out; an' how the' was to be a grand percession at ten +o'clock, 'ith golden chariots, an' scripteral allegories, an' the hull +bus'nis; an' the gran' performance at two o'clock; admission twenty-five +cents, children under twelve, at cetery, an' so forth. Wa'al, I hadn't +no more idee o' goin' to that cirkis 'n I had o' flyin' to the moon, but +the night before the show somethin' waked me 'bout twelve o'clock. I +don't know how 't was. I'd ben helpin' mend fence all day, an' gen'ally +I never knowed nothin' after my head struck the bed till mornin'. But +that night, anyhow, somethin' waked me, an' I went an' looked out the +windo', an' there was the hull thing goin' by the house. The' was more +or less moon, an' I see the el'phant, an' the big wagins--the drivers +kind o' noddin' over the dashboards--an' the chariots with canvas +covers--I don't know how many of 'em--an' the cages of the tigers an' +lions, an' all. Wa'al, I got up the next mornin' at sun-up an' done my +chores; an' after breakfust I set off fer the ten-acre lot where I was +mendin' fence. The ten-acre was the farthest off of any, Homeville way, +an' I had my dinner in a tin pail so't I needn't lose no time goin' +home at noon, an', as luck would have it, the' wa'n't nobody with me +that mornin'. Wa'al, I got down to the lot an' set to work; but somehow +I couldn't git that show out o' my head nohow. As I said, I hadn't no +more notion of goin' to that cirkis 'n I had of kingdom come. I'd never +had two shillin' of my own in my hull life. But the more I thought on't +the uneasier I got. Somethin' seemed pullin' an' haulin' at me, an' +fin'ly I gin in. I allowed I'd see that percession anyway if it took a +leg, an' mebbe I c'd git back 'ithout nobody missin' me. 'T any rate, +I'd take the chances of a lickin' jest once--fer that's what it +meant--an' I up an' put fer the village lickity-cut. I done them four +mile lively, I c'n tell ye, an' the stun-bruises never hurt me once. + +"When I got down to the village it seemed to me as if the hull +population of Freeland County was there. I'd never seen so many folks +together in my life, an' fer a spell it seemed to me as if ev'rybody was +a-lookin' at me an' sayin', 'That's old Harum's boy Dave, playin' +hookey,' an' I sneaked 'round dreadin' somebody 'd give me away; but I +fin'ly found that nobody wa'n't payin' any attention to me--they was +there to see the show, an' one red-headed boy more or less wa'n't no +pertic'ler account. Wa'al, putty soon the percession hove in sight, an' +the' was a reg'lar stampede among the boys, an' when it got by, I run +an' ketched up with it agin, an' walked alongside the el'phant, tin pail +an' all, till they fetched up inside the tent. Then I went off to one +side--it must 'a' ben about 'leven or half-past, an' eat my dinner--I +had a devourin' appetite--an' thought I'd jest walk round a spell, an' +then light out fer home. But the' was so many things to see an' +hear--all the side-show pictures of Fat Women, an' Livin' Skelitons; an' +Wild Women of Madygasker, an' Wild Men of Borneo; an' snakes windin' +round women's necks; hand-orgins; fellers that played the 'cordion, an' +mouth-pipes, an' drum an' cymbals all to once, an' such like--that I +fergot all about the time an' the ten-acre lot, an' the stun fence, an' +fust I knowed the folks was makin' fer the ticket wagin, an' the band +begun to play inside the tent. Be I taxin' your patience over the +limit?" said David, breaking off in his story and addressing Mrs. Cullom +more directly. + +"No, I guess not," she replied; "I was jest thinkin' of a circus I went +to once," she added with an audible sigh. + +"Wa'al," said David, taking a last farewell of the end of his cigar, +which he threw into the grate, "mebbe what's comin' 'll int'rest ye more +'n the rest on't has. I was standin' gawpin' 'round, list'nin' to the +band an' watchin' the folks git their tickets, when all of a suddin I +felt a twitch at my hair--it had a way of workin' out of the holes in my +old chip straw hat--an' somebody says to me, 'Wa'al, sonny, what you +thinkin' of?' he says. I looked up, an' who do you s'pose it was? It was +Billy P. Cullom! I knowed who he was, fer I'd seen him before, but of +course he didn't know me. Yes, ma'am, it was Billy P., an' wa'n't he +rigged out to kill!" + +The speaker paused and looked into the fire, smiling. The woman started +forward facing him, and clasping her hands, cried, "My husband! What'd +he have on?" + +"Wa'al," said David slowly and reminiscently, "near's I c'n remember, he +had on a blue broad-cloth claw-hammer coat with flat gilt buttons, an' +a double-breasted plaid velvet vest, an' pearl-gray pants, strapped down +over his boots, which was of shiny leather, an' a high pointed collar +an' blue stock with a pin in it (I remember wonderin' if it c'd be real +gold), an' a yeller-white plug beaver hat." + +At the description of each article of attire Mrs. Cullom nodded her +head, with her eyes fixed on David's face, and as he concluded she broke +out breathlessly, "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! David, he wore them very same +clo'es, an' he took me to that very same show that very same night!" +There was in her face a look almost of awe, as if a sight of her +long-buried past youth had been shown to her from a coffin. + +Neither spoke for a moment or two, and it was the widow who broke the +silence. As David had conjectured, she was interested at last, and sat +leaning forward with her hands clasped in her lap. + +"Well," she exclaimed, "ain't ye goin' on? What did he say to ye?" + +"Cert'nly, cert'nly," responded David, "I'll tell ye near 's I c'n +remember, an' I c'n remember putty near. As I told ye, I felt a twitch +at my hair, an' he said, 'What be you thinkin' about, sonny?' I looked +up at him, an' looked away quick. 'I dunno,' I says, diggin' my big toe +into the dust; an' then, I dunno how I got the spunk to, for I was shyer +'n a rat, 'Guess I was thinkin' 'bout mendin' that fence up in the +ten-acre lot's much's anythin',' I says. + +"'Ain't you goin' to the cirkis?' he says. + +"'I hain't got no money to go to cirkises,' I says, rubbin' the dusty +toes o' one foot over t' other, 'nor nothin' else,' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'why don't you crawl under the canvas?' + +"That kind o' riled me, shy 's I was. 'I don't crawl under no canvases,' +I says. 'If I can't go in same 's other folks, I'll stay out,' I says, +lookin' square at him fer the fust time. He wa'n't exac'ly smilin', but +the' was a look in his eyes that was the next thing to it." + +"Lordy me!" sighed Mrs. Cullom, as if to herself. "How well I can +remember that look; jest as if he was laughin' at ye, an' wa'n't +laughin' at ye, an' his arm around your neck!" + +David nodded in reminiscent sympathy, and rubbed his bald poll with the +back of his hand. + +"Wa'al," interjected the widow. + +"Wa'al," said David, resuming, "he says to me, 'Would you like to go to +the cirkis?' an' with that it occurred to me that I did want to go to +that cirkis more'n anythin' I ever wanted to before--nor since, it seems +to me. But I tell ye the truth, I was so far f'm expectin' to go't I +really hadn't knowed I wanted to. I looked at him, an' then down agin, +an' began tenderin' up a stun-bruise on one heel agin the other instep, +an' all I says was, bein' so dum'd shy, 'I dunno,' I says. But I guess +he seen in my face what my feelin's was, fer he kind o' laughed an' +pulled out half-a-dollar an' says: 'D' you think you could git a couple +o' tickits in that crowd? If you kin, I think I'll go myself, but I +don't want to git my boots all dust,' he says. I allowed I c'd try; an' +I guess them bare feet o' mine tore up the dust some gettin' over to the +wagin. Wa'al, I had another scare gettin' the tickits, fer fear some one +that knowed me 'd see me with a half-a-dollar, an' think I must 'a' +stole the money. But I got 'em an' carried 'em back to him, an' he took +'em an' put 'em in his vest pocket, an' handed me a ten-cent piece, an' +says, 'Mebbe you'll want somethin' in the way of refreshments fer +yourself an' mebbe the el'phant,' he says, an' walked off toward the +tent; an' I stood stun still, lookin' after him. He got off about a rod +or so an' stopped an' looked back. 'Ain't you comin'?' he says. + +"'Be I goin' with _you_?" I says. + +"'Why not?' he says, ''nless you'd ruther go alone,' an' he put his +finger an' thumb into his vest pocket. Wa'al, ma'am, I looked at him a +minute, with his shiny hat an' boots, an' fine clo'es, an' gold pin, an' +thought of my ragged ole shirt, an' cotton pants, an' ole chip hat with +the brim most gone, an' my tin pail an' all. 'I ain't fit to,' I says, +ready to cry--an'--wa'al, he jest laughed, an' says, 'Nonsense,' he +says, 'come along. A man needn't be ashamed of his workin' clo'es,' he +says, an' I'm dum'd if he didn't take holt of my hand, an' in we went +that way together." + +"How like him that was!" said the widow softly. + +"Yes, ma'am, yes, ma'am, I reckon it was," said David, nodding. + +"Wa'al," he went on after a little pause, "I was ready to sink into the +ground with shyniss at fust, but that wore off some after a little, an' +we two seen the hull show, I _tell_ ye. We walked 'round the cages, an' +we fed the el'phant--that is, he bought the stuff an' I fed him. I +'member--he, he, he!--'t he says, 'mind you git the right end,' he says, +an' then we got a couple o' seats, an' the doin's begun." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +The widow was looking at David with shining eyes and devouring his +words. All the years of trouble and sorrow and privation were wiped out, +and she was back in the days of her girlhood. Ah, yes! how well she +remembered him as he looked that very day--so handsome, so splendidly +dressed, so debonair; and how proud she had been to sit by his side that +night, observed and envied of all the village girls. + +"I ain't goin' to go over the hull show," proceeded David, "well 's I +remember it. The' didn't nothin' git away from me that afternoon, an' +once I come near to stickin' a piece o' gingerbread into my ear 'stid o' +my mouth. I had my ten-cent piece that Billy P. give me, but he wouldn't +let me buy nothin'; an' when the gingerbread man come along he says, +'Air ye hungry, Dave? (I'd told him my name), air ye hungry?' Wa'al, I +was a growin' boy, an' I was hungry putty much all the time. He bought +two big squares an' gin me one, an' when I'd swallered it, he says, +'Guess you better tackle this one too,' he says, 'I've dined.' I didn't +exac'ly know what 'dined' meant, but--he, he, he, he!--I tackled it," +and David smacked his lips in memory. + +"Wa'al," he went on, "we done the hull programmy--gingerbread, +lemonade--_pink_ lemonade, an' he took some o' that--pop corn, peanuts, +pep'mint candy, cin'mun candy--scat my ----! an' he payin' fer +ev'rythin'--I thought he was jest made o' money! An' I remember how we +talked about all the doin's; the ridin', an' jumpin', an' summersettin', +an' all--fer he'd got all the shyniss out of me for the time--an' once I +looked up at him, an' he looked down at me with that curious look in his +eyes an' put his hand on my shoulder. Wa'al, now, I tell ye, I had a +queer, crinkly feelin' go up an' down my back, an' I like to up an' +cried." + +"Dave," said the widow, "I kin see you two as if you was settin' there +front of me. He was alwus like that. Oh, my! Oh, my! David," she added +solemnly, while two tears rolled slowly down her wrinkled face, "we +lived together, husban' an' wife, fer seven year, an' he never give me a +cross word." + +"I don't doubt it a mossel," said David simply, leaning over and poking +the fire, which operation kept his face out of her sight and was +prolonged rather unduly. Finally he straightened up and, blowing his +nose as it were a trumpet, said: + +"Wa'al, the cirkis fin'ly come to an end, an' the crowd hustled to git +out 's if they was afraid the tent 'd come down on 'em. I got kind o' +mixed up in 'em, an' somebody tried to git my tin pail, or I thought he +did, an' the upshot was that I lost sight o' Billy P., an' couldn't make +out to ketch a glimpse of him nowhere. An' _then_ I kind o' come down to +earth, kerchug! It was five o'clock, an' I had better 'n four mile to +walk--mostly up hill--an' if I knowed anything 'bout the old man, an' I +thought I _did_, I had the all-firedist lickin' ahead of me 't I'd ever +got, an' that was sayin' a good deal. But, boy 's I was, I had grit +enough to allow 't was wuth it, an' off I put." + +"Did he lick ye much?" inqured Mrs. Cullom anxiously. + +"Wa'al," replied David, "he done his best. He was layin' fer me when I +struck the front gate--I knowed it wa'n't no use to try the back door, +an' he took me by the ear--most pulled it off--an' marched me off to the +barn shed without a word. I never see him so mad. Seemed like he +couldn't speak fer a while, but fin'ly he says, 'Where you ben all day?' + +"'Down t' the village,' I says. + +"'What you ben up to down there?' he says. + +"'Went to the cirkis,' I says, thinkin' I might 's well make a clean +breast on't. + +"'Where 'd you git the money?' he says. + +"'Mr. Cullom took me,' I says. + +"'You lie,' he says. 'You stole the money somewheres, an' I'll trounce +it out of ye, if I kill ye,' he says. + +"Wa'al," said David, twisting his shoulders in recollection, "I won't +harrer up your feelin's. 'S I told you, he done his best. I was willin' +to quit long 'fore he was. Fact was, he overdone it a little, an' he had +to throw water in my face 'fore he got through; an' he done that as +thorough as the other thing. I was somethin' like a chickin jest out o' +the cistern. I crawled off to bed the best I could, but I didn't lay on +my back fer a good spell, I c'n tell ye." + +"You poor little critter," exclaimed Mrs. Cullom sympathetically. "You +poor little critter!" + +"'T was more'n wuth it, Mis' Cullom," said David emphatically. "I'd had +the most enjoy'ble day, I might say the only enjoy'ble day, 't I'd ever +had in my hull life, an' I hain't never fergot it. I got over the +lickin' in course of time, but I've ben enjoyin' that cirkis fer forty +year. The' wa'n't but one thing to hender, an' that's this, that I +hain't never ben able to remember--an' to this day I lay awake nights +tryin' to--that I said 'Thank ye' to Billy P., an' I never seen him +after that day." + +"How's that?" asked Mrs. Cullom. + +"Wa'al," was the reply, "that day was the turnin' point with me. The +next night I lit out with what duds I c'd git together, an' as much grub +'s I could pack in that tin pail; an' the next time I see the old house +on Buxton Hill the' hadn't ben no Harums in it fer years." + +Here David rose from his chair, yawned and stretched himself, and stood +with his back to the fire. The widow looked up anxiously into his face. +"Is that all?" she asked after a while. + +"Wa'al, it is an' it ain't. I've got through yarnin' about Dave Harum at +any rate, an' mebbe we'd better have a little confab on your matters, +seein' 't I've got you 'way up here such a mornin' 's this. I gen'ally +do bus'nis fust an' talkin' afterward," he added, "but I kind o' got to +goin' an' kept on this time." + +He put his hand into the breast pocket of his coat and took out three +papers, which he shuffled in review as if to verify their identity, and +then held them in one hand, tapping them softly upon the palm of the +other, as if at a loss how to begin. The widow sat with her eyes +fastened upon the papers, trembling with nervous apprehension. +Presently he broke the silence. + +"About this here morgidge o' your'n," he said, "I sent ye word that I +wanted to close the matter up, an' seein' 't you're here an' come fer +that purpose, I guess we'd better make a job on't. The' ain't no time +like the present, as the sayin' is." + +"I s'pose it'll hev to be as you say," said the widow in a shaking +voice. + +"Mis' Cullom," said David solemnly, "_you_ know, an' I know, that I've +got the repitation of bein' a hard, graspin', schemin' man. Mebbe I be. +Mebbe I've ben hard done by all my hull life, an' have had to be; an' +mebbe, now 't I've got ahead some, it's got to be second nature, an' I +can't seem to help it. 'Bus'nis is bus'nis' ain't part of the golden +rule, I allow, but the way it gen'ally runs, fur 's I've found out, is, +'Do unto the other feller the way he'd like to do unto you, an' do it +fust.' But, if you want to keep this thing a-runnin' as it's goin' on +now fer a spell longer, say one year, or two, or even three, you may, +only I've got somethin' to say to ye 'fore ye elect." + +"Wa'al," said the poor woman, "I expect it 'd only be pilin' up wrath +agin' the day o' wrath. I can't pay the int'rist now without starvin', +an' I hain't got no one to bid in the prop'ty fer me if it was to be +sold." + +"Mis' Cullom," said David, "I said I'd got somethin' more to tell ye, +an' if, when I git through, you don't think I've treated you right, +includin' this mornin's confab, I hope you'll fergive me. It's this, an' +I'm the only person livin' that 's knowin' to it, an' in fact I may say +that I'm the only person that ever was really knowin' to it. It was +before you was married, an' I'm sure he never told ye, fer I don't doubt +he fergot all about it, but your husband, Billy P. Cullom, that was, +made a small investment once on a time, yes, ma'am, he did, an' in his +kind of careless way it jest slipped his mind. The amount of cap'tal he +put in wa'n't large, but the rate of int'rist was uncommon high. Now, he +never drawed no dividends on't, an' they've ben 'cumulatin' fer forty +year, more or less, at compound int'rist." + +The widow started forward, as if to rise from her seat. David put his +hand out gently and said, "Jest a minute, Mis' Cullom, jest a minute, +till I git through. Part o' that cap'tal," he resumed, "consistin' of a +quarter an' some odd cents, was invested in the cirkis bus'nis, an' the +rest on't--the cap'tal, an' all the cash cap'tal that I started in +bus'nis with--was the ten cents your husband give me that day, an' +here," said David, striking the papers in his left hand with the back of +his right, "_here_ is the _dividends_! This here second morgidge, not +bein' on record, may jest as well go onto the fire--it's gettin' +low--an' here's a satisfaction piece which I'm goin' to execute now, +that'll clear the thousan' dollar one. Come in here, John," he called +out. + +The widow stared at David for a moment speechless, but as the +significance of his words dawned upon her, the blood flushed darkly in +her face. She sprang to her feet and, throwing up her arms, cried out: +"My Lord! My Lord! Dave! Dave Harum! Is it true?--tell me it's true! You +ain't foolin' me, air ye, Dave? You wouldn't fool a poor old woman that +never done ye no harm, nor said a mean word agin ye, would ye? Is it +true? an' is my place clear? an' I don't owe nobody anythin'--I mean, no +money? Tell it agin. Oh, tell it agin! Oh, Dave! it's too good to be +true! Oh! Oh! Oh, _my_! an' here I be cryin' like a great baby, an', +an'"--fumbling in her pocket--"I do believe I hain't got no +hank'chif--Oh, thank ye," to John; "I'll do it up an' send it back +to-morrer. Oh, what made ye do it, Dave?" + +"Set right down an' take it easy, Mis' Cullom," said David soothingly, +putting his hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her back into her +chair. "Set right down an' take it easy.--Yes," to John, "I acknowledge +that I signed that." + +He turned to the widow, who sat wiping her eyes with John's +handkerchief. + +"Yes, ma'am," he said, "It's as true as anythin' kin be. I wouldn't no +more fool ye, ye know I wouldn't, don't ye? than I'd--jerk a hoss," he +asseverated. "Your place is clear now, an' by this time to-morro' the' +won't be the scratch of a pen agin it. I'll send the satisfaction over +fer record fust thing in the mornin'." + +"But, Dave," protested the widow, "I s'pose ye know what you're +doin'--?" + +"Yes," he interposed, "I cal'late I do, putty near. You ast me why I +done it, an' I'll tell ye if ye want to know. I'm payin' off an old +score, an' gettin' off cheap, too. That's what I'm doin'! I thought I'd +hinted up to it putty plain, seein' 't I've talked till my jaws ache; +but I'll sum it up to ye if you like." + +He stood with his feet aggressively wide apart, one hand in his +trousers pocket, and holding in the other the "morgidge," which he waved +from time to time in emphasis. + +"You c'n estimate, I reckon," he began, "what kind of a bringin'-up I +had, an' what a poor, mis'able, God-fersaken, scairt-to-death little +forlorn critter I was; put upon, an' snubbed, an' jawed at till I'd come +to believe myself--what was rubbed into me the hull time--that I was the +most all-'round no-account animul that was ever made out o' dust, an' +wa'n't ever likely to be no diff'rent. Lookin' back, it seems to me +that--exceptin' of Polly--I never had a kind word said to me, nor a +day's fun. Your husband, Billy P. Cullom, was the fust man that ever +treated me human up to that time. He give me the only enjoy'ble time 't +I'd ever had, an' I don't know 't anythin' 's ever equaled it since. He +spent money on me, an' he give me money to spend--that had never had a +cent to call my own--_an'_, Mis' Cullom, he took me by the hand, an' he +talked to me, an' he gin me the fust notion 't I'd ever had that mebbe I +wa'n't only the scum o' the earth, as I'd ben teached to believe. I told +ye that that day was the turnin' point of my life. Wa'al, it wa'n't the +lickin' I got, though that had somethin' to do with it, but I'd never +have had the spunk to run away's I did if it hadn't ben for the +heartenin' Billy P. gin me, an' never knowed it, an' never knowed it," +he repeated mournfully. "I alwus allowed to pay some o' that debt back +to him, but seein' 's I can't do that, Mis' Cullom, I'm glad an' +thankful to pay it to his widdo'." + +"Mebbe he knows, Dave," said Mrs. Cullom softly. + +"Mebbe he does," assented David in a low voice. + +Neither spoke for a time, and then the widow said: "David, I can't thank +ye 's I ought ter--I don't know how--but I'll pray for ye night an' +mornin' 's long 's I got breath. An', Dave," she added humbly, "I want +to take back what I said about the Lord's providin'." + +She sat a moment, lost in her thoughts, and then exclaimed, "Oh, it +don't seem 's if I c'd wait to write to Charley!" + +"I've wrote to Charley," said David, "an' told him to sell out there an' +come home, an' to draw on me fer any balance he needed to move him. I've +got somethin' in my eye that'll be easier an' better payin' than +fightin' grasshoppers an' drought in Kansas." + +"Dave Harum!" cried the widow, rising to her feet, "you ought to 'a' ben +a king!" + +"Wa'al," said David with a grin, "I don't know much about the kingin' +bus'nis, but I guess a cloth cap 'n' a hoss whip 's more 'n my line than +a crown an' scepter. An' now," he added, "'s we've got through 'th our +bus'nis, s'pose you step over to the house an' see Polly. She's +expectin' on ye to dinner. Oh, yes," replying to the look of deprecation +in her face as she viewed her shabby frock, "you an' Polly c'n prink up +some if you want to, but we can't take 'No' fer an answer Chris'mus day, +clo'es or no clo'es." + +"I'd really like ter," said Mrs. Cullom. + +"All right then," said David cheerfully. "The path is swep' by this +time, I guess, an' I'll see ye later. Oh, by the way," he exclaimed, +"the's somethin' I fergot. I want to make you a proposition, ruther an +onusual one, but seein' ev'rythin' is as 't is, perhaps you'll consider +it." + +"Dave," declared the widow, "if I could, an' you ast for it, I'd give ye +anythin' on the face o' this mortal globe!" + +"Wa'al," said David, nodding and smiling, "I thought that mebbe, long 's +you got the int'rist of that investment we ben talkin' about, you'd let +me keep what's left of the princ'pal. Would ye like to see it?" + +Mrs. Cullom looked at him with a puzzled expression without replying. + +David took from his pocket a large wallet, secured by a strap, and, +opening it, extracted something enveloped in much faded brown paper. +Unfolding this, he displayed upon his broad fat palm an old silver dime +black with age. + +"There's the cap'tal," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +John walked to the front door with Mrs. Cullom, but she declined with +such evident sincerity his offer to carry her bundle to the house that +he let her out of the office and returned to the back room. David was +sitting before the fire, leaning back in his chair with his hands thrust +deep in his trousers pockets. He looked up as John entered and said, +"Draw up a chair." + +John brought a chair and stood by the side of it while he said, "I want +to thank you for the Christmas remembrance, which pleased and touched me +very deeply; and," he added diffidently, "I want to say how mortified I +am--in fact, I want to apologize for--" + +"Regrettin'?" interrupted David with a motion of his hand toward the +chair and a smile of great amusement. "Sho, sho! Se' down, se' down. +I'm glad you found somethin' in your stockin' if it pleased ye, an' as +fur's that regret o' your'n was concerned--wa'al--wa'al, I liked ye all +the better for't, I did fer a fact. He, he, he! Appearances was ruther +agin me, wasn't they, the way I told it." + +"Nevertheless," said John, seating himself, "I ought not to have--that +is to say, I ought to have known--" + +"How could ye," David broke in, "When I as good as told ye I was +cal'latin' to rob the old lady? He, he, he, he! Scat my ----! Your face +was a picture when I told ye to write that note, though I reckon you +didn't know I noticed it." + +John laughed and said, "You have been very generous all through, Mr. +Harum." + +"Nothin' to brag on," he replied, "nothin' to brag on. Fur 's Mis' +Cullom's matter was concerned, 't was as I said, jest payin' off an old +score; an' as fur 's your stockin', it's really putty much the same. +I'll allow you've earned it, if it'll set any easier on your stomach." + +"I can't say that I have been overworked," said John with a slight +laugh. + +"Mebbe not," rejoined David, "but you hain't ben overpaid neither, an' I +want ye to be satisfied. Fact is," he continued, "my gettin' you up here +was putty consid'able of an experiment, but I ben watchin' ye putty +close, an' I'm more'n satisfied. Mebbe Timson c'd beat ye at figurin' +an' countin' money when you fust come, an' knowed more about the +pertic'ler points of the office, but outside of that he was the biggist +dumb-head I ever see, an' you know how he left things. He hadn't no +tack, fer one thing. Outside of summin' up figures an' countin' money he +had a faculty fer gettin' things t'other-end to that beat all. I'd tell +him a thing, an' explain it to him two three times over, an' he'd say +'Yes, yes,' an', scat my ----! when it came to carryin' on't out, he +hadn't sensed it a mite--jest got it which-end-t'other. An talk! Wa'al, +I think it must 'a' ben a kind of disease with him. He really didn't +mean no harm, mebbe, but he couldn't no more help lettin' out anythin' +he knowed, or thought he knowed, than a settin' hen c'n help settin'. +He kep' me on tenter-hooks the hull endurin' time." + +"I should say he was honest enough, was he not?" said John. + +"Oh, yes," replied David with a touch of scorn, "he was honest enough +fur 's money matters was concerned; but he hadn't no tack, nor no sense, +an' many a time he done more mischief with his gibble-gabble than if +he'd took fifty dollars out an' out. Fact is," said David, "the kind of +honesty that won't actually steal 's a kind of fool honesty that's +common enough; but the kind that keeps a feller's mouth shut when he +hadn't ought to talk 's about the scurcest thing goin'. I'll jest tell +ye, fer example, the last mess he made. You know Purse, that keeps the +gen'ral store? Wa'al, he come to me some months ago, on the quiet, an' +said that he wanted to borro' five hunderd. He didn't want to git no +indorser, but he'd show me his books an' give me a statement an' a +chattel morgidge fer six months. He didn't want nobody to know 't he was +anyway pushed fer money because he wanted to git some extensions, an' so +on. I made up my mind it was all right, an' I done it. Wa'al, about a +month or so after he come to me with tears in his eyes, as ye might say, +an' says, 'I got somethin' I want to show ye,' an' handed out a letter +from the house in New York he had some of his biggist dealin's with, +tellin' him that they regretted"--here David gave John a nudge--"that +they couldn't give him the extensions he ast for, an' that his paper +must be paid as it fell due--some twelve hunderd dollars. 'Somebody 's +leaked,' he says, 'an' they've heard of that morgidge, an' I'm in a +putty scrape,' he says. + +"'H'm'm,' I says, 'what makes ye think so?' + +"'Can't be nothin' else,' he says; 'I've dealt with them people fer +years an' never ast fer nothin' but what I got it, an' now to have 'em +round up on me like this, it can't be nothin' but what they've got wind +o' that chattel morgidge,' he says. + +"'H'm'm,' I says. 'Any o' their people ben up here lately?' I says. + +"'That's jest it,' he says. 'One o' their travellin' men was up here +last week, an' he come in in the afternoon as chipper as you please, +wantin' to sell me a bill o' goods, an' I put him off, sayin' that I had +a putty big stock, an' so on, an' he said he'd see me agin in the +mornin'--you know that sort of talk,' he says. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'did he come in?' + +"'No,' says Purse, 'he didn't. I never set eyes on him agin, an' more'n +that,' he says, 'he took the first train in the mornin', an' now,' he +says, 'I expect I'll have ev'ry last man I owe anythin' to buzzin' +'round my ears.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I see about how the land lays, an' I reckon +you ain't fur out about the morgidge bein' at the bottom on't, an' the' +ain't no way it c'd 'a' leaked out 'ceptin' through that dum'd +chuckle-head of a Timson. But this is the way it looks to me--you hain't +heard nothin' in the village, have ye?' I says. + +"'No,' he says. 'Not _yit_,' he says. + +"'Wa'al, ye won't, I don't believe,' I says, 'an' as fur as that drummer +is concerned, you c'n bet,' I says, 'that he didn't nor won't let on to +nobody but his own folks--not till _his_ bus'nis is squared up, an' +more 'n that,' I says, 'seein' that your trouble 's ben made ye by one +o' my help, I don't see but what I'll have to see ye through,' I says. +'You jest give me the address of the New York parties, an' tell me what +you want done, an' I reckon I c'n fix the thing so 't they won't bother +ye. I don't believe,' I says, 'that anybody else knows anythin' yet, an' +I'll shut up Timson's yawp so 's it'll stay shut.'" + +"How did the matter come out?" asked John, "and what did Purse say?" + +"Oh," replied David, "Purse went off head up an' tail up. He said he was +everlastin'ly obliged to me, an'--he, he, he!--he said 't was more 'n he +expected. You see I charged him what I thought was right on the 'rig'nal +deal, an' he squimmidged some, an' I reckon he allowed to be putty well +bled if I took holt agin; but I done as I agreed on the extension +bus'nis, an' I'm on his paper for twelve hunderd fer nothin', jest +because that nikum-noddy of a Timson let that drummer bamboozle him into +talkin'. I found out the hull thing, an' the very day I wrote to the New +York fellers fer Purse, I wrote to Gen'ral Wolsey to find me somebody to +take Timson's place. I allowed I'd ruther have somebody that didn't know +nobody, than such a clackin' ole he-hen as Chet." + +"I should have said that it was rather a hazardous thing to do," said +John, "to put a total stranger like me into what is rather a +confidential position, as well as a responsible one." + +"Wa'al," said David, "in the fust place I knew that the Gen'ral wouldn't +recommend no dead-beat nor no skin, an' I allowed that if the raw +material was O.K., I could break it in; an' if it wa'n't I should find +it out putty quick. Like a young hoss," he remarked, "if he's sound an' +kind, an' got gumption, I'd sooner break him in myself 'n not--fur's my +use goes--an' if I can't, nobody can, an' I get rid on him. You +understand?" + +"Yes," said John with a smile. + +"Wa'al," continued David, "I liked your letter, an' when you come I +liked your looks. Of course I couldn't tell jest how you'd take holt, +nor if you an' me 'd hitch. An' then agin, I didn't know whether you +could stan' it here after livin' in a city all your life. I watched ye +putty close--closter 'n you knowed of, I guess. I seen right off that +you was goin' to fill your collar, fur's the work was concerned, an' +though you didn't know nobody much, an' couldn't have no amusement to +speak on, you didn't mope nor sulk, an' what's more--though I know I +advised ye to stay there fer a spell longer when you spoke about +boardin' somewhere else--I know what the Eagle tavern is in winter; +summer, too, fer that matter, though it's a little better then, an' I +allowed that air test 'd be final. He, he, he! Putty rough, ain't it?" + +"It is, rather," said John, laughing. "I'm afraid my endurance is pretty +well at an end. Elright's wife is ill, and the fact is, that since day +before yesterday I have been living on what I could buy at the +grocery--crackers, cheese, salt fish, canned goods, _et cetera_." + +"Scat my ----!" cried David. "Wa'al! Wa'al! That's too dum'd bad! Why on +earth--why, you must be _hungry_! Wa'al, you won't have to eat no salt +herrin' to-day, because Polly 'n I are expectin' ye to dinner." + +Two or three times during the conversation David had gone to the window +overlooking his lawn and looked out with a general air of observing the +weather, and at this point he did so again, coming back to his seat with +a look of satisfaction, for which there was, to John, no obvious reason. +He sat for a moment without speaking, and then, looking at his watch, +said: "Wa'al, dinner 's at one o'clock, an' Polly's a great one fer +bein' on time. Guess I'll go out an' have another look at that pesky +colt. You better go over to the house 'bout quarter to one, an' you c'n +make your t'ilet over there. I'm 'fraid if you go over to the Eagle +it'll spoil your appetite. She'd think it might, anyway." + +So David departed to see the colt, and John got out some of the books +and busied himself with them until the time to present himself at +David's house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +"Why, Mis' Cullom, I'm real glad to see ye. Come right in," said Mrs. +Bixbee as she drew the widow into the "wing settin' room," and proceeded +to relieve her of her wraps and her bundle. "Set right here by the fire +while I take these things of your'n into the kitchen to dry 'em out. +I'll be right back"; and she bustled out of the room. When she came back +Mrs. Cullom was sitting with her hands in her lap, and there was in her +eyes an expression of smiling peace that was good to see. + +Mrs. Bixbee drew up a chair, and seating herself, said: "Wa'al, I don't +know when I've seen ye to git a chance to speak to ye, an' I was real +pleased when David said you was goin' to be here to dinner. An' my! how +well, you're lookin'--more like Cynthy Sweetland than I've seen ye fer I +don't know when; an' yet," she added, looking curiously at her guest, +"you 'pear somehow as if you'd ben cryin'." + +"You're real kind, I'm sure," responded Mrs. Cullom, replying to the +other's welcome and remarks _seriatim_; "I guess, though, I don't look +much like Cynthy Sweetland, if I do feel twenty years younger 'n I did a +while ago; an' I have ben cryin', I allow, but not fer sorro', Polly +Harum," she exclaimed, giving the other her maiden name. "Your brother +Dave comes putty nigh to bein' an angel!" + +"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee with a twinkle, "I reckon Dave might hev to +be fixed up some afore he come out in that pertic'ler shape, but," she +added impressively, "es fur as bein' a _man_ goes, he's 'bout 's good 's +they make 'em. I know folks thinks he's a hard bargainer, an' +close-fisted, an' some on 'em that ain't fit to lick up his tracks says +more'n that. He's got his own ways, I'll allow, but down at bottom, an' +all through, I know the' ain't no better man livin'. No, ma'am, the' +ain't, an' what he's ben to me, Cynthy Cullom, nobody knows but +me--an'--an'--mebbe the Lord--though I hev seen the time," she said +tentatively, "when it seemed to me 't I knowed more about my affairs 'n +He did," and she looked doubtfully at her companion, who had been +following her with affirmative and sympathetic nods, and now drew her +chair a little closer, and said softly: "Yes, yes, I know. I ben putty +doubtful an' rebellious myself a good many times, but seems now as if He +had had me in His mercy all the time." Here Aunt Polly's sense of humor +asserted itself. "What's Dave ben up to now?" she asked. + +And then the widow told her story, with tears and smiles, and the keen +enjoyment which we all have in talking about ourselves to a sympathetic +listener like Aunt Polly, whose interjections pointed and illuminated +the narrative. When it was finished she leaned forward and kissed Mrs. +Cullom on the cheek. + +"I can't tell ye how glad I be for ye," she said; "but if I'd known that +David held that morgidge, I could hev told ye ye needn't hev worried +yourself a mite. He wouldn't never have taken your prop'ty, more'n he'd +rob a hen-roost. But he done the thing his own way--kind o' fetched it +round fer a Merry Chris'mus, didn't he? Curious," she said reflectively, +after a momentary pause, "how he lays up things about his childhood," +and then, with a searching look at the Widow Cullom, "you didn't let on, +an' I didn't ask ye, but of course you've heard the things that some +folks says of him, an' natchally they got some holt on your mind. +There's that story about 'Lish, over to Whitcom--you heard somethin' +about that, didn't ye?" + +"Yes," admitted the widow, "I heard somethin' of it, I s'pose." + +"Wa'al," said Mrs. Bixbee, "you never heard the hull story, ner anybody +else really, but I'm goin' to tell it to ye--" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Cullom assentingly. + +Mrs. Bixbee sat up straight in her chair with her hands on her knees and +an air of one who would see justice done. + +"'Lish Harum," she began, "wa'n't only half-brother to Dave. He was +hull-brother to me, though, but notwithstandin' that, I will say that a +meaner boy, a meaner growin' man, an' a meaner man never walked the +earth. He wa'n't satisfied to git the best piece an' the biggist +piece--he hated to hev any one else git anythin' at all. I don't believe +he ever laughed in his life, except over some kind o' suff'rin'--man or +beast--an' what'd tickle him the most was to be the means on't. He took +pertic'ler delight in abusin' an' tormentin' Dave, an' the poor little +critter was jest as 'fraid as death of him, an' good reason. Father was +awful hard, but he didn't go out of his way; but 'Lish never let no +chance slip. Wa'al, I ain't goin' to give you the hull fam'ly hist'ry, +an' I've got to go into the kitchen fer a while 'fore dinner, but what I +started out fer 's this: 'Lish fin'ly settled over to Whitcom." + +"Did he ever git married?" interrupted Mrs. Cullom. + +"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "he got married when he was past forty. +It's curious," she remarked, in passing, "but it don't seem as if the' +was ever yit a man so mean but he c'd find some woman was fool enough to +marry him, an' she was a putty decent sort of a woman too, f'm all +accounts, an' good lookin'. Wa'al, she stood him six or seven year, an' +then she run off." + +"With another man?" queried the widow in an awed voice. Aunt Polly +nodded assent with compressed lips. + +"Yes'm," she went on, "she left him an' went out West somewhere, an' +that was the last of _her_; an' when her two boys got old enough to look +after themselves a little, they quit him too, an' they wa'n't no way +growed up neither. Wa'al, the long an' the short on't was that 'Lish got +goin' down hill ev'ry way, health an' all, till he hadn't nothin' left +but his disposition, an' fairly got onter the town. The' wa'n't nothin' +for it but to send him to the county house, onless somebody 'd s'port +him. Wa'al, the committee knew Dave was his brother, an' one on 'em come +to see him to see if he'd come forwud an' help out, an' he seen Dave +right here in this room, an' Dave made me stay an' hear the hull thing. +Man's name was Smith, I remember, a peaked little man with long chin +whiskers that he kep' clawin' at with his fingers. Dave let him tell +his story, an' he didn't say nothin' fer a minute or two, an' then he +says, 'What made ye come to me?' he says. 'Did he send ye?' + +"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'when it was clear that he couldn't do nuthin', we +ast him if the' wa'n't nobody could put up fer him, an' he said you was +his brother, an' well off, an' hadn't ought to let him go t' the +poorhouse.' + +"'He said that, did he?' says Dave. + +"'Amountin' to that,' says Smith. + +"'Wa'al,' says Dave, 'it's a good many years sence I see 'Lish, an' +mebbe you know him better 'n I do. You known him some time, eh?' + +"'Quite a number o' years,' says Smith. + +"'What sort of a feller was he,' says Dave, 'when he was somebody? Putty +good feller? good citizen? good neighber? lib'ral? kind to his fam'ly? +ev'rybody like him? gen'ally pop'lar, an' all that?' + +"'Wa'al,' says Smith, wigglin' in his chair an' pullin' out his whiskers +three four hairs to a time, 'I guess he come some short of all that.' + +"'E'umph!' says Dave, 'I guess he did! Now, honest,' he says, '_is_ the' +man, woman, or child in Whitcom that knows 'Lish Harum that's got a good +word fer him? or ever knowed of his doin' or sayin' anythin' that hadn't +got a mean side to it some way? Didn't he drive his wife off, out an' +out? an' didn't his two boys hev to quit him soon 's they could travel? +_An'_,' says Dave, 'if any one was to ask you to figure out a pattern of +the meanist human skunk you was capable of thinkin' of, wouldn't +it--honest, now!' Dave says, 'honest, now--wouldn't it be 's near like +'Lish Harum as one buckshot 's like another?'" + +"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom. "What did Mr. Smith say to that?" + +"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "he didn't say nuthin' at fust, not in so +many words. He sot fer a minute clawin' away at his whiskers--an' he'd +got both hands into 'em by that time--an' then he made a move as if he +gin the hull thing up an' was goin'. Dave set lookin' at him, an' then +he says, 'You ain't goin', air ye?' + +"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'feelin' 's you do, I guess my arrant here ain't +goin' t' amount to nothin', an' I may 's well.' + +"'No, you set still a minute,' says Dave. 'If you'll answer my question +honest an' square, I've got sunthin' more to say to ye. Come, now,' he +says. + +"'Wa'al,' says Smith, with a kind of give-it-up sort of a grin, 'I guess +you sized him up about right. I didn't come to see you on 'Lish Harum's +account. I come fer the town of Whitcom.' An' then he spunked up some +an' says, 'I don't give a darn,' he says, 'what comes of 'Lish, an' I +don't know nobody as does, fur's he's person'ly concerned; but he's got +to be a town charge less 'n you take 'm off our hands.' + +"Dave turned to me an' says, jest as if he meant it, 'How 'd you like to +have him here, Polly?' + +"'Dave Harum!' I says, 'what be you thinkin' of, seein' what he is, an' +alwus was, an' how he alwus treated you? Lord sakes!' I says, 'you ain't +thinkin' of it!' + +"'Not much,' he says, with an ugly kind of a smile, such as I never see +in his face before, 'not much! Not under this roof, or any roof of +mine, if it wa'n't more'n my cow stable--an',' he says, turnin' to +Smith, 'this is what I want to say to you: You've done all right. I +hain't no fault to find with you. But I want you to go back an' say to +'Lish Harum that you've seen me, an' that I told you that not one cent +of my money nor one mossel o' my food would ever go to keep him alive +one minute of time; that if I had an empty hogpen I wouldn't let him +sleep in't overnight, much less to bunk in with a decent hog. You tell +him that I said the poorhouse was his proper dwellin', barrin' the jail, +an' that it 'd have to be a dum'd sight poorer house 'n I ever heard of +not to be a thousan' times too good fer him.'" + +"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom again. "I can't really 'magine it of Dave." + +"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "I told ye how set he is on his young +days, an' nobody knows how cruel mean 'Lish used to be to him; but I +never see it come out of him so ugly before, though I didn't blame him a +mite. But I hain't told ye the upshot: 'Now,' he says to Smith, who set +with his mouth gappin' open, 'you understand how I feel about the +feller, an' I've got good reason for it. I want you to promise me that +you'll say to him, word fer word, jest what I've said to you about him, +an' I'll do this: You folks send him to the poorhouse, an' let him git +jest what the rest on 'em gits--no more an' no less--as long 's he +lives. When he dies you git him the tightest coffin you kin buy, to keep +him f'm spilin' the earth as long as may be, an' then you send me the +hull bill. But this has got to be between you an' me only. You c'n tell +the rest of the committee what you like, _but_ if you ever tell a +livin' soul about this here understandin', an' I find it out, I'll never +pay one cent, an' you'll be to blame. I'm willin', on them terms, to +stan' between the town of Whitcom an' harm; but fer 'Lish Harum, not one +sumarkee! Is it a barg'in?' Dave says. + +"'Yes, sir,' says Smith, puttin' out his hand. 'An' I guess,' he says, +'f'm all 't I c'n gather, thet you're doin' all 't we could expect, an' +more too,' an' off he put." + +"How 'd it come out?" asked Mrs. Cullom. + +"'Lish lived about two year," replied Aunt Polly, "an' Dave done as he +agreed, but even then when he come to settle up, he told Smith he didn't +want no more said about it 'n could be helped." + +"Wa'al," said Mrs. Cullom, "it seems to me as if David did take care on +him after all, fur 's spendin' money was concerned." + +"That's the way it looks to me," said Mrs. Bixbee, "but David likes to +think t'other. He meant to be awful mean, an' he was--as mean as he +could--but the fact is, he didn't reelly know how. My sakes! Cynthy +(looking at the clock), I'll hev to excuse myself fer a spell. Ef you +want to do any fixin' up 'fore dinner, jest step into my bedroom. I've +laid some things out on the bed, if you should happen to want any of +'em," and she hurried out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +David's house stood about a hundred feet back from the street, facing +the east. The main body of the house was of two stories (through which +ran a deep bay in front), with mansard roof. On the south of the main +body of the house were two stories of the "wing," in which were the +"settin' room," Aunt Polly's room, and, above, David's quarters. Ten +minutes or so before one o'clock John rang the bell at the front door. + +"Sairy's busy," said Mrs. Bixbee apologetically as she let him in, "an' +so I come to the door myself." + +"Thank you very much," said John. "Mr. Harum told me to come over a +little before one, but perhaps I ought to have waited a few minutes +longer." + +"No, it's all right," she replied, "for mebbe you'd like to wash an' fix +up 'fore dinner, so I'll jest show ye where to," and she led the way +upstairs and into the "front parlor bedroom." + +"There," she said, "make yourself comf'table, an' dinner 'll be ready in +about ten minutes." + +For a moment John mentally rubbed his eyes. Then he turned and caught +both of Mrs. Bixbee's hands and looked at her, speechless. When he +found words he said: "I don't know what to say, nor how to thank you +properly. I don't believe you know how kind this is." + +"Don't say nothin' about it," she protested, but with a look of great +satisfaction. "I done it jest t' relieve my mind, because ever sence you +fust come, I ben worryin' over your bein' at that nasty tavern," and she +made a motion to go. + +"You and your brother," said John earnestly, still holding her hands, +"have made me a gladder and happier man this Christmas day than I have +been for a very long time." + +"I'm glad on't," she said heartily, "an' I hope you'll be comf'table an' +contented here. I must go now an' help Sairy dish up. Come down to the +settin' room when you're ready," and she gave his hands a little +squeeze. + +"Aunt Po----, I beg pardon, Mrs. Bixbee," said John, moved by a sudden +impulse, "do you think you could find it in your heart to complete my +happiness by giving me a kiss? It's Christmas, you know," he added +smilingly. + +Aunt Polly colored to the roots of her hair. "Wa'al," she said, with a +little laugh, "seein' 't I'm old enough to be your mother, I guess 't +won't hurt me none," and as she went down the stairs she softly rubbed +her lips with the side of her forefinger. + +John understood now why David had looked out of the bank window so often +that morning. All his belongings were in Aunt Polly's best bedroom, +having been moved over from the Eagle while he and David had been in the +office. A delightful room it was, in immeasurable contrast to his +squalid surroundings at that hostelry. The spacious bed, with its snowy +counterpane and silk patchwork "comf'table" folded on the foot, the +bright fire in the open stove, the big bureau and glass, the soft +carpet, the table for writing and reading standing in the bay, his books +on the broad mantel, and his dressing things laid out ready to his hand, +not to mention an ample supply of _dry_ towels on the rack. + +The poor fellow's life during the weeks which he had lived in Homeville +had been utterly in contrast with any previous experience. Nevertheless +he had tried to make the best of it, and to endure the monotony, the +dullness, the entire lack of companionship and entertainment with what +philosophy he could muster. The hours spent in the office were the best +part of the day. He could manage to find occupation for all of them, +though a village bank is not usually a scene of active bustle. Many of +the people who did business there diverted him somewhat, and most of +them seemed never too much in a hurry to stand around and talk the sort +of thing that interested them. After John had got acquainted with his +duties and the people he came in contact with, David gave less personal +attention to the affairs of the bank; but he was in and out frequently +during the day, and rarely failed to interest his cashier with his +observations and remarks. + +But the long winter evenings had been very bad. After supper, a meal +which revolted every sense, there had been as many hours to be got +through with as he found wakeful, an empty stomach often adding to the +number of them, and the only resource for passing the time had been +reading, which had often been well-nigh impossible for sheer physical +discomfort. As has been remarked, the winter climate of the middle +portion of New York State is as bad as can be imagined. His light was a +kerosene lamp of half-candle power, and his appliance for warmth +consisted of a small wood stove, which (as David would have expressed +it) "took two men an' a boy" to keep in action, and was either red hot +or exhausted. + +As from the depths of a spacious lounging chair he surveyed his new +surroundings, and contrasted them with those from which he had been +rescued out of pure kindness, his heart was full, and it can hardly be +imputed to him as a weakness that for a moment his eyes filled with +tears of gratitude and happiness--no less. + +Indeed, there were four happy people at David's table that Christmas +day. Aunt Polly had "smartened up" Mrs. Cullom with collar and cuffs, +and in various ways which the mind of man comprehendeth not in detail; +and there had been some arranging of her hair as well, which altogether +had so transformed and transfigured her that John thought that he should +hardly have known her for the forlorn creature whom he had encountered +in the morning. And as he looked at the still fine eyes, large and +brown, and shining for the first time in many a year with a soft light +of happiness, he felt that he could understand how it was that Billy P. +had married the village girl. + +Mrs. Bixbee was grand in black silk and lace collar fastened with a +shell-cameo pin not quite as large as a saucer, and John caught the +sparkle of a diamond on her plump left hand--David's Christmas +gift--with regard to which she had spoken apologetically to Mrs. +Cullom: + +"I told David that I was ever so much obliged to him, but I didn't want +a dimun' more'n a cat wanted a flag, an' I thought it was jest throwin' +away money. But he would have it--said I c'd sell it an' keep out the +poorhouse some day, mebbe." + +David had not made much change in his usual raiment, but he was shaved +to the blood, and his round red face shone with soap and satisfaction. +As he tucked his napkin into his shirt collar, Sairy brought in the +tureen of oyster soup, and he remarked, as he took his first spoonful of +the stew, that he was "hungry 'nough t' eat a graven imidge," a +condition that John was able to sympathize with after his two days of +fasting on crackers and such provisions as he could buy at Purse's. It +was, on the whole, he reflected, the most enjoyable dinner that he ever +ate. Never was such a turkey; and to see it give way under David's +skillful knife--wings, drumsticks, second joints, side bones, +breast--was an elevating and memorable experience. And such potatoes, +mashed in cream; such boiled onions, turnips, Hubbard squash, succotash, +stewed tomatoes, celery, cranberries, "currant jell!" Oh! and to "top +off" with, a mince pie to die for and a pudding (new to John, but just +you try it some time) of steamed Indian meal and fruit, with a sauce of +cream sweetened with shaved maple sugar. + +"What'll you have?" said David to Mrs. Cullom, "dark meat? white meat?" + +"Anything," she replied meekly, "I'm not partic'ler. Most any part of a +turkey 'll taste good, I guess." + +"All right," said David. "Don't care means a little o' both. I alwus +know what to give Polly--piece o' the second jint an' the +last-thing-over-the-fence. Nice 'n rich fer scraggly folks," he +remarked. "How fer you, John?--little o' both, eh?" and he heaped the +plate till our friend begged him to keep something for himself. + +"Little too much is jest right," he asserted. + +When David had filled the plates and handed them along--Sairy was for +bringing in and taking out; they did their own helping to vegetables and +"passin'"--he hesitated a moment, and then got out of his chair and +started in the direction of the kitchen door. + +"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Bixbee in surprise. "Where you goin'?" + +"Woodshed," said David. + +"Woodshed!" she exclaimed, making as if to rise and follow. + +"You set still," said David. "Somethin' I fergot." + +"What on earth!" she exclaimed, with an air of annoyance and +bewilderment. "What do you want in the woodshed? Can't you set down an' +let Sairy git it for ye?" + +"No," he asserted with a grin. "Sairy might sqush it. It must be putty +meller by this time," And out he went. + +"Manners!" ejaculated Mrs. Bixbee. "You'll think (to John) we're reg'ler +heathin." + +"I guess not," said John, smiling and much amused. + +Presently Sairy appeared with four tumblers which she distributed, and +was followed by David bearing a bottle. He seated himself and began a +struggle to unwire the same with an ice-pick. Aunt Polly leaned forward +with a look of perplexed curiosity. + +"What you got there?" she asked. + +"Vewve Clikot's universal an' suv'rin remedy," said David, reading the +label and bringing the corners of his eye and mouth almost together in a +wink to John, "fer toothache, earache, burns, scalds, warts, dispepsy, +fallin' o' the hair, windgall, ringbone, spavin, disapp'inted +affections, an' pips in hens," and out came the cork with a "_wop_," at +which both the ladies, even Mrs. Cullom, jumped and cried out. + +"David Harum," declared his sister with conviction, "I believe thet +that's a bottle of champagne." + +"If it ain't," said David, pouring into his tumbler, "I ben swindled out +o' four shillin'," and he passed the bottle to John, who held it up +tentatively, looking at Mrs. Bixbee. + +"No, thank ye," she said with a little toss of the head, "I'm a son o' +temp'rence. I don't believe," she remarked to Mrs. Cullom, "thet that +bottle ever cost _less_ 'n a dollar." At which remarks David apparently +"swallered somethin' the wrong way," and for a moment or two was unable +to proceed with his dinner. Aunt Polly looked at him suspiciously. It +was her experience that, in her intercourse with her brother, he often +laughed utterly without reason--so far as she could see. + +"I've always heard it was dreadful expensive," remarked Mrs. Cullom. + +"Let me give you some," said John, reaching toward her with the bottle. +Mrs. Cullom looked first at Mrs. Bixbee and then at David. + +"I don't know," she said. "I never tasted any." + +"Take a little," said David, nodding approvingly. + +"Just a swallow," said the widow, whose curiosity had got the better of +scruples. She took a swallow of the wine. + +"How do ye like it?" asked David. + +"Well," she said as she wiped her eyes, into which the gas had driven +the tears, "I guess I could get along if I couldn't have it regular." + +"Don't taste good?" suggested David with a grin. + +"Well," she replied, "I never did care any great for cider, and this +tastes to me about as if I was drinkin' cider an' snuffin' horseradish +at one and the same time." + +"How's that, John?" said David, laughing. + +"I suppose it's an acquired taste," said John, returning the laugh and +taking a mouthful of the wine with infinite relish. "I don't think I +ever enjoyed a glass of wine so much, or," turning to Aunt Polly, "ever +enjoyed a dinner so much," which statement completely mollified her +feelings, which had been the least bit in the world "set edgeways." + +"Mebbe your app'tite's got somethin' to do with it," said David, +shoveling a knife-load of good things into his mouth. "Polly, this young +man's ben livin' on crackers an' salt herrin' fer a week." + +"My land!" cried Mrs. Bixbee with an expression of horror. "Is that +reelly so? 'T ain't now, reelly?" + +"Not quite so bad as that," John answered, smiling; "but Mrs. Elright +has been ill for a couple of days and--well, I have been foraging +around Purse's store a little." + +"Wa'al, of all the mean shames!" exclaimed Aunt Polly indignantly. +"David Harum, you'd ought to be ridic'lous t' allow such a thing." + +"Wa'al, I never!" said David, holding his knife and fork straight up in +either fist as they rested on the table, and staring at his sister. "I +believe if the meetin'-house roof was to blow off you'd lay it onto me +somehow. I hain't ben runnin' the Eagle tavern fer quite a consid'able +while. You got the wrong pig by the ear as usual. Jest you pitch into +him," pointing with his fork to John. "It's his funeral, if anybody's." + +"Wa'al," said Aunt Polly, addressing John in a tone of injury, "I do +think you might have let somebody know; I think you'd ortter 've +known--" + +"Yes, Mrs. Bixbee," he interrupted, "I did know how kind you are and +would have been, and if matters had gone on so much longer I should have +appealed to you, I should have indeed; but really," he added, smiling at +her, "a dinner like this is worth fasting a week for." + +"Wa'al," she said, mollified again, "you won't git no more herrin' +'nless you ask fer 'em." + +"That is just what your brother said this morning," replied John, +looking at David with a laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +The meal proceeded in silence for a few minutes. Mrs. Cullom had said +but little, but John noticed that her diction was more conventional than +in her talk with David and himself in the morning, and that her manner +at the table was distinctly refined, although she ate with apparent +appetite, not to say hunger. Presently she said, with an air of making +conversation, "I suppose you've always lived in the city, Mr. Lenox?" + +"It has always been my home," he replied, "but I have been away a good +deal." + +"I suppose folks in the city go to theaters a good deal," she remarked. + +"They have a great many opportunities," said John, wondering what she +was leading up to. But he was not to discover, for David broke in with a +chuckle. + +"Ask Polly, Mis' Cullom," he said. "She c'n tell ye all about the +theater, Polly kin." Mrs. Cullom looked from David to Mrs. Bixbee, whose +face was suffused. + +"Tell her," said David, with a grin. + +"I wish you'd shet up," she exclaimed. "I sha'n't do nothin' of the +sort." + +"Ne' mind," said David cheerfully, "_I'll_ tell ye, Mis' Cullom." + +"Dave Harum!" expostulated Mrs. Bixbee, but he proceeded without heed of +her protest. + +"Polly an' I," he said, "went down to New York one spring some years +ago. Her nerves was some wore out 'long of diff'rences with Sairy about +clearin' up the woodshed, an' bread risin's, an' not bein' able to suit +herself up to Purse's in the qual'ty of silk velvit she wanted fer a +Sunday-go-to-meetin' gown, an' I thought a spell off 'd do her good. +Wa'al, the day after we got there I says to her while we was havin' +breakfust--it was picked-up el'phant on toast, near 's I c'n remember, +wa'n't it, Polly?" + +"That's as near the truth as most o' the rest on't so fur," said Polly +with a sniff. + +"Wa'al, I says to her," he proceeded, untouched by her scorn, "'How'd +you like to go t' the theater? You hain't never ben,' I says, 'an' now +you're down here you may jest as well see somethin' while you got a +chanst,' I says. Up to that _time_" he remarked, as it were in passing, +"she'd ben somewhat pre_juced_ 'ginst theaters, an'----" + +"Wa'al," Mrs. Bixbee broke in, "I guess what we see that night was +cal'lated----" + +"You hold on," he interposed. "I'm tellin' this story. You had a chanst +to an' wouldn't. Anyway," he resumed, "she allowed she'd try it once, +an' we agreed we'd go somewheres that night. But somethin' happened to +put it out o' my mind, an' I didn't think on't agin till I got back to +the hotel fer supper. So I went to the feller at the news-stand an' +says, 'Got any show-tickits fer to-night?' + +"'Theater?' he says. + +"'I reckon so,' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I hain't got nothin' now but two seats fer +'Clyanthy.' + +"'Is it a good show?' I says--'moral, an' so on? I'm goin' to take my +sister, an' she's a little pertic'ler about some things,' I says. He +kind o' grinned, the feller did. 'I've took my wife twice, an' she's +putty pertic'ler herself,' he says, laughin.'" + +"She must 'a' ben," remarked Mrs. Bixbee with a sniff that spoke volumes +of her opinion of "the feller's wife." David emitted a chuckle. + +"Wa'al," he continued, "I took the tickits on the feller's recommend, +an' the fact of his wife's bein' so pertic'ler, an' after supper we +went. It was a mighty handsome place inside, gilded an' carved all over +like the outside of a cirkis wagin, an' when we went in the orchestry +was playin' an' the people was comin' in, an' after we'd set a few +minutes I says to Polly, 'What do you think on't?' I says. + +"'I don't see anythin' very unbecomin' so fur, an' the people looks +respectable enough,' she says. + +"'No jail birds in sight fur 's ye c'n see so fur, be they?' I says. He, +he, he, he!" + +"You needn't make me out more of a gump 'n I was," protested Mrs. +Bixbee. "An' you was jest as----" David held up his finger at her. + +"Don't you sp'ile the story by discountin' the sequil. Wa'al, putty soon +the band struck up some kind of a dancin' tune, an' the curt'in went up, +an' a girl come prancin' down to the footlights an' begun singin' an' +dancin', an', scat my ----! to all human appearances you c'd 'a' covered +ev'ry dum thing she had on with a postage stamp." John stole a glance at +Mrs. Cullom. She was staring at the speaker with wide-open eyes of +horror and amazement. + +"I guess I wouldn't go very _fur_ into pertic'lers," said Mrs. Bixbee in +a warning tone. + +David bent his head down over his plate and shook from head to foot, and +it was nearly a minute before he was able to go on. "Wa'al," he said, "I +heard Polly give a kind of a gasp an' a snort, 's if some one 'd throwed +water 'n her face. But she didn't say nothin', an', I swan! I didn't +dast to look at her fer a spell; an' putty soon in come a hull crowd +more girls that had left their clo'es in their trunks or somewhere, +singin', an' dancin', an' weavin' 'round on the stage, an' after a few +minutes I turned an' looked at Polly. He, he, he, he!" + +"David Harum!" cried Mrs. Bixbee, "ef you're goin' to discribe any more +o' them scand'lous goin's on I sh'll take my victuals into the kitchin. +_I_ didn't see no more of 'em," she added to Mrs. Cullom and John, +"after that fust trollop appeared." + +"I don't believe she did," said David, "fer when I turned she set there +with her eys shut tighter 'n a drum, an' her mouth shut too so's her +nose an' chin most come together, an' her face was red enough so 't a +streak o' red paint 'd 'a' made a white mark on it. 'Polly,' I says, +'I'm afraid you ain't gettin' the wuth o' your money.' + +"'David Harum,' she says, with her mouth shut all but a little place in +the corner toward me, 'if you don't take me out o' this place, I'll go +without ye,' she says. + +"'Don't you think you c'd stan' it a little longer?' I says. 'Mebbe +they've sent home fer their clo'es,' I says. He, he, he, he! But with +that she jest give a hump to start, an' I see she meant bus'nis. When +Polly Bixbee," said David impressively, "puts that foot o' her'n _down_ +somethin's got to sqush, an' don't you fergit it." Mrs. Bixbee made no +acknowledgment of this tribute to her strength of character. John looked +at David. + +"Yes," he said, with a solemn bend of the head, as if in answer to a +question, "I squshed. I says to her, 'All right. Don't make no +disturbance more'n you c'n help, an' jest put your hank'chif up to your +nose 's if you had the nosebleed,' an' we squeezed out of the seats, an' +sneaked up the aisle, an' by the time we got out into the entry I guess +my face was as red as Polly's. It couldn't 'a' ben no redder," he added. + +"You got a putty fair color as a gen'ral thing," remarked Mrs. Bixbee +dryly. + +"Yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am, I expect that's so," he assented, "but I got an +extry coat o' tan follerin' you out o' that theater. When we got out +into the entry one o' them fellers that stands 'round steps up to me an' +says, 'Ain't your ma feelin' well?' he says. 'Her feelin's has ben a +trifle rumpled up,' I says, 'an' that gen'ally brings on the nosebleed,' +an' then," said David, looking over Mrs. Bixbee's head, "the feller went +an' leaned up agin the wall." + +"David Harum!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee, "that's a downright _lie_. You +never spoke to a soul, an'--an'--ev'rybody knows 't I ain't more 'n four +years older 'n you be." + +"Wa'al, you see, Polly," her brother replied in a smooth tone of +measureless aggravation, "the feller wa'n't acquainted with us, an' he +only went by appearances." + +Aunt Polly appealed to John: "Ain't he enough to--to--I d' know what?" + +"I really don't see how you live with him," said John, laughing. + +Mrs. Cullom's face wore a faint smile, as if she were conscious that +something amusing was going on, but was not quite sure what. The widow +took things seriously for the most part, poor soul. + +"I reckon you haven't followed theater-goin' much after that," she said +to her hostess. + +"No, ma'am," Mrs. Bixbee replied with emphasis, "you better believe I +hain't. I hain't never thought of it sence without tinglin' all over. I +believe," she asserted, "that David 'd 'a' stayed the thing out if it +hadn't ben fer me; but as true 's you live, Cynthy Cullom, I was so +'shamed at the little 't I did see that when I come to go to bed I took +my clo'es off in the dark." + +David threw back his head and roared with laughter. Mrs. Bixbee looked +at him with unmixed scorn. "If I couldn't help makin' a----" she began, +"I'd----" + +"Oh, Lord! Polly," David broke in, "be sure 'n wrap up when you go out. +If you sh'd ketch cold an' your sense o' the ridic'lous sh'd strike in +you'd be a dead-'n'-goner sure." This was treated with the silent +contempt which it deserved, and David fell upon his dinner with the +remark that "he guessed he'd better make up fer lost time," though as a +matter of fact while he had done most of the talking he had by no means +suspended another function of his mouth while so engaged. + +For a time nothing more was said which did not relate to the +replenishment of plates, glasses, and cups. Finally David cleaned up +his plate with his knife blade and a piece of bread, and pushed it away +with a sigh of fullness, mentally echoed by John. + +"I feel 's if a child could play with me," he remarked. "What's comin' +now, Polly?" + +"The's a mince pie, an' Injun puddin' with maple sugar an' cream, an' +ice cream," she replied. + +"Mercy on us!" he exclaimed. "I guess I'll have to go an' jump up an' +down on the verandy. How do you feel, John? I s'pose you got so used to +them things at the Eagle 't you won't have no stomach fer 'em, eh? +Wa'al, fetch 'em along. May 's well die fer the ole sheep 's the lamb, +but, Polly Bixbee, if you've got designs on my life, I may 's well tell +ye right now 't I've left all my prop'ty to the Institution fer +Disappinted Hoss Swappers." + +"That's putty near next o' kin, ain't it?" was the unexpected rejoinder +of the injured Polly. + +"Wa'al, scat my ----!" exclaimed David, hugely amused, "if Polly Bixbee +hain't made a joke! You'll git yourself into the almanic, Polly, fust +thing you know." Sairy brought in the pie and then the pudding. + +"John," said David, "if you've got a pencil an' a piece o' paper handy +I'd like to have ye take down a few of my last words 'fore we proceed to +the pie an' puddin' bus'nis. Any more 'hoss-redish' in that bottle?" +holding out his glass. "Hi! hi! that's enough. You take the rest on't," +which John did, nothing loath. + +David ate his pie in silence, but before he made up his mind to attack +the pudding, which was his favorite confection, he gave an audible +chuckle, which elicited Mrs. Bixbee's notice. + +"What you gigglin' 'bout now?" she asked. + +David laughed. "I was thinkin' of somethin' I heard up to Purse's last +night," he said as he covered his pudding with the thick cream sauce. +"Amri Shapless has ben gittin' married." + +"Wa'al, I declare!" she exclaimed. "That ole shack! Who in creation +could he git to take him?" + +"Lize Annis is the lucky woman," replied David with a grin. + +"Wa'al, if that don't beat all!" said Mrs. Bixbee, throwing up her +hands, and even from Mrs. Cullom was drawn a "Well, I never!" + +"Fact," said David, "they was married yestidy forenoon. Squire Parker +done the job. Dominie White wouldn't have nothin' to do with it!" + +"Squire Parker 'd ortter be 'shamed of himself," said Mrs. Bixbee +indignantly. + +"Don't you think that trew love had ought to be allowed to take its +course?" asked David with an air of sentiment. + +"I think the squire'd ortter be 'shamed of himself," she reiterated. +"S'pose them two old skinamulinks was to go an' have children?" + +"Polly, you make me blush," protested her brother. "Hain't you got no +respect fer the holy institution of matrimuny?--and--at cet'ry?" he +added, wiping his whole face with his napkin. + +"Much as you hev, I reckon," she retorted. "Of all the amazin' things in +this world, the amazinist to me is the kind of people that gits married +to each other in gen'ral; but this here performence beats ev'rything +holler." + +"Amri give a very good reason for't," said David with an air of +conviction, and then he broke into a laugh. + +"Ef you got anythin' to tell, tell it," said Mrs. Bixbee impatiently. + +"Wa'al," said David, taking the last of his pudding into his mouth, "if +you insist on't, painful as 't is. I heard Dick Larrabee tellin' 'bout +it. Amri told Dick day before yestiday that he was thinkin' of gettin' +married, an' ast him to go along with him to Parson White's an' be a +witniss, an' I reckon a kind of moral support. When it comes to moral +supportin'," remarked David in passing, "Dick's as good 's a +professional, an' he'd go an' see his gran'mother hung sooner 'n miss +anythin', an' never let his cigar go out durin' the performence. Dick +said he congratilated Am on his choice, an' said he reckoned they'd be +putty ekally yoked together, if nothin' else." + +Here David leaned over toward Aunt Polly and said, protestingly, "Don't +gi' me but jest a teasp'nful o' that ice cream. I'm so full now 't I +can't hardly reach the table." He took a taste of the cream and resumed: +"I can't give it jest as Dick did," he went on, "but this is about the +gist on't. Him, an' Lize, an' Am went to Parson White's about half after +seven o'clock an' was showed into the parler, an' in a minute he come +in, an' after sayin' 'Good evenin'' all 'round, he says, 'Well, what c'n +I do for ye?' lookin' at Am an' Lize, an' then at Dick. + +"'Wa'al,' says Am, 'me an' Mis' Annis here has ben thinkin' fer some +time as how we'd ought to git married.' + +"'_Ought_ to git married?' says Parson White, scowlin' fust at one an' +then at t'other. + +"'Wa'al,' says Am, givin' a kind o' shuffle with his feet, 'I didn't +mean _ortter_ exac'ly, but jest as _well_--kinder comp'ny,' he says. 'We +hain't neither on us got nobody, an' we thought we might 's well.' + +"'What have you got to git married on?' says the dominie after a minute. +'Anythin'?' he says. + +"'Wa'al,' says Am, droppin' his head sideways an' borin' into his ear +'ith his middle finger, 'I got the promise mebbe of a job o' work fer a +couple o' days next week.' 'H'm'm'm,' says the dominie, lookin' at him. +'Have _you_ got anythin' to git married on?' the dominie says, turnin' +to Lize. 'I've got ninety cents comin' to me fer some work I done last +week,' she says, wiltin' down onto the sofy an' beginnin' to snivvle. +Dick says that at that the dominie turned round an' walked to the other +end of the room, an' he c'd see he was dyin' to laugh, but he come back +with a straight face. + +"'How old air you, Shapless?" he says to Am. 'I'll be fifty-eight or +mebbe fifty-nine come next spring,' says Am. + +"'How old air _you_?' the dominie says, turnin' to Lize. She wriggled a +minute an' says, 'Wa'al, I reckon I'm all o' thirty,' she says." + +"All o' thirty!" exclaimed Aunt Polly. "The woman 's most 's old 's I +be." + +David laughed and went on with, "Wa'al, Dick said at that the dominie +give a kind of a choke, an' Dick he bust right out, an' Lize looked at +him as if she c'd eat him. Dick said the dominie didn't say anythin' fer +a minute or two, an' then he says to Am, 'I suppose you c'n find +somebody that'll marry you, but I cert'inly won't, an' what possesses +you to commit such a piece o' folly,' he says, 'passes my +understandin'. What earthly reason have you fer wantin' to marry? On +your own showin',' he says, 'neither one on you 's got a cent o' money +or any settled way o' gettin' any.' + +"'That's jest the very reason,' says Am, 'that's jest the _very reason_. +I hain't got nothin', an' Mis' Annis hain't got nothin', an' we figured +that we'd jest better git married an' settle down, an' make a good home +fer us both,' an' if that ain't good reasonin'," David concluded, "I +don't know what is." + +"An' be they actially married?" asked Mrs. Bixbee, still incredulous of +anything so preposterous. + +"So Dick says," was the reply. "He says Am an' Lize come away f'm the +dominie's putty down in the mouth, but 'fore long Amri braced up an' +allowed that if he had half a dollar he'd try the squire in the mornin', +an' Dick let him have it. I says to Dick, 'You're out fifty cents on +that deal,' an' he says, slappin' his leg, 'I don't give a dum,' he +says; 'I wouldn't 'a' missed it fer double the money.'" + +Here David folded his napkin and put it in the ring, and John finished +the cup of clear coffee which Aunt Polly, rather under protest, had +given him. Coffee without cream and sugar was incomprehensible to Mrs. +Bixbee. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Two or three days after Christmas John was sitting in his room in the +evening when there came a knock at the door, and to his "Come in" there +entered Mr. Harum, who was warmly welcomed and entreated to take the big +chair, which, after a cursory survey of the apartment and its +furnishings, he did, saying, "Wa'al, I thought I'd come in an' see how +Polly'd got you fixed; whether the baskit [casket?] was worthy of the +jew'l, as I heard a feller say in a theater once." + +"I was never more comfortable in my life," said John. "Mrs. Bixbee has +been kindness itself, and even permits me to smoke in the room. Let me +give you a cigar." + +"Heh! You got putty well 'round Polly, I reckon," said David, looking +around the room as he lighted the cigar, "an' I'm glad you're +comf'table--I reckon 't is a shade better 'n the Eagle," he remarked, +with his characteristic chuckle. + +"I should say so," said John emphatically, "and I am more obliged than I +can tell you." + +"All Polly's doin's," asserted David, holding the end of his cigar +critically under his nose. "That's a trifle better article 'n I'm in the +habit of smokin'," he remarked. + +"I think it's my one extravagance," said John semi-apologetically, "but +I don't smoke them exclusively. I am very fond of good tobacco, and--" + +"I understand," said David, "an' if I had my life to live over agin, +knowin' what I do now, I'd do diff'rent in a number o' ways. I often +think," he proceeded, as he took a pull at the cigar and emitted the +smoke with a chewing movement of his mouth, "of what Andy Brown used to +say. Andy was a curious kind of a customer 't I used to know up to +Syrchester. He liked good things, Andy did, an' didn't scrimp himself +when they was to be had--that is, when he had the go-an'-fetch-it to git +'em with. He used to say, 'Boys, whenever you git holt of a ten-dollar +note you want to git it _into_ ye or _onto_ ye jest 's quick 's you kin. +We're here to-day an' gone to-morrer,' he'd say, 'an' the' ain't no +pocket in a shroud,' an' I'm dum'd if I don't think sometimes," declared +Mr. Harum, "that he wa'n't very fur off neither. 'T any rate," he added +with a philosophy unexpected by his hearer, "'s I look back, it ain't +the money 't I've spent fer the good times 't I've had 't I regret; it's +the good times 't I might 's well 've had an' didn't. I'm inclined to +think," he remarked with an air of having given the matter +consideration, "that after Adam an' Eve got bounced out of the gard'n +they kicked themselves as much as anythin' fer not havin' cleaned up the +hull tree while they was about it." + +John laughed and said that that was very likely among their regrets. + +"Trouble with me was," said David, "that till I was consid'able older 'n +you be I had to scratch grav'l like all possessed, an' it's hard work +now sometimes to git the idee out of my head but what the money's wuth +more 'n the things. I guess," he remarked, looking at the ivory-backed +brushes and the various toilet knick-knacks of cut-glass and silver +which adorned John's bureau, and indicating them with a motion of his +hand, "that up to about now you ben in the habit of figurin' the other +way mostly." + +"Too much so, perhaps," said John; "but yet, after all, I don't think I +am sorry. I wouldn't spend the money for those things now, but I am glad +I bought them when I did." + +"Jess so, jess so," said David appreciatively. He reached over to the +table and laid his cigar on the edge of a book, and, reaching for his +hip pocket, produced a silver tobacco box, at which he looked +contemplatively for a moment, opening and shutting the lid with a snap. + +"There," he said, holding it out on his palm, "I was twenty years makin' +up my mind to buy that box, an' to this day I can't bring myself to +carry it all the time. Yes, sir, I wanted that box fer twenty years. I +don't mean to say that I didn't spend the wuth of it foolishly times +over an' agin, but I couldn't never make up my mind to put that amount +o' money into that pertic'ler thing. I was alwus figurin' that some day +I'd have a silver tobacco box, an' I sometimes think the reason it +seemed so extrav'gant, an' I put it off so long, was because I wanted it +so much. Now I s'pose you couldn't understand that, could ye?" + +"Yes," said John, nodding his head thoughtfully, "I think I can +understand it perfectly," and indeed it spoke pages of David's +biography. + +"Yes, sir," said David, "I never spent a small amount o' money but one +other time an' got so much value, only I alwus ben kickin' myself to +think I didn't do it sooner." + +"Perhaps," suggested John, "you enjoyed it all the more for waiting so +long." + +"No," said David, "it wa'n't that--I dunno--'t was the feelin' 't I'd +got there at last, I guess. Fur's waitin' fer things is concerned, the' +is such a thing as waitin' too long. Your appetite 'll change mebbe. I +used to think when I was a youngster that if ever I got where I c'd have +all the custard pie I c'd eat that'd be all 't I'd ask fer. I used to +imagine bein' baked into one an' eatin' my way out. Nowdays the's a good +many things I'd sooner have than custard pie, though," he said with a +wink, "I gen'ally do eat two pieces jest to please Polly." + +John laughed. "What was the other thing?" he asked. + +"Other thing I once bought?" queried David. "Oh, yes, it was the fust +hoss I ever owned. I give fifteen dollars fer him, an' if he wa'n't a +dandy you needn't pay me a cent. Crowbait wa'n't no name fer him. He was +stun blind on the off side, an' couldn't see anythin' in pertic'ler on +the nigh side--couldn't get nigh 'nough, I reckon--an' had most +ev'rythin' wrong with him that c'd ail a hoss; but I thought he was a +thoroughbred. I was 'bout seventeen year old then, an' was helpin' +lock-tender on the Erie Canal, an' when the' wa'n't no boat goin' +through I put in most o' my time cleanin' that hoss. If he got through +'th less 'n six times a day he got off cheap, an' once I got up an' give +him a little attention at night. Yes, sir, if I got big money's wuth out +o' that box it was mostly a matter of feelin'; but as fur 's that old +plugamore of a hoss was concerned, I got it both ways, for I got my +fust real start out of his old carkiss." + +"Yes?" said John encouragingly. + +"Yes, sir," affirmed David, "I cleaned him up, an' fed him up, an' +almost got 'im so'st he c'd see enough out of his left eye to shy at a +load of hay close by; an' fin'ly traded him off fer another +record-breaker an' fifteen dollars to boot." + +"Were you as enthusiastic over the next one as the first?" asked John, +laughing. + +"Wa'al," replied David, relighting his temporarily abandoned cigar +against a protest and proffer of a fresh one--"wa'al, he didn't lay holt +on my affections to quite the same extent. I done my duty by him, but I +didn't set up with him nights. You see," he added with a grin, "I'd got +some used to bein' a hoss owner, an' the edge had wore off some." He +smoked for a minute or two in silence, with as much apparent relish as +if the cigar had not been stale. + +"Aren't you going on?" asked John at last + +"Wa'al," he replied, pleased with his audience, "I c'd go on, I s'pose, +fast enough an' fur enough, but I don't want to tire ye out. I reckon +you never had much to do with canals?" + +"No," said John, smiling, "I can't say that I have, but I know something +about the subject in a general way, and there is no fear of your tiring +me out." + +"All right," proceeded David. "As I was sayin', I got another equine +wonder an' fifteen dollars to boot fer my old plug, an' it wa'n't a +great while before I was in the hoss bus'nis to stay. After between two +an' three years I had fifty or sixty hosses an' mules, an' took all +sorts of towin' jobs. Then a big towin' concern quit bus'nis, an' I +bought their hull stock an' got my money back three four times over, an' +by the time I was about twenty-one I had got ahead enough to quit the +canal an' all its works fer good, an' go into other things. But there +was where I got my livin' after I run away f'm Buxton Hill. Before I got +the job of lock-tendin' I had made the trip to Albany an' back +twice--'walkin' my passage,' as they used to call it, an' I made one +trip helpin' steer, so 't my canal experience was putty thorough, take +it all 'round." + +"It must have been a pretty hard life," remarked John. + +David took out his penknife and proceeded to impale his cigar upon the +blade thereof. "No," he said, to John's proffer of the box, "this 'll +last quite a spell yet. Wa'al," he resumed after a moment, in reply to +John's remark, "viewin' it all by itself, it _was_ a hard life. A thing +is hard though, I reckon, because it's harder 'n somethin' else, or you +think so. Most things go by comparin'. I s'pose if the gen'ral run of +trotters never got better 'n three 'n a half that a hoss that c'd do it +in three 'd be fast, but we don't call 'em so nowdays. I s'pose if at +that same age you'd had to tackle the life you'd 'a' found it hard, an' +the' was hard things about it--trampin' all night in the rain, fer +instance; sleepin' in barns at times, an' all that; an' once the cap'n +o' the boat got mad at somethin' an' pitched me head over heels into the +canal. It was about the close of navigation an' the' was a scum of ice. +I scrambled out somehow, but he wouldn't 'a' cared if I'd ben drownded. +He was an exception, though. The canalers was a rough set in gen'ral, +but they averaged fer disposition 'bout like the ord'nary run o' folks; +the' was mean ones an' clever ones; them that would put upon ye, an' +them that would treat ye decent. The work was hard an' the grub wasn't +alwus much better 'n what you--he, he, he!--what you ben gettin' at the +Eagle" (John was now by the way of rather relishing jokes on that +subject); "but I hadn't ben raised in the lap o' luxury--not to any +consid'able extent--not enough to stick my nose up much. The men I +worked fer was rough, an' I got my share of cusses an' cuffs, an' once +in a while a kick to keep up my spirit of perseverance; but, on the +hull, I think I got more kindness 'n I did at home (leavin' Polly out), +an' as fer gen'ral treatment, none on 'em c'd come up to my father, an' +wuss yet, my oldest brother 'Lish. The cap'n that throwed me overboard +was the wust, but alongside o' 'Lish he was a forty hosspower angil with +a hull music store o' harps; an' even my father c'd 'a' given him cards +an' spades; an' as fer the victuals" (here David dropped his cigar end +and pulled from his pocket the silver tobacco box)--"as fer the +victuals," he repeated, "they mostly averaged up putty high after what +I'd ben used to. Why, I don't believe I ever tasted a piece of beefsteak +or roast beef in my life till after I left home. When we had meat at all +it was pork--boiled pork, fried pork, pigs' liver, an' all that, enough +to make you 'shamed to look a pig in the face--an' fer the rest, +potatoes, an' duff, an' johnny-cake, an' meal mush, an' milk emptins +bread that you c'd smell a mile after it got cold. With 'leven folks on +a small farm nuthin' c'd afford to be eat that c'd be sold, an' +ev'rythin' that couldn't be sold had to be eat. Once in a while the' 'd +be pie of some kind, or gingerbread; but with 'leven to eat 'em I didn't +ever git more 'n enough to set me hankerin'." + +"I must say that I think I should have liked the canal better," remarked +John as David paused. "You were, at any rate, more or less free--that +is, comparatively, I should say." + +"Yes, sir, I did," said David, "an' I never see the time, no matter how +rough things was, that I wished I was back on Buxton Hill. I used to +want to see Polly putty bad once in a while, an' used to figure that if +I ever growed up to be a man, an' had money enough, I'd buy her a new +pair o' shoes an' the stuff fer a dress, an' sometimes my cal'lations +went as fur 's a gold breastpin; but I never wanted to see none o' the +rest on 'em, an' fer that matter, I never did. Yes, sir, the old ditch +was better to me than the place I was borned in, an', as you say, I +wa'n't nobody's slave, an' I wa'n't scairt to death the hull time. Some +o' the men was rough, but they wa'n't cruel, as a rule, an' as I growed +up a little I was putty well able to look out fer myself--wa'al, wa'al +(looking at his watch), I guess you must 'a' had enough o' my meemores +fer one sittin'." + +"No, really," John protested, "don't go yet. I have a little proposal to +make to you," and he got up and brought a bottle from the bottom of the +washstand. + +"Wa'al," said David, "fire it out." + +"That you take another cigar and a little of this," holding up the +bottle. + +"Got any glasses?" asked David with practical mind. + +"One and a tooth mug," replied John, laughing. "Glass for you, tooth +mug for me. Tastes just as good out of a tooth mug." + +"Wa'al," said David, with a comical air of yielding as he took the glass +and held it out to John, "under protest, stric'ly under protest--sooner +than have my clo'es torn. I shall tell Polly--if I should happen to +mention it--that you threatened me with vi'lence. Wa'al, here's lookin' +at ye," which toast was drunk with the solemnity which befitted it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +The two men sat for a while smoking in silence, John taking an +occasional sip of his grog. Mr. Harum had swallowed his own liquor +"raw," as was the custom in Homeville and vicinity, following the +potation with a mouthful of water. Presently he settled a little farther +down in his chair and his face took on a look of amused recollection. + +He looked up and gave a short laugh. "Speakin' of canals," he said, as +if the subject had only been casually mentioned, "I was thinkin' of +somethin'." + +"Yes?" said John. + +"E-up," said David. "That old ditch f'm Albany to Buffalo was an +almighty big enterprise in them days, an' a great thing fer the +prosperity of the State, an' a good many better men 'n I be walked the +ole towpath when they was young. Yes, sir, that's a fact. Wa'al, some +years ago I had somethin' of a deal on with a New York man by the name +of Price. He had a place in Newport where his fam'ly spent the summer, +an' where he went as much as he could git away. I was down to New York +to see him, an' we hadn't got things quite straightened out, an' he says +to me, 'I'm goin' over to Newport, where my wife an' fam'ly is, fer +Sunday, an' why can't you come with me,' he says, 'an' stay over till +Monday? an' we c'n have the day to ourselves over this matter?' 'Wa'al,' +I says, 'I'm only down here on this bus'nis, an' as I left a hen on, up +home, I'm willin' to save the time 'stid of waitin' here fer you to git +back, if you don't think,' I says, 'that it'll put Mis' Price out any to +bring home a stranger without no notice.' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, laughin', 'I guess she c'n manage fer once,' an' so I +went along. When we got there the' was a carriage to meet us, an' two +men in uniform, one to drive an' one to open the door, an' we got in an' +rode up to the house--cottige, he called it, but it was built of stone, +an' wa'n't only about two sizes smaller 'n the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Some +kind o' doin's was goin' on, fer the house was blazin' with light, an' +music was playin'. + +"'What's on?' says Price to the feller that let us in. + +"'Sir and Lady somebody 's dinin' here to-night, sir,' says the man. + +"'Damn!' says Price, 'I fergot all about the cussed thing. Have Mr. +Harum showed to a room,' he says, 'an' serve dinner in my office in a +quarter of an hour, an' have somebody show Mr. Harum there when it's +ready.' + +"Wa'al," pursued David, "I was showed up to a room. The' was lace +coverin's on the bed pillers, an' a silk an' lace spread, an' more dum +trinkits an' bottles an' lookin'-glasses 'n you c'd shake a stick at, +an' a bathroom, an' Lord knows what; an' I washed up, an' putty soon one +o' them fellers come an' showed me down to where Price was waitin'. +Wa'al, we had all manner o' things fer supper, an' champagne, an' so on, +an' after we got done, Price says, 'I've got to ask you to excuse me, +Harum,' he says. 'I've got to go an' dress an' show up in the +drawin'-room,' he says. 'You smoke your cigar in here, an' when you want +to go to your room jest ring the bell.' + +"'All right,' I says. 'I'm 'bout ready to turn in anyway.'" + +The narrator paused for a moment. John was rather wondering what it all +had to do with the Erie Canal, but he said nothing. + +"Wa'al, next mornin'," David resumed, "I got up an' shaved an' dressed, +an' set 'round waitin' fer the breakfust bell to ring till nigh on to +half-past nine o'clock. Bom-by the' came a knock at the door, an' I +says, 'Come in,' an' in come one o' them fellers. 'Beg pah'din, sir,' he +says. 'Did you ring, sir?' + +"'No,' I says, 'I didn't ring. I was waitin' to hear the bell.' + +"'Thank you, sir,' he says. 'An' will you have your breakfust now, sir?' + +"'Where?' I says. + +"'Oh,' he says, kind o' grinnin', 'I'll bring it up here, sir, +d'rec'ly,' he says, an' went off. Putty soon come another knock, an' in +come the feller with a silver tray covered with a big napkin, an' on it +was a couple of rolls wrapped up in a napkin, a b'iled egg done up in +another napkin, a cup an' saucer, a little chiney coffee-pot, a little +pitcher of cream, some loaf sugar in a silver dish, a little pancake of +butter, a silver knife, two little spoons like what the childern play +with, a silver pepper duster an' salt dish, an' an orange. Oh, yes, the' +was another contraption--a sort of a chiney wineglass. The feller set +down the tray an' says, 'Anythin' else you'd like to have, sir?' + +"'No,' I says, lookin' it over, 'I guess there's enough to last me a day +or two,' an' with that he kind o' turned his face away fer a second or +two. 'Thank you, sir,' he says. 'The second breakfust is at half-past +twelve, sir,' an' out he put. Wa'al," David continued, "the bread an' +butter was all right enough, exceptin' they'd fergot the salt in the +butter, an' the coffee was all right; but when it come to the egg, dum'd +if I wa'n't putty nigh out of the race; but I made up my mind it must be +hard-b'iled, an' tackled it on that idee. Seems t' amuse ye," he said +with a grin, getting up and helping himself. After swallowing the +refreshment, and the palliating mouthful of water, he resumed his seat +and his narrative. + +"Wa'al, sir," he said, "that dum'd egg was about 's near raw as it was +when i' was laid, an' the' was a crack in the shell, an' fust thing I +knowed it kind o' c'lapsed, an' I give it a grab, an' it squirtid all +over my pants, an' the floor, an' on my coat an' vest, an' up my sleeve, +an' all over the tray. Scat my ----! I looked gen'ally like an ab'lition +orator before the war. You never see such a mess," he added, with an +expression of rueful recollection. "I believe that dum'd egg held more +'n a pint." + +John fairly succumbed to a paroxysm of laughter. + +"Funny, wa'n't it?" said David dryly. + +"Forgive me," pleaded John, when he got his breath. + +"Oh, that's all right," said David, "but it wa'n't the kind of emotion +it kicked up in my breast at the time. I cleaned myself up with a towel +well 's I could, an' thought I'd step out an' take the air before the +feller 'd come back to git that tray, an' mebbe rub my nose in't." + +"Oh, Lord!" cried John. + +"Yes, sir," said David, unheeding, "I allowed 't I'd walk 'round with my +mouth open a spell, an' git a little air on my stomech to last me till +that second breakfust; an' as I was pokin' 'round the grounds I come to +a sort of arbor, an' there was Price, smokin' a cigar. + +"'Mornin', Harum; how you feelin'?' he says, gettin' up an' shakin' +hands; an' as we passed the time o' day, I noticed him noticin' my coat. +You see as they dried out, the egg spots got to showin' agin. + +"'Got somethin' on your coat there,' he says. + +"'Yes,' I says, tryin' to scratch it out with my finger nail. + +"'Have a cigar?' he says, handin' one out. + +"'Never smoke on an empty stomach,' I says. + +"'What?' he says. + +"'Bad fer the ap'tite,' I says, 'an' I'm savin' mine fer that second +breakfust o' your'n.' + +"'What!' he says, 'haven't you had anythin' to eat?' An' then I told him +what I ben tellin' you. Wa'al, sir, fust he looked kind o' mad an' +disgusted, an' then he laughed till I thought he'd bust, an' when he +quit he says, 'Excuse me, Harum, it's too damned bad; but I couldn't +help laughin' to save my soul. An' it's all my fault too,' he says. 'I +intended to have you take your breakfust with me, but somethin' happened +last night to upset me, an' I woke with it on my mind, an' I fergot. Now +you jest come right into the house, an' I'll have somethin' got fer you +that'll stay your stomach better 'n air,' he says. + +"'No,' I says, 'I've made trouble enough fer one day, I guess,' an' I +wouldn't go, though he urged me agin an' agin. 'You don't fall in with +the customs of this region?' I says to him. + +"'Not in that pertic'ler, at any rate,' he says. 'It's one o' the fool +notions that my wife an' the girls brought home f'm Eurup. I have a good +solid meal in the mornin', same as I alwus did,' he says." + +Mr. Harum stopped talking to relight his cigar, and after a puff or two, +"When I started out," he said, "I hadn't no notion of goin' into all the +highways an' byways, but when I git begun one thing's apt to lead to +another, an' you never c'n tell jest where I _will_ fetch up. Now I +started off to tell somethin' in about two words, an' I'm putty near as +fur off as when I begun." + +"Well," said John, "it's Saturday night, and the longer your story is +the better I shall like it. I hope the second breakfast was more of a +success than the first one," he added with a laugh. + +"I managed to average up on the two meals, I guess," David remarked. +"Wa'al," he resumed, "Price an' I set 'round talkin' bus'nis an' things +till about twelve or a little after, mebbe, an' then he turned to me an' +kind o' looked me over an' says, 'You an' me is about of a build, an' if +you say so I'll send one of my coats an' vests up to your room an' have +the man take yours an' clean 'em.' + +"'I guess the' is ruther more egg showin' than the law allows,' I says, +'an' mebbe that 'd be a good idee; but the pants caught it the wust,' I +says. + +"'Mine'll fit ye,' he says. + +"'What'll your wife say to seein' me airifyin' 'round in your git-up?' +I says. He gin me a funny kind of look. 'My wife?' he says. 'Lord, she +don't know more about my clo'es 'n you do.' That struck me as bein' +ruther curious," remarked David. "Wouldn't it you?" + +"Very," replied John gravely. + +"Yes, sir," said David. "Wa'al, when we went into the eatin' room the +table was full, mostly young folks, chatterin' an' laughin'. Price +int'duced me to his wife, an' I set down by him at the other end of the +table. The' wa'n't nothin' wuth mentionin'; nobody paid any attention to +me 'cept now an' then a word from Price, an' I wa'n't fer talkin' +anyway--I c'd have eat a raw dog. After breakfust, as they called it, +Price an' I went out onto the verandy an' had some coffee, an' smoked +an' talked fer an hour or so, an' then he got up an' excused himself to +write a letter. 'You may like to look at the papers awhile,' he says. +'I've ordered the hosses at five, an' if you like I'll show you 'round a +little.' + +"'Won't your wife be wantin' 'em?' I says. + +"'No, I guess she'll git along,' he says, kind o' smilin'. + +"'All right,' I says, 'don't mind me.' An' so at five up come the hosses +an' the two fellers in uniform an' all. I was lookin' the hosses over +when Price come out. 'Wa'al, what do you think of 'em?' he says. + +"'Likely pair,' I says, goin' over an' examinin' the nigh one's feet an' +legs. 'Sore forr'ed?' I says, lookin' up at the driver. + +"'A trifle, sir,' he says, touchin' his hat. + +"'What's that?' says Price, comin' up an' examinin' the critter's face +an' head. 'I don't see anythin' the matter with his forehead,' he says. +I looked up an' give the driver a wink," said David with a chuckle, "an' +he give kind of a chokin' gasp, but in a second was lookin' as solemn as +ever. + +"I can't tell ye jest where we went," the narrator proceeded, "but +anyway it was where all the nabobs turned out, an' I seen more style an' +git-up in them two hours 'n I ever see in my life, I reckon. The' didn't +appear to be no one we run across that, accordin' to Price's tell, was +wuth under five million, though we may 'a' passed one without his +noticin'; an' the' was a good many that run to fifteen an' twenty an' +over, an' most on 'em, it appeared, was f'm New York. Wa'al, fin'ly we +got back to the house a little 'fore seven. On the way back Price says, +'The' are goin' to be three four people to dinner to-night in a quiet +way, an' the' ain't no reason why you shouldn't stay dressed jest as you +are, but if you would feel like puttin' on evenin' clo'es (that's what +he called 'em), why I've got an extry suit that'll fit ye to a "tee,"' +he says. + +"'No,' I says, 'I guess I better not. I reckon I'd better git my grip +an' go to the hotel. I sh'd be ruther bashful to wear your swallertail, +an' all them folks'll be strangers,' I says. But he insisted on't that I +sh'd come to dinner anyway, an' fin'ly I gin in, an' thinkin' I might 's +well go the hull hog, I allowed I'd wear his clo'es; 'but if I do +anythin' or say anythin' 't you don't like,' says I, 'don't say I didn't +warn ye.' What would you 'a' done?" Mr. Harum asked. + +"Worn the clothes without the slightest hesitation," replied John. +"Nobody gave your costume a thought." + +"They didn't appear to, fer a fact," said David, "an' I didn't either, +after I'd slipped up once or twice on the matter of pockets. The same +feller brought 'em up to me that fetched the stuff in the mornin'; an' +the rig was complete--coat, vest, pants, shirt, white necktie, an', by +gum! shoes an' silk socks, an', sir, scat my ----! the hull outfit +fitted me as if it was made fer me. 'Shell I wait on you, sir?' says the +man. 'No,' I says, 'I guess I c'n git into the things; but mebbe you +might come up in 'bout quarter of an hour an' put on the finishin' +touches, an' here,' I says, 'I guess that brand of eggs you give me this +mornin' 's wuth about two dollars apiece.' + +"'Thank you, sir,' he says, grinnin', 'I'd like to furnish 'em right +along at that rate, sir, an' I'll be up as you say, sir.'" + +"You found the way to _his_ heart," said John, smiling. + +"My experience is," said David dryly, "that most men's hearts is located +ruther closter to their britchis pockets than they are to their breast +pockets." + +"I'm afraid that's so," said John. + +"But this feller," Mr. Harum continued, "was a putty decent kind of a +chap. He come up after I'd got into my togs an' pulled me here, an' +pulled me there, an' fixed my necktie, an' hitched me in gen'ral so'st I +wa'n't neither too tight nor too free, an' when he got through, 'You'll +do now, sir,' he says. + +"'Think I will?' says I. + +"'Couldn't nobody look more fit, sir,' he says, an' I'm dum'd," said +David, with an assertive nod, "when I looked at myself in the +lookin'-glass. I scurcely knowed myself, an' (with a confidential +lowering of the voice) when I got back to New York the very fust hard +work I done was to go an' buy the hull rig-out--an'," he added with a +grin, "strange as it may appear, it ain't wore out _yit_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +"People don't dress for dinner in Homeville, as a rule, then," John +said, smiling. + +"No," said Mr. Harum, "when they dress fer breakfust that does 'em fer +all three meals. I've wore them things two three times when I've ben +down to the city, but I never had 'em on but once up here." + +"No?" said John. + +"No," said David, "I put 'em on _once_ to show to Polly how city folks +dressed--he, he, he, he!--an' when I come into the room she set forwud +on her chair an' stared at me over her specs. 'What on airth!' she says. + +"'I bought these clo'es,' I says, 'to wear when bein' ent'tained by the +fust fam'lies. How do I look?' I says. + +"'Turn 'round,' she says. 'You look f'm behind,' she says, 'like a +red-headed snappin' bug, an' in front,' she says, as I turned agin, +'like a reg'lar slinkum. I'll bet,' she says, 'that you hain't throwed +away less 'n twenty dollars on that foolishniss.' Polly's a very +conserv'tive person," remarked her brother, "and don't never imagine a +vain thing, as the Bible says, not when she _knows_ it, an' I thought it +wa'n't wuth while to argue the point with her." + +John laughed and said, "Do you recall that memorable interview between +the governors of the two Carolinas?" + +"Nothin' in the historical lit'riture of our great an' glorious +country," replied Mr. Harum reverently, "sticks closter to my mind--like +a burr to a cow's tail," he added, by way of illustration. "Thank you, +jest a mouthful." + +"How about the dinner?" John asked after a little interlude. "Was it +pleasant?" + +"Fust rate," declared David. "The young folks was out somewhere else, +all but one o' Price's girls. The' was twelve at the table all told. I +was int'duced to all of 'em in the parlor, an' putty soon in come one of +the fellers an' said somethin' to Mis' Price that meant dinner was +ready, an' the girl come up to me an' took holt of my arm. 'You're goin' +to take me out,' she says, an' we formed a procession an' marched out to +the dinin' room. 'You're to sit by mammer,' she says, showin' me, an' +there was my name on a card, sure enough. Wa'al, sir, that table was a +show! I couldn't begin to describe it to ye. The' was a hull flower +garden in the middle, an' a worked tablecloth; four five glasses of all +colors an' sizes at ev'ry plate, an' a nosegay, an' five six diff'rent +forks an' a lot o' knives, though fer that matter," remarked the +speaker, "the' wa'n't but one knife in the lot that amounted to +anythin', the rest on 'em wouldn't hold nothin'; an' the' was three four +sort of chiney slates with what they call--the--you 'n me----" + +"Menu," suggested John. + +"I guess that's it," said David, "but that wa'n't the way it was spelt. +Wa'al, I set down an' tucked my napkin into my neck, an' though I +noticed none o' the rest on 'em seemed to care, I allowed that 't +wa'n't _my_ shirt, an' mebbe Price might want to wear it agin 'fore 't +was washed." + +John put his handkerchief over his face and coughed violently. David +looked at him sharply. "Subject to them spells?" he asked. + +"Sometimes," said John when he recovered his voice, and then, with as +clear an expression of innocence as he could command, but somewhat +irrelevantly, asked, "How did you get on with Mrs. Price?" + +"Oh," said David, "nicer 'n a cotton hat. She appeared to be a quiet +sort of woman that might 'a' lived anywhere, but she was dressed to +kill--an' so was the rest on 'em, fer that matter," he remarked with a +laugh. "I tried to tell Polly about 'em afterwuds, an'--he, he, he!--she +shut me up mighty quick, an' I thought myself at the time, thinks I, +it's a good thing it's warm weather, I says to myself. Oh, yes, Mis' +Price made me feel quite to home, but I didn't talk much the fust part +of dinner, an' I s'pose she was more or less took up with havin' so many +folks at table; but fin'ly she says to me, 'Mr. Price was so annoyed +about your breakfust, Mr. Harum.' + +"'Was he?' I says. 'I was afraid you'd be the one that 'd be vexed at +me.' + +"'Vexed with you? I don't understand,' she says. + +"''Bout the napkin I sp'iled,' I says. 'Mebbe not actially sp'iled,' I +says, 'but it'll have to go into the wash 'fore it c'n be used agin.' +She kind o' smiled, an' says, 'Really, Mr. Harum, I don't know what you +are talkin' about.' + +"'Hain't nobody told ye?' I says. 'Well, if they hain't they will, an' I +may 's well make a clean breast on't. I'm awful sorry,' I says, 'but +this mornin' when I come to the egg I didn't see no way to eat it 'cept +to peel it, an' fust I knew it kind of exploded and daubed ev'rythin' +all over creation. Yes'm,' I says, 'it went _off_, 's ye might say, like +old Elder Maybee's powder,' I guess," said David, "that I must 'a' ben +talkin' ruther louder 'n I thought, fer I looked up an' noticed that +putty much ev'ry one on 'em was lookin' our way, an' kind o' laughin', +an' Price in pertic'ler was grinnin' straight at me. + +"'What's that,' he says, 'about Elder Maybee's powder?' + +"'Oh, nuthin' much,' I says, 'jest a little supprise party the elder had +up to his house.' + +"'Tell us about it,' says Price. 'Oh, yes, do tell us about it,' says +Mis' Price. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'the' ain't much to it in the way of a story, but +seein' dinner must be most through,' I says, 'I'll tell ye all the' was +of it. The elder had a small farm 'bout two miles out of the village,' I +says, 'an' he was great on raisin' chickins an' turkeys. He was a slow, +putterin' kind of an ole foozle, but on the hull a putty decent citizen. +Wa'al,' I says, 'one year when the poultry was comin' along, a family o' +skunks moved onto the premises an' done so well that putty soon, as the +elder said, it seemed to him that it was comin' to be a ch'ice between +the chickin bus'nis an' the skunk bus'nis, an' though he said he'd heard +the' was money in it, if it was done on a big enough scale, he hadn't +ben edicated to it, he said, and didn't take to it _any_ ways. So,' I +says, 'he scratched 'round an' got a lot o' traps an' set 'em, an' the +very next mornin' he went out an' found he'd ketched an ole +he-one--president of the comp'ny. So he went to git his gun to shoot +the critter, an' found he hadn't got no powder. The boys had used it all +up on woodchucks, an' the' wa'n't nothin' fer it but to git some more +down to the village, an', as he had some more things to git, he hitched +up 'long in the forenoon an' drove down.' At this," said David, "one of +the ladies, wife to the judge, name o' Pomfort, spoke up an' says, 'Did +he leave that poor creature to suffer all that time? Couldn't it have +been put out of it's misery some other way?' + +"'Wa'al marm,' I says, 'I never happened to know but one feller that set +out to kill one o' them things with a club, an' _he_ put in most o' +_his_ time fer a week or two up in the woods _hatin'_ himself,' I says. +'He didn't mingle in gen'ral soci'ty, an' in fact,' I says, 'he had the +hull road to himself, as ye might say, fer a putty consid'able spell.'" + +John threw back his head and laughed. "Did she say any more?" he asked. + +"No," said David with a chuckle. "All the men set up a great laugh, an' +she colored up in a kind of huff at fust, an' then she begun to laugh +too, an' then one o' the waiter fellers put somethin' down in front of +me an' I went eatin' agin. But putty soon Price, he says, 'Come,' he +says, 'Harum, ain't you goin' on? How about that powder?' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'mebbe we had ought to put that critter out of his +misery. The elder went down an' bought a pound o' powder an' had it done +up in a brown paper bundle, an' put it with his other stuff in the +bottom of his dem'crat wagin; but it come on to rain some while he was +ridin' back, an' the stuff got more or less wet, an' so when he got home +he spread it out in a dishpan an' put it under the kitchen stove to dry, +an' thinkin' that it wa'n't dryin' fast enough, I s'pose, made out to +assist Nature, as the sayin' is, by stirrin' on't up with the kitchin +poker. Wa'al,' I says, 'I don't jest know how it happened, an' the elder +cert'inly didn't, fer after they'd got him untangled f'm under what was +left of the woodshed an' the kitchin stove, an' tied him up in cotton +battin', an' set his leg, an' put out the house, an' a few things like +that, bom-by he come round a little, an' the fust thing he says was, +"Wa'al, wa'al, wa'al!" "What is it, pa?" says Mis' Maybee, bendin' down +over him. "That peowder," he says, in almost no voice, "that peowder! I +was jest stirrin' on't a little, an' it went _o-f-f_, it went _o-f-f_," +he says, "_seemin'ly--in--a--minute_!" an' that,' I says to Mis' Price, +'was what that egg done.' + +"'We'll have to forgive you that egg,' she says, laughin' like +ev'rything, 'for Elder Maybee's sake'; an' in fact," said David, "they +all laughed except one feller. He was an Englishman--I fergit his name. +When I got through he looked kind o' puzzled an' says" (Mr. Harum +imitated his style as well as he could), "'But ra'ally, Mr. Harum, you +kneow that's the way powdah always geoes off, don't you kneow,' an' +then," said David, "they laughed harder 'n ever, an' the Englishman got +redder 'n a beet." + +"What did you say?" asked John. + +"Nuthin'," said David. "They was all laughin' so't I couldn't git in a +word, an' then the waiter brought me another plateful of somethin'. Scat +my ----!" he exclaimed, "I thought that dinner 'd go on till kingdom +come. An' wine! Wa'al! I begun to feel somethin' like the old feller did +that swallered a full tumbler of white whisky, thinkin' it was water. +The old feller was temp'rence, an' the boys put up a job on him one hot +day at gen'ral trainin'. Somebody ast him afterwuds how it made him +feel, an' he said he felt as if he was sittin' straddle the meetin' +house, an' ev'ry shingle was a Jew's-harp. So I kep' mum fer a while. +But jest before we fin'ly got through, an' I hadn't said nothin' fer a +spell, Mis' Price turned to me an' says, 'Did you have a pleasant drive +this afternoon?' + +"'Yes'm,' I says, 'I seen the hull show, putty much. I guess poor folks +must be 't a premium 'round here. I reckon,' I says, 'that if they'd +club together, the folks your husband p'inted out to me to-day could +_almost_ satisfy the requirements of the 'Merican Soci'ty fer For'n +Missions.' Mis' Price laughed, an' looked over at her husband. 'Yes,' +says Price, 'I told Mr. Harum about some of the people we saw this +afternoon, an' I must say he didn't appear to be as much impressed as I +thought he would. How's that, Harum?' he says to me. + +"'Wa'al,' says I, 'I was thinkin' 't I'd like to bet you two dollars to +a last year's bird's nest,' I says, 'that if all them fellers we seen +this afternoon, that air over fifty, c'd be got together, an' some one +was suddinly to holler "LOW BRIDGE!" that nineteen out o' twenty 'd +_duck their heads_.'" + +"And then?" queried John. + +"Wa'al," said David, "all on 'em laughed some, but Price--he jest lay +back an' roared, and I found out afterwuds," added David, "that ev'ry +man at the table, except the Englis'man, know'd what 'low bridge' meant +from actial experience. Wa'al, scat my ----!" he exclaimed, as he looked +at his watch, "it ain't hardly wuth while undressin'," and started for +the door. As he was halfway through it, he turned and said, "Say, I +s'pose _you'd_ 'a' known what to do with that egg," but he did not wait +for a reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +It must not be understood that the Harums, Larrabees, Robinsons, +Elrights, and sundry who have thus far been mentioned, represented the +only types in the prosperous and enterprising village of Homeville, and +David perhaps somewhat magnified the one-time importance of the Cullom +family, although he was speaking of a period some forty years earlier. +Be that as it may, there were now a good many families, most of them +descendants of early settlers, who lived in good and even fine houses, +and were people of refinement and considerable wealth. These constituted +a coterie of their own, though they were on terms of acquaintance and +comity with the "village people," as they designated the rank and file +of the Homeville population. To these houses came in the summer sons and +daughters, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren, and at the period of +which I am writing there had been built on the shore of the lake, or in +its vicinity, a number of handsome and stately residences by people who +had been attracted by the beauty of the situation and the salubrity of +the summer climate. And so, for some months in the pleasant season, the +village was enlivened by a concourse of visitors who brought with them +urban customs, costumes, and equipages, and gave a good deal of life +and color to the village streets. Then did Homeville put its best foot +forward and money in its pouch. + +"I ain't what ye might call an old residenter," said David, "though I +was part raised on Buxton Hill, an' I ain't so well 'quainted with the +nabobs; but Polly's lived in the village ever sence she got married, an' +knows their fam'ly hist'ry, dam, an' sire, an' pedigree gen'ally. Of +course," he remarked, "I know all the men folks, an' they know me, but I +never ben into none o' their houses except now an' then on a matter of +bus'nis, an' I guess," he said with a laugh, "that Polly 'd allow 't she +don't spend all her time in that circle. Still," he added, "they all +know her, an' ev'ry little while some o' the women folks 'll come in an' +see her. She's putty popular, Polly is," he concluded. + +"I should think so, indeed," remarked John. + +"Yes, sir," said David, "the's worse folks 'n Polly Bixbee, if she don't +put on no style; an' the fact is, that some of the folks that lives here +the year 'round, an' always have, an' call the rest on us 'village +people,' 'r' jest as countryfied in their way 's me an' Polly is in +our'n--only they don't know it. 'Bout the only diff'rence is the way +they talk an' live." John looked at Mr. Harum in some doubt as to the +seriousness of the last remark. + +"Go to the 'Piscopal church, an' have what they call dinner at six +o'clock," said David. "Now, there's the The'dore Verjooses," he +continued; "the 'rig'nal Verjoos come an' settled here some time in the +thirties, I reckon. He was some kind of a Dutchman, I guess" +["Dutchman" was Mr. Harum's generic name for all people native to the +Continent of Europe]; "but he had some money, an' bought land an' +morgidges, an' so on, an' havin' money--money was awful scurce in them +early days--made more; never spent anythin' to speak of, an' died +pinchin' the 'rig'nal cent he started in with." + +"He was the father of Mr. Verjoos the other banker here, I suppose?" +said John. + +"Yes," said David, "the' was two boys an' a sister. The oldest son, +Alferd, went into the law an' done bus'nis in Albany, an' afterw'ds +moved to New York; but he's always kept up the old place here. The old +man left what was a good deal o' propity fer them days, an' Alf he kept +his share an' made more. He was in the Assembly two three terms, an' +afterw'ds member of Congress, an' they do say," remarked Mr. Harum with +a wink, "that he never lost no money by his politics. On the other hand, +The'dore made more or less of a muddle on't, an' 'mongst 'em they set +him up in the bankin' bus'nis. I say 'them' because the Verjooses, an' +the Rogerses, an' the Swaynes, an' a lot of 'em, is all more or less +related to each other, but Alf's reely the one at the bottom on't, an' +after The 'd lost most of his money it was the easiest way to kind o' +keep him on his legs." + +"He seems a good-natured, easy-going sort of person," said John by way +of comment, and, truth to say, not very much interested. + +"Oh, yes," said David rather contemptuously, "you could drive him with a +tow string. He don't _know_ enough to run away. But what I was gettin' +at was this: He an' his wife--he married one of the Tenakers--has lived +right here fer the Lord knows how long; born an' brought up here both +on 'em, an' somehow we're 'village people' an' they ain't, that's all." + +"Rather a fine distinction," remarked his hearer, smiling. + +"Yes, sir," said David. "Now, there's old maid Allis, relative of the +Rogerses, lives all alone down on Clark Street in an old house that +hain't had a coat o' paint or a new shingle sence the three Thayers was +hung, an' she talks about the folks next door, both sides, that she's +knowed alwus, as 'village people,' and I don't believe," asserted the +speaker, "she was ever away f'm Homeville two weeks in the hull course +of her life. She's a putty decent sort of a woman too," Mr. Harum +admitted. "If the' was a death in the house she'd go in an' help, but +she wouldn't never think of askin' one on 'em to tea." + +"I suppose you have heard it said," remarked John, laughing, "that it +takes all sorts of people to make a world." + +"I think I hev heard a rumor to that effect," said David, "an' I guess +the' 's about as much human nature in some folks as the' is in others, +if not more." + +"And I don't fancy that it makes very much difference to you," said +John, "whether the Verjooses or Miss Allis call you 'village people' or +not." + +"Don't cut no figger at all," declared Mr. Harum. "Polly 'n I are too +old to set up fer shapes even if we wanted to. A good fair road-gait 's +good enough fer me; three square meals, a small portion of the 'filthy +weed,' as it's called in po'try, a hoss 'r two, a ten-dollar note where +you c'n lay your hand on't, an' once in a while, when your consciunce +pricks ye, a little somethin' to permote the cause o' temp'rence, an' +make the inwurd moniter quit jerkin' the reins--wa'al, I guess I c'n git +along, heh?" + +"Yes," said John, by way of making some rejoinder, "if one has all one +needs it is enough." + +"Wa'al, yes," observed the philosopher, "that's so, as you might say, up +to a certain _point_, an' in some _ways_. I s'pose a feller could git +along, but at the same time I've noticed that, gen'ally speakin', a +leetle too big 's about the right size." + +"I am told," said John, after a pause in which the conversation seemed +to be dying out for lack of fuel, and apropos of nothing in particular, +"that Homeville is quite a summer resort." + +"Quite a consid'able," responded Mr. Harum. "It has ben to some extent +fer a good many years, an' it's gettin' more an' more so all the time, +only diff'rent. I mean," he said, "that the folks that come now make +more show an' most on 'em who ain't visitin' their relations either has +places of their own or hires 'em fer the summer. One time some folks +used to come an' stay at the hotel. The' was quite a fair one then," he +explained; "but it burned up, an' wa'n't never built up agin because it +had got not to be thought the fash'nable thing to put up there. Mis' +Robinson (Dug's wife), an' Mis' Truman, 'round on Laylock Street, has +some fam'lies that come an' board with them ev'ry year, but that's about +all the boardin' the' is nowdays." Mr. Harum stopped and looked at his +companion thoughtfully for a moment, as if something had just occurred +to him. + +"The' 'll be more o' your kind o' folk 'round, come summer," he said; +and then, on a second thought, "you're 'Piscopal, ain't ye?" + +"I have always attended that service," replied John, smiling, "and I +have gone to St. James's here nearly every Sunday." + +"Hain't they taken any notice of ye?" asked David. + +"Mr. Euston, the rector, called upon me," said John, "but I have made no +further acquaintances." + +"E-um'm!" said David, and, after a moment, in a sort of confidential +tone, "Do you like goin' to church?" he asked. + +"Well," said John, "that depends--yes, I think I do. I think it is the +proper thing," he concluded weakly. + +"Depends some on how a feller's ben brought up, don't ye think so?" said +David. + +"I should think it very likely," John assented, struggling manfully with +a yawn. + +"I guess that's about my case," remarked Mr. Harum, "an' I sh'd have to +admit that I ain't much of a hand fer church-goin'. Polly has the +princ'pal charge of that branch of the bus'nis, an' the one I stay away +from, when I _don't_ go," he said with a grin, "'s the Prespyteriun." +John laughed. + +"No, sir," said David, "I ain't much of a hand for't. Polly used to +worry at me about it till I fin'ly says to her, 'Polly,' I says, 'I'll +tell ye what I'll do. I'll compermise with ye,' I says. 'I won't +undertake to foller right along in your track--I hain't got the req'sit +speed,' I says, 'but f'm now on I'll go to church reg'lar on +Thanksgivin'.' It was putty near Thanksgivin' time," he remarked, "an' I +dunno but she thought if she c'd git me started I'd finish the heat, +an' so we fixed it at that." + +"Of course," said John with a laugh, "you kept your promise?" + +"Wa'al, sir," declared David with the utmost gravity, "fer the next five +years I never missed attendin' church on Thanksgivin' day but _four_ +times; but after that," he added, "I had to beg off. It was too much of +a strain," he declared with a chuckle, "an' it took more time 'n Polly +c'd really afford to git me ready." And so he rambled on upon such +topics as suggested themselves to his mind, or in reply to his auditor's +comments and questions, which were, indeed, more perfunctory than +otherwise. For the Verjooses, the Rogerses, the Swaynes, and the rest, +were people whom John not only did not know, but whom he neither +expected nor cared to know; and so his present interest in them was +extremely small. + +Outside of his regular occupations, and despite the improvement in his +domestic environment, life was so dull for him that he could not imagine +its ever being otherwise in Homeville. It was a year since the +world--his world--had come to an end, and though his sensations of loss +and defeat had passed the acute stage, his mind was far from healthy. He +had evaded David's question, or only half answered it, when he merely +replied that the rector had called upon him. The truth was that some +tentative advances had been made to him, and Mr. Euston had presented +him to a few of the people in his flock; but beyond the point of mere +politeness he had made no response, mainly from indifference, but to a +degree because of a suspicion that his connection with Mr. Harum would +not, to say the least, enhance his position in the minds of certain of +the people of Homeville. As has been intimated, it seemed at the outset +of his career in the village as if there had been a combination of +circumstance and effort to put him on his guard, and, indeed, rather to +prejudice him against his employer; and Mr. Harum, as it now appeared to +our friend, had on one or two occasions laid himself open to +misjudgment, if no more. No allusion had ever been made to the episode +of the counterfeit money by either his employer or himself, and it was +not till months afterward that the subject was brought up by Mr. Richard +Larrabee, who sauntered into the bank one morning. Finding no one there +but John, he leaned over the counter on his elbows, and, twisting one +leg about the other in a restful attitude, proceeded to open up a +conversation upon various topics of interest to his mind. Dick was Mr. +Harum's confidential henchman and factotum, although not regularly so +employed. His chief object in life was apparently to get as much +amusement as possible out of that experience, and he was quite +unhampered by over-nice notions of delicacy or bashfulness. But, withal, +Mr. Larrabee was a very honest and loyal person, strong in his likes and +dislikes, devoted to David, for whom he had the greatest admiration, and +he had taken a fancy to our friend, stoutly maintaining that he "wa'n't +no more stuck-up 'n you be," only, as he remarked to Bill Perkins, "he +hain't had the advantigis of your bringin' up." + +After some preliminary talk--"Say," he said to John, "got stuck with any +more countyfit money lately?" + +John's face reddened a little and Dick laughed. + +"The old man told me about it," he said. "Say, you'd ought to done as he +told ye to. You'd 'a' saved fifteen dollars," Dick declared, looking at +our friend with an expression of the utmost amusement. + +"I don't quite understand," said John rather stiffly. + +"Didn't he tell ye to charge 'em up to the bank, an' let him take 'em?" +asked Dick. + +"Well?" said John shortly. + +"Oh, yes, I know," said Mr. Larrabee. "He said sumpthin' to make you +think he was goin' to pass 'em out, an' you didn't give him no show to +explain, but jest marched into the back room an' stuck 'em onto the +fire. Ho, ho, ho, ho! He told me all about it," cried Dick. "Say," he +declared, "I dunno 's I ever see the old man more kind o' womble-cropped +over anythin'. Why, he wouldn't no more 'a' passed them bills 'n he'd +'a' cut his hand off. He, he, he, he! He was jest ticklin' your heels a +little," said Mr. Larrabee, "to see if you'd kick, an'," chuckled the +speaker, "you _surely_ did." + +"Perhaps I acted rather hastily," said John, laughing a little from +contagion. + +"Wa'al," said Dick, "Dave's got ways of his own. I've summered an' +wintered with him now for a good many years, an' _I_ ain't got to the +bottom of him yet, an'," he added, "I don't know nobody that has." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +Although, as time went on and John had come to a better insight of the +character of the eccentric person whom Dick had failed to fathom, his +half-formed prejudices had fallen away, it must be admitted that he +ofttimes found him a good deal of a puzzle. The domains of the serious +and the facetious in David's mind seemed to have no very well defined +boundaries. + +The talk had drifted back to the people and gossip of Homeville, but, +sooth to say, it had not on this occasion got far away from those +topics. + +"Yes," said Mr. Harum, "Alf Verjoos is on the hull the best off of any +of the lot. As I told ye, he made money on top of what the old man left +him, an' he married money. The fam'ly--some on 'em--comes here in the +summer, an' he's here part o' the time gen'ally, but the women folks +won't stay here winters, an' the house is left in care of Alf's sister +who never got married. He don't care a hill o' white beans fer anything +in Homeville but the old place, and he don't cal'late to have nobody on +his grass, not if he knows it. Him an' me are on putty friendly terms, +but the fact is," said David, in a semi-confidential tone, "he's about +an even combine of pykery an' viniger, an' about as pop'lar in gen'ral +'round here as a skunk in a hen-house; but Mis' Verjoos is putty well +liked; an' one o' the girls, Claricy is her name, is a good deal of a +fav'rit. Juliet, the other one, don't mix with the village folks much, +an' sometimes don't come with the fam'ly at all. She favors her father," +remarked the historian. + +"Inherits his popularity, I conclude," remarked John, smiling. + +"She does favor him to some extent in that respect," was the reply; "an' +she's dark complected like him, but she's a mighty han'some girl, +notwithstandin'. Both on 'em is han'some girls," observed Mr. Harum, +"an' great fer hosses, an' that's the way I got 'quainted with 'em. +They're all fer ridin' hossback when they're up here. Did you ever ride +a hoss?" he asked. + +"Oh, yes," said John, "I have ridden a good deal one time and another." + +"Never c'd see the sense on't," declared David. "I c'n imagine gettin' +on to a hoss's back when 't was either that or walkin', but to do it fer +the fun o' the thing 's more 'n I c'n understand. There you be," he +continued, "stuck up four five feet up in the air like a clo'espin, +havin' your backbone chucked up into your skull, an' takin' the skin off +in spots an' places, expectin' ev'ry next minute the critter'll git out +f'm under ye--no, sir," he protested, "if it come to be that it was +either to ride a hossback fer the fun o' the thing or have somebody kick +me, an' kick me hard, I'd say, 'Kick away.' It comes to the same thing +fur 's enjoyment goes, and it's a dum sight safer." + +John laughed outright, while David leaned forward with his hands on his +knees, looking at him with a broad though somewhat doubtful smile. + +"That being your feeling," remarked John, "I should think saddle horses +would be rather out of your line. Was it a saddle horse that the Misses +Verjoos were interested in?" + +"Wa'al, I didn't buy him fer that," replied David, "an' in fact when the +feller that sold him to me told me he'd ben rode, I allowed that ought +to knock twenty dollars off 'n the price, but I did have such a hoss, +an', outside o' that, he was a nice piece of hoss flesh. I was up to the +barn one mornin', mebbe four years ago," he continued, "when in drove +the Verjoos carriage with one of the girls, the oldest one, inside, an' +the yeller-haired one on a hossback. 'Good mornin'. You're Mr. Harum, +ain't you?' she says. 'Good mornin',' I says, 'Harum's the name 't I use +when I appear in public. You're Miss Verjoos, I reckon,' I says. + +"She laughed a little, an' says, motionin' with her head to'ds the +carriage, 'My sister is Miss Verjoos. I'm Miss Claricy.' I took off my +cap, an' the other girl jest bowed her head a little. + +"'I heard you had a hoss 't I could ride,' says the one on hossback. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, lookin' at her hoss, an' he was a good one," remarked +David, "'fer a saddle hoss, I shouldn't think you was entirely out o' +hosses long's you got that one.' 'Oh,' she says, this is my sister's +hoss. Mine has hurt his leg so badly that I am 'fraid I sha'n't be able +to ride him this summer.' 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I've got a hoss that's ben +rode, so I was told, but I don't know of my own knowin'.' + +"'Don't you ride?' she says. 'Hossback?' I says. 'Why, of course,' she +says. '_No_, ma'am,' I says, 'not when I c'n raise the money to pay my +_fine_' She looked kind o' puzzled at that," remarked David, "but I see +the other girl look at her an' give a kind of quiet laugh." + +"'Can I see him?' says Miss Claricy. 'Cert'nly,' I says, an' went an' +brought him out. 'Oh!' she says to her sister, 'ain't he a beauty? C'n I +try him?' she says to me. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I c'n resk it if you +can, but I didn't buy him fer a saddle hoss, an' if I'm to own him fer +any len'th of time I'd ruther he'd fergit the saddle bus'nis, an' in any +case,' I says, 'I wouldn't like him to git a sore back, an' then agin,' +I says, 'I hain't got no saddle.' + +"'Wa'al,' she says, givin' her head a toss, 'if I couldn't sit straight +I'd never ride agin. I never made a hoss's back sore in my life,' she +says. 'We c'n change the saddle,' she says, an' off she jumps, an', scat +my ----!" exclaimed David, "the way she knowed about gettin' that saddle +fixed, pads, straps, girt's, an' the hull bus'nis, an' put up her foot +fer me to give her a lift, an' wheeled that hoss an' went out o' the +yard a-kitin', was as slick a piece o' hoss bus'nis as ever I see. It +took fust money, that did," said Mr. Harum with a confirmatory shake of +the head. "Wa'al," he resumed, "in about a few minutes back she come, +lickity-cut, an' pulled up in front of me. 'C'n you send my sister's +hoss home?' she says, 'an' then I sha'n't have to change agin. I'll stay +on _my_ hoss,' she says, laughin', an' then agin laughin' fit to kill, +fer I stood there with my mouth open clear to my back teeth, not bein' +used to doin' bus'nis 'ith quite so much neatniss an' dispatch, as the +sayin' is. + +"'Oh, it's all right,' she says. 'Poppa came home last night an' I'll +have him see you this afternoon or to-morro'.' 'But mebbe he 'n I won't +agree about the price,' I says. 'Yes, you will,' she says, 'an' if you +don't I won't make his back sore'--an' off they went, an' left me +standin' there like a stick in the mud. I've bought an' sold hosses to +some extent fer a consid'able number o' years," said Mr. Harum +reflectively, "but that partic'ler transaction's got a peg all to +itself." + +John laughed and asked, "How did it come out? I mean, what sort of an +interview did you have with the young woman's father, the popular Mr. +Verjoos?" + +"Oh," said David, "he druv up to the office the next mornin', 'bout ten +o'clock, an' come into the back room here, an' after we'd passed the +time o' day, he says, clearin' his throat in a way he's got, 'He-uh, +he-uh!' he says, 'my daughter tells me that she run off with a hoss of +yours yestidy in rather a summery manner, an--he-uh-uh--I have come to +see you about payin' fer him. What is the price?' he says. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, more 'n anythin' to see what he'd say, 'what would you +say he was wuth?' An' with that he kind o' stiffened a little stiffer 'n +he was before, if it could be. + +"'Really,' he says, 'he-uh-uh, I haven't any idea. I haven't seen the +animal, an' I should not consider myself qual'fied to give an opinion +upon his value if I had, but,' he says, 'I don't know that that makes +any material diff'rence, however, because I am quite--he-uh, he-uh--in +your hands--he-uh!--within limits--he-uh-uh!--within limits,' he says. +That kind o' riled me," remarked David. "I see in a minute what was +passin' in his mind. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'Mr. Verjoos, I guess the fact o' +the matter is 't I'm about as much in the mud as you be in the +mire--your daughter's got my hoss,' I says. 'Now you ain't dealin' with +a hoss jockey,' I says, 'though I don't deny that I buy an' sell hosses, +an' once in a while make money at it. You're dealin' with David Harum, +Banker, an' I consider 't I'm dealin' with a lady, or the father of one +on her account,' I says. + +"'He-uh, he-uh! I meant no offense, sir,' he says. + +"'None bein' meant, none will be took,' I says. 'Now,' I says,' I was +offered one-seventy-five fer that hoss day before yestidy, an' wouldn't +take it. I can't sell him fer that,' I says. + +"'He-uh, uh! cert'nly not,' he says. + +"'Wait a minit,' I says. 'I can't sell him fer that because I +_said_ I wouldn't; but if you feel like drawin' your check fer +one-seventy-_six_,' I says, 'we'll call it a deal,'" The speaker +paused with a chuckle. + +"Well?" said John. + +"Wa'al," said David, "he, he, he, he! That clean took the wind out of +him, an' he got redder 'n a beet. 'He-uh-uh-uh-huh! really,' he says, 'I +couldn't think of offerin' you less than two hunderd.' + +"'All right,' I says, 'I'll send up fer the hoss. One-seventy-six is my +price, no more an' no less,' an' I got up out o' my chair." + +"And what did he say then?" asked John. + +"Wa'al," replied Mr. Harum, "he settled his neck down into his collar +an' necktie an' cleared his throat a few times, an' says, 'You put me in +ruther an embarrassin' position, Mr. Harum. My daughter has set her +heart on the hoss, an'--he-uh-uh-uh!'--with a kind of a smile like a +wrinkle in a boot, 'I can't very well tell her that I wouldn't buy him +because you wouldn't accept a higher offer than your own price. I--I +think I must accede to your proposition, an'--he-uh-uh--accept the +favor,' he says, draggin' the words out by the roots. + +"'No favor at all,' I says, 'not a bit on't, not a bit on't. It was the +cleanest an' slickist deal I ever had,' I says, 'an' I've had a good +many. That girl o' your'n,' I says, 'if you don't mind my sayin' it, +comes as near bein' a full team an' a cross dog under the wagin as you +c'n git; an' you c'n tell her if you think fit,' I says, 'that if she +ever wants anythin' more out o' _my_ barn I'll throw off twenty-four +dollars ev'ry time, if she'll only do her own buyin'.' + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, "I didn't know but what he'd gag a little at +that, but he didn't seem to, an' when he went off after givin' me his +check, he put out his hand an' shook hands, a thing he never done +before." + +"That was really very amusing," was John's comment. + +"'T wa'n't a bad day's work either," observed Mr. Harum. "I've sold the +crowd a good many hosses since then, an' I've laughed a thousan' times +over that pertic'ler trade. Me 'n Miss Claricy," he added, "has alwus +ben good friends sence that time--an' she 'n Polly are reg'lar neetups. +She never sees me in the street but what it's 'How dee do, Mr. H-a-rum?' +An' I'll say, 'Ain't that ole hoss wore out yet?' or, 'When you comin' +'round to run off with another hoss?' I'll say." + +At this point David got out of his chair, yawned, and walked over to the +window. + +"Did you ever in all your born days," he said, "see such dum'd weather? +Jest look out there--no sleighin', no wheelin', an' a barn full wantin' +exercise. Wa'al, I guess I'll be moseyin' along." And out he went. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +If John Lenox had kept a diary for the first year of his life in +Homeville most of its pages would have been blank. + +The daily routine of the office (he had no assistant but the callow +Hopkins) was more exacting than laborious, but it kept him confined +seven hours in the twenty-four. Still, there was time in the lengthened +days as the year advanced for walking, rowing, and riding or driving +about the picturesque country which surrounds Homeville. He and Mr. +Harum often drove together after the bank closed, or after "tea," and it +was a pleasure in itself to observe David's dexterous handling of his +horses, and his content and satisfaction in the enjoyment of his +favorite pastime. In pursuit of business he "jogged 'round," as he said, +behind the faithful Jinny, but when on pleasure bent, a pair of +satin-coated trotters drew him in the latest and "slickest" model of +top-buggies. + +"Of course," he said, "I'd ruther ride all alone than not to ride at +all, but the's twice as much fun in't when you've got somebody along. I +ain't much of a talker, unless I happen to git started" (at which +assertion John repressed a smile), "but once in a while I like to have +somebody to say somethin' to. You like to come along, don't ye?" + +"Very much indeed." + +"I used to git Polly to come once in a while," said David, "but it +wa'n't no pleasure to her. She hadn't never ben used to hosses an' alwus +set on the edge of the seat ready to jump, an' if one o' the critters +capered a little she'd want to git right out then an' there. I reckon +she never went out but what she thanked mercy when she struck the hoss +block to git back with hull bones." + +"I shouldn't have thought that she would have been nervous with the +reins in your hands," said John. + +"Wa'al," replied David, "the last time she come along somethin' give the +team a little scare an' she reached over an' made a grab at the lines. +That," he remarked with a grin, "was quite a good while ago. I says to +her when we got home, 'I guess after this you'd better take your airin's +on a stun-boat. You won't be so liable to git run away with an' throwed +out,' I says." + +John laughed a little, but made no comment. + +"After all," said David, "I dunno 's I blamed her fer bein' skittish, +but I couldn't have her grabbin' the lines. It's curi's," he reflected, +"I didn't used to mind what I rode behind, nor who done the drivin', but +I'd have to admit that as I git older I prefer to do it myself, I ride +ev'ry once in a while with fellers that c'n drive as well, an' mebbe +better, 'n I can, an' I know it, but if anythin' turns up, or looks like +it, I can't help wishin' 't I had holt o' the lines myself." + +The two passed a good many hours together thus beguiling the time. +Whatever David's other merits as a companion, he was not exacting of +response when engaged in conversation, and rarely made any demands upon +his auditor. + + * * * * * + +During that first year John made few additions to his social +acquaintance, and if in the summer the sight of a gay party of young +people caused some stirrings in his breast, they were not strong enough +to induce him to make any attempts toward the acquaintance which he +might have formed. He was often conscious of glances of curiosity +directed toward himself, and Mr. Euston was asked a good many questions +about the latest addition to his congregation. + +Yes, he had called upon Mr. Lenox and his call had been returned. In +fact, they had had several visits together--had met out walking once and +had gone on in company. Was Mr. Lenox "nice"? Yes, he had made a +pleasant impression upon Mr. Euston, and seemed to be a person of +intelligence and good breeding--very gentlemanlike. Why did not people +know him? Well, Mr. Euston had made some proffers to that end, but Mr. +Lenox had merely expressed his thanks. No, Mr. Euston did not know how +he happened to be in Homeville and employed by that queer old Mr. Harum, +and living with him and his funny old sister; Mr. Lenox had not confided +in him at all, and though very civil and pleasant, did not appear to +wish to be communicative. + +So our friend did not make his entrance that season into the drawing or +dining rooms of any of what David called the "nabobs'" houses. By the +middle or latter part of October Homeville was deserted of its visitors +and as many of that class of its regular population as had the means to +go with and a place to go to. + +It was under somewhat different auspices that John entered upon the +second winter of his sojourn. It has been made plain that his relations +with his employer and the kind and lovable Polly were on a satisfactory +and permanent footing. + +"I'm dum'd," said David to Dick Larrabee, "if it hain't got putty near +to the p'int when if I want to git anythin' out o' the common run out o' +Polly, I'll have to ask John to fix it fer me. She's like a cow with a +calf," he declared. + +"David sets all the store in the world by him," stated Mrs. Bixbee to a +friend, "though he don't jest let on to--not in so many words. He's got +a kind of a notion that his little boy, if he'd lived, would 'a' ben +like him some ways. I never seen the child," she added, with an +expression which made her visitor smile, "but as near 's I c'n make out +f'm Dave's tell, he must 'a' ben red-headed. Didn't you know 't he'd +ever ben married? Wa'al, he was fer a few years, though it's the one +thing--wa'al, I don't mean exac'ly that--it's _one_ o' the things he +don't have much to say about. But once in a while he'll talk about the +boy, what he'd be now if he'd lived, an' so on; an' he's the greatest +hand fer childern--everlastin'ly pickin' on 'em up when he's ridin' and +such as that--an' I seen him once when we was travelin' on the cars go +an' take a squawlin' baby away f'm it's mother, who looked ready to +drop, an' lay it across that big chest of his, an' the little thing +never gave a whimper after he got it into his arms--jest went right off +to sleep. No," said Mrs. Bixbee, "I never had no childern, an' I don't +know but what I was glad of it at the time; Jim Bixbee was about as +much baby as I thought I could manage, but now--" + +There was some reason for not concluding the sentence, and so we do not +know what was in her mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +The year that had passed had seemed a very long one to John, but as the +months came and went he had in a measure adjusted himself to the change +in his fortunes and environment; and so as time went on the poignancy of +his sorrow and regret diminished, as it does with all of us. Yet the +sight of a gray-haired man still brought a pang to his heart, and there +were times of yearning longing to recall every line of the face, every +detail of the dress, the voice, the words, of the girl who had been so +dear to him, and who had gone out of his life as irrevocably, it seemed +to him, as if by death itself. It may be strange, but it is true that +for a very long time it never occurred to him that he might communicate +with her by mailing a letter to her New York address to be forwarded, +and when the thought came to him the impulse to act upon it was very +strong, but he did not do so. Perhaps he would have written had he been +less in love with her, but also there was mingled with that sentiment +something of bitterness which, though he could not quite explain or +justify it, did exist. Then, too, he said to himself, "Of what avail +would it be? Only to keep alive a longing for the impossible." No, he +would forget it all. Men had died and worms had eaten them, but not for +love. Many men lived all their lives without it and got on very well +too, he was aware. Perhaps some day, when he had become thoroughly +affiliated and localized, he would wed a village maiden, and rear a +Freeland County brood. Our friend, as may be seen, had a pretty healthy +mind, and we need not sympathize with him to the disturbance of our own +peace. + +Books accumulated in the best bedroom. John's expenses were small, and +there was very little temptation, or indeed opportunity, for spending. +At the time of his taking possession of his quarters in David's house he +had raised the question of his contribution to the household expenses, +but Mr. Harum had declined to discuss the matter at all and referred him +to Mrs. Bixbee, with whom he compromised on a weekly sum which appeared +to him absurdly small, but which she protested she was ashamed to +accept. After a while a small upright piano made its appearance, with +Aunt Polly's approval. + +"Why, of course," she said. "You needn't to hev ast me. I'd like to hev +you anyway. I like music ever so much, an' so does David, though I guess +it would floor him to try an' raise a tune. I used to sing quite a +little when I was younger, an' I gen'ally help at church an' prayer +meetin' now. Why, cert'nly. Why not? When would you play if it wa'n't in +the evenin'? David sleeps over the wing. Do you hear him snore?" + +"Hardly ever," replied John, smiling. "That is to say, not very +much--just enough sometimes to know that he is asleep." + +"Wa'al," she said decidedly, "if he's fur enough off so 't you can't +hear _him_, I guess he won't hear _you_ much, an' he sure won't hear +you after he gits to sleep." + +So the piano came, and was a great comfort and resource. Indeed, before +long it became the regular order of things for David and his sister to +spend an hour or so on Sunday evenings listening to his music and their +own as well--that is, the music of their choice--which latter was mostly +to be found in "Carmina Sacra" and "Moody and Sankey"; and Aunt Polly's +heart was glad indeed when she and John together made concord of sweet +sounds in some familiar hymn tune, to the great edification of Mr. +Harum, whose admiration was unbounded. + + * * * * * + +"Did I tell you," said David to Dick Larrabee, "what happened the last +time me an' John went ridin' together?" + +"Not's I remember on," replied Dick. + +"Wa'al, we've rode together quite a consid'able," said Mr. Harum, "but I +hadn't never said anythin' to him about takin' a turn at the lines. This +day we'd got a piece out into the country an' I had the brown colts. I +says to him, 'Ever do any drivin'?" + +"'More or less,' he says. + +"'Like to take the lines fer a spell?' I says. + +"'Yes,' he says, lookin' kind o' pleased, 'if you ain't afraid to trust +me with 'em,' he says. + +"'Wa'al, I'll be here,' I says, an' handed 'em over. Wa'al, sir, I see +jest by the way he took holt on 'em it wa'n't the fust time, an' we went +along to where the road turns in through a piece of woods, an' the track +is narrer, an' we run slap onto one o' them dum'd road-engines that had +got wee-wawed putty near square across the track. Now I tell ye," said +Mr. Harum, "them hosses didn't like it fer a cent, an' tell the truth I +didn't like it no better. We couldn't go ahead fer we couldn't git by +the cussed thing, an' the hosses was 'par'ntly tryin' to git back under +the buggy, an', scat my ----! if he didn't straighten 'em out an' back +'em 'round in that narrer road, an' hardly scraped a wheel. Yes, sir," +declared Mr. Harum, "I couldn't 'a' done it slicker myself, an' I don't +know nobody that could." + +"Guess you must 'a' felt a little ticklish yourself," said Dick +sympathetically, laughing as usual. + +"Wa'al, you better believe," declared the other. "The' was 'bout half a +minute when I'd have sold out mighty cheap, an' took a promise fer the +money. He's welcome to drive any team in _my_ barn," said David, +feeling--in which view Mr. Larrabee shared--that encomium was pretty +well exhausted in that assertion. + +"I don't believe," said Mr. Harum after a moment, in which he and his +companion reflected upon the gravity of his last declaration, "that +the's any dum thing that feller can't do. The last thing 's a piany. +He's got a little one that stands up on it's hind legs in his room, an' +he c'n play it with both hands 'thout lookin' on. Yes, sir, we have +reg'lar concerts at my house ev'ry Sunday night, admission free, an' +childern half price, an'," said David, "you'd ought to hear him an' +Polly sing, an'--he, he, he! you'd ought to _see_ her singin'--tickleder +'n a little dog with a nosegay tied to his tail." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Our friend's acquaintance with the rector of St. James's church had +grown into something like friendship, and the two men were quite often +together in the evening. John went sometimes to Mr. Euston's house, and +not unfrequently the latter would spend an hour in John's room over a +cigar and a chat. On one of the latter occasions, late in the autumn, +Mr. Euston went to the piano after sitting a few minutes and looked over +some of the music, among which were two or three hymnals. "You are +musical," he said. + +"In a modest way," was the reply. + +"I am very fond of it," said the clergyman, "but have little knowledge +of it. I wish I had more," he added in a tone of so much regret as +to cause his hearer to look curiously at him. "Yes," he said, "I wish I +knew more--or less. It's the bane of my existence," declared the rector +with a half laugh. John looked inquiringly at him, but did not respond. + +"I mean the music--so called--at St. James's," said Mr. Euston. "I don't +wonder you smile," he remarked; "but it's not a matter for smiling with +me." + +"I beg pardon," said John. + +"No, you need not," returned the other, "but really--Well, there are a +good many unpleasant and disheartening experiences in a clergyman's +life, and I can, I hope, face and endure most of them with patience, but +the musical part of my service is a never-ending source of anxiety, +perplexity, and annoyance. I think," said Mr. Euston, "that I expend +more nerve tissue upon that branch of my responsibilities than upon all +the rest of my work. You see we can not afford to pay any of the +singers, and indeed my people--some of them, at least--think fifty +dollars is a great sum for poor little Miss Knapp, the organist. The +rest are volunteers, or rather, I should say, have been pressed into the +service. We are supposed to have two sopranos and two altos; but in +effect it happens sometimes that neither of a pair will appear, each +expecting the other to be on duty. The tenor, Mr. Hubber, who is an +elderly man without any voice to speak of, but a very devout and +faithful churchman, is to be depended upon to the extent of his +abilities; but Mr. Little, the bass--well," observed Mr. Euston, "the +less said about him the better." + +"How about the organist?" said John. "I think she does very well, +doesn't she?" + +"Miss Knapp is the one redeeming feature," replied the rector, "but she +has not much courage to interfere. Hubber is nominally the leader, but +he knows little of music." Mr. Euston gave a sorry little laugh. "It's +trying enough," he said, "one Sunday with another, but on Christmas and +Easter, when my people make an unusual effort, and attempt the +impossible, it is something deplorable." + +John could not forbear a little laugh. "I should think it must be pretty +trying," he said. + +"It is simply corroding," declared Mr. Euston. + +They sat for a while smoking in silence, the contemplation of his woes +having apparently driven other topics from the mind of the harassed +clergyman. At last he said, turning to our friend: + +"I have heard your voice in church." + +"Yes?" + +"And I noticed that you sang not only the hymns but the chants, and in a +way to suggest the idea that you have had experience and training. I did +not come here for the purpose," said Mr. Euston, after waiting a moment +for John to speak, "though I confess the idea has occurred to me before, +but it was suggested again by the sight of your piano and music. I know +that it is asking a great deal," he continued, "but do you think you +could undertake, for a while at least, to help such a lame dog as I am +over the stile? You have no idea," said the rector earnestly, "what a +service you would be doing not only to me, but to my people and the +church." + +John pulled thoughtfully at his mustache for a moment, while Mr. Euston +watched his face. "I don't know," he said at last in a doubtful tone. "I +am afraid you are taking too much for granted--I don't mean as to my +good will, but as to my ability to be of service, for I suppose you mean +that I should help in drilling your choir." + +"Yes," replied Mr. Euston. "I suppose it would be too much to ask you to +sing as well." + +"I have had no experience in the way of leading or directing," replied +John, ignoring the suggestion, "though I have sung in church more or +less, and am familiar with the service, but even admitting my ability to +be of use, shouldn't you be afraid that my interposing might make more +trouble than it would help? Wouldn't your choir resent it? Such people +are sometimes jealous, you know." + +"Oh, dear, yes," sighed the rector. "But," he added, "I think I can +guarantee that there will be no unpleasant feeling either toward you or +about you. Your being from New York will give you a certain prestige, +and their curiosity and the element of novelty will make the beginning +easy." + +There came a knock at the door and Mr. Harum appeared, but, seeing a +visitor, was for withdrawing. + +"Don't go," said John. "Come in. Of course you know Mr. Euston." + +"Glad to see ye," said David, advancing and shaking hands. "You folks +talkin' bus'nis?" he asked before sitting down. + +"I am trying to persuade Mr. Lenox to do me a great favor," said Mr. +Euston. + +"Well, I guess he won't want such an awful sight o' persuadin'," said +David, taking a chair, "if he's able to do it. What does he want of ye?" +he asked, turning to John. Mr. Euston explained, and our friend gave his +reasons for hesitating--all but the chief one, which was that he was +reluctant to commit himself to an undertaking which he apprehended would +be not only laborious but disagreeable. + +"Wa'al," said David, "as fur 's the bus'nis itself 's concerned, the +hull thing's all nix-cum-rouse to me; but as fur 's gettin' folks to +come an' sing, you c'n git a barn full, an' take your pick; an' a +feller that c'n git a pair of hosses an' a buggy out of a tight fix the +way you done a while ago ought to be able to break in a little team of +half a dozen women or so." + +"Well," said John, laughing, "_you_ could have done what I was lucky +enough to do with the horses, but--" + +"Yes, yes," David broke in, scratching his cheek, "I guess you got me +that time." + +Mr. Euston perceived that for some reason he had an ally and advocate in +Mr. Harum. He rose and said good-night, and John escorted him downstairs +to the door. "Pray think of it as favorably as you can," he said, as +they shook hands at parting. + +"Putty nice kind of a man," remarked David when John came back; "putty +nice kind of a man. 'Bout the only 'quaintance you've made of his kind, +ain't he? Wa'al, he's all right fur 's he goes. Comes of good stock, I'm +told, an' looks it. Runs a good deal to emptins in his preachin' though, +they say. How do you find him?" + +"I think I enjoy his conversation more than his sermons," admitted John +with a smile. + +"Less of it at times, ain't the'?" suggested David. "I may have told +ye," he continued, "that I wa'n't a very reg'lar churchgoer, but I've +ben more or less in my time, an' when I did listen to the sermon all +through, it gen'ally seemed to me that if the preacher 'd put all the' +really was in it together he wouldn't need to have took only 'bout +quarter the time; but what with scorin' fer a start, an' laggin' on the +back stretch, an' ev'ry now an' then breakin' to a stan'still, I +gen'ally wanted to come down out o' the stand before the race was over. +The's a good many fast quarter hosses," remarked Mr. Harum, "but them +that c'n keep it up fer a full mile is scurce. What you goin' to do +about the music bus'nis, or hain't ye made up your mind yet?" he asked, +changing the subject. + +"I like Mr. Euston," said John, "and he seems very much in earnest about +this matter; but I am not sure," he added thoughtfully, "that I can do +what he wants, and I must say that I am very reluctant to undertake it; +still, I don't know but that I ought to make the trial," and he looked +up at David. + +"I guess I would if I was you," said the latter. "It can't do ye no +harm, an' it may do ye some good. The fact is," he continued, "that you +ain't out o' danger of runnin' in a rut. It would do you good mebbe to +git more acquainted, an' mebbe this'll be the start on't." + +"With a little team of half a dozen women, as you called them," said +John. "Mr. Euston has offered to introduce me to any one I cared to +know." + +"I didn't mean the singin' folks," responded Mr. Harum, "I meant the +church folks in gen'ral, an' it'll come 'round in a natur'l sort of +way--not like bein' took 'round by Mr. Euston as if you'd _ast_ him to. +You can't git along--you may, an' have fer a spell, but not alwus--with +nobody to visit with but me an' Polly an' Dick, an' so on, an' once in a +while with the parson; you ben used to somethin' diff'rent, an' while I +ain't sayin' that Homeville soci'ty, pertic'lerly in the winter, 's the +finest in the land, or that me an' Polly ain't all right in our way, you +want a change o' feed once in a while, or you _may_ git the colic. +Now," proceeded the speaker, "if this singin' bus'nis don't do more'n +to give ye somethin' new to think about, an' take up an evenin' now an' +then, even if it bothers ye some, I think mebbe it'll be a good thing +fer ye. They say a reasonable amount o' fleas is good fer a dog--keeps +him from broodin' over _bein'_ a dog, mebbe," suggested David. + +"Perhaps you are right," said John. "Indeed, I don't doubt that you are +right, and I will take your advice." + +"Thank you," said David a minute or two later on, holding out the glass +while John poured, "jest a wisdom toothful. I don't set up to be no +Sol'mon, an' if you ever find out how I'm bettin' on a race jest +'copper' me an' you c'n wear di'monds, but I know when a hoss has stood +too long in the barn as soon as the next man." + +It is possible that even Mr. Euston did not fully appreciate the +difficulties of the task which he persuaded our friend John to +undertake; and it is certain that had the latter known all that they +were to be he would have hardened his heart against both the pleadings +of the rector and the advice of David. His efforts were welcomed and +seconded by Mr. Hubber the tenor, and Miss Knapp the organist, and there +was some earnestness displayed at first by the ladies of the choir; but +Mr. Little, the bass, proved a hopeless case, and John, wholly against +his intentions, and his inclinations as well, had eventually to take +over the basso's duty altogether, as being the easiest way--in fact, the +only way--to save his efforts from downright failure. + +Without going in detail into the trials and tribulations incident to the +bringing of the musical part of the service at Mr. Euston's church up +to a respectable if not a high standard, it may be said that with +unremitting pains this end was accomplished, to the boundless relief and +gratitude of that worthy gentleman, and to a good degree of the members +of his congregation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +On a fine Sunday in summer after the close of the service the exit of +the congregation of St. James's church presents an animated and +inspiring spectacle. A good many well-dressed ladies of various ages, +and not quite so many well-dressed men, mostly (as David would have put +it) "runnin' a little younger," come from out the sacred edifice with an +expression of relief easily changeable to something gayer. A few drive +away in handsome equipages, but most prefer to walk, and there is +usually a good deal of smiling talk in groups before parting, in which +Mr. Euston likes to join. He leaves matters in the vestry to the care of +old Barlow, the sexton, and makes, if one may be permitted the +expression, "a quick change." + +Things had come about very much as David had desired and anticipated, +and our friend had met quite a number of the "summer people," having +been waylaid at times by the rector--in whose good graces he stood so +high that he might have sung anything short of a comic song during the +offertory--and presented willy-nilly. On this particular Sunday he had +lingered a while in the gallery after service over some matter connected +with the music, and when he came out of the church most of the people +had made their way down the front steps and up the street; but standing +near the gate was a group of three--the rector and two young women whom +John had seen the previous summer, and now recognized as the Misses +Verjoos. He raised his hat as he was passing the group, when Mr. Euston +detained him: "I want to present you to the Misses Verjoos." A tall +girl, dressed in some black material which gave John the impression of +lace, recognized his salutation with a slight bow and a rather +indifferent survey from a pair of very somber dark eyes, while her +sister, in light colors, gave him a smiling glance from a pair of very +blue ones, and, rather to his surprise, put out her hand with the usual +declaration of pleasure, happiness, or what not. + +"We were just speaking of the singing," said the rector, "and I was +saying that it was all your doing." + +"You really have done wonders," condescended she of the somber eyes. "We +have only been here a day or two and this is the first time we have been +at church." + +The party moved out of the gate and up the street, the rector leading +with Miss Verjoos, followed by our friend and the younger sister. + +"Indeed you have," said the latter, seconding her sister's remark. "I +don't believe even yourself can quite realize what the difference is. +My! it is very nice for the rest of us, but it must be a perfect killing +bore for you." + +"I have found it rather trying at times," said John; "but now--you are +so kind--it is beginning to appear to me as the most delightful of +pursuits." + +"Very pretty," remarked Miss Clara. "Do you say a good deal of that sort +of thing?" + +"I am rather out of practice," replied John. "I haven't had much +opportunity for some time." + +"I don't think you need feel discouraged," she returned. "A good method +is everything, and I have no doubt you might soon be in form again." + +"Thanks for your encouragement," said John, smiling. "I was beginning to +feel quite low in my mind about it." She laughed a little. + +"I heard quite a good deal about you last year from a very good friend +of yours," said Miss Clara after a pause. + +John looked at her inquiringly. + +"Mrs. Bixbee," she said. "Isn't she an old dear?" + +"I have reason to think so, with all my heart," said John stoutly. + +"She talked a lot about you to me," said Miss Clara. + +"Yes?" + +"Yes, and if your ears did not burn you have no sense of gratitude. +Isn't Mr. Harum funny?" + +"I have sometimes suspected it," said John, laughing. "He once told me +rather an amusing thing about a young woman's running off with one of +his horses." + +"Did he tell you that? Really? I wonder what you must have thought of +me?" + +"Something of what Mr. Harum did, I fancy," said John. + +"What was that?" + +"Pardon me," was the reply, "but I have been snubbed once this morning." +She gave a little laugh. + +"Mr. Harum and I are great 'neetups,' as he says. Is 'neetups' a nice +word?" she asked, looking at her companion. + +"I should think so if I were in Mr. Harum's place," said John. "It means +'cronies,' I believe, in his dictionary." + +They had come to where Freeland Street terminates in the Lake Road, +which follows the border of the lake to the north and winds around the +foot of it to the south and west. + +"Why!" exclaimed Miss Clara, "there comes David. I haven't seen him this +summer." + +They halted and David drew up, winding the reins about the whipstock and +pulling off his buckskin glove. + +"How do you do, Mr. Harum?" said the girl, putting her hand in his. + +"How air ye, Miss Claricy? Glad to see ye agin," he said. "I'm settin' +up a little ev'ry day now, an' you don't look as if you was off your +feed much, eh?" + +"No," she replied, laughing, "I'm in what you call pretty fair +condition, I think." + +"Wa'al, I reckon," he said, looking at her smiling face with the +frankest admiration. "Guess you come out a little finer ev'ry season, +don't ye? Hard work to keep ye out o' the 'free-fer-all' class, I guess. +How's all the folks?" + +"Nicely, thanks," she replied. + +"That's right," said David. + +"How is Mrs. Bixbee?" she inquired. + +"Wa'al," said David with a grin, "I ben a little down in the mouth +lately 'bout Polly--seems to be fallin' away some--don't weigh much more +'n I do, I guess;" but Miss Clara only laughed at this gloomy report. + +"How is my horse Kirby?" she asked. + +"Wa'al, the ole bag-o'-bones is breathin' yet," said David, chuckling, +"but he's putty well wore out--has to lean up agin the shed to whicker. +Guess I'll have to sell ye another putty soon now. Still, what the' is +left of him 's 's good 's ever 't will be, an' I'll send him up in the +mornin'." He looked from Miss Clara to John, whose salutation he had +acknowledged with the briefest of nods. + +"How'd you ketch _him_?" he asked, indicating our friend with a motion +of his head. "Had to go after him with a four-quart measure, didn't ye? +or did he let ye corner him?" + +"Mr. Euston caught him for me," she said, laughing, but coloring +perceptibly, while John's face grew very red. "I think I will run on and +join my sister, and Mr. Lenox can drive home with you. Good bye, Mr. +Harum. I shall be glad to have Kirby whenever it is convenient. We shall +be glad to see you at Lakelawn," she said to John cordially, "whenever +you can come;" and taking her prayer book and hymnal from him, she sped +away. + +"Look at her git over the ground," said David, turning to watch her +while John got into the buggy. "Ain't that a gait?" + +"She is a charming girl," said John as old Jinny started off. + +"She's the one I told you about that run off with my hoss," remarked +David, "an' I alwus look after him fer her in the winter." + +"Yes, I know," said John. "She was laughing about it to-day, and saying +that you and she were great friends." + +"She was, was she?" said David, highly pleased. "Yes, sir, that's the +girl, an', scat my ----! if I was thirty years younger she c'd run off +with me jest as easy--an' I dunno but what she could anyway," he added. + +"Charming girl," repeated John rather thoughtfully. + +"Wa'al," said David, "I don't know as much about girls as I do about +some things; my experience hain't laid much in that line, but I wouldn't +like to take a contract to match _her_ on any _limit_. I guess," he +added softly, "that the consideration in that deal 'd have to be 'love +an' affection.' Git up, old lady," he exclaimed, and drew the whip along +old Jinny's back like a caress. The mare quickened her pace, and in a +few minutes they drove into the barn. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +"Where you ben?" asked Mrs. Bixbee of her brother as the three sat at +the one o'clock dinner. "I see you drivin' off somewheres." + +"Ben up the Lake Road to 'Lizer Howe's," replied David. "He's got a hoss +'t I've some notion o' buyin'." + +"Ain't the' week-days enough," she asked, "to do your horse-tradin' in +'ithout breakin' the Sabbath?" + +David threw back his head and lowered a stalk of the last asparagus of +the year into his mouth. + +"Some o' the best deals I ever made," he said, "was made on a Sunday. +Hain't you never heard the sayin', 'The better the day, the better the +deal'?" + +"Wa'al," declared Mrs. Bixbee, "the' can't be no blessin' on money +that's made in that way, an' you'd be better off without it." + +"I dunno," remarked her brother, "but Deakin Perkins might ask a +blessin' on a hoss trade, but I never heard of it's bein' done, an' I +don't know jest how the deakin 'd put it; it'd be two fer the deakin an' +one fer the other feller, though, somehow, you c'n bet." + +"Humph!" she ejaculated. "I guess nobody ever did; an' I sh'd think you +had money enough an' horses enough an' time enough to keep out o' that +bus'nis on Sunday, anyhow." + +"Wa'al, wa'al," said David, "mebbe I'll swear off before long, an' +anyway the' wa'n't no blessin' needed on this trade, fer if you'll ask +'Lizer he'll tell ye the' wa'n't none made. 'Lizer 's o' your way o' +thinkin' on the subjict." + +"That's to his credit, anyway," she asserted. + +"Jes' so," observed her brother; "I've gen'ally noticed that folks who +was of your way o' thinkin' never made no mistakes, an' 'Lizer 's a very +consistent believer;" whereupon he laughed in a way to arouse both Mrs. +Bixbee's curiosity and suspicion. + +"I don't see anythin' in that to laugh at," she declared. + +"He, he, he, he!" chuckled David. + +"Wa'al, you may 's well tell it one time 's another. That's the way," +she said, turning to John with a smile trembling on her lips, "'t he +picks at me the hull time." + +"I've noticed it," said John. "It's shameful." + +"I do it hully fer her good," asserted David with a grin. "If it wa'n't +fer me she'd git in time as narrer as them seven-day Babtists over to +Peeble--they call 'em the 'narrer Babtists.' You've heard on 'em, hain't +you, Polly?" + +"No," she said, without looking up from her plate, "I never heard on +'em, an' I don't much believe you ever did neither." + +"What!" exclaimed David, "You lived here goin' on seventy year an' never +heard on 'em?" + +"David Harum!" she cried, "I ain't within ten year----" + +"Hold on," he protested, "don't throw that teacup. I didn't say you +_was_, I only said you was _goin' on_--an' about them people over to +Peeble, they've got the name of the 'narrer Babtists' because they're so +narrer in their views that fourteen on 'em c'n sit, side an' side, in a +buggy." This astonishing statement elicited a laugh even from Aunt +Polly, but presently she said: + +"Wa'al, I'm glad you found one man that would stan' you off on Sunday." + +"Yes'm," said her brother, "'Lizer 's jest your kind. I knew 't he'd +hurt his foot, an' prob'ly couldn't go to meetin', an' sure enough, he +was settin' on the stoop, an' I drove in an' pulled up in the lane +alongside. We said good mornin' an' all that, an' I ast after the folks +an' how his foot was gettin' 'long, an' so on, an' fin'ly I says, 'I see +your boy drivin' a hoss the other day that looked a little--f'm the +middle o' the road--as if he might match one I've got, an' I thought I'd +drive up this mornin' an' see if we couldn't git up a dicker.' Wa'al, he +give a kind of a hitch in his chair as if his foot hurt him, an' then he +says, 'I guess I can't deal with ye to-day. I don't never do no bus'nis +on Sunday,' he says. + +"'I've heard you was putty pertic'ler,' I says, 'but I'm putty busy jest +about now, an' I thought that mebbe once in a way, an' seein' that you +couldn't go to meetin' anyway, an' that I've come quite a ways an' don't +know when I c'n see you agin, an' so on, that mebbe you'd think, under +all the circumstances, the' wouldn't be no great harm in't--long 's I +don't pay over no money, at cetery,' I says. + +"'No,' he says, shakin' his head in a sort o' mournful way, 'I'm glad to +see ye, an' I'm sorry you've took all that trouble fer nuthin', but my +conscience won't allow me,' he says, 'to do no bus'nis on Sunday.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I don't ask no man to go agin his conscience, but it +wouldn't be no very glarin' transgression on your part, would it, if I +was to go up to the barn all alone by myself an' look at the hoss?' I +c'd see," continued Mr. Harum, "that his face kind o' brightened up at +that, but he took his time to answer. 'Wa'al,' he says fin'ly, 'I don't +want to lay down no law fer _you_, an' if _you_ don't see no harm in't, +I guess the' ain't nuthin' to prevent ye.' So I got down an' started fer +the barn, an'--he, he, he!--when I'd got about a rod he hollered after +me, 'He's in the end stall,' he says. + +"Wa'al," the narrator proceeded, "I looked the critter over an' made up +my mind about what he was wuth to me, an' went back an' got in, an' +drove into the yard, an' turned 'round, an' drew up agin 'longside the +stoop. 'Lizer looked up at me in an askin' kind of a way, but he didn't +say anythin'. + +"'I s'pose,' I says, 'that you wouldn't want me to say anythin' more to +ye, an' I may 's well jog along back.' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I can't very well help hearin' ye, kin I, if you got +anythin' to say?' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'the hoss ain't exac'ly what I expected to find, nor +jest what I'm lookin' fer; but I don't say I wouldn't 'a' made a deal +with ye if the price had ben right, an' it hadn't ben Sunday.' I +reckon," said David with a wink at John, "that that there foot o' his'n +must 'a' give him an extry twinge the way he wriggled in his chair; but +I couldn't break his lockjaw yit. So I gathered up the lines an' took +out the whip, an' made all the motions to go, an' then I kind o' stopped +an' says, 'I don't want you to go agin your princ'ples nor the law an' +gosp'l on my account, but the' can't be no harm in s'posin' a case, can +the'?' No, he allowed that s'posin' wa'n't jest the same as doin'. +'Wa'al,' says I, 'now s'posin' I'd come up here yestidy as I have +to-day, an' looked your hoss over, an' said to you, "What price do you +put on him?" what do you s'pose you'd 'a' said?' + +"'Wa'al,' he said, 'puttin' it that way, I s'pose I'd 'a' said +one-seventy.' + +"'Yes,' I says, 'an' then agin, if I'd said that he wa'n't wuth that +money to me, not bein' jest what I wanted--an' so he ain't--but that I'd +give one-forty, _cash_, what do you s'pose you'd 'a' said?' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, givin' a hitch, 'of course I don't know jest what I +would have said, but I _guess_,' he says, ''t I'd 'a' said if you'll +make it one-fifty you c'n have the hoss.' + +"'Wa'al, now,' I says, 's'posin' I was to send Dick Larrabee up here in +the mornin' with the money, what do you s'pose you'd do?' + +"'I _s'pose_ I'd let him go,' says 'Lizer. + +"'All right,' I says, an' off I put. That conscience o' 'Lizer's," +remarked Mr. Harum in conclusion, "is wuth its weight in gold, _jest +about_." + +"David Harum," declared Aunt Polly, "you'd ort to be 'shamed o' +yourself." + +"Wa'al," said David with an air of meekness, "if I've done anythin' I'm +sorry for, I'm willin' to be forgi'n. Now, s'posin'----" + +"I've heard enough 'bout s'posin' fer one day," said Mrs. Bixbee +decisively, "unless it's s'posin' you finish your dinner so's't Sairy +c'n git through her work sometime." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +After dinner John went to his room and David and his sister seated +themselves on the "verandy." Mr. Harum lighted a cigar and enjoyed his +tobacco for a time in silence, while Mrs. Bixbee perused, with rather +perfunctory diligence, the columns of her weekly church paper. + +"I seen a sight fer sore eyes this mornin'," quoth David presently. + +"What was that?" asked Aunt Polly, looking up over her glasses. + +"Claricy Verjoos fer one part on't," said David. + +"The Verjooses hev come, hev they? Wa'al, that's good. I hope she'll +come up an' see me." + +David nodded. "An' the other part on't was," he said, "she an' that +young feller of our'n was walkin' together, an' a putty slick pair they +made too." + +"Ain't she purty?" said Mrs. Bixbee. + +"They don't make 'em no puttier," affirmed David; "an' they was a nice +pair. I couldn't help thinkin'," he remarked, "what a nice hitch up +they'd make." + +"Guess the' ain't much chance o' that," she observed. + +"No, I guess not either," said David. + +"He hain't got anythin' to speak of, I s'pose, an' though I reckon +she'll hev prop'ty some day, all that set o' folks seems to marry money, +an' some one's alwus dyin' an' leavin' some on 'em some more. The' ain't +nothin' truer in the Bible," declared Mrs. Bixbee with conviction, "'n +that sayin' thet them that has gits." + +"That's seemin'ly about the way it runs in gen'ral," said David. + +"It don't seem right," said Mrs. Bixbee, with her eyes on her brother's +face. "Now there was all that money one o' Mis' Elbert Swayne's +relations left her last year, an' Lucy Scramm, that's poorer 'n +poverty's back kitchin, an' the same relation to him that Mis' Swayne +was, only got a thousan' dollars, an' the Swaynes rich already. Not but +what the thousan' was a godsend to the Scramms, but he might jest as +well 'a' left 'em comf'tibly off as not, 'stid of pilin' more onto the +Swaynes that didn't need it." + +"Does seem kind o' tough," David observed, leaning forward to drop his +cigar ash clear of the veranda floor, "but that's the way things goes, +an' I've often had to notice that a man'll sometimes do the foolishist +thing or the meanest thing in his hull life after he's dead." + +"You never told me," said Mrs. Bixbee, after a minute or two, in which +she appeared to be following up a train of reflection, "much of anythin' +about John's matters. Hain't he ever told you anythin' more 'n what +you've told me? or don't ye want me to know? Didn't his father leave +anythin'?" + +"The' was a little money," replied her brother, blowing out a cloud of +smoke, "an' a lot of unlikely chances, but nothin' to live on." + +"An' the' wa'n't nothin' for 't but he had to come up here?" she +queried. + +"He'd 'a' had to work on a salary somewhere, I reckon," was the reply. +"The' was one thing," added David thoughtfully after a moment, "that'll +mebbe come to somethin' some time, but it may be a good while fust, an' +don't you ever let on to him nor nobody else 't I ever said anythin' +about it." + +"I won't open my head to a livin' soul," she declared. "What was it?" + +"Wa'al, I don't know 's I ever told ye," he said, "but a good many years +ago I took some little hand in the oil bus'nis, but though I didn't git +in as deep as I wish now 't I had, I've alwus kept up a kind of int'rist +in what goes on in that line." + +"No, I guess you never told me," she said. "Where you goin'?" as he got +out of his chair. + +"Goin' to git my cap," he answered. "Dum the dum things! I don't believe +the's a fly in Freeland County that hain't danced the wild kachuky on my +head sence we set here. Be I much specked?" he asked, as he bent his +bald poll for her inspection. + +"Oh, go 'long!" she cried, as she gave him a laughing push. + +"'Mongst other-things," he resumed, when he had returned to his chair +and relighted his cigar, "the' was a piece of about ten or twelve +hunderd acres of land down in Pennsylvany havin' some coal on it, he +told me he understood, but all the timber, ten inch an' over, 'd ben +sold off. He told me that his father's head clerk told him that the old +gentleman had tried fer a long time to dispose of it; but it called fer +too much to develop it, I guess; 't any rate he couldn't, an' John's +got it to pay taxes on." + +"I shouldn't think it was wuth anythin' to him but jest a bill of +expense," observed Mrs. Bixbee. + +"Tain't now," said David, "an' mebbe won't be fer a good while; still, +it's wuth somethin', an' I advised him to hold onto it on gen'ral +princ'ples. I don't know the pertic'ler prop'ty, of course," he +continued, "but I do know somethin' of that section of country, fer I +done a little prospectin' 'round there myself once on a time. But it +wa'n't in the oil territory them days, or wa'n't known to be, anyway." + +"But it's eatin' itself up with taxes, ain't it?" objected Mrs. Bixbee. + +"Wa'al," he replied, "it's free an' clear, an' the taxes ain't so very +much--though they do stick it to an outside owner down there--an' the +p'int is here: I've alwus thought they didn't drill deep enough in that +section. The' was some little traces of oil the time I told ye of, an' +I've heard lately that the's some talk of a move to test the territory +agin, an', if anythin' was to be found, the young feller's prop'ty might +be wuth somethin', but," he added, "of course the' ain't no tellin'." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +"Well," said Miss Verjoos, when her sister overtook her, Mr. Euston +having stopped at his own gate, "you and your latest discovery seemed to +be getting on pretty well from the occasional sounds which came to my +ears. What is he like?" + +"He's charming," declared Miss Clara. + +"Indeed," remarked her sister, lifting her eyebrows. "You seem to have +come to a pretty broad conclusion in a very short period of time. +'Charming' doesn't leave very much to be added on longer acquaintance, +does it?" + +"Oh, yes it does," said Miss Clara, laughing. "There are all degrees: +Charming, very charming, most charming, and _perfectly_ charming." + +"To be sure," replied the other. "And there is the descending scale: +Perfectly charming, most charming, very charming, charming, very +pleasant, quite nice, and, oh, yes, well enough. Of course you have +asked him to call." + +"Yes, I have," said Miss Clara. + +"Don't you think that mamma----" + +"No, I don't," declared the girl with decision. "I know from what Mr. +Euston said, and I know from the little talk I had with him this +morning, from his manner and--_je ne sais quoi_--that he will be a +welcome addition to a set of people in which every single one knows +just what every other one will say on any given subject and on any +occasion. You know how it is." + +"Well," said the elder sister, smiling and half shutting her eyes with a +musing look, "I think myself that we all know each other a little too +well to make our affairs very exciting. Let us hope the new man will be +all you anticipate, and," she added with a little laugh, and a side +glance at her sister, "that there will be enough of him to go 'round." + +It hardly needs to be said that the aristocracy of Homeville and all the +summer visitors and residents devoted their time to getting as much +pleasure and amusement out of their life as was to be afforded by the +opportunities at hand: Boating, tennis, riding, driving; an occasional +picnic, by invitation, at one or the other of two very pretty +waterfalls, far enough away to make the drive there and back a feature; +as much dancing in an informal way as could be managed by the younger +people; and a certain amount of flirtation, of course (but of a very +harmless sort), to supply zest to all the rest. But it is not intended +to give a minute account of the life, nor to describe in detail all the +pursuits and festivities which prevailed during the season. Enough to +say that our friend soon had opportunity to partake in them as much and +often as was compatible with his duties. His first call at Lakelawn +happened to be on an evening when the ladies were not at home, and it is +quite certain that upon this, the occasion of his first essay of the +sort, he experienced a strong feeling of relief to be able to leave +cards instead of meeting a number of strange people, as he had thought +would be likely. + +One morning, some days later, Peleg Hopkins came in with a grin and +said, "The's some folks eout in front wants you to come eout an' see +'em." + +"Who are they?" asked John, who for the moment was in the back room and +had not seen the carriage drive up. + +"The two Verjoos gals," said Peleg with another distortion of his +freckled countenance. "One on 'em hailed me as I was comin' in and ast +me to ast you to come eout." John laughed a little as he wondered what +their feeling would be were they aware that they were denominated as the +"Verjoos gals" by people of Peleg's standing in the community. + +"We were so sorry to miss your visit the other evening," said Miss +Clara, after the usual salutations. + +John said something about the loss having been his own, and after a few +remarks of no special moment the young woman proceeded to set forth her +errand. + +"Do you know the Bensons from Syrchester?" she asked. + +John replied that he knew who they were but had not the pleasure of +their acquaintance. + +"Well," said Miss Clara, "they are extremely nice people, and Mrs. +Benson is very musical; in fact, Mr. Benson does something in that line +himself. They have with them for a few days a violinist, Fairman I think +his name is, from Boston, and a pianist--what was it, Juliet?" + +"Schlitz, I think," said Miss Verjoos. + +"Oh, yes, that is it, and they are coming to the house to-night, and we +are going to have some music in an informal sort of way. We shall be +glad to have you come if you can." + +"I shall be delighted," said John sincerely. "At what time?" + +"Any time you like," she said; "but the Bensons will probably get there +about half-past eight or nine o'clock." + +"Thank you very much, and I shall be delighted," he repeated. + +Miss Clara looked at him for a moment with a hesitating air. + +"There is another thing," she said. + +"Yes?" + +"Yes," she replied, "I may as well tell you that you will surely be +asked to sing. Quite a good many people who have heard you in the +quartette in church are anxious to hear you sing alone, Mrs. Benson +among them." + +John's face fell a little. + +"You do sing other than church music, do you not?" she asked. + +"Yes," he admitted, "I know some other music." + +"Do you think it would be a bore to you." + +"No," said John, who indeed saw no way out of it; "I will bring some +music, with pleasure, if you wish." + +"That's very nice of you," said Miss Clara, "and you will give us all a +great deal of pleasure." + +He looked at her with a smile. + +"That will depend," he said, and after a moment, "Who will play for me?" + +"I had not thought of that," was the reply. "I think I rather took it +for granted that you could play for yourself. Can't you?" + +"After a fashion, and simple things," he said, "but on an occasion I +would rather not attempt it." + +The girl looked at her sister in some perplexity. + +"I should think," suggested Miss Verjoos, speaking for the second time, +"that Mr. or Herr Schlitz would play your accompaniments, particularly +if Mrs. Benson were to ask him, and if he can play for the violin I +should fancy he can for the voice." + +"Very well," said John, "we will let it go at that." As he spoke David +came round the corner of the bank and up to the carriage. + +"How d'y' do, Miss Verjoos? How air ye, Miss Claricy?" he asked, taking +off his straw hat and mopping his face and head with his handkerchief. +"Guess we're goin' to lose our sleighin', ain't we?" + +"It seems to be going pretty fast," replied Miss Clara, laughing. + +"Yes'm," he remarked, "we sh'll be scrapin' bare ground putty soon now +if this weather holds on. How's the old hoss now you got him agin?" he +asked. "Seem to 've wintered putty well? Putty chipper, is he?" + +"Better than ever," she affirmed. "He seems to grow younger every year." + +"Come, now," said David, "that ain't a-goin' to do. I cal'lated to sell +ye another hoss _this_ summer anyway. Ben dependin' on't in fact, to pay +a dividend. The bankin' bus'nis has been so neglected since this feller +come that it don't amount to much any more," and he laid his hand on +John's shoulder, who colored a little as he caught a look of demure +amusement in the somber eyes of the elder sister. + +"After that," he said, "I think I had better get back to my neglected +duties," and he bowed his adieus. + +"No, sir," said Miss Clara to David, "you must get your dividend out of +some one else this summer." + +"Wa'al," said he, "I see I made a mistake takin' such good care on him. +Guess I'll have to turn him over to Dug Robinson to winter next year. +Ben havin' a little visit with John?" he asked. Miss Clara colored a +little, with something of the same look which John had seen in her +sister's face. + +"We are going to have some music at the house to-night, and Mr. Lenox +has kindly promised to sing for us," she replied. + +"He has, has he?" said David, full of interest. "Wa'al, he's the feller +c'n do it if anybody can. We have singin' an' music up t' the house +ev'ry Sunday night--me an' Polly an' him--an' it's fine. Yes, ma'am, I +don't know much about music myself, but I c'n beat time, an' he's got a +stack o' music more'n a mile high, an' one o' the songs he sings 'll +jest make the windows rattle. That's my fav'rit," averred Mr. Harum. + +"Do you remember the name of it?" asked Miss Clara. + +"No," he said; "John told me, an' I guess I'd know it if I heard it; but +it's about a feller sittin' one day by the org'n an' not feelin' exac'ly +right--kind o' tired an' out o' sorts an' not knowin' jest where he was +drivin' at--jest joggin' 'long with a loose rein fer quite a piece, an' +so on; an' then, by an' by, strikin' right into his gait an' goin' on +stronger 'n stronger, an' fin'ly finishin' up with an A--men that +carries him quarter way round the track 'fore he c'n pull up. That's my +fav'rit," Mr. Harum repeated, "'cept when him an' Polly sings together, +an' if that ain't a show--pertic'lerly Polly--I don't want a cent. No, +ma'am, when him an' Polly gits good an' goin' you can't see 'em fer +dust." + +"I should like to hear them," said Miss Clara, laughing, "and I should +particularly like to hear your favorite, the one which ends with the +Amen--the very _large_ A--men." + +"Seventeen hands," declared Mr. Harum. "Must you be goin'? Wa'al, glad +to have seen ye. Polly's hopin' you'll come an' see her putty soon." + +"I will," she promised. "Give her my love, and tell her so, please." + +They drove away and David sauntered in, went behind the desks, and +perched himself up on a stool near the teller's counter as he often did +when in the office, and John was not particularly engaged. + +"Got you roped in, have they?" he said, using his hat as a fan. "Scat my +----! but ain't this a ring-tail squealer?" + +"It is very hot," responded John. + +"Miss Claricy says you're goin' to sing fer 'em up to their house +to-night." + +"Yes," said John, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, as he pinned a +paper strap around a pile of bills and began to count out another. + +"Don't feel very fierce for it, I guess, do ye?" said David, looking +shrewdly at him. + +"Not very," said John, with a short laugh. + +"Feel a little skittish 'bout it, eh?" suggested Mr. Harum. "Don't see +why ye should--anybody that c'n put up a tune the way you kin." + +"It's rather different," observed the younger man, "singing for you and +Mrs. Bixbee and standing up before a lot of strange people." + +"H-m, h-m," said David with a nod; "diff'rence 'tween joggin' along on +the road an' drivin' a fust heat on the track; in one case the' ain't +nothin' up, an' ye don't care whether you git there a little more +previously or a little less; an' in the other the's the crowd, an' the +judges, an' the stake, an' your record, an' mebbe the pool box into the +barg'in, that's all got to be considered. Feller don't mind it so much +after he gits fairly off, but thinkin' on't beforehand 's fidgity +bus'nis." + +"You have illustrated it exactly," said John, laughing, and much amused +at David's very characteristic, as well as accurate, illustration. + + * * * * * + +"My!" exclaimed Aunt Polly, when John came into the sitting room after +dinner dressed to go out. "My, don't he look nice? I never see you in +them clo'es. Come here a minute," and she picked a thread off his sleeve +and took the opportunity to turn him round for the purpose of giving him +a thorough inspection. + +"That wa'n't what you said when you see me in _my_ gold-plated harniss," +remarked David, with a grin. "You didn't say nothin' putty to me." + +"Humph! I guess the's some diff'rence," observed Mrs. Bixbee with scorn, +and her brother laughed. + +"How was you cal'latin' to git there?" he asked, looking at our friend's +evening shoes. + +"I thought at first I would walk," was the reply, "but I rather think I +will stop at Robinson's and get him to send me over." + +"I guess you won't do nothin' o' the sort," declared David. "Tom's all +hitched to take you over, an' when you're ready jest ring the bell." + +"You're awfully kind," said John gratefully, "but I don't know when I +shall be coming home." + +"Come back when you git a good ready," said Mr. Harum. "If you keep him +an' the hoss waitin' a spell, I guess they won't take cold this +weather." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +The Verjoos house, of old red brick, stands about a hundred feet back +from the north side of the Lake Road, on the south shore of the lake. +Since its original construction a _porte cochčre_ has been built upon +the front. A very broad hall, from which rises the stairway with a +double turn and landing, divides the main body of the house through the +middle. On the left, as one enters, is the great drawing room; on the +right a parlor opening into a library; and beyond, the dining room, +which looks out over the lake. The hall opens in the rear upon a broad, +covered veranda, facing the lake, with a flight of steps to a lawn which +slopes down to the lake shore, a distance of some hundred and fifty +yards. + +John had to pass through a little flock of young people who stood near +and about the entrance to the drawing room, and having given his package +of music to the maid in waiting, with a request that it be put upon the +piano, he mounted the stairs to deposit his hat and coat, and then went +down. + +In the south end of the drawing room were some twenty people sitting and +standing about, most of them the elders of the families who constituted +society in Homeville, many of whom John had met, and nearly all of whom +he knew by sight and name. On the edge of the group, and halfway down +the room, were Mrs. Verjoos and her younger daughter, who gave him a +cordial greeting; and the elder lady was kind enough to repeat her +daughter's morning assurances of regret that they were out on the +occasion of his call. + +"I trust you have been as good as your word," said Miss Clara, "and +brought some music." + +"Yes, it is on the piano," he replied, looking across the room to where +the instrument stood. + +The girl laughed. "I wish," she said, "you could have heard what Mr. +Harum said this morning about your singing, particularly his description +of The Lost Chord, and I wish that I could repeat it just as he gave +it." + +"It's about a feller sittin' one day by the org'n," came a voice from +behind John's shoulder, so like David's as fairly to startle him, "an' +not feelin' exac'ly right--kind o' tired an' out o' sorts, an' not +knowin' jest where he was drivin' at--jest joggin' along with a loose +rein fer quite a piece, an' so on; an' then, by an' by, strikin' right +into his gait an' goin' on stronger an' stronger, an' fin'ly finishin' +up with an A--men that carries him quarter way 'round the track 'fore he +c'n pull up." They all laughed except Miss Verjoos, whose gravity was +unbroken, save that behind the dusky windows of her eyes, as she looked +at John, there was for an instant a gleam of mischievous drollery. + +"Good evening, Mr. Lenox," she said. "I am very glad to see you," and +hardly waiting for his response, she turned and walked away. + +"That is Juliet all over," said her sister. "You would not think to see +her ordinarily that she was given to that sort of thing, but once in a +while, when she feels like it--well--pranks! She is the funniest +creature that ever lived, I believe, and can mimic and imitate any +mortal creature. She sat in the carriage this morning, and one might +have fancied from her expression that she hardly heard a word, but I +haven't a doubt that she could repeat every syllable that was uttered. +Oh, here come the Bensons and their musicians." + +John stepped back a pace or two toward the end of the room, but was +presently recalled and presented to the newcomers. After a little talk +the Bensons settled themselves in the corner at the lower end of the +room, where seats were placed for the two musicians, and our friend took +a seat near where he had been standing. The violinist adjusted his +folding music rest. Miss Clara stepped over to the entrance door and put +up her finger at the young people in the hall. "After the music begins," +she said, with a shake of the head, "if I hear one sound of giggling or +chattering, I will send every one of you young heathen home. Remember +now! This isn't your party at all." + +"But, Clara, dear," said Sue Tenaker (aged fifteen), "if we are very +good and quiet do you think they would play for us to dance a little by +and by?" + +"Impudence!" exclaimed Miss Clara, giving the girl's cheek a playful +slap and going back to her place. Miss Verjoos came in and took a chair +by her sister. Mrs. Benson leaned forward and raised her eyebrows at +Miss Clara, who took a quick survey of the room and nodded in return. +Herr Schlitz seated himself on the piano chair, pushed it a little back, +drew it a little forward to the original place, looked under the piano +at the pedals, took out his handkerchief and wiped his face and hands, +and after arpeggioing up and down the key-board, swung into a waltz of +Chopin's (Opus 34, Number 1), a favorite of our friend's, and which he +would have thoroughly enjoyed--for it was splendidly played--if he had +not been uneasily apprehensive that he might be asked to sing after it. +And while on some accounts he would have been glad of the opportunity to +"have it over," he felt a cowardly sense of relief when the violinist +came forward for the next number. There had been enthusiastic applause +at the north end of the room, and more or less clapping of hands at the +south end, but not enough to impel the pianist to supplement his +performance at the time. The violin number was so well received that Mr. +Fairman added a little minuet of Boccherini's without accompaniment, and +then John felt that his time had surely come. But he had to sit, drawing +long breaths, through a Liszt fantasie on themes from Faust before his +suspense was ended by Miss Clara, who was apparently mistress of +ceremonies and who said to him, "Will you sing now, Mr. Lenox?" + +He rose and went to the end of the room where the pianist was sitting. +"I have been asked to sing," he said to that gentleman. "Can I induce +you to be so kind as to play for me?" + +"I am sure he will," said Mrs. Benson, looking at Herr Schlitz. + +"Oh, yes, I blay for you if you vant," he said. "Vhere is your moosic?" +They went over to the piano. "Oh, ho! Jensen, Lassen, Helmund, +Grieg--you zing dem?" + +"Some of them," said John. The pianist opened the Jensen album. + +"You want to zing one of dese?" he asked. + +"As well as anything," replied John, who had changed his mind a dozen +times in the last ten minutes and was ready to accept any suggestion. + +"Ver' goot," said the other. "Ve dry dis: Lehn deine wang' an meine +Wang'." His face brightened as John began to sing the German words. In a +measure or two the singer and player were in perfect accord, and as the +former found his voice the ends of his fingers grew warm again. At the +end of the song the applause was distributed about as after the Chopin +waltz. + +"Sehr schön!" exclaimed Herr Schlitz, looking up and nodding; "you must +zing zome more," and he played the first bars of Marie, am Fenster +sitzest du, humming the words under his breath, and quite oblivious of +any one but himself and the singer. + +"Zierlich," he said when the song was done, reaching for the collection +of Lassen. "Mit deinen blauen Augen," he hummed, keeping time with his +hands, but at this point Miss Clara came across the room, followed by +her sister. + +"Mrs. Tenaker," she said, laughing, "asked me to ask you, Mr. Lenox, if +you wouldn't please sing something they could understand." + +"I have a song I should like to hear you sing," said Miss Verjoos. +"There is an obligato for violin and we have a violinist here. It is a +beautiful song--Tosti's Beauty's Eyes. Do you know it?" + +"Yes," he replied. + +"Will you sing it for me?" she asked. + +"With the greatest pleasure," he answered. + +Once, as he sang the lines of the song, he looked up. Miss Verjoos was +sitting with her elbows on the arm of her chair, her cheek resting upon +her clasped hands and her dusky eyes were fastened upon his face. As the +song concluded she rose and walked away. Mrs. Tenaker came over to the +piano and put out her hand. + +"Thank you so much for your singing, Mr. Lenox," she said. "Would you +like to do an old woman a favor?" + +"Very much so," said John, smiling and looking first at Mrs. Tenaker and +then about the room, "but there are no old women here as far as I can +see." + +"Very pretty, sir, very pretty," she said, looking very graciously at +him. "Will you sing Annie Laurie for me?" + +"With all my heart," he said, bowing. He looked at Herr Schlitz, who +shook his head. + +"Let me play it for you," said Mrs. Benson, coming over to the piano. + +"Where do you want it?" she asked, modulating softly from one key to +another. + +"I think D flat will be about right," he replied. "Kindly play a little +bit of it." + +The sound of the symphony brought most of even the young people into the +drawing room. At the end of the first verse there was a subdued rustle +of applause, a little more after the second, and at the end of the song +so much of a burst of approval as could be produced by the audience. +Mrs. Benson looked up into John's face and smiled. + +"We appear to have scored the success of the evening," she said with a +touch of sarcasm. Miss Clara joined them. + +"What a dear old song that is!" she said. "Did you see Aunt Charlie +(Mrs. Tenaker) wiping her eyes?--and that lovely thing of Tosti's! We +are ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Lenox." + +John bowed his acknowledgments. + +"Will you take Mrs. Benson out to supper? There is a special table for +you musical people at the east end of the veranda." + +"Is this merely a segregation or a distinction?" said John as they sat +down. + +"We shall have to wait developments to decide that point, I should say," +replied Mrs. Benson. "I suppose that fifth place was put on the off +chance that Mr. Benson might be of our party, but," she said, with a +short laugh, "he is probably nine fathoms deep in a flirtation with Sue +Tenaker. He shares Artemas Ward's tastes, who said, you may remember, +that he liked little girls--big ones too." + +A maid appeared with a tray of eatables, and presently another with a +tray on which were glasses and a bottle of Pommery _sec._ "Miss Clara's +compliments," she said. + +"What do you think now?" asked Mrs. Benson, laughing. + +"Distinctly a distinction, I should say," he replied. + +"Das ist nicht so schlecht," grunted Herr Schlitz as he put half a +_pâté_ into his mouth, "bot I vould brefer beer." + +"The music has been a great treat to me," remarked John. "I have heard +nothing of the sort for two years." + +"You have quite contributed your share of the entertainment," said Mrs. +Benson. + +"You and I together," he responded, smiling. + +"You have got a be-oodifool woice," said Herr Schlitz, speaking with a +mouthful of salad, "und you zing ligh a moosician, und you bronounce +your vorts very goot." + +"Thank you," said John. + +After supper there was more singing in the drawing room, but it was not +of a very classical order. Something short and taking for violin and +piano was followed by an announcement from Herr Schlitz. + +"I zing you a zong," he said. The worthy man "breferred beer," but had, +perhaps, found the wine quicker in effect, and in a tremendous bass +voice he roared out, Im tiefen Keller sitz' ich hier, auf einem Fass +voll Reben, which, if not wholly understood by the audience, had some of +its purport conveyed by the threefold repetition of "trinke" at the end +of each verse. Then a deputation waited upon John, to ask in behalf of +the girls and boys if he knew and could sing Solomon Levi. + +"Yes," he said, sitting down at the piano, "if you'll all sing with me," +and it came to pass that that classic, followed by Bring Back my Bonnie +to Me, Paddy Duffy's Cart, There's Music in the Air, and sundry other +ditties dear to all hearts, was given by "the full strength of the +company" with such enthusiasm that even Mr. Fairman was moved to join in +with his violin; and when the Soldier's Farewell was given, Herr Schlitz +would have sung the windows out of their frames had they not been open. +Altogether, the evening's programme was brought to an end with a grand +climax. + +"Thank you very much," said John as he said good night to Mrs. Verjoos. +"I don't know when I have enjoyed an evening so much." + +"Thank _you_ very much," she returned graciously. "You have given us all +a great deal of pleasure." + +"Yes," said Miss Verjoos, giving her hand with a mischievous gleam in +her half-shut eyes, "I was enchanted with Solomon Levi." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +David and John had been driving for some time in silence. The elder man +was apparently musing upon something which had been suggested to his +mind. The horses slackened their gait to a walk as they began the ascent +of a long hill. Presently the silence was broken by a sound which caused +John to turn his head with a look of surprised amusement--Mr. Harum was +singing. The tune, if it could be so called, was scaleless, and these +were the words: + + "_Mon_day _mor_nin' I _mar_ried me a _wife_, + _Think_in' to _lead_ a _more_ contented _life_; + _Fid_dlin' an' _danc_in' _the_' was _played_, + To _see_ how un_happy_ poor _I_ was _made_. + + "_Tues_day _morn_in', _'bout_ break o' _day_, + _While_ my _head_ on the _pil_ler did _lay_, + She _tuned_ up her _clack_, an' _scold_ed _more_ + _Than_ I _ever_ heard be_fore_." + +"Never heard me sing before, did ye?" he said, looking with a grin at +his companion, who laughed and said that he had never had that pleasure. +"Wa'al, that's all 't I remember on't," said David, "an' I dunno 's I've +thought about it in thirty year. The' was a number o' verses which +carried 'em through the rest o' the week, an' ended up in a case of +'sault an' battery, I rec'lect, but I don't remember jest how. +Somethin' we ben sayin' put the thing into my head, I guess." + +"I should like to hear the rest of it," said John, smiling. + +David made no reply to this, and seemed to be turning something over in +his mind. At last he said: + +"Mebbe Polly's told ye that I'm a wid'wer." + +John admitted that Mrs. Bixbee had said as much as that. + +"Yes, sir," said David, "I'm a wid'wer of long standin'." + +No appropriate comment suggesting itself to his listener, none was made. + +"I hain't never cared to say much about it to Polly," he remarked, +"though fer that matter Jim Bixbee, f'm all accounts, was about as poor +a shack as ever was turned out, I guess, an'--" + +John took advantage of the slight hesitation to interpose against what +he apprehended might be a lengthy digression on the subject of the +deceased Bixbee by saying: + +"You were quite a young fellow when you were married, I infer." + +"Two or three years younger 'n you be, I guess," said David, looking at +him, "an' a putty green colt too in some ways," he added, handing over +the reins and whip while he got out his silver tobacco box and helped +himself to a liberal portion of its contents. It was plain that he was +in the mood for personal reminiscences. + +"As I look back on't now," he began, "it kind o' seems as if it must 'a' +ben some other feller, an' yet I remember it all putty dum'd well +too--all but one thing, an' that the biggist part on't, an' that is how +I ever come to git married at all. She was a widdo' at the time, an' +kep' the boardin' house where I was livin'. It was up to Syrchester. I +was better lookin' them days 'n I be now--had more hair at any +rate--though," he remarked with a grin, "I was alwus a better goer than +I was a looker. I was doin' fairly well," he continued, "but mebbe not +so well as was thought by some. + +"Wa'al, she was a good-lookin' woman, some older 'n I was. She seemed to +take some shine to me. I'd roughed it putty much alwus, an' she was +putty clever to me. She was a good talker, liked a joke an' a laugh, an' +had some education, an' it come about that I got to beauin' her 'round +quite a consid'able, and used to go an' set in her room or the parlor +with her sometimes evenin's an' all that, an' I wouldn't deny that I +liked it putty well." + +It was some minutes before Mr. Harum resumed his narrative. The reins +were sagging over the dashboard, held loosely between the first two +fingers and thumb of his left hand, while with his right he had been +making abstracted cuts at the thistles and other eligible marks along +the roadside. + +"Wa'al," he said at last, "we was married, an' our wheels tracked putty +well fer quite a consid'able spell. I got to thinkin' more of her all +the time, an' she me, seemin'ly. We took a few days off together two +three times that summer, to Niag'ry, an' Saratogy, an' 'round, an' had +real good times. I got to thinkin' that the state of matrimony was a +putty good institution. When it come along fall, I was doin' well enough +so 't she could give up bus'nis, an' I hired a house an' we set up +housekeepin'. It was really more on my account than her'n, fer I got to +kind o' feelin' that when the meat was tough or the pie wa'n't done on +the bottom that I was 'sociated with it, an' gen'ally I wanted a place +of my own. But," he added, "I guess it was a mistake, fur 's she was +concerned." + +"Why?" said John, feeling that some show of interest was incumbent. + +"I reckon," said David, "'t she kind o' missed the comp'ny an' the talk +at table, an' the goin's on gen'ally, an' mebbe the work of runnin' the +place--she was a great worker--an' it got to be some diff'rent, I +s'pose, after a spell, settin' down to three meals a day with jest only +me 'stid of a tableful, to say nothin' of the evenin's. I was glad +enough to have a place of my own, but at the same time I hadn't ben used +to settin' 'round with nothin' pertic'ler to do or say, with somebody +else that hadn't neither, an' I wa'n't then nor ain't now, fer that +matter, any great hand fer readin'. Then, too, we'd moved into a +diff'rent part o' the town where my wife wa'n't acquainted. Wa'al, +anyway, fust things begun to drag some--she begun to have spells of not +speakin', an' then she begun to git notions about me. Once in a while +I'd have to go down town on some bus'nis in the evenin'. She didn't seem +to mind it at fust, but bom-by she got it into her head that the' wa'n't +so much bus'nis goin' on as I made out, an' though along that time she'd +set sometimes mebbe the hull evenin' without sayin' anythin' more 'n yes +or no, an' putty often not that, yet if I went out there'd be a +flare-up; an' as things went on the'd be spells fer a fortni't together +when I couldn't any time of day git a word out of her hardly, unless it +was to go fer me 'bout somethin' that mebbe I'd done an' mebbe I +hadn't--it didn't make no diff'rence. An' when them spells was on, what +she didn't take out o' me she did out o' the house--diggin' an' +scrubbin', takin' up carpits, layin' down carpits, shiftin' the +furniture, eatin' one day in the kitchin an' another in the settin' +room, an' sleepin' most anywhere. She wa'n't real well after a while, +an' the wuss she seemed to feel, the fiercer she was fer scrubbin' an' +diggin' an' upsettin' things in gen'ral, an' bom-by she got so she +couldn't keep a hired girl in the house more 'n a day or two at a time. +She either wouldn't have 'em, or they wouldn't stay, an' more 'n half +the time we was without one. This can't int'rist you much, can it?" said +Mr. Harum, turning to his companion. + +"On the contrary," replied John, "it interests me very much. I was +thinking," he added, "that probably the state of your wife's health had +a good deal to do with her actions and views of things, but it must have +been pretty hard on you all the same." + +"Wa'al, yes," said David, "I guess that's so. Her health wa'n't jest +right, an' she showed it in her looks. I noticed that she'd pined an' +pindled some, but I thought the' was some natural criss-crossedniss +mixed up into it too. But I tried to make allow'nces an' the best o' +things, an' git along 's well 's I could; but things kind o' got wuss +an' wuss. I told ye that she begun to have notions about me, an' 't +ain't hardly nec'sary to say what shape they took, an' after a while, +mebbe a year 'n a half, she got so 't she wa'n't satisfied to know where +I was _nights_--she wanted to know where I was _daytimes_. Kind o' +makes me laugh now," he observed, "it seems so redic'lous; but it wa'n't +no laughin' matter then. If I looked out o' winder she'd hint it up to +me that I was watchin' some woman. She grudged me even to look at a +picture paper; an' one day when we happened to be walkin' together she +showed feelin' about one o' them wooden Injun women outside a cigar +store." + +"Oh, come now, Mr. Harum," said John, laughing. + +"Wa'al," said David with a short laugh, "mebbe I did stretch that a +little; but 's I told ye, she wanted to know where I was daytimes well +'s nights, an' ev'ry once 'n a while she'd turn up at my bus'nis place, +an' if I wa'n't there she'd set an' wait fer me, an' I'd either have to +go home with her or have it out in the office. I don't mean to say that +all the sort of thing I'm tellin' ye of kep' up all the time. It kind o' +run in streaks; but the streaks kep' comin' oftener an' oftener, an' you +couldn't never tell when the' was goin' to appear. Matters 'd go along +putty well fer a while, an' then, all of a sudden, an' fer nothin' 't I +could see, the' 'd come on a thunder shower 'fore you c'd git in out o' +the wet." + +"Singular," said John thoughtfully. + +"Yes, sir," said David. "Wa'al, it come along to the second spring, +'bout the first of May. She'd ben more like folks fer about a week mebbe +'n she had fer a long spell, an' I begun to chirk up some. I don't +remember jest how I got the idee, but f'm somethin' she let drop I +gathered that she was thinkin' of havin' a new bunnit. I will say this +for her," remarked David, "that she was an economical woman, an' never +spent no money jest fer the sake o' spendin' it. Wa'al, we'd got along +so nice fer a while that I felt more 'n usual like pleasin' her, an' I +allowed to myself that if she wanted a new bunnit, money shouldn't stand +in the way, an' I set out to give her a supprise." + +They had reached the level at the top of the long hill and the horses +had broken into a trot, when Mr. Harum's narrative was interrupted and +his equanimity upset by the onslaught of an excessively shrill, active, +and conscientious dog of the "yellow" variety, which barked and sprang +about in front of the mares with such frantic assiduity as at last to +communicate enough of its excitement to them to cause them to bolt +forward on a run, passing the yellow nuisance, which, with the facility +of long practice, dodged the cut which David made at it in passing. It +was with some little trouble that the horses were brought back to a +sober pace. + +"Dum that dum'd dog!" exclaimed David with fervor, looking back to where +the object of his execrations was still discharging convulsive yelps at +the retreating vehicle, "I'd give a five-dollar note to git one good +lick at him. I'd make him holler 'pen-an'-ink' _once_! Why anybody's +willin' to have such a dum'd, wuthless, pestiferous varmint as that +'round 's more 'n I c'n understand. I'll bet that the days they churn, +that critter, unless they ketch him an' tie him up the night before, 'll +be under the barn all day, an' he's jest blowed off steam enough to run +a dog churn a hull forenoon." + +Whether or not the episode of the dog had diverted Mr. Harum's mind from +his previous topic, he did not resume it until John ventured to remind +him of it, with "You were saying something about the surprise for your +wife." + +"That's so," said David. "Yes, wa'al, when I went home that night I +stopped into a mil'nery store, an' after I'd stood 'round a minute, a +girl come up an' ast me if she c'd show me anythin'. + +"'I want to buy a bunnit,' I says, an' she kind o' laughed. 'No,' I +says, 'it ain't fer me, it's fer a lady,' I says; an' then we both +laughed. + +"'What sort of a bunnit do you want?' she says. + +"'Wa'al, I dunno,' I says, 'this is the fust time I ever done anythin' +in the bunnit line.' So she went over to a glass case an' took one out +an' held it up, turnin' it 'round on her hand. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess it's putty enough fur 's it goes, but the' +don't seem to be much of anythin' _to_ it. Hain't you got somethin' a +little bit bigger an'--' + +"'Showier?' she says. 'How is this?' she says, doin' the same trick with +another. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'that looks more like it, but I had an idee that the +A 1, trible-extry fine article had more traps on't, an' most any one +might have on either one o' them you've showed me an' not attrac' no +attention at all. You needn't mind expense,' I says. + +"'Oh, very well,' she says, 'I guess I know what you want,' an' goes +over to another case an' fetches out another bunnit twice as big as +either the others, an' with more notions on't than you c'd shake a stick +at--flowers, an' gard'n stuff, an' fruit, an' glass beads, an' feathers, +an' all that, till you couldn't see what they was fixed on to. She took +holt on't with both hands, the girl did, an' put it onto her head, an' +kind o' smiled an' turned 'round slow so 't I c'd git a gen'ral view +on't. + +"'Style all right?' I says. + +"'The very best of its kind,' she says. + +"'How 'bout the _kind_?' I says. + +"'The very best of its style,' she says." + +John laughed outright. David looked at him for a moment with a doubtful +grin. + +"She _was_ a slick one, wa'n't she?" he said. "What a hoss trader she +would 'a' made. I didn't ketch on at the time, but I rec'lected +afterward. Wa'al," he resumed, after this brief digression, "'how much +is it?' I says. + +"'Fifteen dollars,' she says. + +"'What?' I says. 'Scat my ----! I c'd buy head rigging enough to last me +ten years fer that.' + +"'We couldn't sell it for less,' she says. + +"'S'posin' the lady 't I'm buyin' it fer don't jest like it,' I says, +'can you alter it or swap somethin' else for it?' + +"'Cert'nly, within a reasonable time,' she says. + +"'Wa'al, all right,' I says, 'do her up.' An' so she wrapped the thing +'round with soft paper an' put it in a box, an' I paid for't an' moseyed +along up home, feelin' that ev'ry man, woman, an' child had their eyes +on my parcel, but thinkin' how tickled my wife would be." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +The road they were on was a favorite drive with the two men, and at the +point where they had now arrived David always halted for a look back and +down upon the scene below them--to the south, beyond the intervening +fields, bright with maturing crops, lay the village; to the west the +blue lake, winding its length like a broad river, and the river itself a +silver ribbon, till it was lost beneath the southern hills. + +Neither spoke. For a few minutes John took in the scene with the +pleasure it always afforded him, and then glanced at his companion, who +usually had some comment to make upon anything which stirred his +admiration or interest. He was gazing, not at the landscape, but +apparently at the top of the dashboard. "Ho, hum," he said, +straightening the reins, with a "clk" to the horses, and they drove +along for a while in silence--so long, in fact, that our friend, while +aware that the elder man did not usually abandon a topic until he had +"had his say out," was moved to suggest a continuance of the narrative +which had been rather abruptly broken off, and in which he had become +considerably interested. + +"Was your wife pleased?" he asked at last. + +"Where was I?" asked the other in return. + +"You were on your way home with your purchase," was the reply. + +"Oh, yes," Mr. Harum resumed. "It was a little after tea time when I got +to the house, an' I thought prob'ly I'd find her in the settin' room +waitin' fer me; but she wa'n't, an' I went up to the bedroom to find +her, feelin' a little less sure o' things. She was settin' lookin' out +o' winder when I come in, an' when I spoke to her she didn't give me no +answer except to say, lookin' up at the clock, 'What's kept ye like +this?' + +"'Little matter o' bus'nis,' I says, lookin' as smilin' 's I knew how, +an' holdin' the box behind me. + +"'What you got there?' she says, slewin' her head 'round to git a sight +at it. + +"'Little matter o' bus'nis,' I says agin, bringin' the box to the front +an' feelin' my face straighten out 's if you'd run a flat iron over it. +She seen the name on the paper. + +"'You ben spendin' your time there, have ye?' she says, settin' up in +her chair an' pointin' with her finger at the box. '_That's_ where you +ben the last half hour, hangin' 'round with them minxes in Mis' +Shoolbred's. What's in that box?' she says, with her face a-blazin'. + +"'Now, Lizy,' I says, 'I wa'n't there ten minutes if I was that, an' I +ben buyin' you a bunnit.' + +"'_You--ben--buyin'--me--a--bunnit_?' she says, stifnin' up stiffer 'n a +stake. + +"'Yes,' I says, 'I heard you say somethin' 'bout a spring bunnit, an' I +thought, seein' how economicle you was, that I'd buy you a nicer one 'n +mebbe you'd feel like yourself. I thought it would please ye,' I says, +tryin' to rub her the right way. + +"'Let me see it,' she says, in a voice dryer 'n a lime-burner's hat, +pressin' her lips together an' reachin' out fer the box. Wa'al, sir, she +snapped the string with a jerk an' sent the cover skimmin' across the +room, an' then, as she hauled the parcel out of the box, she got up onto +her feet. Then she tore the paper off on't an' looked at it a minute, +an' then took it 'tween her thumb an' finger, like you hold up a dead +rat by the tail, an' held it off at the end of her reach, an' looked it +all over, with her face gettin' even redder if it could. Fin'ly she +says, in a voice 'tween a whisper 'n a choke: + +"'What'd you pay fer the thing?' + +"'Fifteen dollars,' I says. + +"'Fifteen _dollars_?' she says. + +"'Yes,' I says, 'don't ye like it?' Wa'al," said David, "she never said +a word. She drawed in her arm an' took holt of the bunnit with her left +hand, an' fust she pulled off one thing an' dropped it on the floor, fur +off as she c'd reach, an' then another, an' then another, an' then, by +gum! she went at it with both hands jest as fast as she could work 'em, +an' in less time 'n I'm tellin' it to ye she picked the thing cleaner 'n +any chicken you ever see, an' when she got down to the carkis she +squeezed it up between her two hands, give it a wring an' a twist like +it was a wet dish towel, an' flung it slap in my face. Then she made a +half turn, throwin' back her head an' grabbin' into her hair, an' give +the awfullest screechin' laugh--one screech after another that you c'd +'a' heard a mile--an' then throwed herself face down on the bed, +screamin' an' kickin'. Wa'al, sir, if I wa'n't at my wits' end, you c'n +have my watch an' chain. + +"She wouldn't let me touch her no way, but, as luck had it, it was one +o' the times when we had a hired girl, an' hearin' the noise she come +gallopin' up the stairs. She wa'n't a young girl, an' she had a face +humbly 'nough to keep her awake nights, but she had some sense, +an'--'You'd bether run fer the docther,' she says, when she see the +state my wife was in. You better believe I done the heat of my life," +said David, "an' more luck, the doctor was home an' jest finishin' his +tea. His house an' office wa'n't but two three blocks off, an' in about +a few minutes me an' him an' his bag was leggin' it fer my house, though +I noticed he didn't seem to be 'n as much of a twitter 's I was. He ast +me more or less questions, an' jest as we got to the house he says: + +"'Has your wife had any thin' to 'larm or shock her this evenin'?' + +"'Nothin' 't I know on,' I says, ''cept I bought her a new bunnit that +didn't seem to come quite up to her idees.' At that," remarked Mr. +Harum, "he give me a funny look, an' we went in an' upstairs. + +"The hired girl," he proceeded, "had got her quieted down some, but when +we went in she looked up, an' seein' me, set up another screech, an' he +told me to go downstairs an' he'd come down putty soon, an' after a +while he did. + +"'Wa'al?' I says. + +"'She's quiet fer the present,' he says, takin' a pad o' paper out o' +his pocket, an' writin' on it. + +"'Do you know Mis' Jones, your next-door neighbor?' he says. I allowed +'t I had a speakin' acquaintance with her. + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'fust, you step in an' tell her I'm here an' want to +see her, and ast her if she won't come right along; an' then you go down +to my office an' have these things sent up; an' then,' he says, 'you go +down town an' send this'--handin' me a note that he'd wrote an' put in +an envelope--'up to the hospital--better send it up with a hack, or, +better yet, go yourself,' he says, 'an' hurry. You can't be no use +here,' he says. 'I'll stay, but I want a nurse here in an hour, an' less +if possible.' I was putty well scared," said David, "by all that, an' I +says, 'Lord,' I says, 'is she as bad off as that? What is it ails her?' + +"'Don't you know?' says the doc, givin' me a queer look. + +"'No,' I says, 'she hain't ben fust rate fer a spell back, but I +couldn't git nothin' out of her what was the matter, an' don't know what +pertic'ler thing ails her now, unless it's that dum'd bunnit,' I says. + +"At that the doctor laughed a little, kind as if he couldn't help it. + +"'I don't think that was hully to blame,' he says; 'may have hurried +matters up a little--somethin' that was liable to happen any time in the +next two months.' + +"'You don't mean it?' I says. + +"'Yes,' he says. 'Now you git out as fast as you can. Wait a minute,' he +says. 'How old is your wife?' + +"'F'm what she told me 'fore we was married,' I says, 'she's +thirty-one.' + +"'Oh!' he says, raisin' his eyebrows. 'All right; hurry up, now,' + +"I dusted around putty lively, an' inside of an hour was back with the +nurse, an 'jest after we got inside the door--" David paused +thoughtfully for a moment and then, lowering his tone a little, "jest as +we got inside the front door, a door upstairs opened an' I heard a +little 'Waa! waa!' like it was the leetlist kind of a new lamb--an' I +tell you," said David, with a little quaver in his voice, and looking +straight over the off horse's ears, "nothin' 't I ever heard before nor +since ever fetched me, right where I _lived_, as that did. The nurse, +she made a dive fer the stairs, wavin' me back with her hand, an' +I--wa'al--I went into the settin' room, an--wa'al--ne' mind. + +"I dunno how long I set there list'nin' to 'em movin' 'round overhead, +an' wonderin' what was goin' on; but fin'ly I heard a step on the stair +an' I went out into the entry, an' it was Mis' Jones. 'How be they?' I +says. + +"'We don't quite know yet,' she says. 'The little boy is a nice formed +little feller,' she says, 'an' them childern very often grow up, but he +is _very little_,' she says. + +"'An' how 'bout my wife?' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' she says, 'we don't know jest yet, but she is quiet now, an' +we'll hope fer the best. If you want me,' she says, 'I'll come any time, +night or day, but I must go now. The doctor will stay all night, an' the +nurse will stay till you c'n git some one to take her place,' an' she +went home, an'," declared David, "you've hearn tell of the 'salt of the +earth,' an' if that woman wa'n't more on't than a hoss c'n draw down +hill, the' ain't no such thing." + +"Did they live?" asked John after a brief silence, conscious of the +bluntness of his question, but curious as to the sequel. + +"The child did," replied David; "not to grow up, but till he was 'twixt +six an' seven; but my wife never left her bed, though she lived three +four weeks. She never seemed to take no int'rist in the little feller, +nor nothin' else much; but one day--it was Sunday, long to the last--she +seemed a little more chipper 'n usual. I was settin' with her, an' I +said to her how much better she seemed to be, tryin' to chirk her up. + +"'No,' she says, 'I ain't goin' to live.' + +"'Don't ye say that,' I says. + +"'No,' she says, 'I ain't, an' I don't care.' + +"I didn't know jest what to say, an' she spoke agin: + +"'I want to tell you, Dave,' she says, 'that you've ben good an' kind to +me.' + +"'I've tried to,' I says, 'an' Lizy,' I says, 'I'll never fergive myself +about that bunnit, long 's I live.' + +"'That hadn't really nothin' to do with it,' she says, 'an' you meant +all right, though,' she says, almost in a whisper, an' the' came across +her face, not a smile exac'ly, but somethin' like a little riffle on a +piece o' still water, 'that bunnit _was_ enough to kill most +_any_body.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +John leaned out of the buggy and looked back along the road, as if +deeply interested in observing something which had attracted his +attention, and David's face worked oddly for a moment. + +Turning south in the direction of the village, they began the descent of +a steep hill, and Mr. Harum, careful of loose stones, gave all his +attention to his driving. Our friend, respecting his vigilance, forebore +to say anything which might distract his attention until they reached +level ground, and then, "You never married again?" he queried. + +"No," was, the reply. "My matrymonial experience was 'brief an' to the +p'int,' as the sayin' is." + +"And yet," urged John, "you were a young man, and I should have +supposed----" + +"Wa'al," said David, breaking in and emitting his chuckling laugh, "I +allow 't mebbe I sometimes thought on't, an' once, about ten year after +what I ben tellin' ye, I putty much made up my mind to try another +hitch-up. The' was a woman that I seen quite a good deal of, an' liked +putty well, an' I had some grounds fer thinkin' 't she wouldn't show me +the door if I was to ask her. In fact, I made up my mind I would take +the chances, an' one night I put on my best bib an' tucker an' started +fer her house. I had to go 'cross the town to where she lived, an' the +farther I walked the fiercer I got--havin' made up my mind--so 't putty +soon I was travelin' 's if I was 'fraid some other feller'd git there +'head o' me. Wa'al, it was Sat'day night, an' the stores was all open, +an' the streets was full o' people, an' I had to pull up in the crowd a +little, an' I don't know how it happened in pertic'ler, but fust thing I +knew I run slap into a woman with a ban'box, an' when I looked 'round, +there was a mil'nery store in full blast an' winders full o' bunnits. +Wa'al, sir, do you know what I done? Ye don't. Wa'al, the' was a hoss +car passin' that run three mile out in the country in a diff'rent +direction f'm where I started fer, an' I up an' got onto that car, an' +rode the length o' that road, an' got off an' _walked back_--an' I never +went near her house f'm that day to this, an' that," said David, "was +the nearest I ever come to havin' another pardner to my joys an' +sorro's." + +"That was pretty near, though," said John, laughing. + +"Wa'al," said David, "mebbe Prov'dence might 'a' had some other plan fer +stoppin' me 'fore I smashed the hull rig, if I hadn't run into the +mil'nery shop, but as it was, that fetched me to a stan'still, an' I +never started to run agin." + +They drove on for a few minutes in silence, which John broke at last by +saying, "I have been wondering how you got on after your wife died and +left you with a little child." + +"That was where Mis' Jones come in," said David. "Of course I got the +best nurse I could, an' Mis' Jones 'd run in two three times ev'ry day +an' see 't things was goin' on as right 's they could; but it come on +that I had to be away f'm home a good deal, an' fin'ly, come fall, I got +the Joneses to move into a bigger house, where I could have a room, an' +fixed it up with Mis' Jones to take charge o' the little feller right +along. She hadn't but one child, a girl of about thirteen, an' had lost +two little ones, an' so between havin' took to my little mite of a thing +f'm the fust, an' my makin' it wuth her while, she was willin', an' we +went on that way till--the' wa'n't no further occasion fur 's he was +concerned, though I lived with them a spell longer when I was at home, +which wa'n't very often, an' after he died I was gone fer a good while. +But before that time, when I was at home, I had him with me all the time +I could manage. With good care he'd growed up nice an' bright, an' as +big as the average, an' smarter 'n a steel trap. He liked bein' with me +better 'n anybody else, and when I c'd manage to have him I couldn't +bear to have him out o' my sight. Wa'al, as I told you, he got to be +most seven year old. I'd had to go out to Chicago, an' one day I got a +telegraph sayin' he was putty sick--an' I took the fust train East. It +was 'long in March, an' we had a breakdown, an' run into an awful +snowstorm, an' one thing another, an' I lost twelve or fifteen hours. It +seemed to me that them two days was longer 'n my hull life, but I fin'ly +did git home about nine o'clock in the mornin'. When I got to the house +Mis' Jones was on the lookout fer me, an' the door opened as I run up +the stoop, an' I see by her face that I was too late. 'Oh, David, +David!' she says (she'd never called me David before), puttin' her hands +on my shoulders. + +"'When?' I says. + +"''Bout midnight,' she says. + +"'Did he suffer much?' I says. + +"'No,' she says, 'I don't think so; but he was out of his head most of +the time after the fust day, an' I guess all the time the last +twenty-four hours.' + +"'Do you think he'd 'a' knowed me?' I says. 'Did he say anythin'?' an' +at that," said David, "she looked at me. She wa'n't cryin' when I come +in, though she had ben; but at that her face all broke up. 'I don't +know,' she says. 'He kept sayin' things, an' 'bout all we could +understand was "Daddy, daddy,"' an' then she throwed her apern over her +face, an'----" + +David tipped his hat a little farther over his eyes, though, like many +if not most "horsey" men, he usually wore it rather far down, and +leaning over, twirled the whip in the socket between his two fingers and +thumb. John studied the stitched ornamentation of the dashboard until +the reins were pushed into his hands. But it was not for long. David +straightened himself, and, without turning his head, resumed them as if +that were a matter of course. + +"Day after the fun'ral," he went on, "I says to Mis' Jones, 'I'm goin' +back out West,' I says, 'an' I can't say how long I shall be gone--long +enough, anyway,' I says, 'to git it into my head that when I come back +the' won't be no little feller to jump up an' 'round my neck when I come +into the house; but, long or short, I'll come back some time, an' +meanwhile, as fur 's things between you an' me air, they're to go on +jest the same, an' more 'n that, do you think you'll remember him some?' +I says. + +"'As long as I live,' she says, 'jest like my own.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'long 's you remember him, he'll be, in a way, livin' +to ye, an' as long 's that I allow to pay fer his keep an' tendin' jest +the same as I have, _an'_,' I says, 'if you don't let me you ain't no +friend o' mine, an' you _ben_ a _good_ one.' Wa'al, she squimmidged +some, but I wouldn't let her say 'No.' 'I've 'ranged it all with my +pardner an' other ways,' I says, 'an' more 'n that, if you git into any +kind of a scrape an' I don't happen to be got at, you go to him an' git +what you want.'" + +"I hope she lived and prospered," said John fervently. + +"She lived twenty year," said David, "an' I wish she was livin' now. I +never drawed a check on her account without feelin' 't I was doin' +somethin' for my little boy. + +"The's a good many diff'rent sorts an' kinds o' sorro'," he said, after +a moment, "that's in some ways kind o' kin to each other, but I guess +losin' a child 's a specie by itself. Of course I passed the achin', +smartin' point years ago, but it's somethin' you can't fergit--that is, +you can't help feelin' about it, because it ain't only what the child +_was_ to you, but what you keep thinkin' he'd 'a' ben growin' more an' +more to _be_ to you. When I lost my little boy I didn't only lose him as +he was, but I ben losin' him over an' agin all these years. What he'd +'a' ben when he was _so_ old; an' what when he'd got to be a big boy; +an' what he'd 'a' ben when he went mebbe to collidge; an' what he'd 'a' +ben afterward, an' up to _now_. Of course the times when a man stuffs +his face down into the pillers nights, passes, after a while; but while +the's some sorro's that the happenin' o' things helps ye to fergit, I +guess the's some that the happenin' o' things keeps ye rememberin', an' +losin' a child 's one on 'em." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + +It was the latter part of John's fifth winter in Homeville. The business +of the office had largely increased. The new manufactories which had +been established did their banking with Mr. Harum, and the older +concerns, including nearly all the merchants in the village, had +transferred their accounts from Syrchester banks to David's. The callow +Hopkins had fledged and developed into a competent all-'round man, able +to do anything in the office, and there was a new "skeezicks" +discharging Peleg's former functions. Considerable impetus had been +given to the business of the town by the new road whose rails had been +laid the previous summer. There had been a strong and acrimonious +controversy over the route which the road should take into and through +the village. There was the party of the "nabobs" (as they were +characterized by Mr. Harum) and their following, and the party of the +"village people," and the former had carried their point; but now the +road was an accomplished fact, and most of the bitterness which had been +engendered had died away. Yet the struggle was still matter for talk. + +"Did I ever tell you," said David, as he and his cashier were sitting in +the rear room of the bank, "how Lawyer Staples come to switch round in +that there railroad jangle last spring?" + +"I remember," said John, "that you told me he had deserted his party, +and you laughed a little at the time, but you did not tell me how it +came about." + +"I kind o' thought I told ye," said David. + +"No," said John, "I am quite sure you did not." + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, "the' was, as you know, the Tenaker-Rogers +crowd wantin' one thing, an' the Purse-Babbit lot bound to have the +other, an' run the road under the other fellers' noses. Staples was +workin' tooth an' nail fer the Purse crowd, an' bein' a good deal of a +politician, he was helpin' 'em a good deal. In fact, he was about their +best card. I wa'n't takin' much hand in the matter either way, though my +feelin's was with the Tenaker party. I know 't would come to a point +where some money 'd prob'ly have to be used, an' I made up my mind I +wouldn't do much drivin' myself unless I had to, an' not then till the +last quarter of the heat. Wa'al, it got to lookin' like a putty even +thing. What little show I had made was if anythin' on the Purse side. +One day Tenaker come in to see me an' wanted to know flat-footed which +side the fence I was on. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I've ben settin' up fer +shapes to be kind o' on the fence, but I don't mind sayin', betwixt you +an' me, that the bulk o' my heft is a-saggin' your way; but I hain't +took no active part, an' Purse an' them thinks I'm goin' to be on their +side when it comes to a pinch.' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'it's goin' to be a putty close thing, an' we're +goin' to need all the help we c'n git.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess that's so, but fer the present I reckon I +c'n do ye more good by keepin' in the shade. Are you folks prepared to +spend a little money?' I says. + +"'Yes,' he says, 'if it comes to that.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'it putty most gen'ally does come to that, don't it? +Now, the's one feller that's doin' ye more harm than some others.' + +"'You mean Staples?' he says. + +"'Yes,' I says, 'I mean Staples. He don't really care a hill o' white +beans which way the road comes in, but he thinks he's on the pop'lar +side. Now,' I says, 'I don't know as it'll be nec'sary to use money with +him, an' I don't say 't you could, anyway, but mebbe his yawp c'n be +stopped. I'll have a quiet word with him,' I says, 'an' see you agin.' +So," continued Mr. Harum, "the next night the' was quite a lot of 'em in +the bar of the new hotel, an' Staples was haranguin' away the best he +knowed how, an' bime by I nodded him off to one side, an' we went across +the hall into the settin' room. + +"'I see you feel putty strong 'bout this bus'nis,' I says. + +"'Yes, sir, it's a matter of princ'ple with me,' he says, knockin' his +fist down onto the table. + +"'How does the outcome on't look to ye?' I says. 'Goin' to be a putty +close race, ain't it?' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, ''tween you an' me, I reckon it is.' + +"'That's the way it looks to me,' I says, 'an' more'n that, the other +fellers are ready to spend some money at a pinch.' + +"'They be, be they?' he says. + +"'Yes, sir,' I says, 'an' we've got to meet 'em halfway. Now,' I says, +takin' a paper out o' my pocket, 'what I wanted to say to you is this: +You ben ruther more prom'nent in this matter than most anybody--fur's +talkin' goes--but I'm consid'ably int'risted. The's got to be some money +raised, an' I'm ready,' I says, 'to put down as much as you be up to a +couple o' hunderd, an' I'll take the paper 'round to the rest; but,' I +says, unfoldin' it, 'I think you'd ought to head the list, an' I'll come +next.' Wa'al," said David with a chuckle and a shake of the head, "you'd +ought to have seen his jaw go down. He wriggled 'round in his chair, an' +looked ten diff'rent ways fer Sunday. + +"'What do you say?' I says, lookin' square at him, ''ll you make it a +couple a hunderd?' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I guess I couldn't go 's fur 's that, an' I wouldn't +like to head the list anyway.' + +"'All right,' I says, 'I'll head it. Will you say one-fifty?' + +"'No,' he says, pullin' his whiskers, 'I guess not.' + +"'A hunderd?' I says, an' he shook his head. + +"'Fifty,' I says, 'an' I'll go a hunderd,' an at that he got out his +hank'chif an' blowed his nose, an' took his time to it. 'Wa'al,' I says, +'what _do_ ye say?' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I ain't quite prepared to give ye 'n answer +to-night. Fact on't is,' he says, 'it don't make a cent's wuth o' +diff'rence to me person'ly which way the dum'd road comes in, an' I +don't jest this minute see why I should spend any money in it.' + +"'There's the _princ'ple_ o' the thing,' I says. + +"'Yes,' he says, gettin' out of his chair, 'of course, there's the +princ'ple of the thing, an'--wa'al, I'll think it over an' see you +agin,' he says, lookin' at his watch. 'I got to go now.' + +"Wa'al, the next night," proceeded Mr. Harum, "I went down to the hotel +agin, an' the' was about the same crowd, but no Staples. The' wa'n't +much goin' on, an' Purse, in pertic'ler, was lookin' putty down in the +mouth. 'Where's Staples?' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' says Purse, 'he said mebbe he'd come to-night, an' mebbe he +couldn't. Said it wouldn't make much diff'rence; an' anyhow he was goin' +out o' town up to Syrchester fer a few days. I don't know what's come +over the feller,' says Purse. 'I told him the time was gittin' short an' +we'd have to git in our best licks, an' he said he guessed he'd done +about all 't he could, an' in fact,' says Purse, 'he seemed to 'a' lost +int'rist in the hull thing.'" + +"What did you say?" John asked. + +"Wa'al," said David with a grin, "Purse went on to allow 't he guessed +somebody's pocketbook had ben talkin', but I didn't say much of +anythin', an' putty soon come away. Two three days after," he continued, +"I see Tenaker agin. 'I hear Staples has gone out o' town,' he says, +'an' I hear, too,' he says, 'that he's kind o' soured on the hull +thing--didn't care much how it did come out.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'when he comes back you c'n use your own judgment +about havin' a little interview with him. Mebbe somethin' 's made him +think the's two sides to this thing. But anyway,' I says, 'I guess he +won't do no more hollerin'.' + +"'How's that?' says Tenaker. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I'll have to tell ye a little story. Mebbe +you've heard it before, but it seems to be to the point. Once on a +time,' I says, 'the' was a big church meetin' that had lasted three +days, an' the last evenin' the' was consid'able excitement. The prayin' +an' singin' had warmed most on 'em up putty well, an' one o' the most +movin' of the speakers was tellin' 'em what was what. The' was a big +crowd, an' while most on 'em come to be edified, the' was quite a lot in +the back part of the place that was ready fer anythin'. Wa'al, it +happened that standin' mixed up in that lot was a feller named--we'll +call him Smith, to be sure of him--an' Smith was jest runnin' over with +power, an' ev'ry little while when somethin' the speaker said touched +him on the funny bone he'd out with an "A--men! _Yes_, Lord!" in a voice +like a fact'ry whistle. Wa'al, after a little the' was some snickerin' +an' gigglin' an' scroughin' an' hustlin' in the back part, an' even some +of the serioustest up in front would kind o' smile, an' the moderator +leaned over an' says to one of the bretherin on the platform, "Brother +Jones," he says, "can't you git down to the back of the hall an' say +somethin' to quiet Brother Smith? Smith's a good man, an' a pious man," +the moderator says, "but he's very excitable, an' I'm 'fraid he'll git +the boys to goin' back there an' disturb the meetin'." So Jones he +worked his way back to where Smith was, an' the moderator watched him go +up to Smith and jest speak to him 'bout ten seconds; an' after that +Smith never peeped once. After the meetin' was over, the moderator says +to Jones, "Brother Jones," he says, "what did you say to Brother Smith +to-night that shut him up so quick?" "I ast him fer a dollar for For'n +Missions," says Brother Jones, 'an', wa'al,' I says to Tenaker, 'that's +what I done to Staples.'" + +"Did Mr. Tenaker see the point?" asked John, laughing. + +"He laughed a little," said David, "but didn't quite ketch on till I +told him about the subscription paper, an' then he like to split." + +"Suppose Staples had taken you up," suggested John. + +"Wa'al," said David, "I didn't think I was takin' many chances. If, in +the fust place, I hadn't knowed Staples as well 's I did, the Smith +fam'ly, so fur 's my experience goes, has got more members 'n any other +fam'ly on top of the earth." At this point a boy brought in a telegram. +David opened it, gave a side glance at his companion, and, taking out +his pocketbook, put the dispatch therein. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + +The next morning David called John into the rear room. "Busy?" he asked. + +"No," said John. "Nothing that can't wait." + +"Set down," said Mr. Harum, drawing a chair to the fire. He looked up +with his characteristic grin. "Ever own a hog?" he said. + +"No," said John, smiling. + +"Ever feel like ownin' one?" + +"I don't remember ever having any cravings in that direction." + +"Like pork?" asked Mr. Harum. + +"In moderation," was the reply. David produced from his pocketbook the +dispatch received the day before and handed it to the young man at his +side. "Read that," he said. + +John looked at it and handed it back. + +"It doesn't convey any idea to my mind," he said. + +"What?" said David, "you don't know what 'Bangs Galilee' means? nor who +'Raisin' is?" + +"You'll have to ask me an easier one," said John, smiling. + +David sat for a moment in silence, and then, "How much money have you +got?" he asked. + +"Well," was the reply, "with what I had and what I have saved since I +came I could get together about five thousand dollars, I think." + +"Is it where you c'n put your hands on't?" + +John took some slips of paper from his pocketbook and handed them to +David. + +"H'm, h'm," said the latter. "Wa'al, I owe ye quite a little bunch o' +money, don't I? Forty-five hunderd! Wa'al! Couldn't you 'a' done better +'n to keep this here at four per cent?" + +"Well," said John, "perhaps so, and perhaps not. I preferred to do this +at all events." + +"Thought the old man was _safe_ anyway, didn't ye?" said David in a tone +which showed that he was highly pleased. + +"Yes," said John. + +"Is this all?" asked David. + +"There is some interest on those certificates, and I have some balance +in my account," was the reply; "and then, you know, I have some very +valuable securities--a beautiful line of mining stocks, and that +promising Pennsylvania property." + +At the mention of the last-named asset David looked at him for an +instant as if about to speak, but if so he changed his mind. He sat for +a moment fingering the yellow paper which carried the mystic words. +Presently he said, opening the message out, "That's from an old friend +of mine out to Chicago. He come from this part of the country, an' we +was young fellers together thirty years ago. I've had a good many deals +with him and through him, an' he never give me a wrong steer, fur 's I +know. That is, I never done as he told me without comin' out all right, +though he's give me a good many pointers I never did nothin' about. +'Tain't nec'sary to name no names, but 'Bangs Galilee' means 'buy pork,' +an' as I've ben watchin' the market fer quite a spell myself, an' +standard pork 's a good deal lower 'n it costs to pack it, I've made up +my mind to buy a few thousan' barrels fer fam'ly use. It's a handy thing +to have in the house," declared Mr. Harum, "an' I thought mebbe it +wouldn't be a bad thing fer you to have a little. It looks cheap to me," +he added, "an' mebbe bime-by what you don't eat you c'n sell." + +"Well," said John, laughing, "you see me at table every day and know +what my appetite is like. How much pork do you think I could take care +of?" + +"Wa'al, at the present price," said David, "I think about four thousan' +barrels would give ye enough to eat fer a spell, an' mebbe leave ye a +few barrels to dispose of if you should happen to strike a feller later +on that wanted it wuss 'n you did." + +John opened his eyes a little. "I should only have a margin of a dollar +and a quarter," he said. + +"Wa'al, I've got a notion that that'll carry ye," said David. "It may go +lower 'n what it is now. I never bought anythin' yet that didn't drop +some, an' I guess nobody but a fool ever did buy at the bottom more'n +once; but I've had an idee for some time that it was about bottom, an' +this here telegraph wouldn't 'a' ben sent if the feller that sent it +didn't think so too, an' I've had some other cor'spondence with him." +Mr. Harum paused and laughed a little. + +"I was jest thinkin'," he continued, "of what the Irishman said about +Stofford. Never ben there, have ye? Wa'al, it's a place eight nine mile +f'm here, an' the hills 'round are so steep that when you're goin' up +you c'n look right back under the buggy by jest leanin' over the edge +of the dash. I was drivin' 'round there once, an' I met an Irishman with +a big drove o' hogs. + +"'Hello, Pat!' I says, 'where 'd all them hogs come from?' + +"'Stofford,' he says. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I wouldn't 'a' thought the' was so many hogs _in_ +Stofford.' + +"'Oh, be gobs!' he says, 'sure they're _all_ hogs in Stofford;' an'," +declared David, "the bears ben sellin' that pork up in Chicago as if the +hull everlastin' West was _all_ hogs." + +"It's very tempting," said John thoughtfully. + +"Wa'al," said David, "I don't want to tempt ye exac'ly, an' certain I +don't want to urge ye. The' ain't no sure things but death an' taxes, as +the sayin' is, but buyin' pork at these prices is buyin' somethin' +that's got value, an' you can't wipe it out. In other words, it's buyin' +a warranted article at a price consid'ably lower 'n it c'n be produced +for, an' though it may go lower, if a man c'n _stick_, it's bound to +level up in the long run." + +Our friend sat for some minutes apparently looking into the fire, but he +was not conscious of seeing anything at all. Finally he rose, went over +to Mr. Harum's desk, figured the interest on the certificates up to the +first of January, indorsed them, and filling up a check for the balance +of the amount in question, handed the check and certificate to David. + +"Think you'll go it, eh?" said the latter. + +"Yes," said John; "but if I take the quantity you suggest, I shall have +nothing to remargin the trade in case the market goes below a certain +point." + +"I've thought of that," replied David, "an' was goin' to say to you that +I'd carry the trade down as fur as your money would go, in case more +margins had to be called." + +"Very well," said John. "And will you look after the whole matter for +me?" + +"All right," said David. + +John thanked him and returned to the front room. + + * * * * * + +There were times in the months which followed when our friend had reason +to wish that all swine had perished with those whom Shylock said "your +prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into;" and the news of the world +in general was of secondary importance compared with the market reports. +After the purchase pork dropped off a little, and hung about the lower +figure for some time. Then it began to advance by degrees until the +quotation was a dollar above the purchase price. + +John's impulse was to sell, but David made no sign. The market held firm +for a while, even going a little higher. Then it began to drop rather +more rapidly than it had advanced, to about what the pork had cost, and +for a long period fluctuated only a few cents one way or the other. This +was followed by a steady decline to the extent of half-a-dollar, and, as +the reports came, it "looked like going lower," which it did. In fact, +there came a day when it was so "low," and so much more "looked like +going lower" than ever (as such things usually do when the "bottom" is +pretty nearly reached), that our friend had not the courage to examine +the market reports for the next two days, and simply tried to keep the +subject out of his mind. On the morning of the third day the Syrchester +paper was brought in about ten o'clock, as usual, and laid on Mr. +Harum's desk. John shivered a little, and for some time refrained from +looking at it. At last, more by impulse than intention, he went into the +back room and glanced at the first page without taking the paper in his +hands. One of the press dispatches was headed: "Great Excitement on +Chicago Board of Trade: Pork Market reported Cornered: Bears on the +Run," and more of the same sort, which struck our friend as being the +most profitable, instructive, and delightful literature that he had ever +come across. David had been in Syrchester the two days previous, +returning the evening before. Just then he came into the office, and +John handed him the paper. + +"Wa'al," he said, holding it off at arm's length, and then putting on +his glasses, "them fellers that thought they was _all_ hogs up West, are +havin' a change of heart, are they? I reckoned they would 'fore they got +through with it. It's ben ruther a long pull, though, eh?" he said, +looking at John with a grin. + +"Yes," said our friend, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. + +"Things looked ruther colicky the last two three days, eh?" suggested +David. "Did you think 'the jig was up an' the monkey was in the box?'" + +"Rather," said John. "The fact is," he admitted, "I am ashamed to say +that for a few days back I haven't looked at a quotation. I suppose you +must have carried me to some extent. How much was it?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "I kept the trade margined, of course, an' if we'd +sold out at the bottom you'd have owed me somewhere along a thousan' or +fifteen hunderd; but," he added, "it was only in the slump, an' didn't +last long, an' anyway I cal'lated to carry that pork to where it would +'a' ketched fire. I wa'n't worried none, an' you didn't let on to be, +an' so I didn't say anythin'." + +"What do you think about it now?" asked John. + +"My opinion is now," replied Mr. Harum, "that it's goin' to putty near +where it belongs, an' mebbe higher, an' them 's my advices. We can sell +now at some profit, an' of course the bears 'll jump on agin as it goes +up, an' the other fellers 'll take the profits f'm time to time. If I +was where I could watch the market, I'd mebbe try to make a turn in 't +'casionally, but I guess as 't is we'd better set down an' let her take +her own gait. I don't mean to try an' git the top price--I'm alwus +willin' to let the other feller make a little--but we've waited fer +quite a spell, an' as it's goin' our way, we might 's well wait a little +longer." + +"All right," said John, "and I'm very much obliged to you." + +"Sho, sho!" said David. + +It was not until August, however, that the deal was finally closed out. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +The summer was drawing to a close. The season, so far as the social part +of it was concerned, had been what John had grown accustomed to in +previous years, and there were few changes in or among the people whom +he had come to know very well, save those which a few years make in +young people: some increase of importance in demeanor on the part of the +young men whose razors were coming into requisition; and the changes +from short to long skirts, from braids, pig-tails, and flowing-manes to +more elaborate coiffures on the part of the young women. The most +notable event had been the reopening of the Verjoos house, which had +been closed for two summers, and the return of the family, followed by +the appearance of a young man whom Miss Clara had met abroad, and who +represented himself as the acknowledged _fiancé_ of that young woman. It +need hardly be said that discussions of the event, and upon the +appearance, manners, prospects, etc., of that fortunate gentleman had +formed a very considerable part of the talk of the season among the +summer people; and, indeed, interest in the affair had permeated all +grades and classes of society. + + * * * * * + +It was some six weeks after the settlement of the transaction in "pork" +that David and John were driving together in the afternoon as they had +so often done in the last five years. They had got to that point of +understanding where neither felt constrained to talk for the purpose of +keeping up conversation, and often in their long drives there was little +said by either of them. The young man was never what is called "a great +talker," and Mr. Harum did not always "git goin'." On this occasion they +had gone along for some time, smoking in silence, each man absorbed in +his thoughts. Finally David turned to his companion. + +"Do you know that Dutchman Claricy Verjoos is goin' to marry?" he asked. + +"Yes," replied John, laughing; "I have met him a number of times. But he +isn't a Dutchman. What gave you that idea?" + +"I heard it was over in Germany she run across him," said David. + +"I believe that is so, but he isn't a German. He is from Philadelphia, +and is a friend of the Bradways." + +"What kind of a feller is he? Good enough for her?" + +"Well," said John, smiling, "in the sense in which that question is +usually taken, I should say yes. He has good looks, good manners, a good +deal of money, I am told, and it is said that Miss Clara--which is the +main point, after all--is very much in love with him." + +"H'm," said David after a moment. "How do you git along with the Verjoos +girls? Was Claricy's ears pointed all right when you seen her fust after +she come home?" + +"Oh, yes!" replied John, smiling, "she and her sister were perfectly +pleasant and cordial, and Miss Verjoos and I are on very friendly +terms." + +"I was thinkin'," said David, "that you an' Claricy might be got to +likin' each other, an' mebbe--" + +"I don't think there could ever have been the smallest chance of it," +declared John hastily. + +"Take the lines a minute," said David, handing them to his companion +after stopping the horses. "The nigh one's picked up a stone, I guess," +and he got out to investigate. "The river road," he remarked as he +climbed back into the buggy after removing the stone from the horse's +foot, "is about the puttiest road 'round here, but I don't drive it +oftener jest on account of them dum'd loose stuns." He sucked the air +through his pursed-up lips, producing a little squeaking sound, and the +horses started forward. Presently he turned to John: + +"Did you ever think of gettin' married?" he asked. + +"Well," said our friend with a little hesitation, "I don't remember that +I ever did, very definitely." + +"Somebody 't you knew 'fore you come up here?" said David, jumping at a +conclusion. + +"Yes," said John, smiling a little at the question. + +"Wouldn't she have ye?" queried David, who stuck at no trifles when in +pursuit of information. + +John laughed. "I never asked her," he replied, in truth a little +surprised at his own willingness to be questioned. + +"Did ye cal'late to when the time come right?" pursued Mr. Harum. + +Of this part of his history John had, of course, never spoken to David. +There had been a time when, if not resenting the attempt upon his +confidence, he would have made it plain that he did not wish to discuss +the matter, and the old wound still gave him twinges. But he had not +only come to know his questioner very well, but to be much attached to +him. He knew, too, that the elder man would ask him nothing save in the +way of kindness, for he had had a hundred proofs of that; and now, so +far from feeling reluctant to take his companion into his confidence, he +rather welcomed the idea. He was, withal, a bit curious to ascertain the +drift of the inquiry, knowing that David, though sometimes working in +devious ways, rarely started without an intention. And so he answered +the question and what followed as he might have told his story to a +woman. + +"An' didn't you never git no note, nor message, nor word of any kind?" +asked David. + +"No." + +"Nor hain't ever heard a word about her f'm that day to this?" + +"No." + +"Nor hain't ever tried to?" + +"No," said John. "What would have been the use?" + +"Prov'dence seemed to 've made a putty clean sweep in your matters that +spring, didn't it?" + +"It seemed so to me," said John. + +Nothing more was said for a minute or two. Mr. Harum appeared to have +abandoned the pursuit of the subject of his questions. At last he said: + +"You ben here most five years." + +"Very nearly," John replied. + +"Ben putty contented, on the hull?" + +"I have grown to be," said John. "Indeed, it's hard to realize at times +that I haven't always lived in Homeville. I remember my former life as +if it were something I have read in a book. There was a John Lenox in +it, but he seems to me sometimes more like a character in a story than +myself." + +"An' yet," said David, turning toward him, "if you was to go back to it, +this last five years 'd git to be that way to ye a good deal quicker. +Don't ye think so?" + +"Perhaps so," replied John. "Yes," he added thoughtfully, "it is +possible." + +"I guess on the hull, though," remarked Mr. Harum, "you done better up +here in the country 'n you might some 'ers else--" + +"Oh, yes," said John sincerely, "thanks to you, I have indeed, and--" + +"--an'--ne' mind about me--you got quite a little bunch o' money +together now. I was thinkin' 't mebbe you might feel 't you needn't to +stay here no longer if you didn't want to." + +The young man turned to the speaker inquiringly, but Mr. Harum's face +was straight to the front, and betrayed nothing. + +"It wouldn't be no more 'n natural," he went on, "an' mebbe it would be +best for ye. You're too good a man to spend all your days workin' fer +Dave Harum, an' I've had it in my mind fer some time--somethin' like +that pork deal--to make you a little independent in case anythin' should +happen, an'--gen'ally. I couldn't give ye no money 'cause you wouldn't +'a' took it even if I'd wanted to, but now you got it, why----" + +"I feel very much as if you had given it to me," protested the young +man. + +David put up his hand. "No, no," he said, "all 't I did was to propose +the thing to ye, an' to put up a little money fer two three days. I +didn't take no chances, an' it's all right, an' it's your'n, an' it +makes ye to a certain extent independent of Homeville." + +"I don't quite see it so," said John. + +"Wa'al," said David, turning to him, "if you'd had as much five years +ago you wouldn't 'a' come here, would ye?" + +John was silent. + +"What I was leadin' up to," resumed Mr. Harum after a moment, "is this: +I ben thinkin' about it fer some time, but I haven't wanted to speak to +ye about it before. In fact, I might 'a' put it off some longer if +things wa'n't as they are, but the fact o' the matter is that I'm goin' +to take down my sign." + +John looked at him in undisguised amazement, not unmixed with +consternation. + +"Yes," said David, obviously avoiding the other's eye, "'David Harum, +Banker,' is goin' to come down. I'm gettin' to be an' old man," he went +on, "an' what with some investments I've got, an' a hoss-trade once in a +while, I guess I c'n manage to keep the fire goin' in the kitchin stove +fer Polly an' me, an' the' ain't no reason why I sh'd keep my sign up +much of any longer. Of course," he said, "if I was to go on as I be now +I'd want ye to stay jest as you are; but, as I was sayin', you're to a +consid'able extent independent. You hain't no speciul ties to keep ye, +an' you ought anyway, as I said before, to be doin' better for yourself +than jest drawin' pay in a country bank." + +One of the most impressive morals drawn from the fairy tales of our +childhood, and indeed from the literature and experience of our later +periods of life, is that the fulfilment of wishes is often attended by +the most unwelcome results. There had been a great many times when to +our friend the possibility of being able to bid farewell to Homeville +had seemed the most desirable of things, but confronted with the idea as +a reality--for what other construction could he put upon David's words +except that they amounted practically to a dismissal, though a most kind +one?--he found himself simply in dismay. + +"I suppose," he said after a few moments, "that by 'taking down your +sign' you mean going out of business--" + +"Figger o' speech," explained David. + +"--and your determination is not only a great surprise to me, but +grieves me very much. I am very sorry to hear it--more sorry than I can +tell you. As you remind me, if I leave Homeville I shall not go almost +penniless as I came, but I shall leave with great regret, and, +indeed--Ah, well--" he broke off with a wave of his hands. + +"What was you goin' to say?" asked David, after a moment, his eyes on +the horizon. + +"I can't say very much more," replied the young man, "than that I am +very sorry. There have been times," he added, "as you may understand, +when I have been restless and discouraged for a while, particularly at +first; but I can see now that, on the whole, I have been far from +unhappy here. Your house has grown to be more a real home than any I +have ever known, and you and your sister are like my own people. What +you say, that I ought not to look forward to spending my life behind +the counter of a village bank on a salary, may be true; but I am not, at +present at least, a very ambitious person, nor, I am afraid, a very +clever one in the way of getting on in the world; and the idea of +breaking out for myself, even if that were all to be considered, is not +a cheerful one. I am afraid all this sounds rather selfish to you, when, +as I can see, you have deferred your plans for my sake, and after all +else that you have done for me." + +"I guess I sha'n't lay it up agin ye," said David quietly. + +They drove along in silence for a while. + +"May I ask," said John, at length, "when you intend to 'take down your +sign,' as you put it?" + +"Whenever you say the word," declared David, with a chuckle and a side +glance at his companion. John turned in bewilderment. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +"Wa'al," said David with another short laugh, "fur 's the sign 's +concerned, I s'pose we _could_ stick a new one over it, but I guess it +might 's well come down; but we'll settle that matter later on." + +John still looked at the speaker in utter perplexity, until the latter +broke out into a laugh. + +"Got any idee what's goin' onto the new sign?" he asked. + +"You don't mean----" + +"Yes, I do," declared Mr. Harum, "an' my notion 's this, an' don't you +say aye, yes, nor no till I git through," and he laid his left hand +restrainingly on John's knee. + +"The new sign 'll read 'Harum & Comp'ny,' or 'Harum & Lenox,' jest as +you elect. You c'n put in what money you got an' I'll put in as much +more, which 'll make cap'tal enough in gen'ral, an' any extry money +that's needed--wa'al, up to a certain point, I guess I c'n manage. Now +putty much all the new bus'nis has come in through you, an' practically +you got the hull thing in your hands. You'll do the work about 's you're +doin' now, an' you'll draw the same sal'ry; an' after that's paid we'll +go snucks on anythin' that's left--that _is_," added David with a +chuckle, "if you feel that you c'n _stan'_ it in Homeville." + + * * * * * + +"I wish you was married to one of our Homeville girls, though," declared +Mr. Harum later on as they drove homeward. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +Since the whooping-cough and measles of childhood the junior partner of +Harum & Company had never to his recollection had a day's illness in his +life, and he fought the attack which came upon him about the first week +in December with a sort of incredulous disgust, until one morning when +he did not appear at breakfast. He spent the next week in bed, and at +the end of that time, while he was able to be about, it was in a languid +and spiritless fashion, and he was shaken and exasperated by a +persistent cough. The season was and had been unusually inclement even +for that region, where the thermometer sometimes changes fifty degrees +in thirty-six hours; and at the time of his release from his room there +was a period of successive changes of temperature from thawing to zero +and below, a characteristic of the winter climate of Homeville and its +vicinity. Dr. Hayes exhibited the inevitable quinine, iron, and all the +tonics in his pharmacopoeia, with cough mixtures and sundry, but in +vain. Aunt Polly pressed bottles of sovereign decoctions and infusions +upon him--which were received with thanks and neglected with the +blackest ingratitude--and exhausted not only the markets of Homeville, +but her own and Sairy's culinary resources (no mean ones, by the way) +to tempt the appetite which would not respond. One week followed another +without any improvement in his condition; and indeed as time went on he +fell into a condition of irritable listlessness which filled his partner +with concern. + +"What's the matter with him, Doc?" said David to the physician. "He +don't seem to take no more int'rist than a foundered hoss. Can't ye do +nothin' for him?" + +"Not much use dosin' him," replied the doctor. "Pull out all right, may +be, come warm weather. Big strong fellow, but this cussed influenzy, or +grip, as they call it, sometimes hits them hardest." + +"Wa'al, warm weather 's some way off," remarked Mr. Harum, "an' he +coughs enough to tear his head off sometimes." + +The doctor nodded. "Ought to clear out somewhere," he said. "Don't like +that cough myself." + +"What do you mean?" asked David. + +"Ought to go 'way for a spell," said the doctor; "quit working, and get +a change of climate." + +"Have you told him so?" asked Mr. Harum. + +"Yes," replied the doctor; "said he couldn't get away." + +"H'm'm!" said David thoughtfully, pinching his lower lip between his +thumb and finger. + +A day or two after the foregoing interview, John came in and laid an +open letter in front of David, who was at his desk, and dropped +languidly into a chair without speaking. Mr. Harum read the letter, +smiled a little, and turning in his chair, took off his glasses and +looked at the young man, who was staring abstractedly at the floor. + +"I ben rather expectin' you'd git somethin' like this. What be you goin' +to do about it?" + +"I don't know," replied John. "I don't like the idea of leasing the +property in any case, and certainly not on the terms they offer; but it +is lying idle, and I'm paying taxes on it----" + +"Wa'al, as I said, I ben expectin' fer some time they'd be after ye in +some shape. You got this this mornin'?" + +"Yes." + +"I expect you'd sell the prop'ty if you got a good chance, wouldn't ye?" + +"With the utmost pleasure," said John emphatically. + +"Wa'al, I've got a notion they'll buy it of ye," said David, "if it's +handled right. I wouldn't lease it if it was mine an' I wanted to sell +it, an' yet, in the long run, you might git more out of it--an' then +agin you mightn't," he added. + +"I don't know anything about it," said John, putting his handkerchief to +his mouth in a fit of coughing. David looked at him with a frown. + +"I ben aware fer some time that the' was a movement on foot in your +direction," he said. "You know I told ye that I'd ben int'ristid in the +oil bus'nis once on a time; an' I hain't never quite lost my int'rist, +though it hain't ben a very active one lately, an' some fellers down +there have kep' me posted some. The' 's ben oil found near where you're +located, an' the prospectin' points your way. The hull thing has ben +kep' as close as possible, an' the holes has ben plugged, but the oil is +there somewhere. Now it's like this: If you lease on shares an' they +strike the oil on your prop'ty, mebbe it'll bring you more money; but +they might strike, an' agin they mightn't. Sometimes you git a payin' +well an' a dry hole only a few hunderd feet apart. Nevertheless they +want to drill your prop'ty. I know who the parties is. These fellers +that wrote this letter are simply actin' for 'em." + +The speaker was interrupted by another fit of coughing, which left the +sufferer very red in the face, and elicited from him the word which is +always greeted with laughter in a theater. + +"Say," said David, after a moment, in which he looked anxiously at his +companion, "I don't like that cough o' your'n." + +"I don't thoroughly enjoy it myself," was the rejoinder. + +"Seems to be kind o' growin' on ye, don't it?" + +"I don't know," said John. + +"I was talkin' with Doc Hayes about ye," said David, "an' he allowed +you'd ought to have your shoes off an' run loose a spell." + +John smiled a little, but did not reply. + +"Spoke to you about it, didn't he?" continued David. + +"Yes." + +"An' you told him you couldn't git away?" + +"Yes." + +"Didn't tell him you wouldn't go if you could, did ye?" + +"I only told him I couldn't go," said John. + +David sat for a moment thoughtfully tapping the desk with his +eyeglasses, and then said with his characteristic chuckle: + +"I had a letter f'm Chet Timson yestidy." + +John looked up at him, failing to see the connection. + +"Yes," said David, "he's out fer a job, an' the way he writes I guess +the dander's putty well out of him. I reckon the' hain't ben nothin' +much but hay in _his_ manger fer quite a spell," remarked Mr. Harum. + +"H'm!" said John, raising his brows, conscious of a humane but very +faint interest in Mr. Timson's affairs. Mr. Harum got out a cigar, and, +lighting it, gave a puff or two, and continued with what struck the +younger man as a perfectly irrelevant question. It really seemed to him +as if his senior were making conversation. + +"How's Peleg doin' these days?" was the query. + +"Very well," was the reply. + +"C'n do most anythin' 't's nec'sary, can't he?" + +A brief interruption followed upon the entrance of a man, who, after +saying good-morning, laid a note on David's desk, asking for the money +on it. Mr. Harum handed it back, indicating John with a motion of his +thumb. + +The latter took it, looked at the face and back, marked his initials on +it with a pencil, and the man went out to the counter. + +"If you was fixed so 't you could git away fer a spell," said David a +moment or two after the customer's departure, "where would you like to +go?" + +"I have not thought about it," said John rather listlessly. + +"Wa'al, s'pose you think about it a little now, if you hain't got no +pressin' engagement. Bus'nis don't seem to be very rushin' this +mornin'." + +"Why?" said John. + +"Because," said David impressively, "you're goin' somewhere right off, +quick 's you c'n git ready, an' you may 's well be makin' up your mind +where." + +John looked up in surprise. "I don't want to go away," he said, "and if +I did, how could I leave the office?" + +"No," responded Mr. Harum, "you don't want to make a move of any kind +that you don't actually have to, an' that's the reason fer makin' one. +F'm what the doc said, an' f'm what I c'n see, you got to git out o' +this dum'd climate," waving his hand toward the window, against which +the sleet was beating, "fer a spell; an' as fur 's the office goes, Chet +Timson 'd be tickled to death to come on an' help out while you're away, +an' I guess 'mongst us we c'n mosey along some gait. I ain't _quite_ to +the bone-yard yet myself," he added with a grin. + +The younger man sat for a moment or two with brows contracted, and +pulling thoughtfully at his moustache. + +"There is that matter," he said, pointing to the letter on the desk. + +"Wa'al," said David, "the' ain't no tearin' hurry 'bout that; an' any +way, I was goin' to make you a suggestion to put the matter into my +hands to some extent." + +"Will you take it?" said John quickly. "That is exactly what I should +wish in any case." + +"If you want I should," replied Mr. Harum. "Would you want to give full +power attorney, or jest have me say 't I was instructed to act for ye?" + +"I think a better way would be to put the property in your name +altogether," said John. "Don't you think so?" + +"Wa'al," said David, thoughtfully, after a moment, "I hadn't thought of +that, but mebbe I _could_ handle the matter better if you was to do +that. I know the parties, an' if the' was any bluffin' to be done either +side, mebbe it would be better if they thought I was playin' my own +hand." + +At that point Peleg appeared and asked Mr. Lenox a question which took +the latter to the teller's counter. David sat for some time drumming on +his desk with the fingers of both hands. A succession of violent coughs +came from the front room. His mouth and brows contracted in a wince, and +rising, he put on his coat and hat and went slowly out of the bank. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + +The Vaterland was advertised to sail at one o'clock, and it wanted but +fifteen or twenty minutes of the hour. After assuring himself that his +belongings were all together in his state-room, John made his way to the +upper deck and leaning against the rail, watched the bustle of +embarkation, somewhat interested in the people standing about, among +whom it was difficult in instances to distinguish the passengers from +those who were present to say farewell. Near him at the moment were two +people, apparently man and wife, of middle age and rather distinguished +appearance, to whom presently approached, with some evidence of hurry +and with outstretched hand, a very well dressed and pleasant looking +man. + +"Ah, here you are, Mrs. Ruggles," John heard him say as he shook hands. + +Then followed some commonplaces of good wishes and farewells, and in +reply to a question which John did not catch, he heard the lady +addressed as Mrs. Ruggles say, "Oh, didn't you see her? We left her on +the lower deck a few minutes ago. Ah, here she comes." + +The man turned and advanced a step to meet the person in question. +John's eyes involuntarily followed the movement, and as he saw her +approach his heart contracted sharply: it was Mary Blake. He turned +away quickly, and as the collar of his ulster was about his face, for +the air of the January day was very keen, he thought that she had not +recognized him. A moment later he went aft around the deck-house, and +going forward to the smoking-room, seated himself therein, and took the +passenger list out of his pocket. He had already scanned it rather +cursorily, having but the smallest expectation of coming upon a familiar +name, yet feeling sure that, had hers been there, it could not have +escaped him. Nevertheless, he now ran his eye over the columns with +eager scrutiny, and the hands which held the paper shook a little. + +There was no name in the least like Blake. It occurred to him that by +some chance or error hers might have been omitted, when his eye caught +the following: + + William Ruggles New York. + Mrs. Ruggles " " + Mrs. Edward Ruggles " " + +It was plain to him then. She was obviously traveling with the people +whom she had just joined on deck, and it was equally plain that she was +Mrs. Edward Ruggles. When he looked up the ship was out in the river. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + +John had been late in applying for his passage, and in consequence, the +ship being very full, had had to take what berth he could get, which +happened to be in the second cabin. The occupants of these quarters, +however, were not rated as second-class passengers. The Vaterland took +none such on her outward voyages, and all were on the same footing as to +the fare and the freedom of the ship. The captain and the orchestra +appeared at dinner in the second saloon on alternate nights, and the +only disadvantage in the location was that it was very far aft; unless +it could be considered a drawback that the furnishings were of plain +wood and plush instead of carving, gilding, and stamped leather. In +fact, as the voyage proceeded, our friend decided that the after-deck +was pleasanter than the one amidships, and the cozy second-class +smoking-room more agreeable than the large and gorgeous one forward. + +Consequently, for a while he rarely went across the bridge which spanned +the opening between the two decks. It may be that he had a certain +amount of reluctance to encounter Mrs. Edward Ruggles. + +The roof of the second cabin deck-house was, when there was not too much +wind, a favorite place with him. It was not much frequented, as most of +those who spent their time on deck apparently preferred a place nearer +amidships. He was sitting there on the morning of the fifth day out, +looking idly over the sea, with an occasional glance at the people who +were walking on the promenade-deck below, or leaning on the rail which +bounded it. He turned at a slight sound behind him, and rose with his +hat in his hand. The flush in his face, as he took the hand which was +offered him, reflected the color in the face of the owner, but the +grayish brown eyes, which he remembered so well, looked into his, a +little curiously, perhaps, but frankly and kindly. She was the first to +speak. + +"How do you do, Mr. Lenox?" she said. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Ruggles?" said John, throwing up his hand as, at +the moment of his reply, a puff of wind blew the cape of his mackintosh +over his head. They both laughed a little (this was their greeting after +nearly six years), and sat down. + +"What a nice place!" she said, looking about her. + +"Yes," said John; "I sit here a good deal when it isn't too windy." + +"I have been wondering why I did not get a sight of you," she said. "I +saw your name in the passenger list. Have you been ill?" + +"I'm in the second cabin," he said, smiling. + +She looked at him a little incredulously, and he explained. + +"Ah, yes," she said, "I saw your name, but as you did not appear in the +dining saloon, I thought you must either be ill or that you did not +sail. Did you know that I was on board?" she asked. + +It was rather an embarrassing question. + +"I have been intending," he replied rather lamely, "to make myself known +to you--that is, to--well, make my presence on board known to you. I got +just a glimpse of you before we sailed, when you came up to speak to a +man who had been saying good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Ruggles. I heard him +speak their name, and looking over the passenger list I identified you +as Mrs. Edward Ruggles." + +"Ah," she said, looking away for an instant, "I did not know that you +had seen me, and I wondered how you came to address me as Mrs. Ruggles +just now." + +"That was how," said John; and then, after a moment, "it seems rather +odd, doesn't it, that we should be renewing an acquaintance on an ocean +steamer as we did once before, so many years ago? and that the first bit +of intelligence that I have had of you in all the years since I saw you +last should come to me through the passenger list?" + +"Did you ever try to get any?" she asked. "I have always thought it very +strange that we should never have heard anything about you." + +"I went to the house once, some weeks after you had gone," said John, +"but the man in charge was out, and the maid could tell me nothing." + +"A note I wrote you at the time of your father's death," she said, "we +found in my small nephew's overcoat pocket after we had been some time +in California; but I wrote a second one before we left New York, telling +you of our intended departure, and where we were going." + +"I never received it," he said. Neither spoke for a while, and then: + +"Tell me of your sister and brother-in-law," he said. + +"My sister is at present living in Cambridge, where Jack is at college," +was the reply; "but poor Julius died two years ago." + +"Ah," said John, "I am grieved to hear of Mr. Carling's death. I liked +him very much." + +"He liked you very much," she said, "and often spoke of you." + +There was another period of silence, so long, indeed, as to be somewhat +embarrassing. None of the thoughts which followed each other in John's +mind was of the sort which he felt like broaching. He realized that the +situation was getting awkward, and that consciousness added to the +confusion of his ideas. But if his companion shared his embarrassment, +neither her face nor her manner betrayed it as at last she said, +turning, and looking frankly at him: + +"You seem very little changed. Tell me about yourself. Tell me something +of your life in the last six years." + +During the rest of the voyage they were together for a part of every +day, sometimes with the company of Mrs. William Ruggles, but more often +without it, as her husband claimed much of her attention and rarely came +on deck; and John, from time to time, gave his companion pretty much the +whole history of his later career. But with regard to her own life, and, +as he noticed, especially the two years since the death of her +brother-in-law, she was distinctly reticent. She never spoke of her +marriage or her husband, and after one or two faintly tentative +allusions, John forebore to touch upon those subjects, and was driven to +conclude that her experience had not been a happy one. Indeed, in their +intercourse there were times when she appeared distrait and even moody; +but on the whole she seemed to him to be just as he had known and loved +her years ago; and all the feeling that he had had for her then broke +forth afresh in spite of himself--in spite of the fact that, as he told +himself, it was more hopeless than ever: absolutely so, indeed. + +It was the last night of their voyage together. The Ruggleses were to +leave the ship the next morning at Algiers, where they intended to +remain for some time. + +"Would you mind going to the after-deck?" he asked. "These people +walking about fidget me," he added rather irritably. + +She rose, and they made their way aft. John drew a couple of chairs near +to the rail. "I don't care to sit down for the present," she said, and +they stood looking out at sea for a while in silence. + +"Do you remember," said John at last, "a night six years ago when we +stood together, at the end of the voyage, leaning over the rail like +this?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"Does this remind you of it?" he asked. + +"I was thinking of it," she said. + +"Do you remember the last night I was at your house?" he asked, looking +straight out over the moonlit water. + +"Yes," she said again. + +"Did you know that night what was in my heart to say to you?" + +There was no answer. + +"May I tell you now?" he asked, giving a side glance at her profile, +which in the moonlight showed very white. + +"Do you think you ought?" she answered in a low voice, "or that I ought +to listen to you?" + +"I know," he exclaimed. "You think that as a married woman you should +not listen, and that knowing you to be one I should not speak. If it +were to ask anything of you I would not. It is for the first and last +time. To-morrow we part again, and for all time, I suppose. I have +carried the words that were on my lips that night all these years in my +heart. I know I can have no response--I expect none; but it can not harm +you if I tell you that I loved you then, and have----" + +She put up her hand in protest. + +"You must not go on, Mr. Lenox," she said, turning to him, "and I must +leave you." + +"Are you very angry with me?" he asked humbly. + +She turned her face to the sea again and gave a sad little laugh. + +"Not so much as I ought to be," she answered; "but you yourself have +given the reason why you should not say such things, and why I should +not listen, and why I ought to say good-night." + +"Ah, yes," he said bitterly; "of course you are right, and this is to be +the end." + +She turned and looked at him for a moment. "You will never again speak +to me as you have to-night, will you?" she asked. + +"I should not have said what I did had I not thought I should never see +you again after to-morrow," said John, "and I am not likely to do that, +am I?" + +"If I could be sure," she said hesitatingly, and as if to herself. + +"Well," said John eagerly. She stood with her eyes downcast for a +moment, one hand resting on the rail, and then she looked up. + +"We expect to stay in Algiers about two months," she said, "and then we +are going to Naples to visit some friends for a few days, about the time +you told me you thought you might be there. Perhaps it would be better +if we said good-bye to-night; but if after we get home you are to spend +your days in Homeville and I mine in New York, we shall not be likely to +meet, and, except on this side of the ocean, we may, as you say, never +see each other again. So, if you wish, you may come to see me in Naples +if you happen to be there when we are. I am sure after to-night that I +may trust you, may I not? But," she added, "perhaps you would not care. +I am treating you very frankly; but from your standpoint you would +expect or excuse more frankness than if I were a young girl." + +"I care very much," he declared, "and it will be a happiness to me to +see you on any footing, and you may trust me never to break bounds +again." She made a motion as if to depart. + +"Don't go just yet," he said pleadingly; "there is now no reason why you +should for a while, is there? Let us sit here in this gorgeous night a +little longer, and let me smoke a cigar." + +At the moment he was undergoing a revulsion of feeling. His state of +mind was like that of an improvident debtor who, while knowing that the +note must be paid some time, does not quite realize it for a while after +an extension. At last the cigar was finished. There had been but little +said between them. + +"I really must go," she said, and he walked with her across the hanging +bridge and down the deck to the gangway door. + +"Where shall I address you to let you know when we shall be in Naples?" +she asked as they were about to separate. + +"Care of Cook & Son," he said. "You will find the address in Baedeker." + +He saw her the next morning long enough for a touch of the hand and a +good-bye before the bobbing, tubby little boat with its Arab crew took +the Ruggleses on board. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + +How John Lenox tried to kill time during the following two months, and +how time retaliated during the process, it is needless to set forth. It +may not, however, be wholly irrelevant to note that his cough had +gradually disappeared, and that his appetite had become good enough to +carry him through the average table d'hôte dinner. On the morning after +his arrival at Naples he found a cable dispatch at the office of Cook & +Son, as follows: "Sixty cash, forty stock. Stock good. Harum." + +"God bless the dear old boy!" said John fervently. The Pennsylvania +property was sold at last; and if "stock good" was true, the dispatch +informed him that he was, if not a rich man for modern days, still, as +David would have put it, "wuth consid'able." No man, I take it, is very +likely to receive such a piece of news without satisfaction; but if our +friend's first sensation was one of gratification, the thought which +followed had a drop of bitterness in it. "If I could only have had it +before!" he said to himself; and indeed many of the disappointments of +life, if not the greater part, come because events are unpunctual. They +have a way of arriving sometimes too early, or worse, too late. + +Another circumstance detracted from his satisfaction: a note he +expected did not appear among the other communications waiting him at +the bankers, and his mind was occupied for the while with various +conjectures as to the reason, none of which was satisfactory. Perhaps +she had changed her mind. Perhaps--a score of things! Well, there was +nothing for it but to be as patient as possible and await events. He +remembered that she had said she was to visit some friends by the name +of Hartleigh, and she had told him the name of their villa, but for the +moment he did not remember it. In any case he did not know the +Hartleighs, and if she had changed her mind--as was possibly indicated +by the omission to send him word--well----! He shrugged his shoulders, +mechanically lighted a cigarette, and strolled down and out of the +Piazza Martiri and across to the Largo della Vittoria. He had a +half-formed idea of walking back through the Villa Nazionale, spending +an hour at the Aquarium, and then to his hotel for luncheon. It occurred +to him at the moment that there was a steamer from Genoa on the Monday +following, that he was tired of wandering about aimlessly and alone, and +that there was really no reason why he should not take the said steamer +and go home. Occupied with these reflections, he absently observed, just +opposite to him across the way, a pair of large bay horses in front of a +handsome landau. A coachman in livery was on the box, and a small +footman, very much coated and silk-hatted, was standing about; and, as +he looked, two ladies came out of the arched entrance to the court of +the building before which the equipage was halted, and the small footman +sprang to the carriage door. + +One of the ladies was a stranger to him, but the other was Mrs. William +Ruggles; and John, seeing that he had been recognized, at once crossed +over to the carriage; and presently, having accepted an invitation to +breakfast, found himself sitting opposite them on his way to the Villa +Violante. The conversation during the drive up to the Vomero need not be +detailed. Mrs. Hartleigh arrived at the opinion that our friend was +rather a dull person. Mrs. Ruggles, as he had found out, was usually +rather taciturn. Neither is it necessary to say very much of the +breakfast, nor of the people assembled. + +It appeared that several guests had departed the previous day, and the +people at table consisted only of Mr. and Mrs. Ruggles, Mary, Mr. and +Mrs. Hartleigh and their two daughters, and John, whose conversation was +mostly with his host, and was rather desultory. In fact, there was +during the meal a perceptible air of something like disquietude. Mr. +Ruggles in particular said almost nothing, and wore an appearance of +what seemed like anxiety. Once he turned to his host: "When ought I to +get an answer to that cable, Hartleigh? to-day, do you think?" + +"Yes, I should say so without doubt," was the reply, "if it's answered +promptly, and in fact there's plenty of time. Remember that we are about +six hours earlier than New York by the clock, and it's only about seven +in the morning over there." + + * * * * * + +Coffee was served on the balustraded platform of the flight of marble +steps leading down to the grounds below. + +"Mary," said Mrs. Hartleigh, when cigarettes had been offered, "don't +you want to show Mr. Lenox something of La Violante?" + +"I shall take you to my favorite place," she said, as they descended the +steps together. + +The southern front of the grounds of the Villa Violante is bounded and +upheld by a wall of tufa fifty feet in height and some four hundred feet +long. About midway of its length a semicircular bench of marble, with a +rail, is built out over one of the buttresses. From this point is +visible the whole bay and harbor of Naples, and about one third of the +city lies in sight, five hundred feet below. To the left one sees +Vesuvius and the Sant' Angelo chain, which the eye follows to Sorrento. +Straight out in front stands Capri, and to the right the curve of the +bay, ending at Posilipo. The two, John and his companion, halted near +the bench, and leaned upon the parapet of the wall for a while in +silence. From the streets below rose no rumble of traffic, no sound of +hoof or wheel; but up through three thousand feet of distance came from +here and there the voices of street-venders, the clang of a bell, and +ever and anon the pathetic supplication of a donkey. Absolute quiet +prevailed where they stood, save for these upcoming sounds. The April +sun, deliciously warm, drew a smoky odor from the hedge of box with +which the parapet walk was bordered, in and out of which darted small +green lizards with the quickness of little fishes. + +John drew a long breath. + +"I don't believe there is another such view in the world," he said. "I +do not wonder that this is your favorite spot." + +"Yes," she said, "you should see the grounds--the whole place is +superb--but this is the glory of it all, and I have brought you +straight here because I wanted to see it with you, and this may be the +only opportunity." + +"What do you mean?" he asked apprehensively. + +"You heard Mr. Ruggles's question about the cable dispatch?" she said. + +"Yes." + +"Well," she said, "our plans have been very much upset by some things he +has heard from home. We came on from Algiers ten days earlier than we +had intended, and if the reply to Mr. Ruggles's cable is unfavorable, we +are likely to depart for Genoa to-morrow and take the steamer for home +on Monday. The reason why I did not send a note to your bankers," she +added, "was that we came on the same boat that I intended to write by; +and Mr. Hartleigh's man has inquired for you every day at Cook's so that +Mr. Hartleigh might know of your coming and call upon you." + +John gave a little exclamation of dismay. Her face was very still as she +gazed out over the sea with half-closed eyes. He caught the scent of the +violets in the bosom of her white dress. + +"Let us sit down," she said at last. "I have something I wish to say to +you." + +He made no rejoinder as they seated themselves, and during the moment or +two of silence in which she seemed to be meditating how to begin, he sat +bending forward, holding his stick with both hands between his knees, +absently prodding holes in the gravel. + +"I think," she began, "that if I did not believe the chances were for +our going to-morrow, I would not say it to-day." John bit his lip and +gave the gravel a more vigorous punch. "But I have felt that I must say +it to you some time before we saw the last of each other, whenever that +time should be." + +"Is it anything about what happened on board ship?" he asked in a low +voice. + +"Yes," she replied, "it concerns all that took place on board ship, or +nearly all, and I have had many misgivings about it. I am afraid that I +did wrong, and I am afraid, too, that in your secret heart you would +admit it." + +"No, never!" he exclaimed. "If there was any wrong done, it was wholly +of my own doing. I was alone to blame. I ought to have remembered that +you were married, and perhaps--yes, I did remember it in a way, but I +could not realize it. I had never seen or heard of your husband, or +heard of your marriage. He was a perfectly unreal person to me, and +you--you seemed only the Mary Blake that I had known, and as I had known +you. I said what I did that night upon an impulse which was as +unpremeditated as it was sudden. I don't see how you were wrong. You +couldn't have foreseen what took place--and----" + +"Have you not been sorry for what took place?" she asked, with her eyes +on the ground. "Have you not thought the less of me since?" + +He turned and looked at her. There was a little smile upon her lips and +on her downcast eyes. + +"No, by Heaven!" he exclaimed desperately, "I have not, and I am not +sorry. Whether I ought to have said what I did or not, it was true, and +I wanted you to know----" + +He broke off as she turned to him with a smile and a blush. The smile +was almost a laugh. + +"But, John," she said, "I am not Mrs. Edward Ruggles. I am Mary Blake." + + * * * * * + +The parapet was fifty feet above the terrace. The hedge of box was an +impervious screen. + + * * * * * + +Well, and then, after a little of that sort of thing, they both began +hurriedly to admire the view again, for some one was coming. But +it was only one of the gardeners, who did not understand +English; and confidence being once more restored, they fell to +discussing--everything. + +"Do you think you could live in Homeville, dear?" asked John after a +while. + +"I suppose I shall have to, shall I not?" said Mary. "And are you, too, +really happy, John?" + +John instantly proved to her that he was. "But it almost makes me +unhappy," he added, "to think how nearly we have missed each other. If I +had only known in the beginning that you were not Mrs. Edward Ruggles!" + +Mary laughed joyously. The mistake which a moment before had seemed +almost tragic now appeared delightfully funny. + +"The explanation is painfully simple," she answered. "Mrs. Edward +Ruggles--the real one--did expect to come on the Vaterland, whereas I +did not. But the day before the steamer sailed she was summoned to +Andover by the serious illness of her only son, who is at school there. +I took her ticket, got ready overnight--I like to start on these +unpremeditated journeys--and here I am." John put his arm about her to +make sure of this, and kept it there--lest he should forget. "When we +met on the steamer and I saw the error you had made I was tempted--and +yielded--to let you go on uncorrected. But," she added, looking lovingly +up into John's eyes, "I'm glad you found out your mistake at last." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + +A fortnight later Mr. Harum sat at his desk in the office of Harum & Co. +There were a number of letters for him, but the one he opened first bore +a foreign stamp, and was postmarked "Napoli." That he was deeply +interested in the contents of this epistle was manifest from the +beginning, not only from the expression of his face, but from the +frequent "wa'al, wa'als" which were elicited as he went on; but interest +grew into excitement as he neared the close, and culminated as he read +the last few lines. + +"Scat my CATS!" he cried, and, grabbing his hat and the letter, he +bolted out of the back door in the direction of the house, leaving the +rest of his correspondence to be digested--any time. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + +I might, in conclusion, tell how John's further life in Homeville was of +comparatively short duration; how David died of injuries received in a +runaway accident; how John found himself the sole executor of his late +partner's estate, and, save for a life provision for Mrs. Bixbee, the +only legatee, and rich enough (if indeed with his own and his wife's +money he had not been so before) to live wherever he pleased. But as +heretofore I have confined myself strictly to facts, I am, to be +consistent, constrained to abide by them now. Indeed, I am too +conscientious to do otherwise, notwithstanding the temptation to make +what might be a more artistic ending to my story. David is not only +living, but appears almost no older than when we first knew him, and is +still just as likely to "git goin'" on occasion. Even "old Jinny" is +still with us, though her master does most of his "joggin' 'round" +behind a younger horse. Whatever Mr. Harum's testamentary intentions may +be, or even whether he has made a will or not, nobody knows but himself +and his attorney. Aunt Polly--well, there is a little more of her than +when we first made her acquaintance, say twenty pounds. + +John and his wife live in a house which they built on the shore of the +lake. It is a settled thing that David and his sister dine with them +every Sunday. Mrs. Bixbee at first looked a little askance at the wine +on the table, but she does not object to it now. Being a "son o' +temp'rence," she has never been induced to taste any champagne, but on +one occasion she was persuaded to take the smallest sip of claret. +"Wa'al," she remarked with a wry face, "I guess the' can't be much sin +or danger 'n drinkin' anythin' 't tastes the way _that_ does." + +She and Mrs. Lenox took to each other from the first, and the latter has +quite supplanted (and more) Miss Claricy (Mrs. Elton) with David. In +fact, he said to our friend one day during the first year of the +marriage, "Say, John, I ain't sure but what we'll have to hitch that +wife o' your'n on the off side." + +I had nearly forgotten one person whose conversation has yet to be +recorded in print, but which is considered very interesting by at least +four people. His name is David Lenox. + +I think that's all. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID HARUM*** + + +******* This file should be named 17617-8.txt or 17617-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/6/1/17617 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: David Harum</p> +<p> A Story of American Life</p> +<p>Author: Edward Noyes Westcott</p> +<p>Release Date: January 28, 2006 [eBook #17617]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID HARUM***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by David Garcia, Janet B,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net/)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>DAVID HARUM</h1> + +<p class="center">A Story of American Life</p> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>EDWARD NOYES WESTCOTT</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY +1899</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1898, +<span class="smcap">By</span> D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. +</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The's as much human nature in some folks as th' is in others, if +not more.—<span class="smcap">David Harum.</span></p></div> + +<p>One of the most conspicuous characteristics of our contemporary native +fiction is an increasing tendency to subordinate plot or story to the +bold and realistic portrayal of some of the types of American life and +manners. And the reason for this is not far to seek. The extraordinary +mixing of races which has been going on here for more than a century has +produced an enormously diversified human result; and the products of +this "hybridization" have been still further differentiated by an +environment that ranges from the Everglades of Florida to the glaciers +of Alaska. The existence of these conditions, and the great literary +opportunities which they contain, American writers long ago perceived; +and, with a generally true appreciation of artistic values, they have +created from them a gallery of brilliant <i>genre</i> pictures which to-day +stand for the highest we have yet attained in the art of fiction.</p> + +<p>Thus it is that we have (to mention but a few) studies of Louisiana and +her people by Mr. Cable; of Virginia and Georgia by Thomas Nelson Page +and Joel Chandler Harris; of New England by Miss Jewett and Miss +Wilkins; of the Middle West by Miss French (Octave Thanet); of the great +Northwest by Hamlin Garland; of Canada and the land of the <i>habitans</i> by +Gilbert Parker; and finally, though really first in point of time, the +Forty-niners and their successors by Bret Harte. This list might be +indefinitely extended, for it is growing daily, but it is long enough as +it stands to show that every section of our country has, or soon will +have, its own painter and historian, whose works will live and become a +permanent part of our literature in just the degree that they are +artistically true. Some of these writers have already produced many +books, while others have gained general recognition and even fame by the +vividness and power of a single study, like Mr. Howe with The Story of a +Country Town. But each one, it will be noticed, has chosen for his field +of work that part of our country wherein he passed the early and +formative years of his life; a natural selection that is, perhaps, an +unconscious affirmation of David Harum's aphorism: "Ev'ry hoss c'n do a +thing better 'n' spryer if he's ben broke to it as a colt."</p> + +<p>In the case of the present volume the conditions are identical with +those just mentioned. Most of the scenes are laid in central New York, +where the author, Edward Noyes Westcott, was born, September 24, 1847, +and where he died of consumption, March 31, 1898. Nearly all his life +was passed in his native city of Syracuse, and although banking and not +authorship was the occupation of his active years, yet his sensitive and +impressionable temperament had become so saturated with the local +atmosphere, and his retentive memory so charged with facts, that when at +length he took up the pen he was able to create in David Harum a +character so original, so true, and so strong, yet withal so +delightfully quaint and humorous, that we are at once compelled to admit +that here is a new and permanent addition to the long list of American +literary portraits.</p> + +<p>The book is a novel, and throughout it runs a love story which is +characterized by sympathetic treatment and a constantly increasing +interest; but the title rôle is taken by the old country banker, David +Harum: dry, quaint, somewhat illiterate, no doubt, but possessing an +amazing amount of knowledge not found in printed books, and holding fast +to the cheerful belief that there is nothing wholly bad or useless in +this world. Or, in his own words: "A reasonable amount of fleas is good +for a dog—they keep him f'm broodin' on bein' a dog." This +horse-trading country banker and reputed Shylock, but real +philanthropist, is an accurate portrayal of a type that exists in the +rural districts of central New York to-day. Variations of him may be +seen daily, driving about in their road wagons or seated in their "bank +parlors," shrewd, sharp-tongued, honest as the sunlight from most points +of view, but in a horse trade much inclined to follow the rule laid down +by Mr. Harum himself for such transactions: "Do unto the other feller +the way he'd like to do unto you—an' do it fust."</p> + +<p>The genial humor and sunny atmosphere which pervade these pages are in +dramatic contrast with the circumstances under which they were written. +The book was finished while the author lay upon his deathbed, but, +happily for the reader, no trace of his sufferings appears here. It was +not granted that he should live to see his work in its present completed +form, a consummation he most earnestly desired; but it seems not +unreasonable to hope that the result of his labors will be appreciated, +and that David Harum will endure.</p> + +<p class='author'><span class="smcap">Forbes Heermans.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 2em;">Syracuse</span>, N.Y., <i>August 20, 1898</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" width ="50%" cellspacing="0" summary="TABLE OF CONTENTS"> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE.</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>DAVID HARUM.</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>David poured half of his second cup of tea into his saucer to lower its +temperature to the drinking point, and helped himself to a second cut of +ham and a third egg. Whatever was on his mind to have kept him unusually +silent during the evening meal, and to cause certain wrinkles in his +forehead suggestive of perplexity or misgiving, had not impaired his +appetite. David was what he called "a good feeder."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bixbee, known to most of those who enjoyed the privilege of her +acquaintance as "Aunt Polly," though nieces and nephews of her blood +there were none in Homeville, Freeland County, looked curiously at her +brother, as, in fact, she had done at intervals during the repast; and +concluding at last that further forbearance was uncalled for, relieved +the pressure of her curiosity thus:</p> + +<p>"Guess ye got somethin' on your mind, hain't ye? You hain't hardly said +aye, yes, ner no sence you set down. Anythin' gone 'skew?"</p> + +<p>David lifted his saucer, gave the contents a precautionary blow, and +emptied it with sundry windy suspirations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," he said, "nothin' hain't gone exac'ly wrong, 's ye might say—not +yet; but I done that thing I was tellin' ye of to-day."</p> + +<p>"Done what thing?" she asked perplexedly.</p> + +<p>"I telegraphed to New York," he replied, "fer that young feller to come +on—the young man General Wolsey wrote me about. I got a letter from him +to-day, an' I made up my mind 'the sooner the quicker,' an' I +telegraphed him to come 's soon 's he could."</p> + +<p>"I forgit what you said his name was," said Aunt Polly.</p> + +<p>"There's his letter," said David, handing it across the table. "Read it +out 'loud."</p> + +<p>"You read it," she said, passing it back after a search in her pocket; +"I must 'a' left my specs in the settin'-room."</p> + +<p>The letter was as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: I take the liberty of addressing you at the +instance of General Wolsey, who spoke to me of the matter of your +communication to him, and was kind enough to say that he would +write you in my behalf. My acquaintance with him has been in the +nature of a social rather than a business one, and I fancy that he +can only recommend me on general grounds. I will say, therefore, +that I have had some experience with accounts, but not much +practice in them for nearly three years. Nevertheless, unless the +work you wish done is of an intricate nature, I think I shall be +able to accomplish it with such posting at the outset as most +strangers would require. General Wolsey told me that you wanted +some one as soon as possible. I have nothing to prevent me from +starting at once if you desire to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> have me. A telegram addressed to +me at the office of the Trust Company will reach me promptly.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 12em;">"Yours very truly,</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 14em;">"John K. Lenox</span>." </p></div> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, looking over his glasses at his sister, "what do +you think on't?"</p> + +<p>"The' ain't much brag in't," she replied thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"No," said David, putting his eyeglasses back in their case, "th' ain't +no brag ner no promises; he don't even say he'll do his best, like most +fellers would. He seems to have took it fer granted that I'll take it +fer granted, an' that's what I like about it. Wa'al," he added, "the +thing's done, an' I'll be lookin' fer him to-morrow mornin' or evenin' +at latest."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bixbee sat for a moment with her large, light blue, and rather +prominent eyes fixed on her brother's face, and then she said, with a +slight undertone of anxiety, "Was you cal'latin' to have that young man +from New York come here?"</p> + +<p>"I hadn't no such idee," he replied, with a slight smile, aware of what +was passing in her mind. "What put that in your head?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," she answered, "you know the' ain't scarcely anybody in the +village that takes boarders in the winter, an' I was wonderin' what he +would do."</p> + +<p>"I s'pose he'll go to the Eagle," said David. "I dunno where else, +'nless it's to the Lake House."</p> + +<p>"The Eagil!" she exclaimed contemptuously. "Land sakes! Comin' here from +New York! He won't stan' it there a week."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied David, "mebbe he will an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> mebbe he won't, but I don't +see what else the' is for it, an' I guess 'twon't kill him for a spell +The fact is—" he was proceeding when Mrs. Bixbee interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"I guess we'd better adjourn t' the settin'-room an' let Sairy clear off +the tea-things," she said, rising and going into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"What was you sayin'?" she asked, as she presently found her brother in +the apartment designated, and seated herself with her mending-basket in +her lap.</p> + +<p>"The fact is, I was sayin'," he resumed, sitting with hand and forearm +resting on a round table, in the centre of which was a large kerosene +lamp, "that my notion was, fust off, to have him come here, but when I +come to think on't I changed my mind. In the fust place, except that +he's well recommended, I don't know nothin' about him; an' in the +second, you'n I are pretty well set in our ways, an' git along all right +just as we be. I may want the young feller to stay, an' then agin I may +not—we'll see. It's a good sight easier to git a fishhook in 'n 'tis to +git it out. I expect he'll find it putty tough at first, but if he's a +feller that c'n be drove out of bus'nis by a spell of the Eagle Tavern, +he ain't the feller I'm lookin' fer—though I will allow," he added with +a grimace, "that it'll be a putty hard test. But if I want to say to +him, after tryin' him a spell, that I guess me an' him don't seem likely +to hitch, we'll both take it easier if we ain't livin' in the same +house. I guess I'll take a look at the Trybune," said David, unfolding +that paper.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bixbee went on with her needlework, with an occasional side glance +at her brother, who was immersed in the gospel of his politics.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> Twice +or thrice she opened her lips as if to address him, but apparently some +restraining thought interposed. Finally, the impulse to utter her mind +culminated. "Dave," she said, "d' you know what Deakin Perkins is sayin' +about ye?"</p> + +<p>David opened his paper so as to hide his face, and the corners of his +mouth twitched as he asked in return, "Wa'al, what's the deakin sayin' +now?"</p> + +<p>"He's sayin'," she replied, in a voice mixed of indignation and +apprehension, "thet you sold him a balky horse, an' he's goin' to hev +the law on ye." David's shoulders shook behind the sheltering page, and +his mouth expanded in a grin.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he replied after a moment, lowering the paper and looking +gravely at his companion over his glasses, "next to the deakin's +religious experience, them of lawin' an' horse-tradin' air his strongest +p'ints, an' he works the hull on 'em to once sometimes."</p> + +<p>The evasiveness of this generality was not lost on Mrs. Bixbee, and she +pressed the point with, "Did ye? an' will he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, an' no, an' mebbe, an' mebbe not," was the categorical reply.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," she answered with a snap, "mebbe you call that an answer. I +s'pose if you don't want to let on you won't, but I do believe you've +ben playin' some trick on the deakin, an' won't own up. I do wish," she +added, "that if you hed to git rid of a balky horse onto somebody you'd +hev picked out somebody else."</p> + +<p>"When you got a balker to dispose of," said David gravely, "you can't +alwus pick an' choose. Fust come, fust served." Then he went on more +seriously: "Now I'll tell ye. Quite a while ago<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>—in fact, not long +after I come to enjoy the priv'lidge of the deakin's acquaintance—we +hed a deal. I wasn't jest on my guard, knowin' him to be a deakin an' +all that, an' he lied to me so splendid that I was took in, clean over +my head, he done me so brown I was burnt in places, an' you c'd smell +smoke 'round me fer some time."</p> + +<p>"Was it a horse?" asked Mrs. Bixbee gratuitously.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," David replied, "mebbe it <i>had</i> ben some time, but at that +partic'lar time the only thing to determine that fact was that it wa'n't +nothin' else."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee, wondering not more at the +deacon's turpitude than at the lapse in David's acuteness, of which she +had an immense opinion, but commenting only on the former. "I'm 'mazed +at the deakin."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said David with a grin, "I'm quite a liar myself when it comes +right down to the hoss bus'nis, but the deakin c'n give me both bowers +ev'ry hand. He done it so slick that I had to laugh when I come to think +it over—an' I had witnesses to the hull confab, too, that he didn't +know of, an' I c'd 've showed him up in great shape if I'd had a mind +to."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't ye?" said Aunt Polly, whose feelings about the deacon were +undergoing a revulsion.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, to tell ye the truth, I was so completely skunked that I hadn't +a word to say. I got rid o' the thing fer what it was wuth fer hide an' +taller, an' stid of squealin' 'round the way you say he's doin', like a +stuck pig, I kep' my tongue between my teeth an' laid to git even some +time."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You ort to 've hed the law on him," declared Mrs. Bixbee, now fully +converted. "The old scamp!"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," was the reply, "I gen'all prefer to settle out of court, an' in +this partic'lar case, while I might 'a' ben willin' t' admit that I hed +ben did up, I didn't feel much like swearin' to it. I reckoned the time +'d come when mebbe I'd git the laugh on the deakin, an' it did, an' +we're putty well settled now in full."</p> + +<p>"You mean this last pufformance?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. "I wish you'd quit +beatin' about the bush, an' tell me the hull story."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, it's like this, then, if you <i>will</i> hev it. I was over to +Whiteboro a while ago on a little matter of worldly bus'nis, an' I seen +a couple of fellers halter-exercisin' a hoss in the tavern yard. I stood +'round a spell watchin' 'em, an' when he come to a standstill I went an' +looked him over, an' I liked his looks fust rate.</p> + +<p>"'Fer sale?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says the chap that was leadin' him, 'I never see the hoss that +wa'n't if the price was right.'</p> + +<p>"'Your'n?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Mine an' his'n,' he says, noddin' his head at the other feller.</p> + +<p>"'What ye askin' fer him?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'One-fifty,' he says.</p> + +<p>"I looked him all over agin putty careful, an' once or twice I kind o' +shook my head 's if I didn't quite like what I seen, an' when I got +through I sort o' half turned away without sayin' anythin', 's if I'd +seen enough.</p> + +<p>"'The' ain't a scratch ner a pimple on him,' says the feller, kind o' +resentin' my looks. 'He's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> sound an' kind, an' 'll stand without +hitchin', an' a lady c'n drive him 's well 's a man.'</p> + +<p>"'I ain't got anythin' agin him,' I says, 'an' prob'ly that's all true, +ev'ry word on't; but one-fifty's a consid'able price fer a hoss these +days. I hain't no pressin' use fer another hoss, an', in fact,' I says, +'I've got one or two fer sale myself.'</p> + +<p>"'He's wuth two hunderd jest as he stands,' the feller says. 'He hain't +had no trainin', an' he c'n draw two men in a road-wagin better'n +fifty.'</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, the more I looked at him the better I liked him, but I only +says, 'Jes' so, jes' so, he may be wuth the money, but jest as I'm fixed +now he ain't wuth it to <i>me</i>, an' I hain't got that much money with me +if he was,' I says. The other feller hadn't said nothin' up to that +time, an' he broke in now. 'I s'pose you'd take him fer a gift, wouldn't +ye?' he says, kind o' sneerin'.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al, yes,' I says, 'I dunno but I would if you'd throw in a pound of +tea an' a halter.'</p> + +<p>"He kind o' laughed an' says, 'Wa'al, this ain't no gift enterprise, an' +I guess we ain't goin' to trade, but I'd like to know,' he says, 'jest +as a matter of curios'ty, what you'd say he <i>was</i> wuth to ye?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I come over this mornin' to see a feller that owed me +a trifle o' money. Exceptin' of some loose change, what he paid me 's +all I got with me,' I says, takin' out my wallet. 'That wad's got a +hunderd an' twenty-five into it, an' if you'd sooner have your hoss an' +halter than the wad,' I says, 'why, I'll bid ye good-day.'</p> + +<p>"'You're offerin' one-twenty-five fer the hoss an' halter?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'That's what I'm doin',' I says.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'You've made a trade,' he says, puttin' out his hand fer the money an' +handin' the halter over to me."</p> + +<p>"An' didn't ye suspicion nuthin' when he took ye up like that?" asked +Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"I did smell woolen some," said David, "but I had the <i>hoss</i> an' they +had the <i>money</i>, an', as fur 's I c'd see, the critter was all right. +Howsomever, I says to 'em: 'This here's all right, fur 's it's gone, but +you've talked putty strong 'bout this hoss. I don't know who you fellers +be, but I c'n find out,' I says. Then the fust feller that done the +talkin' 'bout the hoss put in an' says, 'The' hain't ben one word said +to you about this hoss that wa'n't gospel truth, not one word.' An' when +I come to think on't afterward," said David with a half laugh, "it mebbe +wa'n't <i>gospel</i> truth, but it was good enough <i>jury</i> truth. I guess this +ain't over 'n' above interestin' to ye, is it?" he asked after a pause, +looking doubtfully at his sister.</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'tis," she asserted. "I'm lookin' forrered to where the deakin +comes in, but you jest tell it your own way."</p> + +<p>"I'll git there all in good time," said David, "but some of the point of +the story'll be lost if I don't tell ye what come fust."</p> + +<p>"I allow to stan' it 's long 's you can," she said encouragingly, +"seein' what work I had gettin' ye started. Did ye find out anythin' +'bout them fellers?"</p> + +<p>"I ast the barn man if he knowed who they was, an' he said he never seen +'em till the yestiddy before, an' didn't know 'em f'm Adam. They come +along with a couple of hosses, one drivin' an' t'other leadin'—the one +I bought. I ast him if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> they knowed who I was, an' he said one on 'em +ast him, an' he told him. The feller said to him, seein' me drive up: +'That's a putty likely-lookin' hoss. Who's drivin' him?' An' he says to +the feller: 'That's Dave Harum, f'm over to Homeville. He's a great +feller fer hosses,' he says."</p> + +<p>"Dave," said Mrs. Bixbee, "them chaps jest laid fer ye, didn't they?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon they did," he admitted; "an' they was as slick a pair as was +ever drawed to," which expression was lost upon his sister. David rubbed +the fringe of yellowish-gray hair which encircled his bald pate for a +moment.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he resumed, "after the talk with the barn man, I smelt woolen +stronger'n ever, but I didn't say nothin', an' had the mare hitched an' +started back. Old Jinny drives with one hand, an' I c'd watch the new +one all right, an' as we come along I begun to think I wa'n't stuck +after all. I never see a hoss travel evener an' nicer, an' when we come +to a good level place I sent the old mare along the best she knew, an' +the new one never broke his gait, an' kep' right up 'ithout 'par'ntly +half tryin'; an' Jinny don't take most folks' dust neither. I swan! +'fore I got home I reckoned I'd jest as good as made seventy-five +anyway."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>"Then the' wa'n't nothin' the matter with him, after all," commented +Mrs. Bixbee in rather a disappointed tone.</p> + +<p>"The meanest thing top of the earth was the matter with him," declared +David, "but I didn't find it out till the next afternoon, an' then I +found it out good. I hitched him to the open buggy an' went 'round by +the East road, 'cause that ain't so much travelled. He went along all +right till we got a mile or so out of the village, an' then I slowed him +down to a walk. Wa'al, sir, scat my ——! He hadn't walked more'n a rod +'fore he come to a dead stan'still. I clucked an' git-app'd, an' finely +took the gad to him a little; but he only jest kind o' humped up a +little, an' stood like he'd took root."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, now!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said David; "I was stuck in ev'ry sense of the word."</p> + +<p>"What d'ye do?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I tried all the tricks I knowed—an' I could lead him—but when +I was in the buggy he wouldn't stir till he got good an' ready; 'n' then +he'd start of his own accord an' go on a spell, an'—"</p> + +<p>"Did he keep it up?" Mrs. Bixbee interrupted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I s'd say he did. I finely got home with the critter, but I +thought one time I'd either hev to lead him or spend the night on the +East road. He balked five sep'rate times, varyin' in length, an' it was +dark when we struck the barn."</p> + +<p>"I should hev thought you'd a wanted to kill him," said Mrs. Bixbee; +"an' the fellers that sold him to ye, too."</p> + +<p>"The' <i>was</i> times," David replied, with a nod of his head, "when if he'd +a fell down dead I wouldn't hev figgered on puttin' a band on my hat, +but it don't never pay to git mad with a hoss; an' as fur 's the feller +I bought him of, when I remembered how he told me he'd stand without +hitchin', I swan! I had to laugh. I did, fer a fact. 'Stand without +hitchin'!' He, he, he!"</p> + +<p>"I guess you wouldn't think it was so awful funny if you hadn't gone an' +stuck that horse onto Deakin Perkins—an' I don't see how you done it."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe that <i>is</i> part of the joke," David allowed, "an' I'll tell ye th' +rest on't. Th' next day I hitched the new one to th' dem'crat wagin an' +put in a lot of straps an' rope, an' started off fer the East road agin. +He went fust rate till we come to about the place where we had the fust +trouble, an', sure enough, he balked agin. I leaned over an' hit him a +smart cut on the off shoulder, but he only humped a little, an' never +lifted a foot. I hit him another lick, with the selfsame result. Then I +got down an' I strapped that animal so't he couldn't move nothin' but +his head an' tail, an' got back into the buggy. Wa'al, bom-by, it may +'a' ben ten minutes, or it may 'a' ben more or less—it's slow work +settin' still behind a balkin' hoss—he was ready to go on his own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +account, but he couldn't budge. He kind o' looked around, much as to +say, 'What on earth's the matter?' an' then he tried another move, an' +then another, but no go. Then I got down an' took the hopples off an' +then climbed back into the buggy, an' says 'Cluck, to him, an' off he +stepped as chipper as could be, an' we went joggin' along all right +mebbe two mile, an' when I slowed up, up he come agin. I gin him another +clip in the same place on the shoulder, an' I got down an' tied him up +agin, an' the same thing happened as before, on'y it didn't take him +quite so long to make up his mind about startin', an' we went some +further without a hitch. But I had to go through the pufformance the +third time before he got it into his head that if he didn't go when <i>I</i> +wanted he couldn't go when <i>he</i> wanted, an' that didn't suit him; an' +when he felt the whip on his shoulder it meant bus'nis."</p> + +<p>"Was that the end of his balkin'?" asked Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"I had to give him one more go-round," said David, "an' after that I +didn't have no more trouble with him. He showed symptoms at times, but a +touch of the whip on the shoulder alwus fetched him. I alwus carried +them straps, though, till the last two or three times."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, what's the deakin kickin' about, then?" asked Aunt Polly. +"You're jest sayin' you broke him of balkin'."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David slowly, "some hosses will balk with some folks an' +not with others. You can't most alwus gen'ally tell."</p> + +<p>"Didn't the deakin have a chance to try him?"</p> + +<p>"He had all the chance he ast fer," replied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> David. "Fact is, he done +most of the sellin', as well 's the buyin', himself."</p> + +<p>"How's that?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "it come about like this: After I'd got the hoss +where I c'd handle him I begun to think I'd had some int'restin' an' +valu'ble experience, an' it wa'n't scurcely fair to keep it all to +myself. I didn't want no patent on't, an' I was willin' to let some +other feller git a piece. So one mornin', week before last—let's see, +week ago Tuesday it was, an' a mighty nice mornin' it was, too—one o' +them days that kind o' lib'ral up your mind—I allowed to hitch an' +drive up past the deakin's an' back, an' mebbe git somethin' to +strengthen my faith, et cetery, in case I run acrost him. Wa'al, 's I +come along I seen the deakin putterin' 'round, an' I waved my hand to +him an' went by a-kitin'. I went up the road a ways an' killed a little +time, an' when I come back there was the deakin, as I expected. He was +leanin' over the fence, an' as I jogged up he hailed me, an' I pulled +up.</p> + +<p>"'Mornin', Mr. Harum,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Mornin', deakin,' I says. 'How are ye? an' how's Mis' Perkins these +days?'</p> + +<p>"'I'm fair,' he says; 'fair to middlin', but Mis' Perkins is ailin' +some—as <i>usyul</i>' he says."</p> + +<p>"They do say," put in Mrs. Bixbee, "thet Mis' Perkins don't hev much of +a time herself."</p> + +<p>"Guess she hez all the time the' is," answered David. "Wa'al," he went +on, "we passed the time o' day, an' talked a spell about the weather an' +all that, an' finely I straightened up the lines as if I was goin' on, +an' then I says: 'Oh, by the way,' I says, 'I jest thought on't. I heard +Dominie White was lookin' fer a hoss that 'd suit him.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> 'I hain't +heard,' he says; but I see in a minute he had—an' it really was a +fact—an' I says: 'I've got a roan colt risin' five, that I took on a +debt a spell ago, that I'll sell reasonable, that's as likely an' nice +ev'ry way a young hoss as ever I owned. I don't need him,' I says, 'an' +didn't want to take him, but it was that or nothin' at the time an' glad +to git it, an' I'll sell him a barg'in. Now what I want to say to you, +deakin, is this: That hoss 'd suit the dominie to a tee in my opinion, +but the dominie won't come to me. Now if <i>you</i> was to say to him—bein' +in his church an' all thet,' I says, 'that you c'd get him the right +kind of a hoss, he'd believe you, an' you an' me 'd be doin' a little +stroke of bus'nis, an' a favor to the dominie into the bargain. The +dominie's well off,' I says, 'an' c'n afford to drive a good hoss.'"</p> + +<p>"What did the deakin say?" asked Aunt Polly as David stopped for breath.</p> + +<p>"I didn't expect him to jump down my throat," he answered; "but I seen +him prick up his ears, an' all the time I was talkin' I noticed him +lookin' my hoss over, head an' foot. 'Now I 'member,' he says, 'hearin' +sunthin' 'bout Mr. White's lookin' fer a hoss, though when you fust +spoke on't it had slipped my mind. Of course,' he says, 'the' ain't any +real reason why Mr. White shouldn't deal with you direct, an' yit mebbe +I <i>could</i> do more with him 'n you could. But,' he says, 'I wa'n't +cal'latin' to go t' the village this mornin', an' I sent my hired man +off with my drivin' hoss. Mebbe I'll drop 'round in a day or two,' he +says, 'an' look at the roan.'</p> + +<p>"'You mightn't ketch me,' I says, 'an' I want to show him myself; an' +more'n that,' I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> says, 'Dug Robinson's after the dominie. I'll tell ye,' +I says, 'you jest git in 'ith me an' go down an' look at him, an' I'll +send ye back or drive ye back, an' if you've got anythin' special on +hand you needn't be gone three quarters of an hour,' I says."</p> + +<p>"He come, did he?" inquired Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"He done <i>so</i>," said David sententiously. "Jest as I knowed he would, +after he'd hem'd an' haw'd about so much, an' he rode a mile an' a half +livelier 'n he done in a good while, I reckon. He had to pull that old +broad-brim of his'n down to his ears, an' don't you fergit it. He, he, +he, he! The road was jest <i>full</i> o' hosses. Wa'al, we drove into the +yard, an' I told the hired man to unhitch the bay hoss an' fetch out the +roan, an' while he was bein' unhitched the deakin stood 'round an' never +took his eyes off'n him, an' I knowed I wouldn't sell the deakin no roan +hoss <i>that</i> day, even if I wanted to. But when he come out I begun to +crack him up, an' I talked hoss fer all I was wuth. The deakin looked +him over in a don't-care kind of a way, an' didn't 'parently give much +heed to what I was sayin'. Finely I says, 'Wa'al, what do you think of +him?' 'Wa'al,' he says, 'he seems to be a likely enough critter, but I +don't believe he'd suit Mr. White—'fraid not,' he says. 'What you +askin' fer him?' he says. 'One-fifty,' I says, 'an' he's a cheap hoss at +the money'; but," added the speaker with a laugh, "I knowed I might 's +well of said a thousan'. The deakin wa'n't buyin' no roan colts that +mornin'."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" asked Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, 'wa'al, I guess you ought to git that much fer him, +but I'm 'fraid he ain't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> what Mr. White wants.' An' then, 'That's quite +a hoss we come down with,' he says. 'Had him long?' 'Jest long 'nough to +git 'quainted with him,' I says. 'Don't you want the roan fer your own +use?' I says. 'Mebbe we c'd shade the price a little.' 'No,' he says, 'I +guess not. I don't need another hoss jest now.' An' then, after a minute +he says: 'Say, mebbe the bay hoss we drove 'd come nearer the mark fer +White, if he's all right. Jest as soon I'd look at him?' he says. +'Wa'al, I hain't no objections, but I guess he's more of a hoss than the +dominie 'd care for, but I'll go an' fetch him out,' I says. So I +brought him out, an' the deakin looked him all over. I see it was a case +of love at fust sight, as the story-books says. 'Looks all right,' he +says. 'I'll tell ye,' I says, 'what the feller I bought him of told me.' +'What's that?' says the deakin. 'He said to me,' I says, '"that hoss +hain't got a scratch ner a pimple on him. He's sound an' kind, an' 'll +stand without hitchin', an' a lady c'd drive him as well 's a man."'</p> + +<p>"'That's what he said to me,' I says, 'an' it's every word on't true. +You've seen whether or not he c'n travel,' I says, 'an', so fur 's I've +seen, he ain't 'fraid of nothin'.' 'D'ye want to sell him?' the deakin +says. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I ain't offerin' him fer sale. You'll go a good +ways,' I says, ''fore you'll strike such another; but, of course, he +ain't the only hoss in the world, an' I never had anythin' in the hoss +line I wouldn't sell at <i>some</i> price.' 'Wa'al,' he says, 'what d' ye ask +fer him?' 'Wa'al,' I says, 'if my own brother was to ask me that +question I'd say to him two hunderd dollars, cash down, an' I wouldn't +hold the offer open an hour,' I says."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My!" ejaculated Aunt Polly. "Did he take you up?"</p> + +<p>"'That's more'n I give fer a hoss 'n a good while,' he says, shakin' his +head, 'an' more'n I c'n afford, I'm 'fraid.' 'All right,' I says; 'I c'n +afford to keep him'; but I knew I had the deakin same as the woodchuck +had Skip. 'Hitch up the roan,' I says to Mike; 'the deakin wants to be +took up to his house.' 'Is that your last word?' he says. 'That's what +it is,' I says. 'Two hunderd, cash down.'"</p> + +<p>"Didn't ye dast to trust the deakin?" asked Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"Polly," said David, "the's a number of holes in a ten-foot ladder." +Mrs. Bixbee seemed to understand this rather ambiguous rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"He must 'a' squirmed some," she remarked. David laughed.</p> + +<p>"The deakin ain't much used to payin' the other feller's price," he +said, "an' it was like pullin' teeth; but he wanted that hoss more'n a +cow wants a calf, an' after a little more squimmidgin' he hauled out his +wallet an' forked over. Mike come out with the roan, an' off the deakin +went, leadin' the bay hoss."</p> + +<p>"I don't see," said Mrs. Bixbee, looking up at her brother, "thet after +all the' was anythin' you said to the deakin thet he could ketch holt +on."</p> + +<p>"The' wa'n't nothin'," he replied. "The only thing he c'n complain +about's what I <i>didn't</i> say to him."</p> + +<p>"Hain't he said anythin' to ye?" Mrs. Bixbee inquired.</p> + +<p>"He, he, he, he! He hain't but once, an' the' wa'n't but little of it +then."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, the day but one after the deakin sold himself Mr. +Stickin'-Plaster I had an arrant three four mile or so up past his +place, an' when I was comin' back, along 'bout four or half past, it +come on to rain like all possessed. I had my old umbrel'—though it +didn't hender me f'm gettin' more or less wet—an' I sent the old mare +along fer all she knew. As I come along to within a mile f'm the +deakin's house I seen somebody in the road, an' when I come up closter I +see it was the deakin himself, in trouble, an' I kind o' slowed up to +see what was goin' on. There he was, settin' all humped up with his ole +broad-brim hat slopin' down his back, a-sheddin' water like a roof. Then +I seen him lean over an' larrup the hoss with the ends of the lines fer +all he was wuth. It appeared he hadn't no whip, an' it wouldn't done him +no good if he'd had. Wa'al, sir, rain or no rain, I jest pulled up to +watch him. He'd larrup a spell, an' then he'd set back; an' then he'd +lean over an' try it agin, harder'n ever. Scat my ——! I thought I'd +die a-laughin'. I couldn't hardly cluck to the mare when I got ready to +move on. I drove alongside an' pulled up. 'Hullo, deakin,' I says, +'what's the matter?' He looked up at me, an' I won't say he was the +maddest man I ever see, but he was long ways the maddest-lookin' man, +an' he shook his fist at me jest like one o' the unregen'rit. 'Consarn +ye, Dave Harum!' he says, 'I'll hev the law on ye fer this.' 'What fer?' +I says. 'I didn't make it come on to rain, did I?' I says. 'You know +mighty well what fer,' he says. 'You sold me this <i>damned beast</i>,' he +says, 'an' he's balked with me <i>nine</i> times this afternoon, an' I'll fix +ye for 't,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> he says. 'Wa'al, deakin,' I says, 'I'm 'fraid the squire's +office 'll be shut up 'fore you <i>git</i> there, but I'll take any word +you'd like to send. You know I told ye,' I says, 'that he'd stand +'ithout hitchin'.' An' at that he only jest kind o' choked an' +sputtered. He was so mad he couldn't say nothin', an' on I drove, an' +when I got about forty rod or so I looked back, an' there was the deakin +a-comin' along the road with as much of his shoulders as he could git +under his hat an' <i>leadin'</i> his new hoss. He, he, he, he! Oh, my stars +an' garters! Say, Polly, it paid me fer bein' born into this vale o' +tears. It did, I declare for't!" Aunt Polly wiped her eyes on her apron.</p> + +<p>"But, Dave," she said, "did the deakin really say—<i>that word</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he replied, "if 'twa'n't that it was the puttiest imitation +on't that ever I heard."</p> + +<p>"David," she continued, "don't you think it putty mean to badger the +deakin so't he swore, an' then laugh 'bout it? An' I s'pose you've told +the story all over."</p> + +<p>"Mis' Bixbee," said David emphatically, "if I'd paid good money to see a +funny show I'd be a blamed fool if I didn't laugh, wouldn't I? That +specticle of the deakin cost me consid'able, but it was more'n wuth it. +But," he added, "I guess, the way the thing stands now, I ain't so much +out on the hull."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bixbee looked at him inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Of course, you know Dick Larrabee?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, three four days after the shower, an' the story 'd got aroun' +some—as <i>you</i> say, the deakin <i>is</i> consid'able of a talker—I got holt +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> Dick—I've done him some favors an' he natur'ly expects more—an' I +says to him: 'Dick,' I says, 'I hear 't Deakin Perkins has got a hoss +that don't jest suit him—hain't got knee-action enough at times,' I +says, 'an' mebbe he'll sell him reasonable.' 'I've heerd somethin' about +it,' says Dick, laughin'. 'One of them kind o' hosses 't you don't like +to git ketched out in the rain with,' he says. 'Jes' so,' I says. 'Now,' +I says, 'I've got a notion 't I'd like to own that hoss at a price, an' +that mebbe <i>I</i> c'd git him home even if it did rain. Here's a hunderd +an' ten,' I says, 'an' I want you to see how fur it'll go to buyin' him. +If you git me the hoss you needn't bring none on't back. Want to try?' I +says. 'All right,' he says, an' took the money. 'But,' he says, 'won't +the deakin suspicion that it comes from you?' 'Wa'al,' I says, 'my +portrit ain't on none o' the bills, an' I reckon <i>you</i> won't tell him +so, out an' out,' an' off he went. Yistidy he come in, an' I says, +'Wa'al, done anythin'?' 'The hoss is in your barn,' he says. 'Good fer +you!' I says. 'Did you make anythin'?' 'I'm satisfied,' he says. 'I made +a ten-dollar note.' An' that's the net results on't," concluded David, +"that I've got the hoss, an' he's cost me jest thirty-five dollars."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>Master Jacky Carling was a very nice boy, but not at that time in his +career the safest person to whom to intrust a missive in case its sure +and speedy delivery were a matter of importance. But he protested with +so much earnestness and good will that it should be put into the very +first post-box he came to on his way to school, and that nothing could +induce him to forget it, that Mary Blake, his aunt, confidante and not +unfrequently counsel and advocate, gave it him to post, and dismissed +the matter from her mind. Unfortunately the weather, which had been very +frosty, had changed in the night to a summer-like mildness. As Jacky +opened the door, three or four of his school-fellows were passing. He +felt the softness of the spring morning, and to their injunction to +"Hurry up and come along!" replied with an entreaty to "Wait a minute +till he left his overcoat" (all boys hate an overcoat), and plunged back +into the house.</p> + +<p>If John Lenox (John Knox Lenox) had received Miss Blake's note of +condolence and sympathy, written in reply to his own, wherein, besides +speaking of his bereavement, he had made allusion to some changes in his +prospects and some necessary alterations in his ways for a time, he +might perhaps have read between the lines<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> something more than merely a +kind expression of her sorrow for the trouble which had come upon him, +and the reminder that he had friends who, if they could not do more to +lessen his grief, would give him their truest sympathy. And if some days +later he had received a second note, saying that she and her people were +about to go away for some months, and asking him to come and see them +before their departure, it is possible that very many things set forth +in this narrative would not have happened.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Life had always been made easy for John Lenox, and his was not the +temperament to interpose obstacles to the process. A course at Andover +had been followed by two years at Princeton; but at the end of the +second year it had occurred to him that practical life ought to begin +for him, and he had thought it rather fine of himself to undertake a +clerkship in the office of Rush & Co., where in the ensuing year and a +half or so, though he took his work in moderation, he got a fair +knowledge of accounts and the ways and methods of "the Street." But that +period of it was enough. He found himself not only regretting the +abandonment of his college career, but feeling that the thing for which +he had given it up had been rather a waste of time. He came to the +conclusion that, though he had entered college later than most, even now +a further acquaintance with text-books and professors was more to be +desired than with ledgers and brokers. His father (somewhat to his +wonderment, and possibly a little to his chagrin) seemed rather to +welcome the suggestion that he spend a couple of years in Europe, taking +some lectures at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> Heidelberg or elsewhere, and traveling; and in the +course of that time he acquired a pretty fair working acquaintance with +German, brought his knowledge of French up to about the same point, and +came back at the end of two years with a fine and discriminating taste +in beer, and a scar over his left eyebrow which could be seen if +attention were called to it.</p> + +<p>He started upon his return without any definite intentions or for any +special reason, except that he had gone away for two years and that the +two years were up. He had carried on a desultory correspondence with his +father, who had replied occasionally, rather briefly, but on the whole +affectionately. He had noticed that during the latter part of his stay +abroad the replies had been more than usually irregular, but had +attributed no special significance to the fact. It was not until +afterward that it occurred to him that in all their correspondence his +father had never alluded in any way to his return.</p> + +<p>On the passenger list of the Altruria John came upon the names of Mr. +and Mrs. Julius Carling and Miss Blake.</p> + +<p>"Blake, Blake," he said to himself. "Carling—I seem to remember to have +known that name at some time. It must be little Mary Blake whom I knew +as a small girl years ago, and, yes, Carling was the name of the man her +sister married. Well, well, I wonder what she is like. Of course, I +shouldn't know her from Eve now, or she me from Adam. All I can remember +seems to be a pair of very slim and active legs, a lot of flying hair, a +pair of brownish-gray or grayish-brown eyes, and that I thought her a +very nice girl, as girls went. But it doesn't in the least follow that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +I might think so now, and shipboard is pretty close quarters for seven +or eight days."</p> + +<p>Dinner is by all odds the chief event of the day on board ship to those +who are able to dine, and they will leave all other attractions, even +the surpassingly interesting things which go on in the smoking-room, at +once on the sound of the gong of promise. On this first night of the +voyage the ship was still in smooth water at dinner time, and many a +place was occupied which would know its occupant for the first, and very +possibly for the last, time. The passenger list was fairly large, but +not full. John had assigned to him a seat at a side table. He was +hungry, having had no luncheon but a couple of biscuits and a glass of +"bitter," and was taking his first mouthful of Perrier-Jouet, after the +soup, and scanning the dinner card when the people at his table came in. +The man of the trio was obviously an invalid of the nervous variety, and +the most decided type. The small, dark woman who took the corner seat at +his left was undoubtedly, from the solicitous way in which she adjusted +a small shawl about his shoulders—to his querulous uneasiness—his +wife. There was a good deal of white in the dark hair, brushed smoothly +back from her face.</p> + +<p>A tall girl, with a mass of brown hair under a felt traveling hat, took +the corner seat at the man's right. That was all the detail of her +appearance which the brief glance that John allowed himself revealed to +him at the moment, notwithstanding the justifiable curiosity which he +had with regard to the people with whom he was likely to come more or +less in contact for a number of days. But though their faces, so far as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +he had seen them, were unfamiliar to him, their identity was made plain +to him by the first words which caught his ear. There were two soups on +the <i>menu</i>, and the man's mind instantly poised itself between them.</p> + +<p>"Which soup shall I take?" he asked, turning with a frown of uncertainty +to his wife.</p> + +<p>"I should say the <i>consommé</i>, Julius," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"I thought I should like the broth better," he objected.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it will disagree with you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I had better have the <i>consommé</i>," he argued, looking with +appeal to his wife and then to the girl at his right. "Which would you +take, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I?" said the young woman; "I should take both in my present state of +appetite.—Steward, bring both soups.—What wine shall I order for you, +Julius? I want some champagne, and I prescribe it for you. After your +mental struggle over the soup question you need a quick stimulant."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think a red wine would be better for me?" he asked; "or +perhaps some sauterne? I'm afraid that I sha'n't go to sleep if I drink +champagne. In fact, I don't think I had better take any wine at all. +Perhaps some ginger ale or Apollinaris water."</p> + +<p>"No," she said decisively, "whatever you decide upon, you know that +you'll think whatever I have better for you, and I shall want more than +one glass, and Alice wants some, too. Oh, yes, you do, and I shall order +a quart of champagne.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>—Steward"—giving her order—"please be as quick +as you can."</p> + +<p>John had by this fully identified his neighbors, and the talk which +ensued between them, consisting mostly of controversies between the +invalid and his family over the items of the bill of fare, every course +being discussed as to its probable effect upon his stomach or his +nerves—the question being usually settled with a whimsical +high-handedness by the young woman—gave him a pretty good notion of +their relations and the state of affairs in general. Notwithstanding +Miss Blake's benevolent despotism, the invalid was still wrangling +feebly over some last dish when John rose and went to the smoking room +for his coffee and cigarette.</p> + +<p>When he stumbled out in search of his bath the next morning the steamer +was well out, and rolling and pitching in a way calculated to disturb +the gastric functions of the hardiest. But, after a shower of sea water +and a rub down, he found himself with a feeling for bacon and eggs that +made him proud of himself, and he went in to breakfast to find, rather +to his, surprise, that Miss Blake was before him, looking as +fresh—well, as fresh as a handsome girl of nineteen or twenty and in +perfect health could look. She acknowledged his perfunctory bow as he +took his seat with a stiff little bend of the head; but later on, when +the steward was absent on some order, he elicited a "Thank you!" by +handing her something which he saw she wanted, and, one thing leading to +another, as things have a way of doing where young and attractive people +are concerned, they were presently engaged in an interchange of small +talk, but before John was moved to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> point of disclosing himself on +the warrant of a former acquaintance she had finished her breakfast.</p> + +<p>The weather continued very stormy for two days, and during that time +Miss Blake did not appear at table. At any rate, if she breakfasted +there it was either before or after his appearance, and he learned +afterward that she had taken luncheon and dinner in her sister's room.</p> + +<p>The morning of the third day broke bright and clear. There was a long +swell upon the sea, but the motion of the boat was even and endurable to +all but the most susceptible. As the morning advanced the deck began to +fill with promenaders, and to be lined with chairs, holding wrapped-up +figures, showing faces of all shades of green and gray.</p> + +<p>John, walking for exercise, and at a wholly unnecessary pace, turning at +a sharp angle around the deck house, fairly ran into the girl about whom +he had been wondering for the last two days. She received his somewhat +incoherent apologies, regrets, and self-accusations in such a spirit of +forgiveness that before long they were supplementing their first +conversation with something more personal and satisfactory; and when he +came to the point of saying that half by accident he had found out her +name, and begged to be allowed to tell her his own, she looked at him +with a smile of frank amusement and said: "It is quite unnecessary, Mr. +Lenox. I knew you instantly when I saw you at table the first night; +but," she added mischievously, "I am afraid your memory for people you +have known is not so good as mine."</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, "you will admit, I think,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> that the change from a +little girl in short frocks to a tall young woman in a tailor-made gown +might be more disguising than what might happen with a boy of fifteen or +so. I saw your name in the passenger list with Mr. and Mrs. Carling, and +wondered if it could be the Mary Blake whom I really did remember, and +the first night at dinner, when I heard your sister call Mr. Carling +'Julius,' and heard him call you 'Mary,' I was sure of you. But I hardly +got a fair look at your face, and, indeed, I confess that if I had had +no clew at all I might not have recognized you."</p> + +<p>"I think you would have been quite excusable," she replied, "and whether +you would or would not have known me is 'one of those things that no +fellow can find out,' and isn't of supreme importance anyway. We each +know who the other is now, at all events."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, "I am happy to think that we have come to a conclusion +on that point. But how does it happen that I have heard nothing of you +all these years, or you of me, as I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"For the reason, I fancy," she replied, "that during that period of +short frocks with me my sister married Mr. Carling and took me with her +to Chicago, where Mr. Carling was in business. We have been back in New +York only for the last two or three years."</p> + +<p>"It might have been on the cards that I should come across you in +Europe," said John. "The beaten track is not very broad. How long have +you been over?"</p> + +<p>"Only about six months," she replied. "We have been at one or another of +the German Spas most of the time, as we went abroad for Mr. Carling's +health, and we are on our way home<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> on about such an impulse as that +which started us off—he thinks now that he will be better off there."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you have not derived much pleasure from your European +experiences," said John.</p> + +<p>"Pleasure!" she exclaimed. "If ever you saw a young woman who was glad +and thankful to turn her face toward home, <i>I</i> am that person. I think +that one of the heaviest crosses humanity has to bear is to have +constantly to decide between two or more absolutely trivial conclusions +in one's own affairs; but when one is called upon to multiply one's +useless perplexities by, say, ten, life is really a burden.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," she added after a pause, "you couldn't help hearing our +discussions at dinner the other night, and I have wondered a little what +you must have thought."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I did hear it. Is it the regular thing, if I may ask?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she replied, with a tone of sadness; "it has grown to be."</p> + +<p>"It must be very trying at times," John remarked.</p> + +<p>"It is, indeed," she said, "and would often be unendurable to me if it +were not for my sense of humor, as it would be to my sister if it were +not for her love, for Julius is really a very lovable man, and I, too, +am very fond of him. But I must laugh sometimes, though my better nature +should rather, I suppose, impel me to sighs.'"</p> + +<p>"'A little laughter is much more worth,'" he quoted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>They were leaning upon the rail at the stern of the ship, which was +going with what little wind there was, and a following sea, with which, +as it plunged down the long slopes of the waves, the vessel seemed to be +running a victorious race. The sea was a deep sapphire, and in the wake +the sunlight turned the broken water to vivid emerald. The air was of a +caressing softness, and altogether it was a day and scene of +indescribable beauty and inspiration. For a while there was silence +between them, which John broke at last.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he said, "that one would best show his appreciation of all +this by refraining from the comment which must needs be comparatively +commonplace, but really this is so superb that I must express some of my +emotion even at the risk of lowering your opinion of my good taste, +provided, of course, that you have one."</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, laughing, "it may relieve your mind, if you care, to +know that had you kept silent an instant longer I should have taken the +risk of lowering your opinion of my good taste, provided, of course, +that you have one, by remarking that this was perfectly magnificent."</p> + +<p>"I should think that this would be the sort<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> of day to get Mr. Carling +on deck. This air and sun would brace him up," said John.</p> + +<p>She turned to him with a laugh, and said: "That is the general opinion, +or was two hours ago; but I'm afraid it's out of the question now, +unless we can manage it after luncheon."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked with a puzzled smile at the mixture of +annoyance and amusement visible in her face. "Same old story?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, "same old story. When I went to my breakfast I +called at my sister's room and said, '"Come, boys and girls, come out to +play, the sun doth shine as bright as day," and when I've had my +breakfast I'm coming to lug you both on deck. It's a perfectly glorious +morning, and it will do you both no end of good after being shut up so +long.' 'All right,' my sister answered, 'Julius has quite made up his +mind to go up as soon as he is dressed. You call for us in half an hour, +and we will be ready.'"</p> + +<p>"And wouldn't he come?" John asked; "and why not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," she exclaimed with a laugh and a shrug of her shoulders, "shoes."</p> + +<p>"Shoes!" said John. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Just what I say," was the rejoinder. "When I went back to the room I +found my brother-in-law sitting on the edge of the lounge, or what you +call it, all dressed but his coat, rubbing his chin between his finger +and thumb, and gazing with despairing perplexity at his feet. It seems +that my sister had got past all the other dilemmas, but in a moment of +inadvertence had left the shoe question to him, with the result that he +had put on one russet shoe and one black one,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> and had laced them up +before discovering the discrepancy."</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything very difficult in that situation," remarked John.</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" she said scornfully. "No, I suppose not, but it was quite +enough for Julius, and more than enough for my sister and me. His first +notion was to take off <i>both</i> shoes and begin all over again, and +perhaps if he had been allowed to carry it out he would have been all +right; but Alice was silly enough to suggest the obvious thing to +him—to take off one, and put on the mate to the other—and then the +trouble began. First he was in favor of the black shoes as being thicker +in the sole, and then he reflected that they hadn't been blackened since +coming on board. It seemed to him that the russets were more appropriate +anyway, but the blacks were easier to lace. Had I noticed whether the +men on board were wearing russet or black as a rule, and did Alice +remember whether it was one of the russets or one of the blacks that he +was saying the other day pinched his toe? He didn't quite like the looks +of a russet shoe with dark trousers, and called us to witness that those +he had on were dark; but he thought he remembered that it was the black +shoe which pinched him. He supposed he could change his trousers—and so +on, and so on, <i>al fine</i>, <i>de capo</i>, <i>ad lib.</i>, sticking out first one +foot and then the other, lifting them alternately to his knee for +scrutiny, appealing now to Alice and now to me, and getting more +hopelessly bewildered all the time. It went on that way for, it seemed +to me, at least half an hour, and at last I said, 'Oh, come now, Julius, +take off the brown shoe—it's too thin, and doesn't go with your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> dark +trousers, and pinches your toe, and none of the men are wearing +them—and just put on the other black one, and come along. We're all +suffocating for some fresh air, and if you don't get started pretty soon +we sha'n't get on deck to-day.' 'Get on deck!' he said, looking up at me +with a puzzled expression, and holding fast to the brown shoe on his +knee with both hands, as if he were afraid I would take it away from him +by main strength—'get on deck! Why—why—I believe I'd better not go +out this morning, don't you?'"</p> + +<p>"And then?" said John after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she replied, "I looked at Alice, and she shook her head as much to +say, 'It's no use for the present,' and I fled the place."</p> + +<p>"M'm!" muttered John. "He must have been a nice traveling companion. Has +it been like that all the time?"</p> + +<p>"Most of it," she said, "but not quite all, and this morning was rather +an exaggeration of the regular thing. But getting started on a journey +was usually pretty awful. Once we quite missed our train because he +couldn't make up his mind whether to put on a light overcoat or a heavy +one. I finally settled the question for him, but we were just too late."</p> + +<p>"You must be a very amiable person," remarked John.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I am not," she declared, "but Julius is, and it's almost +impossible to be really put out with him, particularly in his condition. +I have come to believe that he can not help it, and he submits to my +bullying with such sweetness that even my impatience gives way."</p> + +<p>"Have you three people been alone together all the time?" John asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, "except for four or five weeks. We visited some +American friends in Berlin, the Nollises, for a fortnight, and after our +visit to them they traveled with us for three weeks through South +Germany and Switzerland. We parted with them at Metz only about three +weeks since."</p> + +<p>"How did Mr. Carling seem while you were all together?" asked John, +looking keenly at her.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she replied, "he was more like himself than I have seen him for a +long time—since he began to break down, in fact."</p> + +<p>He turned his eyes from her face as she looked up at him, and as he did +not speak she said suggestively, "You are thinking something you don't +quite like to say, but I think I know pretty nearly what it is."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said John, with a query.</p> + +<p>"You think he has had too much feminine companionship, or had it too +exclusively. Is that it? You need not be afraid to say so."</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, "if you put it 'too exclusively,' I will admit that +there was something of the sort in my mind, and," he added, "if you will +let me say so, it must at times have been rather hard for him to be +interested or amused—that it must have—that is to say—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>say</i> it!" she exclaimed. "It must have been very <i>dull</i> for him. +Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"'Father,'" said John with a grimace, "'I can not tell a lie!'"</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, laughing, "your hatchet isn't very sharp. I forgive you. +But really," she added, "I know it has been. You will laugh when I tell +you the one particular resource we fell back upon."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Bid me to laugh, and I will laugh," said John.</p> + +<p>"Euchre!" she said, looking at him defiantly. "Two-handed euchre! We +have played, as nearly as I can estimate, fifteen hundred games, in +which he has held both bowers and the ace of trumps—or something +equally victorious—I should say fourteen hundred times. Oh!" she +cried, with an expression of loathing, "may I never, never, never see a +card again as long as I live!" John laughed without restraint, and after +a petulant little <i>moue</i> she joined him.</p> + +<p>"May I light up my pipe?" he said. "I will get to leeward."</p> + +<p>"I shall not mind in the least," she assented.</p> + +<p>"By the way," he asked, "does Mr. Carling smoke?"</p> + +<p>"He used to," she replied, "and while we were with the Nollises he +smoked every day, but after we left them he fell back into the notion +that it was bad for him."</p> + +<p>John filled and lighted his pipe in silence, and after a satisfactory +puff or two said: "Will Mr. Carling go in to dinner to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, "I think he will if it is no rougher than at +present."</p> + +<p>"It will probably be smoother," said John. "You must introduce me to +him—"</p> + +<p>"Oh," she interrupted, "of course, but it will hardly be necessary, as +Alice and I have spoken so often to him of you—"</p> + +<p>"I was going to say," John resumed, "that he may possibly let me take +him off your hands a little, and after dinner will be the best time. I +think if I can get him into the smoking room that a cigar +and—and—something hot with a bit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> of lemon peel and so forth later on +may induce him to visit with me for a while, and pass the evening, or +part of it."</p> + +<p>"You want to be an angel!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I—we—shall be so +obliged. I know it's just what he wants—some <i>man</i> to take him in +hand."</p> + +<p>"I'm in no hurry to be an angel," said John, laughing, and, with a bow, +"It's better sometimes to be <i>near</i> the rose than to <i>be</i> the rose, and +you are proposing to overpay me quite. I shall enjoy doing what I +proposed, if it be possible."</p> + +<p>Their talk then drifted off into various channels as topics suggested +themselves until the ship's bell sounded the luncheon hour. Miss Blake +went to join her sister and brother-in-law, but John had some bread and +cheese and beer in the smoking room. It appeared that the ladies had +better success than in the morning, for he saw them later on in their +steamer chairs with Mr. Carling, who was huddled in many wraps, with the +flaps of his cap down over his ears. All the chairs were full—his own +included (as happens to easy-tempered men)—and he had only a brief +colloquy with the party. He noticed, however, that Mr. Carling had on +the russet shoes, and wondered if they pinched him. In fact, though he +couldn't have said exactly why, he rather hoped that they did. He had +just that sympathy for the nerves of two-and-fifty which is to be +expected from those of five-and-twenty—that is, very little.</p> + +<p>When he went in to dinner the Carlings and Miss Blake had been at table +some minutes. There had been the usual controversy about what Mr. +Carling would drink with his dinner, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> had decided upon +Apollinaris water. But Miss Blake, with an idea of her own, had given an +order for champagne, and was exhibiting some consternation, real or +assumed, at the fact of having a whole bottle brought in with the cork +extracted—a customary trick at sea.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will help me out," she said to John as he bowed and seated +himself. "'Some one has blundered,' and here is a whole bottle of +champagne which must be drunk to save it. Are you prepared to help turn +my, or somebody's, blunder into hospitality?"</p> + +<p>"I am prepared to make any sacrifice," said John, laughing, "in the +sacred cause."</p> + +<p>"No less than I expected of you," she said. "<i>Noblesse oblige!</i> Please +fill your glass."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said John. "Permit me," and he filled her own as well.</p> + +<p>As the meal proceeded there was some desultory talk about the weather, +the ship's run, and so on; but Mrs. Carling was almost silent, and her +husband said but little more. Even Miss Blake seemed to have something +on her mind, and contributed but little to the conversation. Presently +Mr. Carling said, "Mary, do you think a mouthful of wine would hurt me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," was the reply. "It will do you good," reaching over for +his glass and pouring the wine.</p> + +<p>"That's enough, that's enough!" he protested as the foam came up to the +rim of the glass. She proceeded to fill it up to the brim and put it +beside him, and later, as she had opportunity, kept it replenished.</p> + +<p>As the dinner concluded, John said to Mr. Carling: "Won't you go up to +the smoking room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> with me for coffee? I like a bit of tobacco with mine, +and I have some really good cigars and some cigarettes—if you prefer +them—that I can vouch for."</p> + +<p>As usual, when the unexpected was presented to his mind, Mr. Carling +passed the perplexity on to his women-folk. At this time, however, his +dinner and the two glasses of wine which Miss Blake had contrived that +he should swallow had braced him up, and John's suggestion was so warmly +seconded by the ladies that, after some feeble protests and misgivings, +he yielded, and John carried him off.</p> + +<p>"I hope it won't upset Julius," said Mrs. Carling doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"It won't do anything of the sort," her sister replied. "He will get +through the evening without worrying himself and you into fits, and, if +Mr. Lenox succeeds, you won't see anything of him till ten o'clock or +after, and not then, I hope. Mind, you're to be sound asleep when he +comes in—snore a little if necessary—and let him get to bed without +any talk at all."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say 'if Mr. Lenox succeeds'?" asked Mrs. Carling.</p> + +<p>"It was his suggestion," Miss Blake answered. "We had been talking about +Julius, and he finally told me he thought he would be the better of an +occasional interval of masculine society, and I quite agreed with him. +You know how much he enjoyed being with George Nollis, and how much like +himself he appeared."</p> + +<p>"That is true," said Mrs. Carling.</p> + +<p>"And you know that just as soon as he got alone again with us two women +he began backing and filling as badly as ever. I believe Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> Lenox is +right, and that Julius is just petticoated to death between us."</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Lenox say that?" asked Mrs. Carling incredulously.</p> + +<p>"No," said her sister, laughing, "he didn't make use of precisely that +figure, but that was what he thought plainly enough."</p> + +<p>"What do you think of Mr. Lenox?" said Mrs. Carling irrelevantly. "Do +you like him? I thought that he looked at you very admiringly once or +twice to-night," she added, with her eyes on her sister's face.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mary, with a petulant toss of the head, "except that I've +had about an hour's talk with him, and that I knew him when we were +children—at least when I was a child—he is a perfect stranger to me, +and I do wish," she added in a tone of annoyance, "that you would give +up that fad of yours, that every man who comes along is going to—to—be +a nuisance."</p> + +<p>"He seems very pleasant," said Mrs. Carling, meekly ignoring her +sister's reproach.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she replied indifferently, "he's pleasant enough. Let us go +up and have a walk on deck. I want you to be sound asleep when Julius +comes in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>John found his humane experiment pleasanter than he expected. Mr. +Carling, as was to be anticipated, demurred a little at the coffee, and +still more at the cigarette; but having his appetite for tobacco +aroused, and finding that no alarming symptoms ensued, he followed it +with a cigar and later on was induced to go the length of "Scotch and +soda," under the pleasant effect of which—and John's sympathetic +efforts—he was for the time transformed, the younger man being +surprised to find him a man of interesting experience, considerable +reading, and, what was most surprising, a jolly sense of humor and a +fund of anecdotes which he related extremely well. The evening was a +decided success, perhaps the best evidence of it coming at the last, +when, at John's suggestion that they supplement their modest potations +with a "night-cap," Mr. Carling cheerfully assented upon the condition +that they should "have it with him"; and as he went along the deck after +saying "Good night," John was positive that he heard a whistled tune.</p> + +<p>The next day was equally fine, but during the night the ship had run +into the swell of a storm, and in the morning there was more motion than +the weaker ones could relish. The sea grew quieter as the day advanced. +John was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> early, and finished his breakfast before Miss Blake came in. +He found her on deck about ten o'clock. She gave him her hand as they +said good morning, and he turned and walked by her side.</p> + +<p>"How is your brother-in-law this morning?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, laughing, "he's in a mixture of feeling very well and +feeling that he ought not to feel so, but, as they are coming up pretty +soon, it would appear that the misgivings are not overwhelming. He came +in last night, and retired without saying a word. My sister pretended to +be asleep. She says he went to sleep at once, and that she was awake at +intervals and knows that he slept like a top. He won't make any very +sweeping admissions, however, but has gone so far as to concede that he +had a very pleasant evening—which is going a long way for him—and to +say that you are a very agreeable young man. There! I didn't intend to +tell you that, but you have been so good that perhaps so much as a +second-hand compliment is no more than your due."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," said John. "Mr. Carling is evidently a very +discriminating person. Really it wasn't good of me at all. I was quite +the gainer, for he entertained me more than I did him. We had a very +pleasant evening, and I hope we shall have more of them, I do, indeed. I +got an entirely different impression of him," he added.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "I can imagine that you did. He can be very agreeable, +and he is really a man of a great deal of character when he is himself. +He has been goodness itself to me, and has managed my affairs for years. +Even to-day his judg<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>ment in business matters is wonderfully sound. If +it had not been for him," she continued, "I don't know but I should have +been a pauper. My father left a large estate, but he died very suddenly, +and his affairs were very much spread out and involved and had to be +carried along. Julius put himself into the breach, and not only saved +our fortunes, but has considerably increased them. Of course, Alice is +his wife, but I feel very grateful to him on my own account. I did not +altogether appreciate it at the time, but now I shudder to think that I +might have had either to 'fend for myself' or be dependent."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that dependence would have suited your book," was John's +comment as he took in the lines of her clear-cut face.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, "and I thank heaven that I have not had to endure it. +I am not," she added, "so impressed with what money procures for people +as what it saves them from."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, "I think your distinction is just. To possess it is to +be free from some of the most disagreeable apprehensions certainly, but +I confess, whether to my credit or my shame I don't know, I have never +thought much about it. I certainly am not rich positively, and I haven't +the faintest notion whether I may or not be prospectively. I have always +had as much as I really needed, and perhaps more, but I know absolutely +nothing about the future." They were leaning over the rail on the port +side.</p> + +<p>"I should think," she said after a moment, looking at him thoughtfully, +"that it was, if you will not think me presuming, a matter about which +you might have some justifiable curiosity."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not at all," he assured her, stepping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> to leeward and producing a +cigar. "I have had some stirrings of late. And please don't think me an +incorrigible idler. I spent nearly two years in a down-town office and +earned—well, say half my salary. In fact, my business instincts were so +strong that I left college after my second year for that purpose, but +seeing no special chance of advancement in the race for wealth, and as +my father seemed rather to welcome the idea, I broke off and went over +to Germany. I haven't been quite idle, though I should be puzzled, I +admit, to find a market for what I have to offer to the world. Would you +be interested in a schedule of my accomplishments."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, "I should be charmed, but as I am every moment expecting +the advent of my family, and as I am relied upon to locate them and tuck +them up, I'm afraid I shall not have time to hear it."</p> + +<p>"No," he said, laughing, "it's quite too long."</p> + +<p>She was silent for some moments, gazing down into the water, apparently +debating something in her mind, and quite unconscious of John's +scrutiny. Finally she turned to him with a little laugh. "You might +begin on your list, and if I am called away you can finish it at another +time."</p> + +<p>"I hope you didn't think I was speaking in earnest," he said.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, "I did not think you really intended to unpack your +wares, but, speaking seriously—and at the risk, I fear, that you may +think me rather 'cheeky,' if I may be allowed that expression—I know a +good many men in America, and I think that without an exception they are +professional men or business men, or,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> being neither—and I know but few +such—have a competence or more; and I was wondering just now after what +you told me what a man like you would or could do if he were thrown upon +his own resources. I'm afraid that is rather frank for the acquaintance +of a day, isn't it?" she asked with a slight flush, "but it really is +not so personal as it may sound to you."</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Blake," he replied, "our acquaintance goes back at least +ten years. Please let that fact count for something in your mind. The +truth is, I have done some wondering along that same line myself without +coming to any satisfactory conclusion. I devoutly hope I may not be so +thrown absolutely, for the truth is I haven't a marketable commodity. 'A +little Latin, and less Greek,' German and French enough to read and +understand and talk—on the surface of things—and what mathematics, +history, et cetera, I have not forgotten. I know the piano well enough +to read and play an accompaniment after a fashion, and I have had some +good teaching for the voice, and some experience in singing, at home and +abroad. In fact, I come nearer to a market there, I think, than in any +other direction perhaps. I have given some time to fencing in various +schools, and before I left home Billy Williams would sometimes speak +encouragingly of my progress with the gloves. There! That is my list, +and not a dollar in it from beginning to end, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"Who is Billy Williams?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Billy," said John, "is the very mild-mannered and gentlemanlike +'bouncer' at the Altman House, an ex-prize-fighter, and about the most +accomplished member of his profession of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> his day and weight, who is +employed to keep order and, if necessary, to thrust out the riotous who +would disturb the contemplations of the lovers of art that frequent the +bar of that hotel." It was to be seen that Miss Blake was not +particularly impressed by this description of Billy and his functions, +upon which she made no comment.</p> + +<p>"You have not included in your list," she remarked, "what you acquired +in the down-town office you told me of."</p> + +<p>"No, upon my word I had forgotten that, and it's about the only thing of +use in the whole category," he answered. "If I were put to it, and could +find a place, I think I might earn fifty dollars a month as a clerk or +messenger, or something. Hullo! here are your people."</p> + +<p>He went forward with his companion and greeted Mrs. Carling and her +husband, who returned his "Good morning" with a feeble smile, and +submitted to his ministrations in the matter of chair and rugs with an +air of unresisting invalidism, which was almost too obvious, he thought. +But after luncheon John managed to induce him to walk for a while, to +smoke a cigarette, and finally to brave the perils of a sherry and +bitters before dinner. The ladies had the afternoon to themselves. John +had no chance of a further visit with Mary during the day, a loss only +partially made good to him by a very approving smile and a remark which +she made to him at dinner, that he must be a lineal descendant of the +Samaritan. Mr. Carling submitted himself to him for the evening. Indeed, +it came about that for the rest of the voyage he had rather more of the +company of that gentleman, who fairly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> attached himself to him, than, +under all the circumstances, he cared for; but the gratitude of the +ladies was so cordial that he felt paid for some sacrifices of his +inclinations. And there was an hour or so every morning—for the fine +weather lasted through—which he spent with Mary Blake, with increasing +interest and pleasure, and he found himself inwardly rejoicing over a +mishap to the engine which, though of no very great magnitude, would +retard the passage by a couple of days.</p> + +<p>There can hardly be any conditions more favorable to the forming of +acquaintanceships, friendships, and even more tender relations than are +afforded by the life on board ship. There is opportunity, propinquity, +and the community of interest which breaks down the barriers of ordinary +reserve. These relations, to be sure, are not always of the most lasting +character, and not infrequently are practically ended before the parties +thereto are out of the custom-house officer's hands and fade into +nameless oblivion, unless one happens to run across the passenger list +among one's souvenirs. But there are exceptions. If at this time the +question had been asked our friend, even by himself, whether, to put it +plainly, he were in love with Mary Blake, he would, no doubt, have +strenuously denied it; but it is certain that if any one had said or +intimated that any feature or characteristic of hers was faulty or +susceptible of any change for the better, he would have secretly +disliked that person, and entertained the meanest opinion of that +person's mental and moral attributes. He would have liked the voyage +prolonged indefinitely, or, at any rate, as long as the provisions held +out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>It has been remarked by some one that all mundane things come to an end +sooner or later, and, so far as my experience goes, it bears out that +statement. The engines were successfully repaired, and the ship +eventually came to anchor outside the harbor about eleven o'clock on the +night of the last day. Mary and John were standing together at the +forward rail. There had been but little talk between them, and only of a +desultory and impersonal character. As the anchor chains rattled in the +hawse-pipes, John said, "Well, that ends it."</p> + +<p>"What ends what?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"The voyage, and the holiday, and the episode, and lots of things," he +replied. "We have come to anchor."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "the voyage is over, that is true; but, for my part, if +the last six months can be called a holiday, its end is welcome, and I +should think you might be glad that your holiday is over, too. But I +don't quite understand what you mean by 'the episode and lots of +things.'"</p> + +<p>There was an undertone in her utterance which her companion did not +quite comprehend, though it was obvious to him.</p> + +<p>"The episode of—of—our friendship, if I may call it so," he replied.</p> + +<p>"I call it so," she said decisively. "You have certainly been a friend +to <i>all</i> of us. This episode is over to be sure, but is there any more +than that?"</p> + +<p>"Somebody says that 'friendship is largely a matter of streets,'" said +John gloomily. "To-morrow you will go your way and I shall go mine."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, rather sharply, "that is true enough; but if that +cynical quotation of yours has anything in it, it's equally true, isn't +it, that friendship is a matter of cabs, and street cars, and the +elevated road? Of course, we can hardly be expected to look you up, but +Sixty-ninth Street isn't exactly in California, and the whole question +lies with yourself. I don't know if you care to be told so, but Julius +and my sister like you very much, and will welcome you heartily always."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, very much!" said John, staring straight out in front of him, +and forming a determination that Sixty-ninth Street would see but +precious little of <i>him</i>. She gave a side glance at him as he did not +speak further. There was light enough to see the expression of his +mouth, and she read his thought almost in words. She had thought that +she had detected a suggestion of sentimentality on his part which she +intended to keep strictly in abeyance, but in her intention not to seem +to respond to it she had taken an attitude of coolness and a tone which +was almost sarcastic, and now perceived that, so far as results were +apparent, she had carried matters somewhat further than she intended. +Her heart smote her a little, too, to think that he was hurt. She really +liked him very much, and contritely recalled how kind and thoughtful and +unselfish he had been, and how helpful, and she knew that it had been +almost wholly for her. Yes, she was willing—and glad—to think so. But +while she wished that she had taken a different line at the outset, she +hated desperately to make any concession, and the seconds of their +silence grew into minutes. She stole another glance at his face. It was +plain that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> negotiations for harmony would have to begin with her. +Finally she said in a quiet voice:</p> + +<p>"'Thanks, very much,' is an entirely polite expression, but it isn't +very responsive."</p> + +<p>"I thought it met your cordiality quite half way," was the rejoinder. +"Of course, I am glad to be assured of Mr. and Mrs. Carling's regard, +and that they would be glad to see me, but I think I might have been +justified in hoping that you would go a little further, don't you +think?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her as he asked the question, but she did not turn her +head. Presently she said in a low voice, and slowly, as if weighing her +words:</p> + +<p>"Will it be enough if I say that I shall be very sorry if you do not +come?" He put his left hand upon her right, which was resting on the +rail, and for two seconds she let it stay.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "thanks—very—much!"</p> + +<p>"I must go now," she said, turning toward him, and for a moment she +looked searchingly in his face. "Good night," she said, giving him her +hand, and John looked after her as she walked down the deck, and he knew +how it was with him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>John saw Miss Blake the next morning in the saloon among the passengers +in line for the customs official. It was an easy conjecture that Mr. +Carling's nerves were not up to committing himself to a "declaration" of +any sort, and that Miss Blake was undertaking the duty for the party. He +did not see her again until he had had his luggage passed and turned it +over to an expressman. As he was on his way to leave the wharf he came +across the group, and stopped to greet them and ask if he could be of +service, and was told that their houseman had everything in charge, and +that they were just going to their carriage, which was waiting. "And," +said Miss Blake, "if you are going up town, we can offer you a seat."</p> + +<p>"Sha'n't I discommode you?" he asked. "If you are sure I shall not, I +shall be glad to be taken as far as Madison Avenue and Thirty-third +Street, for I suppose that will be your route."</p> + +<p>"Quite sure," she replied, seconded by the Carlings, and so it happened +that John went directly home instead of going first to his father's +office. The weather was a chilly drizzle, and he was glad to be spared +the discomfort of going about in it with hand-bag, overcoat, and +umbrella, and felt a certain justification in conclud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>ing that, after +two years, a few hours more or less under the circumstances would make +but little difference. And then, too, the prospect of half or +three-quarters of an hour in Miss Blake's company, the Carlings +notwithstanding, was a temptation to be welcomed. But if he had hoped or +expected, as perhaps would have been not unnatural, to discover in that +young woman's air any hint or trace of the feeling she had exhibited, +or, perhaps it should be said, to a degree permitted to show itself, +disappointment was his portion. Her manner was as much in contrast with +that of the last days of their voyage together as the handsome street +dress and hat in which she was attired bore to the dress and headgear of +her steamer costume, and it almost seemed to him as if the contrasts +bore some relation to each other. After the question of the carriage +windows—whether they should be up or down, either or both, and how +much—had been settled, and, as usual in such dilemmas, by Miss Blake, +the drive up town was comparatively a silent one. John's mind was +occupied with sundry reflections and speculations, of many of which his +companion was the subject, and to some extent in noting the changes in +the streets and buildings which an absence of two years made noticeable +to him.</p> + +<p>Mary looked steadily out of window, lost in her own thoughts save for an +occasional brief response to some casual comment or remark of John's. +Mr. Carling had muffled himself past all talking, and his wife preserved +the silence which was characteristic of her when unurged.</p> + +<p>John was set down at Thirty-third Street, and, as he made his adieus, +Mrs. Carling said, "Do come and see us as soon as you can, Mr. Lenox";<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +but Miss Blake simply said "Good-by" as she gave him her hand for an +instant, and he went on to his father's house.</p> + +<p>He let himself in with the latch-key which he had carried through all +his absence, but was at once encountered by Jeffrey, who, with his wife, +had for years constituted the domestic staff of the Lenox household.</p> + +<p>"Well, Jeff," said John, as he shook hands heartily with the old +servant, "how are you? and how is Ann? You don't look a day older, and +the climate seems to agree with you, eh?"</p> + +<p>"You're welcome home, Mr. John," replied Jeffrey, "and thank you, sir. +Me and Ann is very well, sir. It's a pleasure to see you again and home. +It is, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Jeff," said John. "It's rather nice to be back. Is my room +ready?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Jeffrey, "I think it's all right, though we thought +that maybe it 'd be later in the day when you got here, sir. We thought +maybe you'd go to Mr. Lenox's office first."</p> + +<p>"I did intend to," said John, mounting the stairs, followed by Jeffrey +with his bag, "but I had a chance to drive up with some friends, and the +day is so beastly that I took advantage of it. How is my father?" he +asked after entering the chamber, which struck him as being so strangely +familiar and so familiarly strange.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said Jeffrey, "he's much about the same most ways, and then +again he's different, too. Seeing him every day, perhaps I wouldn't +notice so much; but if I was to say that he's kind of quieter, perhaps +that'd be what I mean, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, smiling, "my father was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> about the quietest person I +ever knew, and if he's grown more so—what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," replied the man, "I notice at table, sir, for one thing. +We've been alone here off and on a good bit, sir, and he used always to +have a pleasant word or two to say to me, and may be to ask me questions +and that, sir; but for a long time lately he hardly seems to notice me. +Of course, there ain't any need of his saying anything, because I know +all he wants, seeing I've waited on him so long, but it's different in a +way, sir."</p> + +<p>"Does he go out in the evening to his club?" asked John.</p> + +<p>"Very rarely, sir," said Jeffrey. "He mostly goes to his room after +dinner, an' oftentimes I hear him walking up an' down, up an' down, and, +sir," he added, "you know he often used to have some of his friends to +dine with him, and that ain't happened in, I should guess, for a year."</p> + +<p>"Have things gone wrong with him in any way?" said John, a sudden +anxiety overcoming some reluctance to question a servant on such a +subject.</p> + +<p>"You mean about business, and such like?" replied Jeffrey. "No, sir, not +so far as I know. You know, Mr. John, sir, that I pay all the house +accounts, and there hasn't never been no—no shortness, as I might say, +but we're living a bit simpler than we used to—in the matter of wine +and such like—and, as I told you, we don't have comp'ny no more."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" asked John, with some relief.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," was the reply, "perhaps it's because Mr. Lenox is getting +older and don't care so much about such things, but I have noticed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> that +he hasn't had anything new from the tailor in a long time, and really, +sir, though perhaps I oughtn't to say it, his things is getting a bit +shabby, sir, and he used to be always so partic'lar."</p> + +<p>John got up and walked over to the window which looked out at the rear +of the house. The words of the old servant disquieted him, +notwithstanding that there was nothing so far that could not be +accounted for without alarm. Jeffrey waited for a moment and then asked:</p> + +<p>"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. John? Will you be having +luncheon here, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Jeff," said John; "nothing more now, and I will lunch +here. I'll come down and see Ann presently."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," said Jeffrey, and withdrew.</p> + +<p>The view from the back windows of most city houses is not calculated to +arouse enthusiasm at the best of times, and the day was singularly +dispiriting: a sky of lead and a drizzling rain, which emphasized the +squalor of the back yards in view. It was all very depressing. Jeffrey's +talk, though inconclusive, had stirred in John's mind an uneasiness +which was near to apprehension. He turned and walked about the familiar +room, recognizing the well-known furniture, his mother's picture over +the mantel, the bookshelves filled with his boyhood's accumulations, the +well-remembered pattern of the carpet, and the wall-paper—nothing was +changed. It was all as he had left it two years ago, and for the time it +seemed as if he had merely dreamed the life and experiences of those +years. Indeed, it was with difficulty that he recalled any of them for +the moment. And then suddenly there came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> into his mind the thought that +he was at the beginning of a new epoch—that on this day his boyhood +ended, for up to then he had been but a boy. The thought was very vivid. +It had come, the time when he must take upon himself the +responsibilities of his own life, and make it for himself; the time +which he had looked forward to as to come some day, but not hitherto at +any particular moment, and so not to be very seriously considered.</p> + +<p>It has been said that life had always been made easy for him, and that +he had accepted the situation without protest. To easy-going natures the +thought of any radical change in the current of affairs is usually +unwelcome, but he was too young to find it really repugnant; and then, +too, as he walked about the room with his hands in his pockets, it was +further revealed to him that he had recently found a motive and impulse +such as he had never had before. He recalled the talk that he had had +with the companion of his voyage. He thought of her as one who could be +tender to misfortune and charitable to incapacity, but who would have +nothing but scorn for shiftlessness and malingering; and he realized +that he had never cared for anything as for the good opinion of that +young woman. No, there should be for him no more sauntering in the vales +and groves, no more of loitering or dallying. He would take his place in +the working world, and perhaps—some day—</p> + +<p>A thought came to him with the impact of a blow: What could he do? What +work was there for him? How could he pull his weight in the boat? All +his life he had depended upon some one else, with easy-going +thoughtlessness. Hard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>ly had it ever really occurred to him that he +might have to make a career for himself. Of business he had thought as +something which he should undertake some time, but it was always a +business ready made to his hand, with plenty of capital not of his own +acquiring—something for occupation, not of necessity. It came home to +him that his father was his only resource, and that of his father's +affairs he knew next to nothing.</p> + +<p>In addition to his affection for him, he had always had an unquestioning +confidence in his father. It was his earliest recollection, and he still +retained it to almost a childish extent. There had always been plenty. +His own allowance, from time to time increased, though never +extravagant, had always been ample, and on the one occasion when he had +grievously exceeded it the excess had been paid with no more protest +than a gentle "I think you ought not to have done this." The two had +lived together when John was at home without ostentation or any +appearance of style, but with every essential of luxury. The house and +its furnishings were old-fashioned, but everything was of the best, and +when three or four of the elder man's friends would come to dine, as +happened occasionally, the contents of the cellar made them look at each +other over their glasses. Mr. Lenox was very reticent in all matters +relating to himself, and in his talks with his son, which were mostly at +the table, rarely spoke of business matters in general, and almost never +of his own. He had read well, and was fond of talking of his reading +when he felt in the vein of talking, which was not always; but John had +invariably found him ready with comment and sympathy upon the topics in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +which he himself had interest, and there was a strong if undemonstrative +affection between the father and son.</p> + +<p>It was not strange, perhaps, all things considered, that John had come +even to nearly six-and-twenty with no more settled intentions; that his +boyhood should have been so long. He was not at all of a reckless +disposition, and, notwithstanding the desultory way in which he had +spent time, he had strong mental and moral fiber, and was capable of +feeling deeply and enduringly. He had been desultory, but never before +had he had much reason or warning against it. But now, he reflected, a +time had come. Work he must, if only for work's sake, and work he would; +and there was a touch of self-reproach in the thought of his father's +increasing years and of his lonely life. He might have been a help and a +companion during those two years of his not very fruitful European +sojourn, and he would lose no time in finding out what there was for him +to do, and in setting about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p>The day seemed very long. He ate his luncheon, having first paid a visit +to Ann, who gave him an effusive welcome. Jeffrey waited, and during the +meal they had some further talk, and among other things John said to +him, "Does my father dress for dinner nowadays?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," was the reply, "I don't know when I've seen your father in +his evenin' clothes, sir. Not for a long time, and then maybe two or +three times the past year when he was going out to dinner, but not here, +sir. Maybe it'll be different now you're back again, sir."</p> + +<p>After luncheon John's luggage arrived, and he superintended the +unpacking, but that employment was comparatively brief. The day dragged +with him. Truly his home-coming was rather a dreary affair. How +different had been yesterday, and the day before, and all those days +before when he had so enjoyed the ship life, and most of all the daily +hour or more of the companionship which had grown to be of such +surpassing interest to him, and now seemed so utterly a thing of the +past.</p> + +<p>Of course, he should see her again. (He put aside a wonder if it would +be within the proprieties on that evening or, at latest, the next.) But, +in any case, "the episode," as he had said to her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> was done, and it had +been very pleasant—oh, yes, very dear to him. He wondered if she was +finding the day as interminable as it seemed to him, and if the interval +before they saw each other again would seem as long as his impatience +would make it for him. Finally, the restless dullness became +intolerable. He sallied forth into the weather and went to his club, +having been on non-resident footing during his absence, and, finding +some men whom he knew, spent there the rest of the afternoon.</p> + +<p>His father was at home and in his room when John got back.</p> + +<p>"Well, father," he said, "the prodigal has returned."</p> + +<p>"He is very welcome," was the reply, as the elder man took both his +son's hands and looked at him affectionately. "You seem very well."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John; "and how are you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"About as usual, I think," said Mr. Lenox.</p> + +<p>They looked at each other for a moment in silence. John thought that his +father seemed thinner than formerly, and he had instantly observed that +a white beard covered the always hitherto smooth-shaven chin, but he +made no comment.</p> + +<p>"The old place appears very familiar," he remarked. "Nothing is changed +or even moved, as I can see, and Ann and Jeff are just the same old +sixpences as ever."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said his father, "two years make less difference with old people +and their old habits than with young ones. You will have changed more +than we have, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"Do we dress for dinner?" asked John, after some little more unimportant +talk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said his father, "in honor of the occasion, if you like. I +haven't done it lately," he added, a little wearily.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"I haven't had such a glass of wine since I left home," John remarked as +they sat together after dinner.</p> + +<p>"No," said his father, looking thoughtfully at his glass, "it's the old +'Mouton,' and pretty nearly the last of it; it's very old and wants +drinking," he observed as he held his glass up to get the color. "It has +gone off a bit even in two years."</p> + +<p>"All right," said John cheerfully, "we'll drink it to save it, if needs +be." The elder man smiled and filled both glasses.</p> + +<p>There had been more or less talk during the meal, but nothing of special +moment. John sat back in his chair, absently twirling the stem of his +glass between thumb and fingers. Presently he said, looking straight +before him at the table: "I have been thinking a good deal of late—more +than ever before, positively, in fact—that whatever my prospects may +be," (he did not see the momentary contraction of his father's brow) "I +ought to begin some sort of a career in earnest. I'm afraid," he +continued, "that I have been rather unmindful, and that I might have +been of some use to you as well as myself if I had stayed at home +instead of spending the last two years in Europe."</p> + +<p>"I trust," said his father, "that they have not been entirely without +profit."</p> + +<p>"No," said John, "perhaps not wholly, but their cash value would not be +large, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"All value is not to be measured in dollars and cents," remarked Mr. +Lenox. "If I could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> have acquired as much German and French as I presume +you have, to say nothing of other things, I should look back upon the +time as well spent at almost any cost. At your age a year or two more or +less—you don't realize it now, but you will if you come to my +age—doesn't count for so very much, and you are not too old," he +smiled, "to begin at a beginning."</p> + +<p>"I want to begin," said John.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said his father, "I want to have you, and I have had the matter a +good deal in my mind. Have you any idea as to what you wish to do?"</p> + +<p>"I thought," said John, "that the most obvious thing would be to go into +your office." Mr. Lenox reached over for the cigar-lamp. His cigar had +gone out, and his hand shook as he applied the flame to it. He did not +reply for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I understand," he said at last. "It would seem the obvious thing to do, +as you say, but," he clicked his teeth together doubtfully, "I don't see +how it can be managed at present, and I don't think it is what I should +desire for you in any case. The fact is," he went on, "my business has +always been a sort of specialty, and, though it is still worth doing +perhaps, it is not what it used to be. Conditions and methods have +changed—and," he added, "I am too old to change with them."</p> + +<p>"I am not," said John.</p> + +<p>"In fact," resumed his father, ignoring John's assertion, "as things are +going now, I couldn't make a place for you in my office unless I +displaced Melig and made you my manager, and for many reasons I couldn't +do that. I am too de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>pendent on Melig. Of course, if you came with me it +would be as a partner, but—"</p> + +<p>"No," said John, "I should be a poor substitute for old Melig for a good +while, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"My idea would be," said Mr. Lenox, "that you should undertake a +profession—say the law. It is a fact that the great majority of men +fail in business, and then most of them, for lack of training or special +aptitude, fall into the ranks of clerks and subordinates. On the other +hand, a man who has a profession—law, medicine, what not—even if he +does not attain high rank, has something on which he can generally get +along, at least after a fashion, and he has the standing. That is my +view of the matter, and though I confess I often wonder at it in +individual cases, it is my advice to you."</p> + +<p>"It would take three or four years to put me where I could earn anything +to speak of," said John, "even providing that I could get any business +at the end of the time."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said his father, "but the time of itself isn't of so much +consequence. You would be living at home, and would have your +allowance—perhaps," he suggested, "somewhat diminished, seeing that you +would be here—"</p> + +<p>"I can get on with half of it," said John confidently.</p> + +<p>"We will settle that matter afterward," said Mr. Lenox.</p> + +<p>They sat in silence for some minutes, John staring thoughtfully at the +table, unconscious of the occasional scrutiny of his father's glance. At +last he said, "Well, sir, I will do anything that you advise."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have you anything to urge against it?" asked Mr. Lenox.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly on my own account," replied John, "though I admit that the +three years or more seems a long time to me, but I have been drawing on +you exclusively all my life, except for the little money I earned in +Rush & Company's office, and—"</p> + +<p>"You have done so, my dear boy," said his father gently, "with my +acquiescence. I may have been wrong, but that is a fact. If in my +judgment the arrangement may be continued for a while longer, and in the +mean time you are making progress toward a definite end, I think you +need have no misgivings. It gratifies me to have you feel as you do, +though it is no more than I should have expected of you, for you have +never caused me any serious anxiety or disappointment, my son."</p> + +<p>Often in the after time did John thank God for that assurance.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," he said, putting down his hand, palm upward, on the +table, and his eyes filled as the elder man laid his hand in his, and +they gave each other a lingering pressure.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lenox divided the last of the wine in the bottle between the two +glasses, and they drank it in silence, as if in pledge.</p> + +<p>"I will go in to see Carey & Carey in the morning, and if they are +agreeable you can see them afterward," said Mr. Lenox. "They are not one +of the great firms, but they have a large and good practice, and they +are friends of mine. Shall I do so?" he asked, looking at his son.</p> + +<p>"If you will be so kind," John replied, returning his look. And so the +matter was concluded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p>This history will not concern itself to any extent with our friend's +career as a law clerk, though, as he promised himself, he took it +seriously and laboriously while it lasted, notwithstanding that after +two years of being his own master, and the rather desultory and +altogether congenial life he had led, he found it at first even more +irksome than he had fancied. The novice penetrates but slowly the +mysteries of the law, and, unless he be of unusual aptitude and +imagination, the interesting and remunerative part seems for a long time +very far off. But John stuck manfully to the reading, and was diligent +in all that was put upon him to do; and after a while the days spent in +the office and in the work appointed to him began to pass more quickly.</p> + +<p>He restrained his impulse to call at Sixty-ninth Street until what +seemed to him a fitting interval had elapsed; one which was longer than +it would otherwise have been, from an instinct of shyness not habitual +to him, and a distrustful apprehension that perhaps his advent was not +of so much moment to the people there as to him. But their greeting was +so cordial on every hand that Mrs. Carling's remark that they had been +almost afraid he had forgotten them embarrassed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> while it pleased him, +and his explanations were somewhat lame. Miss Blake, as usual, came to +the rescue, though John's disconcert was not lessened by the suspicion +that she saw through his inventions. He had conceived a great opinion of +that young person's penetration.</p> + +<p>His talk for a while was mostly with Mr. Carling, who was in a pleasant +mood, being, like most nervous people, at his best in the evening. Mary +made an occasional contributory remark, and Mrs. Carling, as was her +wont, was silent except when appealed to. Finally, Mr. Carling rose and, +putting out his hand, said: "I think I will excuse myself, if you will +permit me. I have had to be down town to-day, and am rather tired." Mrs. +Carling followed him, saying to John as she bade him good night: "Do +come, Mr. Lenox, whenever you feel like it. We are very quiet people, +and are almost always at home."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mrs. Carling," responded John, with much sincerity. "I shall +be most glad to. I am so quiet myself as to be practically noiseless."</p> + +<p>The hall of the Carlings' house was their favorite sitting place in the +evening. It ran nearly the whole depth of the house, and had a wide +fireplace at the end. The further right hand portion was recessed by the +stairway, which rose from about the middle of its length.</p> + +<p>Miss Blake sat in a low chair, and John took its fellow at the other +angle of the fireplace, which contained the smoldering remnant of a wood +fire. She had a bit of embroidery stretched over a circular frame like a +drum-head. Needlework was not a passion with her, but it was understood +in the Carling household that in course of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> time a set of table doilies +of elaborate devices in colored silks would be forthcoming. It has been +deplored by some philosopher that custom does not sanction such little +occupations for masculine hands. It would be interesting to speculate +how many embarrassing or disastrous consequences might have been averted +if at a critical point in a negotiation or controversy a needle had had +to be threaded or a dropped stitch taken up before a reply was made, to +say nothing of an excuse for averting features at times without +confession of confusion.</p> + +<p>The great and wise Charles Reade tells how his hero, who had an island, +a treasure ship, and a few other trifles of the sort to dispose of, +insisted upon Captain Fullalove's throwing away the stick he was +whittling, as giving the captain an unfair advantage. The value of the +embroidered doily as an article of table napery may be open to question, +but its value, in an unfinished state, as an adjunct to discreet +conversation, is beyond all dispute.</p> + +<p>"Ought I to say good night?" asked John with a smile, as he seated +himself on the disappearance of Mr. and Mrs. Carling.</p> + +<p>"I don't see any reason," she replied. "It isn't late. Julius is in one +of his periods of retiring early just now. By and by he will be sure to +take up the idea again that his best sleep is after midnight. At present +he is on the theory that it is before twelve o'clock."</p> + +<p>"How has he been since your return?" John asked.</p> + +<p>"Better in some ways, I think," she replied. "He seems to enjoy the home +life in contrast with the traveling about and living in hotels; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +then, in a moderate way, he is obliged to give some attention to +business matters, and to come in contact with men and affairs +generally."</p> + +<p>"And you?" said John. "You find it pleasant to be back?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "I do. As my sister said, we are quiet people. She goes +out so little that it is almost not at all, and when I go it has nearly +always to be with some one else. And then, you know that while Alice and +I are originally New Yorkers, we have only been back here for two or +three years. Most of the people, really, to whose houses we go are those +who knew my father. But," she added, "it is a comfort not to be carrying +about a traveling bag in one hand and a weight of responsibility in the +other."</p> + +<p>"I should think," said John, laughing, "that your maid might have taken +the bag, even if she couldn't carry your responsibilities."</p> + +<p>"No," she said, joining in his laugh, "that particular bag was too +precious, and Eliza was one of my most serious responsibilities. She had +to be looked after like the luggage, and I used to wish at times that +she could be labeled and go in the van. How has it been with you since +your return? and," as she separated a needleful of silk from what seemed +an inextricable tangle, "if I may ask, what have you been doing? I was +recalling," she added, putting the silk into the needle, "some things +you said to me on the Altruria. Do you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," said John. "I think I remember every word said on both +sides, and I have thought very often of some things you said to me. In +fact, they had more influence upon my mind than you imagined."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>She turned her work so that the light would fall a little more directly +upon it.</p> + +<p>"Really?" she asked. "In what way?"</p> + +<p>"You put in a drop or two that crystallized the whole solution," he +answered. She looked up at him inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I always knew that I should have to stop drifting some +time, but there never seemed to be any particular time. Some things you +said to me set the time. I am under 'full steam a-head' at present. +Behold in me," he exclaimed, touching his breast, "the future chief of +the Supreme Court of the United States, of whom you shall say some time +in the next brief interval of forty years or so, 'I knew him as a young +man, and one for whom no one would have predicted such eminence!' and +perhaps you will add, 'It was largely owing to me.'"</p> + +<p>She looked at him with an expression in which amusement and curiosity +were blended.</p> + +<p>"I congratulate you," she said, laughing, "upon the career in which it +appears I had the honor to start you. Am I being told that you have +taken up the law?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite the whole of it as yet," he said; "but when I am not doing +errands for the office I am to some extent taken up with it," and then +he told her of his talk with his father and what had followed. She +overcame a refractory kink in her silk before speaking.</p> + +<p>"It takes a long time, doesn't it, and do you like it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, laughing a little, "a weaker word than 'fascinating' +would describe the pursuit, but I hope with diligence to reach some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> of +the interesting features in the course of ten or twelve years."</p> + +<p>"It is delightful," she remarked, scrutinizing the pattern of her work, +"to encounter such enthusiasm."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?" said John, not in the least wounded by her sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"Very much so," she replied, "but I have always understood that it is a +mistake to be too sanguine."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'd better make it fifteen years, then," he said, laughing. "I +should have a choice of professions by that time at any rate. You know +the proverb that 'At forty every man is either a fool or a physician.'" +She looked at him with a smile. "Yes," he said, "I realize the +alternative." She laughed a little, but did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Seriously," he continued, "I know that in everything worth +accomplishing there is a lot of drudgery to be gone through with at the +first, and perhaps it seems the more irksome to me because I have been +so long idly my own master. However," he added, "I shall get down to it, +or up to it, after a while, I dare say. That is my intention, at any +rate."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I have ever wished that I were a man," she said after a +moment, "but I often find myself envying a man's opportunities."</p> + +<p>"Do not women have opportunities, too?" he said. "Certainly they have +greatly to do with the determination of affairs."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she replied, "it is the usual answer that woman's part is to +influence somebody. As for her own life, it is largely made for her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +She has, for the most part, to take what comes to her by the will of +others."</p> + +<p>"And yet," said John, "I fancy that there has seldom been a great career +in which some woman's help or influence was not a factor."</p> + +<p>"Even granting that," she replied, "the career was the man's, after all, +and the fame and visible reward. A man will sometimes say, 'I owe all my +success to my wife, or my mother, or sister,' but he never really +believes it, nor, in fact, does any one else. It is <i>his</i> success, after +all, and the influence of the woman is but a circumstance, real and +powerful though it may be. I am not sure," she added, "that woman's +influence, so called, isn't rather an overrated thing. Women like to +feel that they have it, and men, in matters which they hold lightly, +flatter them by yielding, but I am doubtful if a man ever arrives at or +abandons a settled course or conviction through the influence of a +woman, however exerted."</p> + +<p>"I think you are wrong," said John, "and I feel sure of so much as this: +that a man might often be or do for a woman's sake that which he would +not for its sake or his own."</p> + +<p>"That is quite another thing," she said. "There is in it no question of +influence; it is one of impulse and motive."</p> + +<p>"I have told you to-night," said John, "that what you said to me had +influenced me greatly."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," she replied, "you employed a figure which exactly defined +your condition. You said I supplied the drop which caused the solution +to crystallize—that is, to elaborate your illustration, that it was +already at the point of saturation with your own convictions and +intentions."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I said also," he urged, "that you had set the time for me. Is the idea +unpleasant to you?" he asked after a moment, while he watched her face. +She did not at once reply, but presently she turned to him with slightly +heightened color and said, ignoring his question:</p> + +<p>"Would you rather think that you had done what you thought right because +you so thought, or because some one else wished to have you? Or, I +should say, would you rather think that the right suggestion was +another's than your own?"</p> + +<p>He laughed a little, and said evasively: "You ought to be a lawyer, Miss +Blake. I should hate to have you cross-examine me unless I were very +sure of my evidence."</p> + +<p>She gave a little shrug of her shoulders in reply as she turned and +resumed her embroidery. They talked for a while longer, but of other +things, the discussion of woman's influence having been dropped by +mutual consent.</p> + +<p>After John's departure she suspended operations on the doily, and sat +for a while gazing reflectively into the fire. She was a person as frank +with herself as with others, and with as little vanity as was compatible +with being human, which is to say that, though she was not without it, +it was of the sort which could be gratified but not flattered—in fact, +the sort which flattery wounds rather than pleases. But despite her +apparent skepticism she had not been displeased by John's assertion that +she had influenced him in his course. She had expressed herself truly, +believing that he would have done as he had without her intervention; +but she thought that he was sincere, and it was pleasant to her to have +him think as he did.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>Considering the surroundings and conditions under which she had lived, +she had had her share of the acquaintance and attentions of agreeable +men, but none of them had ever got with her beyond the stage of mere +friendliness. There had never been one whose coming she had particularly +looked forward to, or whose going she had deplored. She had thought of +marriage as something she might come to, but she had promised herself +that it should be on such conditions as were, she was aware, quite +improbable of ever being fulfilled. She would not care for a man because +he was clever and distinguished, but she felt that he must be those +things, and to have, besides, those qualities of character and person +which should attract her. She had known a good many men who were clever +and to some extent distinguished, but none who had attracted her +personally. John Lenox did not strike her as being particularly clever, +and he certainly was not distinguished, nor, she thought, ever very +likely to be; but she had had a pleasure in being with him which she had +never experienced in the society of any other man, and underneath some +boyish ways she divined a strength and steadfastness which could be +relied upon at need. And she admitted to herself that during the ten +days since her return, though she had unsparingly snubbed her sister's +wonderings why he did not call, she had speculated a good deal upon the +subject herself, with a sort of resentful feeling against both herself +and him that she should care—</p> + +<p>Her face flushed as she recalled the momentary pressure of his hand upon +hers on that last night on deck. She rang for the servant, and went up +to her room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p>It is not the purpose of this narrative to dwell minutely upon the +events of the next few months. Truth to say, they were devoid of +incidents of sufficient moment in themselves to warrant chronicle. What +they led up to was memorable enough.</p> + +<p>As time went on John found himself on terms of growing intimacy with the +Carling household, and eventually it came about that if there passed a +day when their door did not open to him it was <i>dies non</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carling was ostensibly more responsible than the ladies for the +frequency of our friend's visits, and grew to look forward to them. In +fact, he seemed to regard them as paid primarily to himself, and ignored +an occasional suggestion on his wife's part that it might not be wholly +the pleasure of a chat and a game at cards with him that brought the +young man so often to the house. And when once she ventured to concern +him with some stirrings of her mind on the subject, he rather testily +(for him) pooh-poohed her misgivings, remarking that Mary was her own +mistress, and, so far as he had ever seen, remarkably well qualified to +regulate her own affairs. Had she ever seen anything to lead her to +suppose that there was any particular sentiment existing between Lenox +and her sister?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Carling, "perhaps not exactly, but you know how those +things go, and he always stays after we come up when she is at home." To +which her husband vouchsafed no reply, but began a protracted wavering +as to the advisability of leaving the steam on or turning it off for the +night, which was a cold one—a dilemma which, involving his personal +welfare or comfort at the moment, permitted no consideration of other +matters to share his mind.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mrs. Carling had not spoken to her sister upon the subject. She thought +that that young woman, if she were not, as Mr. Carling said, "remarkably +well qualified to regulate her own affairs," at least held the opinion +that she was, very strongly.</p> + +<p>The two were devotedly fond of each other, but Mrs. Carling was the +elder by twenty years, and in her love was an element of maternal +solicitude to which her sister, while giving love for love in fullest +measure, did not fully respond. The elder would have liked to share +every thought, but she was neither so strong nor so clever as the girl +to whom she had been almost as a mother, and who, though perfectly +truthful and frank when she was minded to express herself, gave, as a +rule, little satisfaction to attempts to explore her mind, and on some +subjects was capable of meeting such attempts with impatience, not to +say resentment—a fact of which her sister was quite aware. But as time +went on, and the frequency of John's visits and attentions grew into a +settled habit, Mrs. Carling's uneasiness, with which perhaps was mingled +a bit of curiosity, got the better of her reserve, and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> determined +to get what satisfaction could be obtained for it.</p> + +<p>They were sitting in Mrs. Carling's room, which was over the +drawing-room in the front of the house. A fire of cannel blazed in the +grate.</p> + +<p>A furious storm was whirling outside. Mrs. Carling was occupied with +some sort of needlework, and her sister, with a writing pad on her lap, +was composing a letter to a friend with whom she carried on a desultory +and rather one-sided correspondence. Presently she yawned slightly, and, +putting down her pad, went over to the window and looked out.</p> + +<p>"What a day!" she exclaimed. "It seems to get worse and worse. +Positively you can't see across the street. It's like a western +blizzard."</p> + +<p>"It is, really," said Mrs. Carling; and then, moved by the current of +thought which had been passing in her mind of late, "I fancy we shall +spend the evening by ourselves to-night."</p> + +<p>"That would not be so unusual as to be extraordinary, would it?" said +Mary.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it?" suggested Mrs. Carling in a tone that was meant to be +slightly quizzical.</p> + +<p>"We are by ourselves most evenings, are we not?" responded her sister, +without turning around. "Why do you particularize to-night?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking," answered Mrs. Carling, bending a little closer over +her work, "that even Mr. Lenox would hardly venture out in such a storm +unless it were absolutely necessary."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, to be sure, Mr. Lenox; very likely not," was Miss Blake's +comment, in a tone of indifferent recollection.</p> + +<p>"He comes here very often, almost every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> night, in fact," remarked Mrs. +Carling, looking up sideways at her sister's back.</p> + +<p>"Now that you mention it," said Mary dryly, "I have noticed something of +the sort myself."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he ought to?" asked her sister, after a moment of silence.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" said the girl, turning to her questioner for the first time. +"And why should I think he should or should not? Doesn't he come to see +Julius, and on Julius's invitation? I have never asked him—but once," +she said, flushing a little as she recalled the occasion and the wording +of the invitation.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," returned Mrs. Carling, "that his visits are wholly on +Julius's account, and that he would come so often if there were no other +inducement? You know," she continued, pressing her point timidly but +persistently, "he always stays after we go upstairs if you are at home, +and I have noticed that when you are out he always goes before our time +for retiring."</p> + +<p>"I should say," was the rejoinder, "that that was very much the proper +thing. Whether or not he comes here too often is not for me to say—I +have no opinion on the subject. But, to do him justice, he is about the +last man to wait for a tacit dismissal, or to cause you and Julius to +depart from what he knows to be your regular habit out of politeness to +him. He is a person of too much delicacy and good breeding to stay +when—if—that is to say—" She turned again to the window without +completing her sentence, and, though Mrs. Carling thought she could +complete it for her, she wisely forbore. After a moment of silence, Mary +said in a voice devoid of any traces of confusion:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You asked me if I thought Mr. Lenox would come so often if there were +no object in his coming except to see Julius. I can only say that if +Julius were out of the question I think he would come here but seldom; +but," she added, as she left the window and resumed her seat, "I do not +quite see the object of this discussion, and, indeed, I am not quite +sure of what we are discussing. Do you object," she asked, looking +curiously at her sister and smiling slightly, "to Mr. Lenox's coming +here as he does, and if so, why?" This was apparently more direct than +Mrs. Carling was quite prepared for. "And if you do," Mary proceeded, +"what is to be done about it? Am I to make him understand that it is not +considered the proper thing? or will you? or shall we leave it to +Julius?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carling looked up into her sister's face, in which was a smile of +amused penetration, and looked down again in visible embarrassment.</p> + +<p>The young woman laughed as she shook her finger at her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you transparent goose!" she cried. "What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"What did who say?" was the evasive response.</p> + +<p>"Julius," said Mary, putting her finger under her sister's chin and +raising her face. "Tell me now. You've been talking with him, and I +insist upon knowing the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the +truth. So there!"</p> + +<p>"Well," she admitted hesitatingly, "I said to him something like what I +have to you, that it seemed to me that Mr. Lenox came very often, and +that I did not believe it was all on his account, and that he" (won't +somebody please in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>vent another pronoun?) "always stayed when you were +at home—"</p> + +<p>"—and," broke in her sister, "that you were afraid my young affections +were being engaged, and that, after all, we didn't know much if anything +about the young man, or, perhaps, that he was forming a hopeless +attachment, and so on."</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Carling, "I didn't say that exactly. I—"</p> + +<p>"Didn't you, really?" said Mary teasingly. "One ought to be explicit in +such cases, don't you think? Well, what did Julius say? Was he very much +concerned?" Mrs. Carling's face colored faintly under her sister's +raillery, and she gave a little embarrassed laugh.</p> + +<p>"Come, now," said the girl relentlessly, "what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"Well," answered Mrs. Carling, "I must admit that he said 'Pooh!' for +one thing, and that you were your own mistress, and, so far as he had +seen, you were very well qualified to manage your own affairs."</p> + +<p>Her sister clapped her hands. "Such discrimination have I not seen," she +exclaimed, "no, not in Israel! What else did he say?" she demanded, with +a dramatic gesture. "Let us know the worst."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carling laughed a little. "I don't remember," she admitted, "that +he said anything more on the subject. He got into some perplexity about +whether the steam should be off or on, and after that question was +settled we went to bed." Mary laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"So Julius doesn't think I need watching," she said.</p> + +<p>"Mary," protested her sister in a hurt tone,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> "you don't think I ever +did or could watch you? I don't want to pry into your secrets, dear," +and she looked up with tears in her eyes. The girl dropped on her knees +beside her sister and put her arms about her neck.</p> + +<p>"You precious old lamb!" she cried, "I know you don't. You couldn't pry +into anybody's secrets if you tried. You couldn't even try. But I +haven't any, dear, and I'll tell you every one of them, and, rather than +see a tear in your dear eyes, I would tell John Lenox that I never +wanted to see him again; and I don't know what you have been thinking, +but I haven't thought so at all" (which last assertion made even Mrs. +Carling laugh), "and I know that I have been teasing and horrid, and if +you won't put me in the closet I will be good and answer every question +like a nice little girl." Whereupon she gave her sister a kiss and +resumed her seat with an air of abject penitence which lasted for a +minute. Then she laughed again, though there was a watery gleam in her +own eyes. Mrs. Carling gave her a look of great love and admiration.</p> + +<p>"I ought not to have brought up the subject," she said, "knowing as I do +how you feel about such discussions, but I love you so much that +sometimes I can't help—"</p> + +<p>"Alice," exclaimed the girl, "please have the kindness to call me a +selfish P—I—G. It will relieve my feelings."</p> + +<p>"But I do not think you are," said Mrs. Carling literally.</p> + +<p>"But I am at times," declared Mary, "and you deserve not only to have, +but to be shown, all the love and confidence that I can give you. It's +only this, that sometimes your solicitude makes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> you imagine things that +do not exist, and you think I am withholding my confidence; and then, +again, I am enough like other people that I don't always know exactly +what I do think. Now, about this matter—"</p> + +<p>"Don't say a word about it, dear," her sister interrupted, "unless you +would rather than not."</p> + +<p>"I wish to," said Mary. "Of course I am not oblivious of the fact that +Mr. Lenox comes here very often, nor that he seems to like to stay and +talk with me, because, don't you know, if he didn't he could go when you +do, and I don't mind admitting that, as a general thing, I like to have +him stay; but, as I said to you, if it weren't for Julius he would not +come here very often."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think," said Mrs. Carling, now on an assured footing, "that +if it were not for you he would not come so often?"</p> + +<p>Perhaps Mary overestimated the attraction which her brother-in-law had +for Mr. Lenox, and she smiled slightly as she thought that it was quite +possible. "I suppose," she went on, with a little shrug of the +shoulders, "that the proceeding is not strictly conventional, and that +the absolutely correct thing would be for him to say good night when you +and Julius do, and that there are those who would regard my permitting a +young man in no way related to me to see me very often in the evening +without the protection of a duenna as a very unbecoming thing."</p> + +<p>"I never have had such a thought about it," declared Mrs. Carling.</p> + +<p>"I never for a moment supposed you had, dear," said Mary, "nor have I. +We are rather unconventional people, making very few claims<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> upon +society, and upon whom 'society' makes very few."</p> + +<p>"I am rather sorry for that on your account," said her sister.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be," was the rejoinder. "I have no yearnings in that +direction which are not satisfied with what I have." She sat for a +minute or two with her hands clasped upon her knee, gazing reflectively +into the fire, which, in the growing darkness of the winter afternoon, +afforded almost the only light in the room. Presently she became +conscious that her sister was regarding her with an air of expectation, +and resumed: "Leaving the question of the conventions out of the +discussion as settled," she said, "there is nothing, Alice, that you +need have any concern about, either on Mr. Lenox's account or mine."</p> + +<p>"You like him, don't you?" asked Mrs. Carling.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mary frankly, "I like him very much. We have enough in +common to be rather sympathetic, and we differ enough not to be dull, +and so we get on very well. I never had a brother," she continued, after +a momentary pause, "but I feel toward him as I fancy I should feel +toward a brother of about my own age, though he is five or six years +older than I am."</p> + +<p>"You don't think, then," said Mrs. Carling timidly, "that you are +getting to care for him at all?"</p> + +<p>"In the sense that you use the word," was the reply, "not the least in +the world. If there were to come a time when I really believed I should +never see him again, I should be sorry; but if at any time it were a +question of six months or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> a year, I do not think my equanimity would be +particularly disturbed."</p> + +<p>"And how about him?" suggested Mrs. Carling. There was no reply.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think he may care for you, or be getting to?"</p> + +<p>Mary frowned slightly, half closing her eyes and stirring a little +uneasily in her chair.</p> + +<p>"He hasn't said anything to me on the subject," she replied evasively.</p> + +<p>"Would that be necessary?" asked her sister.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," was the reply, "if the fact were very obvious."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?" persisted Mrs. Carling, with unusual tenacity.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the girl, "to be quite frank with you, I have thought once +or twice that he entertained some such idea—that is—no, I don't mean +to put it just that way. I mean that once or twice something has +occurred to give me that idea. That isn't very coherent, is it? But even +if it be so," she went on after a moment, with a wave of her hands, +"what of it? What does it signify? And if it does signify, what can I do +about it?"</p> + +<p>"You have thought about it, then?" said her sister.</p> + +<p>"As much as I have told you," she answered. "I am not a very sentimental +person, I think, and not very much on the lookout for such things, but I +know there is such a thing as a man's taking a fancy to a young woman +under circumstances which bring them often together, and I have been led +to believe that it isn't necessarily fatal to the man even if nothing +comes of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> it. But be that as it may," she said with a shrug of her +shoulders, "what can I do about it? I can't say to Mr. Lenox, 'I think +you ought not to come here so much,' unless I give a reason for it, and +I think we have come to the conclusion that there is no reason except +the danger—to put it in so many words—of his falling in love with me. +I couldn't quite say that to him, could I?"</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not," acquiesced Mrs. Carling faintly.</p> + +<p>"No, I should say not," remarked the girl. "If he were to say anything +to me in the way of—declaration is the word, isn't it?—it would be +another matter. But there is no danger of that."</p> + +<p>"Why not, if he is fond of you?" asked her sister.</p> + +<p>"Because," said Mary, with an emphatic nod, "I won't let him," which +assertion was rather weakened by her adding, "and he wouldn't, if I +would."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," said her sister.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mary, "I don't pretend to know all that goes on in his +mind; but allowing, or rather conjecturing, that he does care for me in +the way you mean, I haven't the least fear of his telling me so, and one +of the reasons is this, that he is wholly dependent upon his father, +with no other prospect for years to come."</p> + +<p>"I had the idea somehow," said Mrs. Carling, "that his father was very +well-to-do. The young man gives one the impression of a person who has +always had everything that he wanted."</p> + +<p>"I think that is so," said Mary, "but he told me one day, coming over on +the steamer, that he knew nothing whatever of his own prospects<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> or his +father's affairs. I don't remember—at least, it doesn't matter—how he +came to say as much, but he did, and afterward gave me a whimsical +catalogue of his acquirements and accomplishments, remarking, I +remember, that 'there was not a dollar in the whole list'; and lately, +though you must not fancy that he discusses his own affairs with me, he +has now and then said something to make me guess that he was somewhat +troubled about them."</p> + +<p>"Is he doing anything?" asked Mrs. Carling.</p> + +<p>"He told me the first evening he called here," said Mary, "that he was +studying law, at his father's suggestion; but I don't remember the name +of the firm in whose office he is."</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't he ask his father about his prospects?" said Mrs. Carling.</p> + +<p>Mary laughed. "You seem to be so much more interested in the matter than +I am," she said, "why don't you ask him yourself?" To which +unjustifiable rejoinder her sister made no reply.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why he shouldn't," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"I think I understand," said Mary. "I fancy from what he has told me +that his father is a singularly reticent man, but one in whom his son +has always had the most implicit confidence. I imagine, too, that until +recently, at any rate, he has taken it for granted that his father was +wealthy. He has not confided any misgivings to me, but if he has any he +is just the sort of person not to ask, and certainly not to press a +question with his father."</p> + +<p>"It would seem like carrying delicacy almost too far," remarked Mrs. +Carling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would," said her sister, "but I think I can understand and +sympathize with it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carling broke the silence which followed for a moment or two as if +she were thinking aloud. "You have plenty of money," she said, and +colored at her inadvertence. Her sister looked at her for an instant +with a humorous smile, and then, as she rose and touched the bell +button, said, "That's another reason."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p>I think it should hardly be imputed to John as a fault or a shortcoming +that he did not for a long time realize his father's failing powers. +True, as has been stated, he had noted some changes in appearance on his +return, but they were not great enough to be startling, and, though he +thought at times that his father's manner was more subdued than he had +ever known it to be, nothing really occurred to arouse his suspicion or +anxiety. After a few days the two men appeared to drop into their +accustomed relation and routine, meeting in the morning and at dinner; +but as John picked up the threads of his acquaintance he usually went +out after dinner, and even when he did not his father went early to his +own apartment.</p> + +<p>From John's childhood he had been much of the time away from home, and +there had never, partly from that circumstance and partly from the older +man's natural and habitual reserve, been very much intimacy between +them. The father did not give his own confidence, and, while always kind +and sympathetic when appealed to, did not ask his son's; and, loving his +father well and loyally, and trusting him implicitly, it did not occur +to John to feel that there was anything wanting in the relation. It was +as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> it had always been. He was accustomed to accept what his father did +or said without question, and, as is very often the case, had always +regarded him as an old man. He had never felt that they could be in the +same equation. In truth, save for their mutual affection, they had +little in common; and if, as may have been the case, his father had any +cravings for a closer and more intimate relation, he made no sign, +acquiescing in his son's actions as the son did in his, without question +or suggestion. They did not know each other, and such cases are not +rare, more is the pity.</p> + +<p>But as time went on even John's unwatchful eye could not fail to notice +that all was not well with his father. Haggard lines were multiplying in +the quiet face, and the silence at the dinner table was often unbroken +except by John's unfruitful efforts to keep some sort of a conversation +in motion. More and more frequently it occurred that his father would +retire to his own room immediately after dinner was over, and the food +on his plate would be almost untouched, while he took more wine than had +ever been his habit. John, retiring late, would often hear him stirring +uneasily in his room, and it would be plain in the morning that he had +spent a wakeful, if not a sleepless, night. Once or twice on such a +morning John had suggested to his father that he should not go down to +the office, and the suggestion had been met with so irritable a negative +as to excite his wonder.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was a day in the latter part of March. The winter had been unusually +severe, and lingered into spring with a heart-sickening tenacity, +oc<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>casional hints of clemency and promise being followed by recurrences +which were as irritating as a personal affront.</p> + +<p>John had held to his work in the office, if not with positive +enthusiasm, at least with industry, and thought that he had made some +progress. On the day in question the managing clerk commented briefly +but favorably on something of his which was satisfactory, and, such +experiences being rare, he was conscious of a feeling of mild elation. +He was also cherishing the anticipation of a call at Sixty-ninth Street, +where, for reasons unnecessary to recount, he had not been for a week. +At dinner that night his father seemed more inclined than for a long +time to keep up a conversation which, though of no special import, was +cheerful in comparison with the silence which had grown to be almost the +rule, and the two men sat for a while over the coffee and cigars. +Presently, however, the elder rose from the table, saying pleasantly, "I +suppose you are going out to-night."</p> + +<p>"Not if you'd like me to stay in," was the reply. "I have no definite +engagement."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Mr. Lenox, "not at all, not at all," and as he passed his +son on the way out of the room he put out his hand and taking John's, +said, "Good night."</p> + +<p>As John stood for a moment rather taken aback, he heard his father mount +the stairs to his room. He was puzzled by the unexpected and unusual +occurrence, but finally concluded that his father, realizing how +taciturn they had become of late, wished to resume their former status, +and this view was confirmed to his mind by the fact that they had been +more companion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>able than usual that evening, albeit that nothing of any +special significance had been said.</p> + +<p>As has been stated, a longer interval than usual had elapsed since +John's last visit to Sixty-ninth Street, a fact which had been commented +on by Mr. Carling, but not mentioned between the ladies. When he found +himself at that hospitable house on that evening, he was greeted by Miss +Blake alone.</p> + +<p>"Julius did not come down to-night, and my sister is with him," she +said, "so you will have to put up with my society—unless you'd like me +to send up for Alice. Julius is strictly <i>en retraite</i>, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Don't disturb her, I beg," protested John, laughing, and wondering a +bit at the touch of coquetry in her speech, something unprecedented in +his experience of her, "if you are willing to put up with my society. I +hope Mr. Carling is not ill?"</p> + +<p>They seated themselves as she replied: "No, nothing serious, I should +say. A bit of a cold, I fancy; and for a fortnight he has been more +nervous than usual. The changes in the weather have been so great and so +abrupt that they have worn upon his nerves. He is getting very uneasy +again. Now, after spending the winter, and when spring is almost at +hand, I believe that if he could make up his mind where to go he would +be for setting off to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Really?" said John, in a tone of dismay.</p> + +<p>"Quite so," she replied with a nod.</p> + +<p>"But," he objected, "it seems too late or too early. Spring may drop in +upon us any day. Isn't this something very recent?"</p> + +<p>"It has been developing for a week or ten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> days," she answered, "and +symptoms have indicated a crisis for some time. In fact," she added, +with a little vexed laugh, "we have talked of nothing for a week but the +advantages and disadvantages of Florida, California, North Carolina, +South Carolina, and Virginia at large; besides St. Augustine, Monterey, +Santa Barbara, Aiken, Asheville, Hot Springs, Old Point Comfort, +Bermuda, and I don't know how many other places, not forgetting Atlantic +City and Lakewood, and only not Barbadoes and the Sandwich Islands +because nobody happened to think of them. Julius," remarked Miss Blake, +"would have given a forenoon to the discussion of the two latter places +as readily as to any of the others."</p> + +<p>"Can't you talk him along into warm weather?" suggested John, with +rather a mirthless laugh. "Don't you think that if the weather were to +change for good, as it's likely to do almost any time now, he might put +off going till the usual summer flitting?"</p> + +<p>"The change in his mind will have to come pretty soon if I am to retain +my mental faculties," she declared. "He might possibly, but I am afraid +not," she said, shaking her head. "He has the idea fixed in his mind, +and considerations of the weather here, while they got him started, are +not now so much the question. He has the moving fever, and I am afraid +it will have to run its course. I think," she said, after a moment, +"that if I were to formulate a special anathema, it would be, 'May +traveling seize you!'"</p> + +<p>"Or restlessness," suggested John.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "that's more accurate, per<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>haps, but it doesn't sound +quite so smart. Julius is in that state of mind when the only place that +seems desirable is somewhere else."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will have to go," said John mournfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she replied, with an air of compulsory resignation. "I shall +not only have to go, of course, but I shall probably have to decide +where in order to save my mind. But it will certainly be somewhere, so I +might as well be packing my trunks."</p> + +<p>"And you will be away indefinitely, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I imagine so."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" John ejaculated in a dismal tone.</p> + +<p>They were sitting as described on a former occasion, and the young woman +was engaged upon the second (perhaps the third, or even the fourth) of +the set of doilies to which she had committed herself. She took some +stitches with a composed air, without responding to her companion's +exclamation.</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully sorry," he said presently, leaning forward with his elbows +on his knees, his hands hanging in an attitude of unmistakable +dejection, and staring fixedly into the fire.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry myself," she said, bending her head a little closer +over her work. "I think I like being in New York in the spring better +than at any other time; and I don't at all fancy the idea of living in +my trunks again for an indefinite period."</p> + +<p>"I shall miss you horribly," he said, turning his face toward her.</p> + +<p>Her eyes opened with a lift of the brows, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> whether the surprise so +indicated was quite genuine is a matter for conjecture.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he declared desperately, "I shall, indeed."</p> + +<p>"I should fancy you must have plenty of other friends," she said, +flushing a little, "and I have wondered sometimes whether Julius's +demands upon you were not more confident than warrantable, and whether +you wouldn't often rather have gone elsewhere than to come here to play +cards with him." She actually said this as if she meant it.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose—" he exclaimed, and checked himself. "No," he said, "I +have come because—well, I've been only too glad to come, and—I suppose +it has got to be a habit," he added, rather lamely. "You see, I've never +known any people in the way I have known you. It has seemed to me more +like home life than anything I've ever known. There has never been any +one but my father and I, and you can have no idea what it has been to me +to be allowed to come here as I have, and—oh, you must know—" He +hesitated, and instantly she advanced her point.</p> + +<p>Her face was rather white, and the hand which lay upon the work in her +lap trembled a little, while she clasped the arm of the chair with the +other; but she broke in upon his hesitation with an even voice:</p> + +<p>"It has been very pleasant for us all, I'm sure," she said, "and, +frankly, I'm sorry that it must be interrupted for a while, but that is +about all there is of it, isn't it? We shall probably be back not later +than October, I should say, and then you can renew your contests with +Julius and your controversies with me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her tone and what she said recalled to him their last night on board the +ship, but there was no relenting on this occasion. He realized that for +a moment he had been on the verge of telling the girl that he loved her, +and he realized, too, that she had divined his impulse and prevented the +disclosure; but he registered a vow that he would know before he saw her +again whether he might consistently tell her his love, and win or lose +upon the touch.</p> + +<p>Miss Blake made several inaccurate efforts to introduce her needle at +the exact point desired, and when that endeavor was accomplished broke +the silence by saying, "Speaking of 'October,' have you read the novel? +I think it is charming."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, with his vow in his mind, but not sorry for the +diversion, "and I enjoyed it very much. I thought it was immensely +clever, but I confess that I didn't quite sympathize with the love +affairs of a hero who was past forty, and I must also confess that I +thought the girl was, well—to put it in plain English—a fool."</p> + +<p>Mary laughed, with a little quaver in her voice. "Do you know," she +said, "that sometimes it seems to me that I am older than you are?"</p> + +<p>"I know you're awfully wise," said John with a laugh, and from that +their talk drifted off into the safer channels of their usual +intercourse until he rose to say good night.</p> + +<p>"Of course, we shall see you again before we go," she said as she gave +him her hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he declared, "I intend regularly to haunt the place."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p>When John came down the next morning his father, who was, as a rule, the +most punctual of men, had not appeared. He opened the paper and sat down +to wait. Ten minutes passed, fifteen, twenty. He rang the bell. "Have +you heard my father this morning?" he said to Jeffrey, remembering for +the first time that he himself had not.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the man. "He most generally coughs a little in the +morning, but I don't think I heard him this morning, sir."</p> + +<p>"Go up and see why he doesn't come down," said John, and a moment later +he followed the servant upstairs, to find him standing at the chamber +door with a frightened face.</p> + +<p>"He must be very sound asleep, sir," said Jeffrey. "He hasn't answered +to my knockin' or callin', sir." John tried the door. He found the chain +bolt on, and it opened but a few inches. "Father!" he called, and then +again, louder. He turned almost unconsciously to Jeffrey, and found his +own apprehensions reflected in the man's face. "We must break in the +door," he said. "Now, together!" and the bolt gave way.</p> + +<p>His father lay as if asleep. "Go for the doctor at once! Bring him back +with you. Run!" he cried to the servant. Custom and instinct<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> said, +"Send for the doctor," but he knew in his heart that no ministrations +would ever reach the still figure on the bed, upon which, for the +moment, he could not look. It was but a few minutes (how long such +minutes are!) before the doctor came—Doctor Willis, who had brought +John into the world, and had been a lifelong friend of both father and +son. He went swiftly to the bed without speaking, and made a brief +examination, while John watched him with fascinated eyes; and as the +doctor finished, the son dropped on his knees by the bed, and buried his +face in it. The doctor crossed the room to Jeffrey, who was standing in +the door with an awe-stricken face, and in a low voice gave him some +directions. Then, as the man departed, he first glanced at the kneeling +figure and then looked searchingly about the room. Presently he went +over to the grate in which were the ashes of an extinct fire, and, +taking the poker, pressed down among them and covered over a three or +four ounce vial. He had found what he was looking for.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There is no need to speak of the happenings of the next few days, nor is +it necessary to touch at any length upon the history of some of the +weeks and months which ensued upon this crisis in John Lenox's life, a +time when it seemed to him that everything he had ever cared for had +been taken. And yet, with that unreason which may perhaps be more easily +understood than accounted for, the one thing upon which his mind most +often dwelt was that he had had no answer to his note to Mary Blake. We +know what happened to her missive. It turned up long afterward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> in the +pocket of Master Jacky Carling's overcoat; so long afterward that John, +so far as Mary was concerned, had disappeared altogether. The discovery +of Jacky's dereliction explained to her, in part at least, why she had +never seen him or heard from him after that last evening at Sixty-ninth +Street. The Carlings went away some ten days later, and she did, in +fact, send another note to his house address, asking him to see them +before their departure; but John had considered himself fortunate in +getting the house off his hands to a tenant who would assume the lease +if given possession at once, and had gone into the modest apartment +which he occupied during the rest of his life in the city, and so the +second communication failed to reach him. Perhaps it was as well. Some +weeks later he walked up to the Carlings' house one Sunday afternoon, +and saw that it was closed, as he had expected. By an impulse which was +not part of his original intention—which was, indeed, pretty nearly +aimless—he was moved to ring the doorbell; but the maid, a stranger to +him, who opened the door could tell him nothing of the family's +whereabouts, and Mr. Betts (the house man in charge) was "hout." So John +retraced his steps with a feeling of disappointment wholly +disproportionate to his hopes or expectations so far as he had defined +them to himself, and never went back again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He has never had much to say of the months that followed.</p> + +<p>It came to be the last of October. An errand from the office had sent +him to General Wolsey, of the Mutual Trust Company, of whom men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>tion has +been made by David Harum. The general was an old friend of the elder +Lenox, and knew John well and kindly. When the latter had discharged his +errand and was about to go, the general said: "Wait a minute. Are you in +a hurry? If not, I want to have a little talk with you."</p> + +<p>"Not specially," said John.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," said the general, pointing to a chair. "What are your plans? +I see you are still in the Careys' office, but from what you told me +last summer I conclude that you are there because you have not found +anything more satisfactory."</p> + +<p>"That is the case, sir," John replied. "I can't be idle, but I don't see +how I can keep on as I am going now, and I have been trying for months +to find something by which I can earn a living. I am afraid," he added, +"that it will be a longer time than I can afford to wait before I shall +be able to do that out of the law."</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind my asking," said the general, "what are your +resources? I don't think you told me more than to give me to understand +that your father's affairs were at a pretty low ebb. Of course, I do not +wish to pry into your affairs—"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," John interposed; "I am glad to tell you, and thank you for +your interest. I have about two thousand dollars, and there is some +silver and odds and ends of things stored. I don't know what their value +might be—not very much, I fancy—and there were a lot of mining stocks +and that sort of thing which have no value so far as I can find out—no +available value, at any rate. There is also a tract of half-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>wild land +somewhere in Pennsylvania. There is coal on it, I believe, and some +timber; but Melig, my father's manager, told me that all the large +timber had been cut. So far as available value is concerned, the +property is about as much of an asset as the mining stock, with the +disadvantage that I have to pay taxes on it."</p> + +<p>"H'm," said the general, tapping the desk with his eyeglasses. +"H'm—well, I should think if you lived very economically you would have +about enough to carry you through till you can be admitted, provided you +feel that the law is your vocation," he added, looking up.</p> + +<p>"It was my father's idea," said John, "and if I were so situated that I +could go on with it, I would. But I am so doubtful with regard to my +aptitude that I don't feel as if I ought to use up what little capital I +have, and some years of time, on a doubtful experiment, and so I have +been looking for something else to do."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the general, "if you were very much interested—that is, if +you were anxious to proceed with your studies—I should advise you to go +on, and at a pinch I should be willing to help you out; but, feeling as +you do, I hardly know what to advise. I was thinking of you," he went +on, "before you came in, and was intending to send for you to come in to +see me." He took a letter from his desk.</p> + +<p>"I got this yesterday," he said. "It is from an old acquaintance of mine +by the name of Harum, who lives in Homeville, Freeland County. He is a +sort of a banker there, and has written me to recommend some one to take +the place of his manager or cashier whom he is sending away. It's rather +a queer move, I think, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> then," said the general with a smile, "Harum +is a queer customer in some ways of his own. There is his letter. Read +it for yourself."</p> + +<p>The letter stated that Mr. Harum had had some trouble with his cashier +and wished to replace him, and that he would prefer some one from out of +the village who wouldn't know every man, woman, and child in the whole +region, and "blab everything right and left." "I should want," wrote Mr. +Harum, "to have the young man know something about bookkeeping and so +on, but I should not insist upon his having been through a trainer's +hands. In fact, I would rather break him in myself, and if he's willing +and sound and no vice, I can get him into shape. I will pay a thousand +to start on, and if he draws and travels all right, may be better in the +long run," etc. John handed back the letter with a slight smile, which +was reflected in the face of the general. "What do you think of it?" +asked the latter.</p> + +<p>"I should think it might be very characteristic," remarked John.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the general, "it is, to an extent. You see he writes pretty +fair English, and he can, on occasion, talk as he writes, but usually, +either from habit or choice, he uses the most unmitigated dialect. But +what I meant to ask you was, what do you think of the proposal?"</p> + +<p>"You mean as an opportunity for <i>me</i>?" asked John.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said General Wolsey, "I thought of you at once."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," said John. "What would be your idea?"</p> + +<p>"Well," was the reply, "I am inclined to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> think I should write to him if +I were you, and I will write to him about you if you so decide. You have +had some office experience, you told me—enough, I should say, for a +foundation, and I don't believe that Harum's books and accounts are very +complicated."</p> + +<p>John did not speak, and the general went on: "Of course, it will be a +great change from almost everything you have been used to, and I dare +say that you may find the life, at first at least, pretty dull and +irksome. The stipend is not very large, but it is large for the country, +where your expenses will be light. In fact, I'm rather surprised at his +offering so much. At any rate, it is a living for the present, and may +lead to something better. The place is a growing one, and, more than +that, Harum is well off, and keeps more irons in the fire than one, and +if you get on with him you may do well."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I should mind the change so much," said John, rather +sadly. "My present life is so different in almost every way from what it +used to be, and I think I feel it in New York more even than I might in +a country village; but the venture seems a little like burning my +bridges."</p> + +<p>"Well," replied the general, "if the experiment should turn out a +failure for any reason, you won't be very much more at a loss than at +present, it seems to me, and, of course, I will do anything I can should +you wish me to be still on the lookout for you here."</p> + +<p>"You are exceedingly kind, sir," said John earnestly, and then was +silent for a moment or two. "I will make the venture," he said at +length, "and thank you very much."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are under no special obligations to the Careys, are you?" asked the +general.</p> + +<p>"No, I think not," said John with a laugh. "I fancy that their business +will go on without me, after a fashion," and he took his leave.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p>And so it came about that certain letters were written as mentioned in a +previous chapter, and in the evening of a dripping day early in November +John Lenox found himself, after a nine hours' journey, the only traveler +who alighted upon the platform of the Homeville station, which was near +the end of a small lake and about a mile from the village. As he stood +with his bag and umbrella, at a loss what to do, he was accosted by a +short and stubby individual with very black eyes and hair and a round +face, which would have been smooth except that it had not been shaved +for a day or two. "Goin' t' the village?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, "that is my intention, but I don't see any way of +getting there."</p> + +<p>"Carry ye over fer ten cents," said the man. "Carryall's right back the +deepo. Got 'ny baggidge?"</p> + +<p>"Two trunks," said John.</p> + +<p>"That'll make it thirty cents," said the native. "Where's your checks? +All right; you c'n jest step 'round an' git in. Mine's the only rig that +drew over to-night."</p> + +<p>It was a long clumsy affair, with windows at each end and a door in the +rear, but open at the sides except for enamel cloth curtains, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +were buttoned to the supports that carried a railed roof extending as +far forward as the dashboard. The driver's seat was on a level with +those inside. John took a seat by one of the front windows, which was +open but protected by the roof.</p> + +<p>His luggage having been put on board, they began the journey at a walk, +the first part of the road being rough and swampy in places, and +undergoing at intervals the sort of repairs which often prevails in +rural regions—namely, the deposit of a quantity of broken stone, which +is left to be worn smooth by passing vehicles, and is for the most part +carefully avoided by such whenever the roadway is broad enough to drive +round the improvement. But the worst of the way having been +accomplished, the driver took opportunity, speaking sideways over his +shoulder, to allay the curiosity which burned within him, "Guess I never +seen you before." John was tired and hungry, and generally low in his +mind.</p> + +<p>"Very likely not," was his answer. Mr. Robinson instantly arrived at the +determination that the stranger was "stuck up," but was in no degree +cast down thereby.</p> + +<p>"I heard Chet Timson tellin' that the' was a feller comin' f'm N'York to +work in Dave Harum's bank. Guess you're him, ain't ye?"</p> + +<p>No answer this time: theory confirmed.</p> + +<p>"My name's Robinson," imparted that individual. "I run the prince'ple +liv'ry to Homeville."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" responded the passenger.</p> + +<p>"What d'you say your name was?" asked Mr. Robinson, after he had steered +his team around one of the monuments to public spirit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's Lenox," said John, thinking he might concede something to such +deserving perseverance, "but I don't remember mentioning it."</p> + +<p>"Now I think on't, I guess you didn't," admitted Mr. Robinson. "Don't +think I ever knowed anybody of the name," he remarked. "Used to know +some folks name o' Lynch, but they couldn't 'a' ben no relations o' +your'n, I guess." This conjecture elicited no reply.</p> + +<p>"Git up, goll darn ye!" he exclaimed, as one of the horses stumbled, and +he gave it a jerk and a cut of the whip. "Bought that hoss of Dave +Harum," he confided to his passenger. "Fact, I bought both on 'em of +him, an' dum well stuck I was, too," he added.</p> + +<p>"You know Mr. Harum, then," said John, with a glimmer of interest. "Does +he deal in horses?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I guess I make eout to know him," asserted the "prince'ple +liv'ryman," "an' he'll git up 'n the middle o' the night any time to git +the best of a hoss trade. Be you goin' to work fer him?" he asked, +encouraged to press the question. "Goin' to take Timson's place?"</p> + +<p>"Really," said John, in a tone which advanced Mr. Robinson's opinion to +a rooted conviction, "I have never heard of Mr. Timson."</p> + +<p>"He's the feller that Dave's lettin' go," explained Mr. Robinson. "He's +ben in the bank a matter o' five or six year, but Dave got down on him +fer some little thing or other, an' he's got his walkin' papers. He says +to me, says he, 'If any feller thinks he c'n come up here f'm N'York or +anywheres else, he says, 'an' do Dave Harum's work to suit him, he'll +find he's bit off a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> dum sight more'n he c'n chaw. He'd better keep his +gripsack packed the hull time,' Chet says."</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd sock it to the cuss a little," remarked Mr. Robinson in +recounting the conversation subsequently; and, in truth, it was not +elevating to the spirits of our friend, who found himself speculating +whether or no Timson might not be right.</p> + +<p>"Where you goin' to put up?" asked Mr. Robinson after an interval, +having failed to draw out any response to his last effort.</p> + +<p>"Is there more than one hotel?" inquired the passenger.</p> + +<p>"The's the Eagle, an' the Lake House, an' Smith's Hotel," replied Jehu.</p> + +<p>"Which would you recommend?" asked John.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Robinson, "I don't gen'ally praise up one more'n another. +You see, I have more or less dealin' with all on 'em."</p> + +<p>"That's very diplomatic of you, I'm sure," remarked John, not at all +diplomatically. "I think I will try the Eagle."</p> + +<p>Mr. Robinson, in his account of the conversation, said in +confidence—not wishing to be openly invidious—that "he was dum'd if he +wa'n't almost sorry he hadn't recommended the Lake House."</p> + +<p>It may be inferred from the foregoing that the first impression which +our friend made on his arrival was not wholly in his favor, and Mr. +Robinson's conviction that he was "stuck up," and a person bound to get +himself "gen'ally disliked," was elevated to an article of faith by his +retiring to the rear of the vehicle, and quite out of ordinary range. +But they were nearly at their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> journey's end, and presently the carryall +drew up at the Eagle Hotel.</p> + +<p>It was a frame building of three stories, with a covered veranda running +the length of the front, from which two doors gave entrance—one to the +main hall, the other to the office and bar combined. This was rather a +large room, and was also to be entered from the main hall.</p> + +<p>John's luggage was deposited, Mr. Robinson was settled with, and took +his departure without the amenities which might have prevailed under +different conditions, and the new arrival made his way into the office.</p> + +<p>Behind the bar counter, which faced the street, at one end of which was +a small high desk and at the other a glazed case containing three or +four partly full boxes of forlorn-looking cigars, but with most +ambitious labels, stood the proprietor, manager, clerk, and what not of +the hostelry, embodied in the single person of Mr. Amos Elright, who was +leaning over the counter in conversation with three or four loungers who +sat about the room with their chairs tipped back against the wall.</p> + +<p>A sketch of Mr. Elright would have depicted a dull "complected" person +of a tousled baldness, whose dispirited expression of countenance was +enhanced by a chin whisker. His shirt and collar gave unmistakable +evidence that pajamas or other night-gear were regarded as +superfluities, and his most conspicuous garment as he appeared behind +the counter was a cardigan jacket of a frowsiness beyond compare. A +greasy neck scarf was embellished with a gem whose truthfulness was +without pretence. The atmosphere of the room was accounted for by a +re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>mark which was made by one of the loungers as John came in. "Say, +Ame," the fellow drawled, "I guess the' was more skunk cabbidge 'n pie +plant 'n usual 'n that last lot o' cigars o' your'n, wa'n't the'?" to +which insinuation "Ame" was spared the necessity of a rejoinder by our +friend's advent.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, guess we c'n give ye a room. Oh, yes, you c'n register if you +want to. Where is the dum thing? I seen it last week somewhere. Oh, +yes," producing a thin book ruled for accounts from under the counter, +"we don't alwus use it," he remarked—which was obvious, seeing that the +last entry was a month old.</p> + +<p>John concluded that it was a useless formality. "I should like something +to eat," he said, "and desire to go to my room while it is being +prepared; and can you send my luggage up now?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mr. Elright, looking at the clock, which showed the hour +of half-past nine, and rubbing his chin perplexedly, "supper's ben +cleared off some time ago."</p> + +<p>"I don't want very much," said John; "just a bit of steak, and some +stewed potatoes, and a couple of boiled eggs, and some coffee." He might +have heard the sound of a slap in the direction of one of the sitters.</p> + +<p>"I'm 'fraid I can't 'commodate ye fur's the steak an' things goes," +confessed the landlord. "We don't do much cookin' after dinner, an' I +reckon the fire's out anyway. P'r'aps," he added doubtfully, "I c'd hunt +ye up a piece o' pie 'n some doughnuts, or somethin' like that."</p> + +<p>He took a key, to which was attached a huge brass tag with serrated +edges, from a hook on a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> board behind the bar—on which were suspended a +number of the like—lighted a small kerosene lamp, carrying a single +wick, and, shuffling out from behind the counter, said, "Say, Bill, +can't you an' Dick carry the gentleman's trunks up to 'thirteen?'" and, +as they assented, he gave the lamp and key to one of them and left the +room. The two men took a trunk at either end and mounted the stairs, +John following, and when the second one came up he put his fingers into +his waistcoat pocket suggestively.</p> + +<p>"No," said the one addressed as Dick, "that's all right. We done it to +oblige Ame."</p> + +<p>"I'm very much obliged to you, though," said John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," remarked Dick as they turned away.</p> + +<p>John surveyed the apartment. There were two small-paned windows +overlooking the street, curtained with bright "Turkey-red" cotton; near +to one of them a small wood stove and a wood box, containing some odds +and ends of sticks and bits of bark; a small chest of drawers, serving +as a washstand; a malicious little looking-glass; a basin and ewer, +holding about two quarts; an earthenware mug and soap-dish, the latter +containing a thin bit of red translucent soap scented with sassafras; an +ordinary wooden chair and a rocking-chair with rockers of divergent +aims; a yellow wooden bedstead furnished with a mattress of "excelsior" +(calculated to induce early rising), a dingy white spread, a gray +blanket of coarse wool, a pair of cotton sheets which had too obviously +done duty since passing through the hands of the laundress, and a pair +of flabby little pillows in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> same state, in respect to their cases, +as the sheets. On the floor was a much used and faded ingrain carpet, in +one place worn through by the edge of a loose board. A narrow strip of +unpainted pine nailed to the wall carried six or seven wooden pegs to +serve as wardrobe. Two diminutive towels with red borders hung on the +rail of the washstand, and a battered tin slop jar, minus a cover, +completed the inventory.</p> + +<p>"Heavens, what a hole!" exclaimed John, and as he performed his +ablutions (not with the sassafras soap) he promised himself a speedy +flitting. There came a knock at the door, and his host appeared to +announce that his "tea" was ready, and to conduct him to the +dining-room—a good-sized apartment, but narrow, with a long table +running near the center lengthwise, covered with a cloth which bore the +marks of many a fray. Another table of like dimensions, but bare, was +shoved up against the wall. Mr. Elright's ravagement of the larder had +resulted in a triangle of cadaverous apple pie, three doughnuts, some +chunks of soft white cheese, and a plate of what are known as oyster +crackers.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't git ye no tea," he said. "The hired girls both gone out, an' +my wife's gone to bed, an' the' wa'n't no fire anyway."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I could have some beer," suggested John, looking dubiously at +the banquet.</p> + +<p>"We don't keep no ale," said the proprietor of the Eagle, "an' I guess +we're out o' lawger. I ben intendin' to git some more," he added.</p> + +<p>"A glass of milk?" proposed the guest, but without confidence.</p> + +<p>"Milkman didn't come to-night," said Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> Elright, shuffling off in his +carpet slippers, worn out in spirit with the importunities of the +stranger. There was water on the table, for it had been left there from +supper time. John managed to consume a doughnut and some crackers and +cheese, and then went to his room, carrying the water pitcher with him, +and, after a cigarette or two and a small potation from his flask, to +bed. Before retiring, however, he stripped the bed with the intention of +turning the sheets, but upon inspection thought better of it, and +concluded to leave them as they were. So passed his first night in +Homeville, and, as he fondly promised himself, his last at the Eagle +Hotel.</p> + +<p>When Bill and Dick returned to the office after "obligin' Ame," they +stepped with one accord to the counter and looked at the register. "Why, +darn it," exclaimed Bill, "he didn't sign his name, after all."</p> + +<p>"No," said Dick, "but I c'n give a putty near guess who he is, all the +same."</p> + +<p>"Some drummer?" suggested Bill.</p> + +<p>"Naw," said Richard scornfully. "What 'd a drummer be doin' here this +time o' year? That's the feller that's ousted Chet Timson, an' I'll bet +ye the drinks on't. Name's Linx or Lenx, or somethin' like that. Dave +told me."</p> + +<p>"So that's the feller, is it?" said Bill. "I guess he won't stay 'round +here long. I guess you'll find he's a little too toney fer these parts, +an' in pertic'ler fer Dave Harum. Dave'll make him feel 'bout as +comf'table as a rooster in a pond. Lord," he exclaimed, slapping his leg +with a guffaw, "'d you notice Ame's face when he said he didn't want +much fer supper, only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> beefsteak, an' eggs, an' tea, an' coffee, an' a +few little things like that? I thought I'd split."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Dick, laughing, "I guess the' ain't nothin' the matter with +Ame's heart, or he'd 'a' fell down dead.—Hullo, Ame!" he said when the +gentleman in question came back after ministering to his guest, "got the +Prince o' Wales fixed up all right? Did ye cut that pickled el'phant +that come last week?"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" grunted Amos, whose sensibilities had been wounded by the events +of the evening, "I didn't cut no el'phant ner no cow, ner rob no hen +roost neither, but I guess he won't starve 'fore mornin'," and with that +he proceeded to fill up the stove and shut the dampers.</p> + +<p>"That means 'git,' I reckon," remarked Bill as he watched the operation.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mr. Elright, "if you fellers think you've spent enough +time droolin' 'round here swapping lies, I think <i>I'll</i> go to bed," +which inhospitable and injurious remark was by no means taken in bad +part, for Dick said, with a laugh:</p> + +<p>"Well, Ame, if you'll let me run my face for 'em, Bill 'n I'll take a +little somethin' for the good o' the house before we shed the partin' +tear." This proposition was not declined by Mr. Elright, but he felt +bound on business principles not to yield with too great a show of +readiness.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I don't mind for this once," he said, going behind the bar and +setting out a bottle and glasses, "but I've gen'ally noticed that it's a +damn sight easier to git somethin' <i>into</i> you fellers 'n 't is to git +anythin' <i>out</i> of ye."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + + +<p>The next morning at nine o'clock John presented himself at Mr. Harum's +banking office, which occupied the first floor of a brick building some +twenty or twenty-five feet in width. Besides the entrance to the bank, +there was a door at the south corner opening upon a stairway leading to +a suite of two rooms on the second floor.</p> + +<p>The banking office consisted of two rooms—one in front, containing the +desks and counters, and what may be designated as the "parlor" (as used +to be the case in the provincial towns) in the rear, in which were Mr. +Harum's private desk, a safe of medium size, the necessary assortment of +chairs, and a lounge. There was also a large Franklin stove.</p> + +<p>The parlor was separated from the front room by a partition, in which +were two doors, one leading into the inclosed space behind the desks and +counters, and the other into the passageway formed by the north wall and +a length of high desk, topped by a railing. The teller's or cashier's +counter faced the street opposite the entrance door. At the left of this +counter (viewed from the front) was a high-standing desk, with a rail. +At the right was a glass-inclosed space of counter of the same height as +that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> portion which was open, across which latter the business of paying +and receiving was conducted.</p> + +<p>As John entered he saw standing behind this open counter, framed, as it +were, between the desk on the one hand, and the glass inclosure on the +other, a person whom he conjectured to be the "Chet" (short for Chester) +Timson of whom he had heard. This person nodded in response to our +friend's "Good morning," and anticipated his inquiry by saying:</p> + +<p>"You lookin' for Dave?"</p> + +<p>"I am looking for Mr. Harum," said John. "Is he in the office?"</p> + +<p>"He hain't come in yet," was the reply. "Up to the barn, I reckon, but +he's liable to come in any minute, an' you c'n step into the back room +an' wait fer him," indicating the direction with a wave of his hand.</p> + +<p>Business had not begun to be engrossing, though the bank was open, and +John had hardly seated himself when Timson came into the back room and, +taking a chair where he could see the counter in the front office, +proceeded to investigate the stranger, of whose identity he had not the +smallest doubt. But it was not Mr. Timson's way to take things for +granted in silence, and it must be admitted that his curiosity in this +particular case was not without warrant. After a scrutiny of John's face +and person, which was not brief enough to be unnoticeable, he said, with +a directness which left nothing in that line to be desired, "I reckon +you're the new man Dave's ben gettin' up from the city."</p> + +<p>"I came up yesterday," admitted John.</p> + +<p>"My name's Timson," said Chet.</p> + +<p>"Happy to meet you," said John, rising and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> putting out his hand. "My +name is Lenox," and they shook hands—that is, John grasped the ends of +four limp fingers. After they had subsided into their seats, Chet's +opaquely bluish eyes made another tour of inspection, in curiosity and +wonder.</p> + +<p>"You alwus lived in the city?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"It has always been my home," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"What put it in your head to come up here?" with another stare.</p> + +<p>"It was at Mr. Harum's suggestion," replied John, not with perfect +candor; but he was not minded to be drawn out too far.</p> + +<p>"D'ye know Dave?"</p> + +<p>"I have never met him." Mr. Timson looked more puzzled than ever.</p> + +<p>"Ever ben in the bankin' bus'nis?"</p> + +<p>"I have had some experience of such accounts in a general way."</p> + +<p>"Ever keep books?"</p> + +<p>"Only as I have told you," said John, smiling at the little man.</p> + +<p>"Got any idee what you'll have to do up here?" asked Chet.</p> + +<p>"Only in a general way."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mr. Timson, "I c'n tell ye; an', what's <i>more</i>, I c'n tell +ye, young man, 't you hain't no idee of what you're undertakin', an' ef +you don't wish you was back in New York 'fore you git through I ain't no +guesser."</p> + +<p>"That is possible," said John readily, recalling his night and his +breakfast that morning.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the other. "Yes, <i>sir</i>; if you do what I've had to do, +you'll do the hull darned thing, an' nobody to help you but Pele +Hopkins,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> who don't count fer a row o' crooked pins. As fer's Dave's +concerned," asserted the speaker with a wave of his hands, "he don't +know no more about bankin' 'n a cat. He couldn't count a thousan' +dollars in an hour, an', as for addin' up a row o' figures, he couldn't +git it twice alike, I don't believe, if he was to be hung for't."</p> + +<p>"He must understand the meaning of his own books and accounts, I should +think," remarked John.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Chet scornfully, "anybody c'd do that. That's easy 'nough; +but as fur 's the real bus'nis is concerned, he don't have nothin' to do +with it. It's all ben left to me: chargin' an' creditin', postin', +individule ledger, gen'ral ledger, bill-book, discount register, +tickler, for'n register, checkin' off the N'York accounts, drawin' off +statemunts f'm the ledgers an' bill-book, writin' letters—why, the' +ain't an hour 'n the day in bus'nis hours some days that the's an hour +'t I ain't busy 'bout somethin'. No, sir," continued Chet, "Dave don't +give himself no trouble about the bus'nis. All he does is to look after +lendin' the money, an' seein' that it gits paid when the time comes, an' +keep track of how much money the' is here an' in N'York, an' what notes +is comin' due—an' a few things like that, that don't put pen to paper, +ner take an hour of his time. Why, a man'll come in an' want to git a +note done, an' it'll be 'All right,' or, 'Can't spare the money to-day,' +all in a minute. He don't give it no thought at all, an' he ain't 'round +here half the time. Now," said Chet, "when I work fer a man I like to +have him 'round so 't I c'n say to him: 'Shall I do it so? or shall I do +it <i>so</i>? shall I? or sha'n't I?' an' then when I make a mis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>take—'s +anybody's liable to—he's as much to blame 's I be."</p> + +<p>"I suppose, then," said John, "that you must have to keep Mr. Harum's +private accounts also, seeing that he knows so little of details. I have +been told that he is interested in a good many matters besides this +business."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied Timson, somewhat disconcerted, "I suppose he must keep +'em himself in <i>some</i> kind of a fashion, an' I don't know a thing about +any outside matters of his'n, though I suspicion he has got quite a few. +He's got some books in that safe" (pointing with his finger) "an' he's +got a safe in the vault, but if you'll believe <i>me</i>"—and the speaker +looked as if he hardly expected it—"I hain't never so much as seen the +inside of either one on 'em. No, sir," he declared, "I hain't no more +idee of what's in them safes 'n you have. He's close, Dave Harum is," +said Chet with a convincing motion of the head; "on the hull, the +clostest man I ever see. I believe," he averred, "that if he was to lay +out to keep it shut that lightnin' might strike him square in the mouth +an' it wouldn't go in an eighth of an inch. An' yet," he added, "he c'n +talk by the rod when he takes a notion."</p> + +<p>"Must be a difficult person to get on with," commented John dryly.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't stan' it no longer," declared Mr. Timson with the air of one +who had endured to the end of virtue, "an' I says to him the other day, +'Wa'al,' I says, 'if I can't suit ye, mebbe you'd better suit +yourself.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said John politely, seeing that some response was expected of him; +"and what did he say to that?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He ast me," replied Chet, "if I meant by that to throw up the +situation. 'Wa'al,' I says 'I'm sick enough to throw up most anythin',' +I says, 'along with bein' found fault with fer nothin'.'"</p> + +<p>"And then?" queried John, who had received the impression that the +motion to adjourn had come from the other side of the house.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied Chet, not quite so confidently, "he said somethin' +about my requirin' a larger spear of action, an' that he thought I'd do +better on a mile track—some o' his hoss talk. That's another thing," +said Timson, changing the subject. "He's all fer hosses. He'd sooner +make a ten-dollar note on a hoss trade than a hunderd right here 'n this +office. Many's the time right in bus'nis hours, when I've wanted to ask +him how he wanted somethin' done, he'd be busy talkin' hoss, an' +wouldn't pay no attention to me more'n 's if I wa'n't there."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to feel," said John, "that you can not possibly have any +unpleasant feeling toward me, seeing that you resigned as you did."</p> + +<p>"Cert'nly not, cert'nly not," declared Timson, a little uneasily. "If it +hadn't 'a' ben you, it would 'a' had to ben somebody else, an' now I +seen you an' had a talk with you—Wa'al, I guess I better git back into +the other room. Dave's liable to come in any minute. But," he said in +parting, "I will give ye piece of advice: You keep enough laid by to pay +your gettin' back to N'York. You may want it in a hurry," and with this +parting shot the rejected one took his leave.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The bank parlor was lighted by a window and a glazed door in the rear +wall, and another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> window on the south side. Mr. Harum's desk was by the +rear, or west, window, which gave view of his house, standing some +hundred feet back from the street. The south, or side, window afforded a +view of his front yard and that of an adjoining dwelling, beyond which +rose the wall of a mercantile block. Business was encroaching upon +David's domain. Our friend stood looking out of the south window. To the +left a bit of Main Street was visible, and the naked branches of the +elms and maples with which it was bordered were waving defiantly at +their rivals over the way, incited thereto by a northwest wind.</p> + +<p>We invariably form a mental picture of every unknown person of whom we +think at all. It may be so faint that we are unconscious of it at the +time, or so vivid that it is always recalled until dissipated by seeing +the person himself, or his likeness. But that we do so make a picture is +proved by the fact that upon being confronted by the real features of +the person in question we always experience a certain amount of +surprise, even when we have not been conscious of a different conception +of him.</p> + +<p>Be that as it may, however, there was no question in John Lenox's mind +as to the identity of the person who at last came briskly into the back +office and interrupted his meditations. Rather under the middle height, +he was broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with a clean-shaven, red face, +with—not a mole—but a slight protuberance the size of half a large pea +on the line from the nostril to the corner of the mouth; bald over the +crown and to a line a couple of inches above the ear, below that thick +and somewhat bushy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> hair of yellowish red, showing a mingling of gray; +small but very blue eyes; a thick nose, of no classifiable shape, and a +large mouth with the lips so pressed together as to produce a slightly +downward and yet rather humorous curve at the corners. He was dressed in +a sack coat of dark "pepper-and-salt," with waistcoat and trousers to +match. A somewhat old-fashioned standing collar, flaring away from the +throat, was encircled by a red cravat, tied in a bow under his chin. A +diamond stud of perhaps two carats showed in the triangle of spotless +shirt front, and on his head was a cloth cap with ear lappets. He +accosted our friend with, "I reckon you must be Mr. Lenox. How are you? +I'm glad to see you," tugging off a thick buckskin glove, and putting +out a plump but muscular hand.</p> + +<p>John thanked him as they shook hands, and "hoped he was well."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, "I'm improvin' slowly. I've got so 'st I c'n +set up long enough to have my bed made. Come last night, I s'pose? +Anybody to the deepo to bring ye over? This time o' year once 'n a while +the' don't nobody go over for passengers."</p> + +<p>John said that he had had no trouble. A man by the name of Robinson had +brought him and his luggage.</p> + +<p>"E-up!" said David with a nod, backing up to the fire which was burning +in the grate of the Franklin stove, "'Dug' Robinson. 'D he do the p'lite +thing in the matter of questions an' gen'ral conversation?" he asked +with a grin. John laughed in reply to this question.</p> + +<p>"Where'd you put up?" asked David, John said that he passed the night +at the Eagle Hotel.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> Mr. Harum had seen Dick Larrabee that morning and +heard what he had to say of our friend's reception, but he liked to get +his information from original sources.</p> + +<p>"Make ye putty comf'table?" he asked, turning to eject a mouthful into +the fire.</p> + +<p>"I got along pretty well under the circumstances," said John.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harum did not press the inquiry. "How'd you leave the gen'ral?" he +inquired.</p> + +<p>"He seemed to be well," replied John, "and he wished to be kindly +remembered to you."</p> + +<p>"Fine man, the gen'ral," declared David, well pleased. "Fine man all +'round. Word's as good as his bond. Yes, sir, when the gen'ral gives his +warrant, I don't care whether I see the critter or not. Know him much?"</p> + +<p>"He and my father were old friends, and I have known him a good many +years," replied John, adding, "he has been very kind and friendly to +me."</p> + +<p>"Set down, set down," said Mr. Harum, pointing to a chair. Seating +himself, he took off his cap and dropped it with his gloves on the +floor. "How long you ben here in the office?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps half an hour," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"I meant to have ben here when you come," said the banker, "but I got +hendered about a matter of a hoss I'm looking at. I guess I'll shut that +door," making a move toward the one into the front office.</p> + +<p>"Allow me," said John, getting up and closing it.</p> + +<p>"May's well shut the other one while you're about it. Thank you," as +John resumed his seat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> "I hain't got nothin' very private, but I'm +'fraid of distractin' Timson's mind. Did he int'duce himself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, "we introduced ourselves and had a few minutes +conversation."</p> + +<p>"Gin ye his hull hist'ry an' a few relations throwed in?"</p> + +<p>"There was hardly time for that," said John, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Rubbed a little furn'ture polish into my char'cter an' repitation?" +insinuated Mr. Harum.</p> + +<p>"Most of our talk was on the subject of his duties and +responsibilities," was John's reply. ("Don't cal'late to let on any +more'n he cal'lates to," thought David to himself.)</p> + +<p>"Allowed he run the hull shebang, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"He seemed to have a pretty large idea of what was required of one in +his place," admitted the witness.</p> + +<p>"Kind o' friendly, was he?" asked David.</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, "after we had talked for a while I said to him that I +was glad to think that he could have no unpleasant feeling toward me, +seeing that he had given up the place of his own preference, and he +assured me that he had none."</p> + +<p>David turned and looked at John for an instant, with a twinkle in his +eye. The younger man returned the look and smiled slightly. David +laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"I guess you've seen folks before," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"I have never met any one exactly like Mr. Timson, I think," said our +friend with a slight laugh.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fortunitly them kind is rare," observed Mr. Harum dryly, rising and +going to his desk, from a drawer of which he produced a couple of +cigars, one of which he proffered to John, who, for the first time in +his life, during the next half hour regretted that he was a smoker. +David sat for two or three minutes puffing diligently, and then took the +weed out of his mouth and looked contemplatively at it.</p> + +<p>"How do you like that cigar?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"It burns very nicely," said the victim. Mr. Harum emitted a cough which +was like a chuckle, or a chuckle which was like a cough, and relapsed +into silence again. Presently he turned his head, looked curiously at +the young man for a moment, and then turned his glance again to the +fire.</p> + +<p>"I've ben wonderin' some," he said, "pertic'lerly since I see you, how +'t was 't you wanted to come up here to Homeville. Gen'l Wolsey gin his +warrant, an' so I reckon you hadn't ben gettin' into no scrape nor +nothin'," and again he looked sharply at the young man at his side.</p> + +<p>"Did the general say nothing of my affairs?" the latter asked.</p> + +<p>"No," replied David, "all 't he said was in a gen'ral way that he'd +knowed you an' your folks a good while, an' he thought you'd be jest the +feller I was lookin' fer. Mebbe he reckoned that if you wanted your +story told, you'd ruther tell it yourself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + + +<p>Whatever might have been John's repugnance to making a confidant of the +man whom he had known but for half an hour, he acknowledged to himself +that the other's curiosity was not only natural but proper. He could not +but know that in appearance and manner he was in marked contrast with +those whom the man had so far seen. He divined the fact that his coming +from a great city to settle down in a village town would furnish matter +for surprise and conjecture, and felt that it would be to his advantage +with the man who was to be his employer that he should be perfectly and +obviously frank upon all matters of his own which might be properly +mentioned. He had an instinctive feeling that Harum combined acuteness +and suspiciousness to a very large degree, and he had also a feeling +that the old man's confidence, once gained, would not be easily shaken. +So he told his hearer so much of his history as he thought pertinent, +and David listened without interruption or comment, save an occasional +"E-um'm."</p> + +<p>"And here I am," John remarked in conclusion.</p> + +<p>"Here you <i>be</i>, fer a fact," said David. "Wa'al, the's worse places 'n +Homeville—after you git used to it," he added in qualification.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> "I ben +back here a matter o' thirteen or fourteen year now, an' am gettin' to +feel my way 'round putty well; but not havin' ben in these parts fer +putty nigh thirty year, I found it ruther lonesome to start with, an' I +guess if it hadn't 'a' ben fer Polly I wouldn't 'a' stood it. But up to +the time I come back she hadn't never ben ten mile away f'm here in her +hull life, an' I couldn't budge her. But then," he remarked, "while +Homeville aint a metrop'lis, it's some a diff'rent place f'm what it +used to be—in some <i>ways</i>. Polly's my sister," he added by way of +explanation.</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, with rather a rueful laugh, "if it has taken you all +that time to get used to it the outlook for me is not very encouraging, +I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," remarked Mr. Harum, "I'm apt to speak in par'bles sometimes. I +guess you'll git along after a spell, though it mayn't set fust rate on +your stomech till you git used to the diet. Say," he said after a +moment, "if you'd had a couple o' thousan' more, do you think you'd 'a' +stuck to the law bus'nis?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know," replied John, "but I am inclined to think not. +General Wolsey told me that if I were very anxious to go on with it he +would help me, but after what I told him he advised me to write to you."</p> + +<p>"He did, did he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, "and after what I had gone through I was not +altogether sorry to come away."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum thoughtfully, "if I was to lose what little I've +got, an' had to give up livin' in the way I was used to, an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> couldn't +even keep a hoss, I c'n allow 't I might be willin' fer a change of +scene to make a fresh start in. Yes, sir, I guess I would. Wa'al," +looking at his watch, "I've got to go now, an' I'll see ye later, mebbe. +You feel like takin' holt to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said John with alacrity.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Mr. Harum. "You tell Timson what you want, an' make +him show you everythin'. He understands, an' I've paid him for't. He's +agreed to stay any time in reason 't you want him, but I guess," he +added with a laugh, "'t you c'n pump him dry 'n a day or two. It haint +rained wisdom an' knowlidge in his part o' the country fer a consid'able +spell."</p> + +<p>David stood for a moment drawing on his gloves, and then, looking at +John with his characteristic chuckle, continued:</p> + +<p>"Allowed he'd ben drawin' the hull load, did he? Wa'al, sir, the truth +on't is 't he never come to a hill yet, 'f 't wa'n't more 'n a foot +high, but what I had to git out an' push; nor never struck a turn in the +road but what I had to take him by the head an' lead him into it." With +which Mr. Harum put on his overcoat and cap and departed.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mr. Timson was leaning over the counter in animated controversy with a +man on the outside who had evidently asserted or quoted (the quotation +is the usual weapon: it has a double barb and can be wielded with +comparative safety) something of a wounding effect.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," exclaimed Chet, with a sounding slap on the counter, "no, +sir! The' ain't one word o' truth in't. I said myself, 'I won't stan'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +it,' I says, 'not f'm you ner nobody else,' I says, 'an' what's more,' +says I—" The expression in the face of Mr. Timson's tormentor caused +that gentleman to break off and look around. The man on the outside +grinned, stared at John a moment, and went out, and Timson turned and +said, as John came forward, "Hello! The old man picked ye to pieces all +he wanted to?"</p> + +<p>"We are through for the day, I fancy," said our friend, smiling, "and if +you are ready to begin my lessons I am ready to take them. Mr. Harum +told me that you would be good enough to show me what was necessary."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Mr. Timson readily enough, and so John began his first +day's work in David's office. He was surprised and encouraged to find +how much his experience in Rush & Company's office stood him in hand, +and managed to acquire in a comparatively short time a pretty fair +comprehension of the system which prevailed in "Harum's bank," +notwithstanding the incessant divagations of his instructor.</p> + +<p>It was decided between Timson and our friend that on the following day +the latter should undertake the office work under supervision, and the +next morning John was engaged upon the preliminaries of the day's +business when his employer came in and seated himself at his desk in the +back room. After a few minutes, in which he was busy with his letters, +he appeared in the doorway of the front room. He did not speak, for John +saw him, and, responding to a backward toss of the head, followed him +into the "parlor," and at an intimation of the same silent character +shut the doors. Mr. Harum sat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> down at his desk, and John stood awaiting +his pleasure.</p> + +<p>"How 'd ye make out yestidy?" he asked. "Git anythin' out of old +tongue-tied?" pointing with his thumb toward the front room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said John, smiling, as he recalled the unceasing flow of +words which had enveloped Timson's explanations.</p> + +<p>"How much longer do you think you'll have to have him 'round?" asked Mr. +Harum.</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, "of course your customers are strangers to me, but so +far as the routine of the office is concerned I think I can manage after +to-day. But I shall have to appeal to you rather often for a while until +I get thoroughly acquainted with my work."</p> + +<p>"Good fer you," said David. "You've took holt a good sight quicker 'n I +thought ye would, an' I'll spend more or less time 'round here fer a +while, or be where you c'n reach me. It's like this," he continued; +"Chet's a helpless kind of critter, fer all his braggin' an' talk, an' I +ben feelin' kind o' wambly about turnin' him loose—though the Lord +knows," he said with feeling, "'t I've had bother enough with him to +kill a tree. But anyway I wrote to some folks I know up to Syrchester to +git something fer him to do, an' I got a letter to send him along, an' +mebbe they'd give him a show. See?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said John, "and if you are willing to take the chances of my +mistakes I will undertake to get on without him."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the banker, "we'll call it a heat—and, say, don't let +on what I've told you. I want to see how long it'll take to git all over +the village that he didn't ask no odds o' nobody.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> Hadn't ben out o' a +job three days 'fore the' was a lot o' chances, an' all 't he had to do +was to take his pick out o' the lot on 'em."</p> + +<p>"Really?" said John.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said David. "Some folks is gaited that way. Amusin', ain't +it?—Hullo, Dick! Wa'al?"</p> + +<p>"Willis'll give two hunderd fer the sorr'l colt," said the incomer, whom +John recognized as one of the loungers in the Eagle bar the night of his +arrival.</p> + +<p>"E-um'm!" said David. "Was he speakin' of any pertic'ler colt, or sorril +colts in gen'ral? I hain't got the only one the' is, I s'pose."</p> + +<p>Dick merely laughed. "Because," continued the owner of the "sorril +colt," "if Steve Willis wants to lay in sorril colts at two hunderd a +piece, I ain't goin' to gainsay him, but you tell him that +two-forty-nine ninety-nine won't buy the one in my barn." Dick laughed +again.</p> + +<p>John made a move in the direction of the front room.</p> + +<p>"Hold on a minute," said David. "Shake hands with Mr. Larrabee."</p> + +<p>"Seen ye before," said Dick, as they shook hands. "I was in the barroom +when you come in the other night," and then he laughed as at the +recollection of something very amusing.</p> + +<p>John flushed a little and said, a bit stiffly, "I remember you were kind +enough to help about my luggage."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," said Dick, conscious of the other's manner. "I wa'n't +laughin' at you, that is, not in pertic'ler. I couldn't see your face +when Ame offered ye pie an' doughnuts instid of beefsteak an' fixins. I +c'd only guess at that;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> but Ame's face was enough fer me," and Dick +went off into another cachinnation.</p> + +<p>David's face indicated some annoyance. "Oh, shet up," he exclaimed. +"You'd keep that yawp o' your'n goin', I believe, if it was the judgment +day."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Dick with a grin, "I expect the' might be some fun to be +got out o' <i>that</i>, if a feller wa'n't worryin' too much about his own +skin; an' as fur's I'm concerned——" Dick's further views on the +subject of that momentous occasion were left unexplained. A significant +look in David's face caused the speaker to break off and turn toward the +door, through which came two men, the foremost a hulking, shambling +fellow, with an expression of repellent sullenness. He came forward to +within about ten feet of David's desk, while his companion halted near +the door. David eyed him in silence.</p> + +<p>"I got this here notice this mornin'," said the man, "sayin' 't my note +'d be due to-morrer, an' 'd have to be paid."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, with his arm over the back of his chair and his +left hand resting on his desk, "that's so, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Mebbe so," was the fellow's reply, "fur 's the comin' due 's concerned, +but the payin' part 's another matter."</p> + +<p>"Was you cal'latin' to have it renewed?" asked David, leaning a little +forward.</p> + +<p>"No," said the man coolly, "I don't know 's I want to renew it fer any +pertic'ler time, an' I guess it c'n run along fer a while jest as 't +is." John looked at Dick Larrabee. He was watching David's face with an +expression of the ut<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>most enjoyment. David twisted his chair a little +more to the right and out from the desk.</p> + +<p>"You think it c'n run along, do ye?" he asked suavely. "I'm glad to have +your views on the subject. Wa'al, I guess it kin, too, until <i>to-morro'</i> +at four o'clock, an' after that you c'n settle with lawyer Johnson or +the sheriff." The man uttered a disdainful laugh.</p> + +<p>"I guess it'll puzzle ye some to c'lect it," he said. Mr. Harum's bushy +red eyebrows met above his nose.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Bill Montaig," he said, "I know more 'bout this matter 'n +you think for. I know 't you ben makin' your brags that you'd fix me in +this deal. You allowed that you'd set up usury in the fust place, an' if +that didn't work I'd find you was execution proof anyways. That's so, +ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"That's about the size on't," said Montaig, putting his feet a little +farther apart. David had risen from his chair.</p> + +<p>"You didn't talk that way," proceeded the latter, "when you come whinin' +'round here to git that money in the fust place, an' as I reckon some o' +the facts in the case has slipped out o' your mind since that time, I +guess I'd better jog your mem'ry a little."</p> + +<p>It was plain from the expression of Mr. Montaig's countenance that his +confidence in the strength of his position was not quite so assured as +at first, but he maintained his attitude as well as in him lay.</p> + +<p>"In the fust place," David began his assault, "<i>I</i> didn't <i>lend</i> ye the +money. I borr'ed it for ye on my indorsement, an' charged ye fer doin' +it, as I told ye at the time; an' another thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> that you appear to +forgit is that you signed a paper statin' that you was wuth, in good and +available pusson'ls, free an' clear, over five hunderd dollars, an' that +the statement was made to me with the view of havin' me indorse your +note fer one-fifty. Rec'lect that?" David smiled grimly at the look of +disconcert which, in spite of himself, appeared in Bill's face.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember signin' no paper," he said doggedly.</p> + +<p>"Jest as like as not," remarked Mr. Harum. "What <i>you</i> was thinkin' of +about that time was gittin' that <i>money</i>."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see that paper," said Bill, with a pretence of incredulity.</p> + +<p>"You'll see it when the time comes," asserted David, with an emphatic +nod. He squared himself, planting his feet apart, and, thrusting his +hands deep in his coat pockets, faced the discomfited yokel.</p> + +<p>"Do you think, Bill Montaig," he said, with measureless contempt, "that +I didn't know who I was dealin' with? that I didn't know what a +low-lived, roost-robbin' skunk you was? an' didn't know how to protect +myself agin such an'muls as you be? Wa'al, I did, an' don't you stop +thinkin' 'bout it—an'," he added, shaking his finger at the object of +his scorn, "<i>you'll pay that note</i> or I'll put ye where the dogs won't +bite ye," and with that he turned on his heel and resumed his seat. Bill +stood for a minute with a scowl of rage and defeat in his lowering face.</p> + +<p>"Got any further bus'nis with me?" inquired Mr. Harum. "Anythin' more 't +I c'n oblige ye about?" There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"I asked you," said David, raising his voice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> and rising to his feet, +"if you had any further bus'nis with me."</p> + +<p>"I dunno's I have," was the sullen response.</p> + +<p>"All right," said David. "That bein' the case, an' as I've got somethin' +to do beside wastin' my time on such wuthless pups as you be, I'll thank +you to git out. There's the door," he added, pointing to it.</p> + +<p>"He, he, he, he, ho, ho, ha, h-o-o-o-o-o!" came from the throat of Dick +Larrabee. This was too much for the exasperated Bill, and he erred (to +put it mildly) in raising his arm and advancing a step toward his +creditor. He was not swift enough to take the second, however, for +David, with amazing quickness, sprang upon him, and twisting him around, +rushed him out of the door, down the passage, and out of the front door, +which was obligingly held open by an outgoing client, who took in the +situation and gave precedence to Mr. Montaig. His companion, who so far +had taken no part, made a motion to interfere, but John, who stood +nearest to him, caught him by the collar and jerked him back, with the +suggestion that it would be better to let the two have it out by +themselves. David came back rather breathless and very red in the face, +but evidently in exceeding good humor.</p> + +<p>"Scat my ——!" he exclaimed. "Hain't had such a good tussle I dunno +when."</p> + +<p>"Bill's considered ruther an awk'ard customer," remarked Dick. "I guess +he hain't had no such handlin' fer quite a while."</p> + +<p>"Sho!" exclaimed Mr. Harum. "The' ain't nothin' to him but wind an' +meanness. Who was that feller with him?"</p> + +<p>"Name 's Smith, I believe," replied Dick.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> "Guess Bill brought him along +fer a witness, an' I reckon he seen all he wanted to. I'll bet <i>his</i> +neck's achin' some," added Mr. Larrabee with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"How's that?" asked David.</p> + +<p>"Well, he made a move to tackle you as you was escortin' Bill out, an' +Mr. Lenox there caught him in the collar an' gin him a jerk that'd 'a' +landed him on his back," said Dick, "if," turning to John, "you hadn't +helt holt of him. You putty nigh broke his neck. He went off—he, he, +he, he, ho!—wrigglin' it to make sure."</p> + +<p>"I used more force than was necessary, I'm afraid," said Billy +Williams's pupil, "but there wasn't much time to calculate."</p> + +<p>"Much obliged," said David with a nod.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," protested John, laughing. "I have enjoyed a great deal +this morning."</p> + +<p>"It <i>has</i> ben ruther pleasant," remarked David with a chuckle, "but you +mustn't cal'late on havin' such fun ev'ry mornin'."</p> + +<p>John went into the business office, leaving the banker and Dick.</p> + +<p>"Say," said the latter when they were alone, "that young man o' your'n +'s quite a feller. He took care o' that big Smith chap with one hand; +an' say, <i>you</i> c'n git round on your pins 'bout 's lively 's they make +'em, I guess. I swan!" he exclaimed, slapping his thigh and shaking with +laughter, "the hull thing head-an'-shouldered any show I seen lately." +And then for a while they fell to talking of the "sorril colt" and other +things.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + + +<p>When John went back to the office after the noonday intermission it was +manifest that something had happened to Mr. Timson, and that the +something was of a nature extremely gratifying to that worthy gentleman. +He was beaming with satisfaction and rustling with importance. Several +times during the afternoon he appeared to be on the point of confiding +his news, but in the face of the interruptions which occurred, or which +he feared might check the flow of his communication, he managed to +restrain himself till after the closing of the office. But scarcely were +the shutters up (at the willing hands of Peleg Hopkins) when he turned +to John and, looking at him sharply, said, "Has Dave said anythin' 'bout +my leavin'?"</p> + +<p>"He told me he expected you would stay as long as might be necessary to +get me well started," said John non-committally, mindful of Mr. Harum's +injunction.</p> + +<p>"Jest like him," declared Chet. "Jest like him for all the world; but +the fact o' the matter is 't I'm goin' to-morro'. I s'pose he thought," +reflected Mr. Timson, "thet he'd ruther you'd find it out yourself than +to have to break it to ye, 'cause then, don't ye see, after I was gone +he c'd lay the hull thing at my door."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Really," said John, "I should have said that he ought to have told me."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Chet encouragingly, "mebbe you'll git along somehow, +though I'm 'fraid you'll have more or less trouble; but I told Dave that +as fur 's I c'd see, mebbe you'd do 's well 's most anybody he c'd git +that didn't know any o' the customers, an' hadn't never done any o' this +kind o' work before."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," said John. "And so you are off to-morrow, are +you?"</p> + +<p>"Got to be," declared Mr. Timson. "I'd 'a' liked to stay with you a +spell longer, but the's a big concern f'm out of town that as soon as +they heard I was at libe'ty wrote for me to come right along up, an' I +s'pose I hadn't ought to keep 'em waitin'."</p> + +<p>"No, I should think not," said John, "and I congratulate you upon having +located yourself so quickly."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mr. Timson, with ineffable complacency, "I hain't give myself +no worry; I hain't lost no sleep. I've allowed all along that Dave +Harum'd find out that he wa'n't the unly man that needed my kind o' +work, an' I ain't meanin' any disrispect to you when I say 't—"</p> + +<p>"Just so," said John. "I quite understand. Nobody could expect to take +just the place with him that you have filled. And, by the way," he +added, "as you are going in the morning, and I may not see you again, +would you kindly give me the last balance sheets of the two ledgers and +the bill-book. I suppose, of course, that they are brought down to the +first of the month, and I shall want to have them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, cert'nly, of course—wa'al I guess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> Dave's got 'em," replied +Chet, looking considerably disconcerted, "but I'll look 'em up in the +mornin'. My train don't go till ten o'clock, an' I'll see you 'bout any +little last thing in the mornin'—but I guess I've got to go now on +account of a lot of things. You c'n shut up, can't ye?"</p> + +<p>Whereupon Mr. Timson made his exit, and not long afterward David came +in. By that time everything had been put away, the safe and vault +closed, and Peleg had departed with the mail and his freedom for the +rest of the day.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, lifting himself to a seat on the counter, +"how've you made out? All O.K.?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied John, "I think so."</p> + +<p>"Where's Chet?"</p> + +<p>"He went away some few minutes ago. He said he had a good many things to +attend to as he was leaving in the morning."</p> + +<p>"E-um'm!" said David incredulously. "I guess 't won't take him long to +close up his matters. Did he leave ev'rything in good shape? Cash all +right, an' so on?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," said John. "The cash is right I am sure."</p> + +<p>"How 'bout the books?"</p> + +<p>"I asked him to let me have the balance sheets, and he said that you +must have them, but that he would come in in the morning and—well, what +he said was that he would see me in the morning, and, as he put it, look +after any little last thing."</p> + +<p>"E-um'm!" David grunted. "He won't do no such a thing. We've seen the +last of him, you bet, an' a good riddance. He'll take the nine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> o'clock +to-night, that's what he'll do. Drawed his pay, I guess, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"He said he was to be paid for this month," answered John, "and took +sixty dollars. Was that right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said David, nodding his head absently. "What was it he said about +them statements?" he inquired after a moment.</p> + +<p>"He said he guessed you must have them."</p> + +<p>"E-um'm!" was David's comment. "What'd he say about leavin'?"</p> + +<p>John laughed and related the conversation as exactly as he could.</p> + +<p>"What'd I tell ye," said Mr. Harum, with a short laugh. "Mebbe he won't +go till to-morro', after all," he remarked. "He'll want to put in a +leetle more time tellin' how he was sent for in a hurry by that big +concern f'm out of town 't he's goin' to."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I can't understand it," said John, "knowing that you can +contradict him."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "he'll allow that if he gits in the fust word, +he'll take the pole. It don't matter anyway, long 's he's gone. I guess +you an' me c'n pull the load, can't we?" and he dropped down off the +counter and started to go out. "By the way," he said, halting a moment, +"can't you come in to tea at six o'clock? I want to make ye acquainted +with Polly, an' she's itchin' to see ye."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted," said John.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Polly," said David, "I've ast the young feller to come to tea, but +don't you say the word 'Eagle,' to him. You c'n show your ign'rance +'bout all the other kinds of birds an' animals you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> ain't familiar +with," said the unfeeling brother, "but leave eagles alone."</p> + +<p>"What you up to now?" she asked, but she got no answer but a laugh.</p> + +<p>From a social point of view the entertainment could not be described as +a very brilliant success. Our friend was tired and hungry. Mr. Harum was +unusually taciturn, and Mrs. Bixbee, being under her brother's interdict +as regarded the subject which, had it been allowed discussion, might +have opened the way, was at a loss for generalities. But John afterward +got upon terms of the friendliest nature with that kindly soul.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + + +<p>Some weeks after John's assumption of his duties in the office of David +Harum, Banker, that gentleman sat reading his New York paper in the +"wing settin'-room," after tea, and Aunt Polly was occupied with the +hemming of a towel. The able editorial which David was perusing was +strengthening his conviction that all the intelligence and virtue of the +country were monopolized by the Republican party, when his meditations +were broken in upon by Mrs. Bixbee, who knew nothing and cared less +about the Force Bill or the doctrine of protection to American +industries.</p> + +<p>"You hain't said nothin' fer quite a while about the bank," she +remarked. "Is Mr. Lenox gittin' along all right?"</p> + +<p>"Guess he's gittin' into condition as fast as c'd be expected," said +David, between two lines of his editorial.</p> + +<p>"It must be awful lonesome fer him," she observed, to which there was no +reply.</p> + +<p>"Ain't it?" she asked, after an interval.</p> + +<p>"Ain't what?" said David, looking up at her.</p> + +<p>"Awful lonesome," she reiterated.</p> + +<p>"Guess nobody ain't ever very lonesome when you're 'round an' got your +breath," was the reply. "What you talkin' about?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I ain't talkin' about you, 't any rate," said Mrs. Bixbee. "I was +sayin' it must be awful lonesome fer Mr. Lenox up here where he don't +know a soul hardly, an' livin' at that hole of a tavern."</p> + +<p>"I don't see 't you've any cause to complain long's he don't," said +David, hoping that it would not come to his sister's ears that he had, +for reasons of his own, discouraged any attempt on John's part to better +his quarters, "an' he hain't ben very lonesome daytimes, I guess, so +fur, 'thout he's ben makin' work fer himself to kill time."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "we found that Chet hadn't done more 'n to give +matters a lick an' a promise in most a year. He done just enough to keep +up the day's work an' no more an' the upshot on't is that John's had to +put in consid'able time to git things straightened out."</p> + +<p>"What a shame!" exclaimed Aunt Polly.</p> + +<p>"Keeps him f'm bein' lonesome," remarked her brother with a grin.</p> + +<p>"An' he hain't had no time to himself!" she protested. "I don't believe +you've made up your mind yet whether you're goin' to like him, an' I +don't believe he'll <i>stay</i> anyway."</p> + +<p>"I've told more 'n forty-leven times," said Mr. Harum, looking up over +his paper, "that I thought we was goin' to make a hitch of it, an' he +cert'nly hain't said nuthin' 'bout leavin', an' I guess he won't fer a +while, tavern or no tavern. He's got a putty stiff upper lip of his own, +I reckon," David further remarked, with a short laugh, causing Mrs. +Bixbee to look up at him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> inquiringly, which look the speaker answered +with a nod, saying, "Me an' him had a little go-round to-day."</p> + +<p>"You hain't had no <i>words</i>, hev ye?" she asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, we didn't have what ye might call <i>words</i>. I was jest tryin' a +little experiment with him."</p> + +<p>"Humph," she remarked, "you're alwus tryin' exper'ments on somebody, an' +you'll be liable to git ketched at it some day."</p> + +<p>"Exceptin' on you," said David. "You don't think I'd try any experiments +on you, do ye?"</p> + +<p>"Me!" she cried. "You're at me the hull endurin' time, an' you know it."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, but Polly," said David insinuatingly, "you don't know how +int'restin' you <i>be</i>."</p> + +<p>"Glad you think so," she declared, with a sniff and a toss of the head. +"What you ben up to with Mr. Lenox?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nuthin' much," replied Mr. Harum, making a feint of resuming his +reading.</p> + +<p>"Be ye goin' to tell me, or—air ye too <i>'shamed</i> on't?" she added with +a little laugh, which somewhat turned the tables on her teasing brother.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I laid out to try an' read this paper," he said, spreading it +out on his lap, "but," resignedly, "I guess 't ain't no use. Do you know +what a count'fit bill is?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I dunno 's I ever see one," she said, "but I s'pose I do. They're agin +the law, ain't they?"</p> + +<p>"The's a number o' things that's agin the law," remarked David dryly.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al?" ejaculated Mrs. Bixbee after a moment of waiting.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "the' ain't much to tell,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> but it's plain I don't +git no peace till you git it out of me. It was like this: The young +feller's took holt everywhere else right off, but handlin' the money +bothered him consid'able at fust. It was slow work, an' I c'd see it +myself; but he's gettin' the hang on't now. Another thing I expected +he'd run up agin was count'fits. The' ain't so very many on 'em round +now-a-days, but the' is now an' then one. He allowed to me that he was +liable to get stuck at fust, an' I reckoned he would. But I never said +nuthin' about it, nor ast no questions until to-day; an' this afternoon +I come in to look 'round, an' I says to him, 'What luck have you had +with your money? Git any bad?' I says. 'Wa'al,' he says, colorin' up a +little, 'I don't know how many I may have took in an' paid out agin +without knowin' it,' he says, 'but the' was a couple sent back from New +York out o' that package that went down last Friday.'"</p> + +<p>"'What was they?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'A five an' a ten,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Where be they?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'They're in the draw there—they're ruther int'restin' objects of +study,' he says, kind o' laughin' on the wrong side of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"'Countin' 'em in the cash?' I says, an' with that he kind o' reddened +up agin. 'No, sir,' he says, 'I charged 'em up to my own account, an' +I've kept 'em to compare with.'</p> + +<p>"'You hadn't ought to done that,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'You think I ought to 'a' put 'em in the fire at once?' says he.</p> + +<p>"'No,' I says, 'that wa'n't what I meant. Why didn't you mix 'em up with +the other money, an' let 'em go when you was payin' out?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> Anyways,' I +says, 'you charge 'em up to profit an' loss if you're goin' to charge +'em to anythin', an' let me have 'em,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'What'll you do with 'em?' he says to me, kind o' shuttin' his jaws +together.</p> + +<p>"'I'll take care on 'em,' I says. 'They mayn't be good enough to send +down to New York,' I says, 'but they'll go around here all right—jest +as good as any other,' I says, 'long 's you keep 'em movin'.'"</p> + +<p>"David Harum!" cried Polly, who, though not quite comprehending some of +the technicalities of detail, was fully alive to the turpitude of the +suggestion. "I hope to gracious he didn't think you was in earnest. Why, +s'pose they was passed around, wouldn't somebody git stuck with 'em in +the long run? You know they would." Mrs. Bixbee occasionally surprised +her brother with unexpected penetration, but she seldom got much +recognition of it.</p> + +<p>"I see by the paper," he remarked, "that the' was a man died in +Pheladelphy one day last week," which piece of barefaced irrelevancy +elicited no notice from Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"What more did he say?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," responded Mr. Harum with a laugh, "he said that he didn't see +why I should be a loser by his mistakes, an' that as fur as the bills +was concerned they belonged to him, an' with that," said the narrator, +"Mister Man gits 'em out of the draw an' jest marches into the back room +an' puts the dum things int' the fire."</p> + +<p>"He done jest right," declared Aunt Polly, "an' you know it, don't ye +now?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "f'm his standpoint—f'm his standpoint, I guess he +did, an'," rubbing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> his chin with two fingers of his left hand, "it's a +putty dum good standpoint too. I've ben lookin'," he added reflectively, +"fer an honest man fer quite a number o' years, an' I guess I've found +him; yes'm, I guess I've found him."</p> + +<p>"An' be you goin' to let him lose that fifteen dollars?" asked the +practical Polly, fixing her brother with her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, with a short laugh, "what c'n I do with such an +obst'nit critter 's he is? He jest backed into the britchin', an' I +couldn't do nothin' with him." Aunt Polly sat over her sewing for a +minute or two without taking a stitch.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry you done it," she said at last.</p> + +<p>"I dunno but I did make ruther a mess of it," admitted Mr. Harum.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + + +<p>It was the 23d of December, and shortly after the closing hour. Peleg +had departed and our friend had just locked the vault when David came +into the office and around behind the counter.</p> + +<p>"Be you in any hurry?" he asked.</p> + +<p>John said he was not, whereupon Mr. Harum hitched himself up onto a high +office stool, with his heels on the spindle, and leaned sideways upon +the desk, while John stood facing him with his left arm upon the desk.</p> + +<p>"John," said David, "do ye know the Widdo' Cullom?"</p> + +<p>"No" said John, "but I know who she is—a tall, thin woman, who walks +with a slight stoop and limp. I noticed her and asked her name because +there was something about her looks that attracted my attention—as +though at some time she might have seen better days."</p> + +<p>"That's the party," said David. "She has seen better days, but she's eat +an' drunk sorro' mostly fer goin' on thirty year, an' darned little else +good share o' the time, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"She has that appearance certainly," said John.</p> + +<p>"Yes sir," said David, "she's had a putty tough time, the widdo' has, +an' yet," he pro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>ceeded after a momentary pause, "the' was a time when +the Culloms was some o' the king-pins o' this hull region. They used to +own quarter o' the county, an' they lived in the big house up on the +hill where Doc Hays lives now. That was considered to be the finest +place anywheres 'round here in them days. I used to think the Capitol to +Washington must be somethin' like the Cullom house, an' that Billy P. +(folks used to call him Billy P. 'cause his father's name was William +an' his was William Parker), an' that Billy P. 'd jest 's like 's not be +president. I've changed my mind some on the subject of presidents since +I was a boy."</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Harum turned on his stool, put his right hand into his +sack-coat pocket, extracted therefrom part of a paper of "Maple Dew," +and replenished his left cheek with an ample wad of "fine-cut." John +took advantage of the break to head off what he had reason to fear might +turn into a lengthy digression from the matter in hand by saying, "I beg +pardon, but how does it happen that Mrs. Cullom is in such +circumstances? Has the family all died out?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "they're most on 'em dead, all on 'em, in fact, +except the widdo's son Charley, but as fur 's the family 's concerned, +it more 'n <i>died</i> out—it <i>gin</i> out! 'D ye ever hear of Jim Wheton's +calf? Wa'al, Jim brought three or four veals into town one spring to +sell. Dick Larrabee used to peddle meat them days. Dick looked 'em over +an' says, 'Look here, Jim,' he says, 'I guess you got a "deakin" in that +lot,' he says. 'I dunno what you mean,' says Jim. 'Yes, ye do, goll darn +ye!' says Dick, 'yes, ye do. You didn't never kill that calf, an' you +know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> it. That calf died, that's what that calf done. Come, now, own +up,' he says. 'Wa'al,' says Jim, 'I didn't <i>kill</i> it, an' it didn't +<i>die</i> nuther—it jest kind o' <i>gin out</i>.'"</p> + +<p>John joined in the laugh with which the narrator rewarded his own +effort, and David went on: "Yes, sir, they jest petered out. Old Billy, +Billy P.'s father, inheritid all the prop'ty—never done a stroke of +work in his life. He had a collidge education, went to Europe, an' all +that', an' before he was fifty year old he hardly ever come near the old +place after he was growed up. The land was all farmed out on shares, an' +his farmers mostly bamboozled him the hull time. He got consid'able +income, of course, but as things went along and they found out how slack +he was they kept bitin' off bigger chunks all the time, an' sometimes he +didn't git even the core. But all the time when he wanted money—an' he +wanted it putty often I tell ye—the easiest way was to stick on a +morgidge; an' after a spell it got so 't he'd have to give a morgidge to +pay the int'rist on the other morgidges."</p> + +<p>"But," said John, "was there nothing to the estate but land?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said David, "old Billy's father left him some consid'able +pers'nal, but after that was gone he went into the morgidge bus'nis as I +tell ye. He lived mostly up to Syrchester and around, an' when he got +married he bought a place in Syrchester and lived there till Billy P. +was about twelve or thirteen year old, an' he was about fifty. By that +time he'd got 'bout to the end of his rope, an' the' wa'n't nothin' for +it but to come back here to Homeville an' make the most o' what the' was +left—an' that's what he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> done, let alone that he didn't make the most +on't to any pertic'ler extent. Mis' Cullom, his wife, wa'n't no help to +him. She was a city woman an' didn't take to the country no way, but +when she died it broke old Billy up wus 'n ever. She peaked an' pined, +an' died when Billy P. was about fifteen or so. Wa'al, Billy P. an' the +old man wrastled along somehow, an' the boy went to collidge fer a year +or so. How they ever got along 's they did I dunno. The' was a story +that some far-off relation left old Billy some money, an' I guess that +an' what they got off'm what farms was left carried 'em along till Billy +P. was twenty-five or so, an' then he up an' got married. That was the +crownin' stroke," remarked David. "She was one o' the village +girls—respectable folks, more 'n ordinary good lookin' an' high +steppin', an' had had some schoolin'. But the old man was prouder 'n a +cock-turkey, an' thought nobody wa'n't quite good enough fer Billy P., +an' all along kind o' reckoned that he'd marry some money an' git a new +start. But when he got married—on the quiet, you know, cause he knowed +the old man would kick—wa'al, that killed the trick, an' the old man +into the bargain. It took the gumption all out of him, an' he didn't +live a year. Wa'al, sir, it was curious, but, 's I was told, putty much +the hull village sided with the old man. The Culloms was kind o' kings +in them days, an' folks wa'n't so one-man's-good's-anotherish as they be +now. They thought Billy P. done wrong, though they didn't have nothin' +to say 'gainst the girl neither—an' she's very much respected, Mis' +Cullom is, an' as fur's I'm concerned, I've alwus guessed she kept Billy +P. goin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> full as long 's any one could. But 't wa'n't no use—that is +to say, the sure thing come to pass. He had a nom'nal title to a good +deal o' prop'ty, but the equity in most on't if it had ben to be put up +wa'n't enough to pay fer the papers. You see, the' ain't never ben no +real cash value in farm prop'ty in these parts. The' ain't ben hardly a +dozen changes in farm titles, 'cept by inher'tance or foreclosure, in +thirty years. So Billy P. didn't make no effort. Int'rist's one o' them +things that keeps right on nights an' Sundays. He jest had the deeds +made out and handed 'em over when the time came to settle. The' was some +village lots though that was clear, that fetched him in some money from +time to time until they was all gone but one, an' that's the one Mis' +Cullom lives on now. It was consid'able more'n a lot—in fact, a putty +sizable place. She thought the sun rose an' set where Billy P. was, but +she took a crotchit in her head, and wouldn't ever sign no papers fer +that, an' lucky fer him too. The' was a house on to it, an' he had a +roof over his head anyway when he died six or seven years after he +married, an' left her with a boy to raise. How she got along all them +years till Charley got big enough to help, I swan! I don't know. She +took in sewin' an' washin', an' went out to cook an' nurse, an' all +that, but I reckon the' was now an' then times when they didn't overload +their stomechs much, nor have to open the winders to cool off. But she +held onto that prop'ty of her'n like a pup to a root. It was putty well +out when Billy P. died, but the village has growed up to it. The's some +good lots could be cut out on't, an' it backs up to the river where the +current's enough to make a mighty good power fer a 'lec<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>tric light. I +know some fellers that are talkin' of startin' a plant here, an' it +ain't out o' sight that they'd pay a good price fer the river front, an' +enough land to build on. Fact on't is, it's got to be a putty valu'ble +piece o' prop'ty, more 'n she cal'lates on, I reckon."</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Harum paused, pinching his chin with thumb and index finger, +and mumbling his tobacco. John, who had listened with more attention +than interest—wondering the while as to what the narrative was leading +up to—thought something might properly be expected of him to show that +he had followed it, and said, "So Mrs. Cullom has kept this last piece +clear, has she?"</p> + +<p>"No," said David, bringing down his right hand upon the desk with +emphasis, "that's jest what she hain't done, an' that's how I come to +tell ye somethin' of the story, an' more on't 'n you've cared about +hearin', mebbe."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," John protested. "I have been very much interested."</p> + +<p>"You have, have you?" said Mr. Harum. "Wa'al, I got somethin' I want ye +to do. Day after to-morro' 's Chris'mus, an' I want ye to drop Mis' +Cullom a line, somethin' like this, 'That Mr. Harum told ye to say that +that morgidge he holds, havin' ben past due fer some time, an' no +int'rist havin' ben paid fer, let me see, more'n a year, he wants to +close the matter up, an' he'll see her Chris'mus mornin' at the bank at +nine o'clock, he havin' more time on that day; but that, as fur as he +can see, the bus'nis won't take very long'—somethin' like that, you +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," said John, hoping that his employer would not see in +his face the disgust<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> and repugnance he felt as he surmised what a +scheme was on foot, and recalled what he had heard of Harum's hard and +unscrupulous ways, though he had to admit that this, excepting perhaps +the episode of the counterfeit money, was the first revelation to him +personally. But this seemed very bad to him.</p> + +<p>"All right," said David cheerfully, "I s'pose it won't take you long to +find out what's in your stockin', an' if you hain't nothin' else to do +Chris'mus mornin' I'd like to have you open the office and stay 'round a +spell till I git through with Mis' Cullom. Mebbe the' 'll be some papers +to fill out or witniss or somethin'; an' have that skeezicks of a boy +make up the fires so'st the place'll be warm."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir," said John, hoping that the interview was at an end.</p> + +<p>But the elder man sat for some minutes apparently in a brown study, and +occasionally a smile of sardonic cunning wrinkled his face. At last he +said: "I've told ye so much that I may as well tell ye how I come by +that morgidge. 'Twont take but a minute, an' then you can run an' play," +he added with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>"I trust I have not betrayed any impatience," said John, and instantly +conscious of his infelicitous expression, added hastily, "I have really +been very much interested."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," was the reply, "you hain't <i>betrayed</i> none, but I know old +fellers like me gen'rally tell a thing twice over while they're at it. +Wa'al," he went on, "it was like this. After Charley Cullom got to be +some grown he helped to keep the pot a-bilin', 'n they got on some +better. 'Bout seven year ago, though, he up an' got married,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> an' then +the fat ketched fire. Finally he allowed that if he had some money he'd +go West 'n take up some land, 'n git along like pussly 'n a flower +gard'n. He ambitioned that if his mother 'd raise a thousan' dollars on +her place he'd be sure to take care of the int'rist, an' prob'ly pay off +the princ'ple in almost no time. Wa'al, she done it, an' off he went. +She didn't come to me fer the money, because—I dunno—at any rate she +didn't, but got it of 'Zeke Swinney.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, it turned out jest 's any fool might 've predilictid, fer after +the first year, when I reckon he paid it out of the thousan', Charley +never paid no int'rist. The second year he was jest gettin' goin', an' +the next year he lost a hoss jest as he was cal'latin' to pay, an' the +next year the grasshoppers smote him, 'n so on; an' the outcome was that +at the end of five years, when the morgidge had one year to run, +Charley'd paid one year, an' she'd paid one, an' she stood to owe three +years' int'rist. How old Swinney come to hold off so was that she used +to pay the cuss ten dollars or so ev'ry six months 'n git no credit fer +it, an' no receipt an' no witniss, 'n he knowed the prop'ty was +improving all the time. He may have had another reason, but at any rate +he let her run, and got the shave reg'lar. But at the time I'm tellin' +you about he'd begun to cut up, an' allowed that if she didn't settle up +the int'rist he'd foreclose, an' I got wind on't an' I run across her +one day an' got to talkin' with her, an' she gin me the hull narration. +'How much do you owe the old critter?' I says. 'A hunderd an' eighty +dollars,' she says, 'an' where I'm goin' to git it,' she says, 'the Lord +only knows.' 'An' He won't tell ye, I reckon,' I says. Wa'al, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> course +I'd known that Swinney had a morgidge because it was a matter of record, +an' I knowed him well enough to give a guess what his game was goin' to +be, an' more'n that I'd had my eye on that piece an' parcel an' I +figured that he wa'n't any likelier a citizen 'n I was." ("Yes," said +John to himself, "where the carcase is the vultures are gathered +together.")</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says to her, after we'd had a little more talk, 's'posen you +come 'round to my place to-morro' 'bout 'leven o'clock, an' mebbe we c'n +cipher this thing out. I don't say positive that we kin,' I says, 'but +mebbe, mebbe.' So that afternoon I sent over to the county seat an' got +a description an' had a second morgidge drawed up fer two hundred +dollars, an' Mis' Cullom signed it mighty quick. I had the morgidge made +one day after date, 'cause, as I said to her, it was in the nature of a +temp'rary loan, but she was so tickled she'd have signed most anythin' +at that pertic'ler time. 'Now,' I says to her, 'you go an' settle with +old Step-an'-fetch-it, but don't you say a word where you got the +money,' I says. 'Don't ye let on nothin'—stretch that conscience o' +your'n if nes'sary,' I says, 'an' be pertic'ler if he asks you if Dave +Harum give ye the money you jest say, "No, he didn't." That wont be no +lie,' I says, 'because I aint <i>givin'</i> it to ye,' I says. Wa'al, she +done as I told her. Of course Swinney suspicioned fust off that I was +mixed up in it, but she stood him off so fair an' square that he didn't +know jest what <i>to</i> think, but his claws was cut fer a spell, anyway.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, things went on fer a while, till I made up my mind that I ought +to relieve Swinney of some of his anxieties about worldly bus'nis,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> an' +I dropped in on him one mornin' an' passed the time o' day, an' after +we'd eased up our minds on the subjects of each other's health an' such +like I says, 'You hold a morgidge on the Widder Cullom's place, don't +ye?' Of course he couldn't say nothin' but 'yes.' 'Does she keep up the +int'rist all right?' I says. 'I don't want to be pokin' my nose into +your bus'nis,' I says, 'an' don't tell me nothin' you don't want to.' +Wa'al, he knowed Dave Harum was Dave Harum, an' that he might 's well +spit it out, an' he says, 'Wa'al, she didn't pay nothin' fer a good +while, but last time she forked over the hull amount. 'But I hain't no +notion,' he says, 'that she'll come to time agin.' 'An' s'posin' she +don't,' I says, 'you'll take the prop'ty, won't ye?' 'Don't see no other +way,' he says, an' lookin' up quick, 'unless you over-bid me,' he says. +'No,' I says, 'I ain't buyin' no real estate jest now, but the thing I +come in fer,' I says, 'leavin' out the pleasure of havin' a talk with +you, was to say that I'd take that morgidge off'm your hands.'</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, sir, he, he, he, he! Scat my ——! At that he looked at me fer a +minute with his jaw on his neck, an' then he hunched himself, 'n drawed +in his neck like a mud turtle. 'No,' he says, 'I ain't sufferin' fer the +money, an' I guess I'll keep the morgidge. It's putty near due now, but +mebbe I'll let it run a spell. I guess the secur'ty's good fer it.' +'Yes,' I says, 'I reckon you'll let it run long enough fer the widder to +pay the taxes on't once more anyhow; I guess the secur'ty's good enough +to take that resk; but how 'bout <i>my</i> secur'ty?' I says. 'What d'you +mean?' he says. 'I mean,' says I, 'that I've got a second morgidge on +that prop'ty, an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> I begin to tremble fer my secur'ty. You've jest told +me,' I says, 'that you're goin' to foreclose an' I cal'late to protect +myself, an' I <i>don't</i> cal'late,' I says, 'to have to go an' bid on that +prop'ty, an' put in a lot more money to save my investment, unless I'm +'bleeged to—not <i>much</i>! an' you can jest sign that morgidge over to me, +an' the sooner the quicker,' I says."</p> + +<p>David brought his hand down on his thigh with a vigorous slap, the +fellow of the one which, John could imagine, had emphasized his demand +upon Swinney. The story, to which he had at first listened with polite +patience merely, he had found more interesting as it went on, and, +excusing himself, he brought up a stool, and mounting it, said, "And +what did Swinney say to that?" Mr. Harum emitted a gurgling chuckle, +yawned his quid out of his mouth, tossing it over his shoulder in the +general direction of the waste basket, and bit off the end of a cigar +which he found by slapping his waistcoat pockets. John got down and +fetched him a match, which he scratched in the vicinity of his hip +pocket, lighted his cigar (John declining to join him on some plausible +pretext, having on a previous occasion accepted one of the brand), and +after rolling it around with his lips and tongue to the effect that the +lighted end described sundry eccentric curves, located it firmly with an +upward angle in the left-hand corner of his mouth, gave it a couple of +vigorous puffs, and replied to John's question.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, 'Zeke Swinney was a perfesser of religion some years ago, an' +mebbe he is now, but what he said to me on this pertic'ler occasion was +that he'd see me in hell fust, an' <i>then</i> he wouldn't.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'mebbe you won't, mebbe you will, it's alwus a +pleasure to meet ye,' I says, 'but in that case this morgidge bus'nis +'ll be a question fer our executors,' I says, 'fer <i>you</i> don't never +foreclose that morgidge, an' don't you fergit it,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, you'd like to git holt o' that prop'ty yourself. I see what you're +up to,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Look a-here, 'Zeke Swinney,' I says, 'I've got an int'rist in that +prop'ty, an' I propose to p'tect it. You're goin' to sign that morgidge +over to me, or I'll foreclose and surrygate ye,' I says, 'unless you +allow to bid in the prop'ty, in which case we'll see whose weasel-skin's +the longest. But I guess it won't come to that,' I says. 'You kin take +your choice,' I says. 'Whether I want to git holt o' that prop'ty myself +ain't neither here nor there. Mebbe I do, an' mebbe I don't, but +anyways,' I says, '<i>you</i> don't git it, nor wouldn't ever, for if I can't +make you sign over, I'll either do what I said or I'll back the widder +in a defence fer usury. Put that in your pipe an' smoke it,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'What do you mean?' he says, gittin' half out his chair.</p> + +<p>"'I mean this,' I says, 'that the fust six months the widder couldn't +pay she gin you ten dollars to hold off, an' the next time she gin you +fifteen, an' that you've bled her fer shaves to the tune of sixty odd +dollars in three years, an' then got your int'rist in full.'</p> + +<p>"That riz him clean out of his chair," said David. "'She can't prove +it,' he says, shakin' his fist in the air.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, ho! ho!' I says, tippin' my chair back agin the wall. 'If Mis' +Cullom was to swear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> how an' where she paid you the money, givin' +chapter an' verse, and showin' her own mem'randums even, an' I was to +swear that when I twitted you with gittin' it you didn't deny it, but +only said that she couldn't <i>prove</i> it, how long do you think it 'ould +take a Freeland County jury to find agin ye? I allow, 'Zeke Swinney,' I +says, 'that you wa'n't born yestyd'y, but you ain't so old as you look, +not by a dum sight!' an' then how I did laugh!</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, as he got down off the stool and stretched himself, +yawning, "I guess I've yarned it enough fer one day. Don't fergit to +send Mis' Cullom that notice, an' make it up an' up. I'm goin' to git +the thing off my mind this trip."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," said John, "but let me ask, did Swinney assign the +mortgage without any trouble?"</p> + +<p>"O Lord! yes," was the reply. "The' wa'n't nothin' else fer him to do. I +had another twist on him that I hain't mentioned. But he put up a great +show of doin' it to obleege me. Wa'al, I thanked him an' so on, an' when +we'd got through I ast him if he wouldn't step over to the 'Eagil' an' +take somethin', an' he looked kind o' shocked an' said he never drinked +nothin'. It was 'gin his princ'ples, he said. Ho, ho, ho, ho! Scat my +----! Princ'ples!" and John heard him chuckling to himself all the way +out of the office.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Considering John's relations with David Harum, it was natural that he +should wish to think as well of him as possible, and he had not (or +thought he had not) allowed his mind to be influenced by the disparaging +remarks and insinuations which had been made to him, or in his presence, +concerning his employer. He had made up his mind to form his opinion +upon his own experience with the man, and so far it had not only been +pleasant but favorable, and far from justifying the half-jeering, +half-malicious talk that had come to his ears. It had been made manifest +to him, it was true, that David was capable of a sharp bargain in +certain lines, but it seemed to him that it was more for the pleasure of +matching his wits against another's than for any gain involved. Mr. +Harum was an experienced and expert horseman, who delighted above all +things in dealing in and trading horses, and John soon discovered that, +in that community at least, to get the best of a "hoss-trade" by almost +any means was considered a venial sin, if a sin at all, and the +standards of ordinary business probity were not expected to govern those +transactions.</p> + +<p>David had said to him once when he suspected that John's ideas might +have sustained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> something of a shock, "A hoss-trade ain't like anythin' +else. A feller may be straighter 'n a string in ev'rythin' else, an' +never tell the truth—that is, the hull truth—about a hoss. I trade +hosses with hoss-traders. They all think they know as much as I do, an' +I dunno but what they do. They hain't learnt no diff'rent anyway, an' +they've had chances enough. If a feller come to me that didn't think he +knowed anythin' about a hoss, an' wanted to buy on the square, he'd git, +fur's I knew, square treatment. At any rate I'd tell him all 't I knew. +But when one o' them smart Alecks comes along and cal'lates to do up old +Dave, why he's got to take his chances, that's all. An' mind ye," +asserted David, shaking his forefinger impressively, "it ain't only them +fellers. I've ben wuss stuck two three time by church members in good +standin' than anybody I ever dealed with. Take old Deakin Perkins. He's +a terrible feller fer church bus'nis; c'n pray an' psalm-sing to beat +the Jews, an' in spiritual matters c'n read his title clear the hull +time, but when it comes to hoss-tradin' you got to git up very early in +the mornin' or he'll skin the eyeteeth out of ye. Yes, sir! Scat my +----! I believe the old critter <i>makes</i> hosses! But the deakin," added +David, "he, he, he, he! the deakin hain't hardly spoke to me fer some +consid'able time, the deakin hain't. He, he, he!</p> + +<p>"Another thing," he went on, "the' ain't no gamble like a hoss. You may +think you know him through an' through, an' fust thing you know he'll be +cuttin' up a lot o' didos right out o' nothin'. It stands to reason that +sometimes you let a hoss go all on the square—as you know him—an' the +feller that gits him don't know how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> to hitch him or treat him, an' he +acts like a diff'rent hoss, an' the feller allows you swindled him. You +see, hosses gits used to places an' ways to a certain extent, an' when +they're changed, why they're apt to act diff'rent. Hosses don't know but +dreadful little, really. Talk about hoss sense—wa'al, the' ain't no +such thing."</p> + +<p>Thus spoke David on the subject of his favorite pursuit and pastime, and +John thought then that he could understand and condone some things he +had seen and heard, at which at first he was inclined to look askance. +But this matter of the Widow Cullom's was a different thing, and as he +realized that he was expected to play a part, though a small one, in it, +his heart sank within him that he had so far cast his fortunes upon the +good will of a man who could plan and carry out so heartless and cruel +an undertaking as that which had been revealed to him that afternoon. He +spent the evening in his room trying to read, but the widow's affairs +persistently thrust themselves upon his thoughts. All the unpleasant +stories he had heard of David came to his mind, and he remembered with +misgiving some things which at the time had seemed regular and right +enough, but which took on a different color in the light in which he +found himself recalling them. He debated with himself whether he should +not decline to send Mrs. Cullom the notice as he had been instructed, +and left it an open question when he went to bed.</p> + +<p>He wakened somewhat earlier than usual to find that the thermometer had +gone up, and the barometer down. The air was full of a steady downpour, +half snow, half rain, about the most disheartening combination which the +worst cli<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>mate in the world—that of central New York—can furnish. He +passed rather a busy day in the office in an atmosphere redolent of the +unsavory odors raised by the proximity of wet boots and garments to the +big cylinder stove outside the counter, a compound of stale smells from +kitchen and stable.</p> + +<p>After the bank closed he dispatched Peleg Hopkins, the office boy, with +the note for Mrs. Cullom. He had abandoned his half-formed intention to +revolt, but had made the note not only as little peremptory as was +compatible with a clear intimation of its purport as he understood it, +but had yielded to a natural impulse in beginning it with an expression +of personal regret—a blunder which cost him no little chagrin in the +outcome.</p> + +<p>Peleg Hopkins grumbled audibly when he was requested to build the fires +on Christmas day, and expressed his opinion that "if there warn't Bible +agin workin' on Chris'mus, the' 'd ort ter be"; but when John opened the +door of the bank that morning he found the temperature in comfortable +contrast to the outside air. The weather had changed again, and a +blinding snowstorm, accompanied by a buffeting gale from the northwest, +made it almost impossible to see a path and to keep it. In the central +part of the town some tentative efforts had been made to open walks, but +these were apparent only as slight and tortuous depressions in the +depths of snow. In the outskirts, the unfortunate pedestrian had to wade +to the knees.</p> + +<p>As John went behind the counter his eye was at once caught by a small +parcel lying on his desk, of white note paper, tied with a cot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>ton +string, which he found to be addressed, "Mr. John Lenox, Esq., Present," +and as he took it up it seemed heavy for its size.</p> + +<p>Opening it, he found a tiny stocking, knit of white wool, to which was +pinned a piece of paper with the legend, "A Merry Christmas from Aunt +Polly." Out of the stocking fell a packet fastened with a rubber strap. +Inside were five ten-dollar gold pieces and a slip of paper on which was +written, "A Merry Christmas from Your Friend David Harum." For a moment +John's face burned, and there was a curious smarting of the eyelids as +he held the little stocking and its contents in his hand. Surely the +hand that had written "Your Friend" on that scrap of paper could not be +the hand of an oppressor of widows and orphans. "This," said John to +himself, "is what he meant when 'he supposed it wouldn't take me long to +find out what was in my stocking.'"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The door opened and a blast and whirl of wind and snow rushed in, +ushering the tall, bent form of the Widow Cullom. The drive of the wind +was so strong that John vaulted over the low cash counter to push the +door shut again. The poor woman was white with snow from the front of +her old worsted hood to the bottom of her ragged skirt.</p> + +<p>"You are Mrs. Cullom?" said John. "Wait a moment till I brush off the +snow, and then come to the fire in the back room. Mr. Harum will be in +directly, I expect."</p> + +<p>"Be I much late?" she asked. "I made 's much haste 's I could. It don't +appear to me 's if I ever see a blusteriner day, 'n I ain't as strong<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +as I used to be. Seemed as if I never would git here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said John, as he established her before the glowing grate of +the Franklin stove in the bank parlor, "not at all. Mr. Harum has not +come in himself yet. Shall you mind if I excuse myself a moment while +you make yourself as comfortable as possible?" She did not apparently +hear him. She was trembling from head to foot with cold and fatigue and +nervous excitement. Her dress was soaked to the knees, and as she sat +down and put up her feet to the fire John saw a bit of a thin cotton +stocking and her deplorable shoes, almost in a state of pulp. A +snow-obliterated path led from the back door of the office to David's +house, and John snatched his hat and started for it on a run. As he +stamped off some of the snow on the veranda the door was opened for him +by Mrs. Bixbee. "Lord sakes!" she exclaimed. "What on earth be you +cavortin' 'round for such a mornin' 's this without no overcoat, an' on +a dead run? What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing serious," he answered, "but I'm in a great hurry. Old Mrs. +Cullom has walked up from her house to the office, and she is wet +through and almost perished. I thought you'd send her some dry shoes and +stockings, and an old shawl or blanket to keep her wet skirt off her +knees, and a drop of whisky or something. She's all of a tremble, and +I'm afraid she will have a chill."</p> + +<p>"Certain! certain!" said the kind creature, and she bustled out of the +room, returning in a minute or two with an armful of comforts. "There's +a pair of bedroom slips lined with lamb's wool, an' a pair of woolen +stockin's, an' a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> blanket shawl. This here petticut, 't ain't what ye'd +call bran' new, but it's warm and comf'table, an' I don't believe she's +got much of anythin' on 'ceptin' her dress, an' I'll git ye the whisky, +but"—here she looked deprecatingly at John—"it ain't gen'ally known 't +we keep the stuff in the house. I don't know as it's right, but though +David don't hardly ever touch it he will have it in the house."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said John, laughing, "you may trust my discretion, and we'll swear +Mrs. Cullom to secrecy."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, all right," said Mrs. Bixbee, joining in the laugh as she +brought the bottle; "jest a minute till I make a passel of the things to +keep the snow out. There, now, I guess you're fixed, an' you kin hurry +back 'fore she ketches a chill."</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much," said John as he started away. "I have something to +say to you besides 'Merry Christmas,' but I must wait till another +time."</p> + +<p>When John got back to the office David had just preceded him.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, wa'al," he was saying, "but you be in a putty consid'able state. +Hullo, John! what you got there? Wa'al, you air the stuff! Slips, +blanket-shawl, petticut, stockin's—wa'al, you an' Polly ben puttin' +your heads together, I guess. What's that? Whisky! Wa'al, scat my ——! +I didn't s'pose wild hosses would have drawed it out o' Polly to let on +the' was any in the house, much less to fetch it out. Jest the thing! +Oh, yes ye are, Mis' Cullom—jest a mouthful with water," taking the +glass from John, "jest a spoonful to git your blood a-goin', an' then +Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> Lenox an' me 'll go into the front room while you make yourself +comf'table."</p> + +<p>"Consarn it all!" exclaimed Mr. Harum as they stood leaning against the +teller's counter, facing the street, "I didn't cal'late to have Mis' +Cullom hoof it up here the way she done. When I see what kind of a day +it was I went out to the barn to have the cutter hitched an' send for +her, an' I found ev'rythin' topsy-turvy. That dum'd uneasy sorril colt +had got cast in the stall, an' I ben fussin' with him ever since. I +clean forgot all 'bout Mis' Cullom till jest now."</p> + +<p>"Is the colt much injured?" John asked.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, he won't trot a twenty gait in some time, I reckon," replied +David. "He's wrenched his shoulder some, an' mebbe strained his inside. +Don't seem to take no int'rist in his feed, an' that's a bad sign. +Consarn a hoss, anyhow! If they're wuth anythin' they're more bother 'n +a teethin' baby. Alwus some dum thing ailin' 'em, an' I took consid'able +stock in that colt too," he added regretfully, "an' I could 'a' got +putty near what I was askin' fer him last week, an' putty near what he +was wuth, an' I've noticed that most gen'ally alwus when I let a good +offer go like that, some cussed thing happens to the hoss. It ain't a +bad idee, in the hoss bus'nis anyway, to be willin' to let the other +feller make a dollar once 'n a while."</p> + +<p>After that aphorism they waited in silence for a few minutes, and then +David called out over his shoulder, "How be you gettin' along, Mis' +Cullom?"</p> + +<p>"I guess I'm fixed," she answered, and David walked slowly back into the +parlor, leaving John in the front office. He was annoyed to realize<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +that in the bustle over Mrs. Cullom and what followed, he had forgotten +to acknowledge the Christmas gift; but, hoping that Mr. Harum had been +equally oblivious, promised himself to repair the omission later on. He +would have preferred to go out and leave the two to settle their affair +without witness or hearer, but his employer, who, as he had found, +usually had a reason for his actions, had explicitly requested him to +remain, and he had no choice. He perched himself upon one of the office +stools and composed himself to await the conclusion of the affair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Cullom was sitting at one corner of the fire, and David drew a +chair opposite to her.</p> + +<p>"Feelin' all right now? whisky hain't made ye liable to no disorderly +conduct, has it?" he asked with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank you," was the reply, "the warm things are real comfortin', +'n' I guess I hain't had licker enough to make me want to throw things. +You got a kind streak in ye, Dave Harum, if you did send me this here +note—but I s'pose ye know your own bus'nis," she added with a sigh of +resignation. "I ben fearin' fer a good while 't I couldn't hold on t' +that prop'ty, an' I don't know but what you might's well git it as 'Zeke +Swinney, though I ben hopin' 'gainst hope that Charley 'd be able to do +more 'n he has."</p> + +<p>"Let's see the note," said David curtly. "H'm, humph, 'regret to say +that I have been instructed by Mr. Harum'—wa'al, h'm'm, cal'lated to +clear his own skirts anyway—h'm'm—'must be closed up without further +delay' (John's eye caught the little white stocking which still lay on +his desk)—wa'al, yes, that's about what I told Mr. Lenox to say fur's +the bus'nis part's concerned—I might 'a' done my own regrettin' if I'd +wrote the note myself." (John said something to himself.) "'T ain't the +pleasantest thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> in the world fer ye, I allow, but then you see, +bus'nis is bus'nis."</p> + +<p>John heard David clear his throat, and there was a hiss in the open +fire. Mrs. Cullom was silent, and David resumed:</p> + +<p>"You see, Mis' Cullom, it's like this. I ben thinkin' of this matter fer +a good while. That place ain't ben no real good to ye sence the first +year you signed that morgidge. You hain't scurcely more'n made ends +meet, let alone the int'rist, an' it's ben simply a question o' time, +an' who'd git the prop'ty in the long run fer some years. I reckoned, +same as you did, that Charley 'd mebbe come to the front—but he hain't +done it, an' 't ain't likely he ever will. Charley's a likely 'nough boy +some ways, but he hain't got much 'git there' in his make-up, not more'n +enough fer one anyhow, I reckon. That's about the size on't, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cullom murmured a feeble admission that she was "'fraid it was."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," resumed Mr. Harum, "I see how things was goin', an' I see that +unless I played euchre, 'Zeke Swinney 'd git that prop'ty, an' whether I +wanted it myself or not, I didn't cal'late he sh'd git it anyway. He put +a spoke in my wheel once, an' I hain't forgot it. But that hain't +neither here nor there. Wa'al," after a short pause, "you know I helped +ye pull the thing along on the chance, as ye may say, that you an' your +son 'd somehow make a go on't."</p> + +<p>"You ben very kind, so fur," said the widow faintly.</p> + +<p>"Don't ye say that, don't ye say that," protested David. "'T wa'n't no +kindness. It was jest bus'nis: I wa'n't takin' no chances, an' I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> s'pose +I might let the thing run a spell longer if I c'd see any use in't. But +the' ain't, an' so I ast ye to come up this mornin' so 't we c'd settle +the thing up without no fuss, nor trouble, nor lawyer's fees, nor +nothin'. I've got the papers all drawed, an' John—Mr. Lenox—here to +take the acknowlidgments. You hain't no objection to windin' the thing +up this mornin', have ye?"</p> + +<p>"I s'pose I'll have to do whatever you say," replied the poor woman in a +tone of hopeless discouragement, "an' I might as well be killed to once, +as to die by inch pieces."</p> + +<p>"All right then," said David cheerfully, ignoring her lethal suggestion, +"but before we git down to bus'nis an' signin' papers, an' in order to +set myself in as fair a light 's I can in the matter, I want to tell ye +a little story."</p> + +<p>"I hain't no objection 's I know of," acquiesced the widow graciously.</p> + +<p>"All right," said David, "I won't preach more 'n about up to the +sixthly—How'd you feel if I was to light up a cigar? I hain't much of a +hand at a yarn, an' if I git stuck, I c'n puff a spell. Thank ye. Wa'al, +Mis' Cullom, you used to know somethin' about my folks. I was raised on +Buxton Hill. The' was nine on us, an' I was the youngest o' the lot. My +father farmed a piece of about forty to fifty acres, an' had a small +shop where he done odd times small jobs of tinkerin' fer the neighbors +when the' was anythin' to do. My mother was his second, an' I was the +only child of that marriage. He married agin when I was about two year +old, an' how I ever got raised 's more 'n I c'n tell ye. My sister Polly +was 'sponsible more 'n any one, I guess, an' the only one o' the whole +lot that ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> gin me a decent word. Small farmin' ain't cal'lated to +fetch out the best traits of human nature—an' keep 'em out—an' it +seems to me sometimes that when the old man wa'n't cuffin' my ears he +was lickin' me with a rawhide or a strap. Fur 's that was concerned, all +his boys used to ketch it putty reg'lar till they got too big. One on +'em up an' licked him one night, an' lit out next day. I s'pose the old +man's disposition was sp'iled by what some feller said farmin' was, +'workin' all day, an' doin' chores all night,' an' larrupin' me an' all +the rest on us was about all the enjoyment he got. My brothers an' +sisters—'ceptin' of Polly—was putty nigh as bad in respect of cuffs +an' such like; an' my step-marm was, on the hull, the wust of all. She +hadn't no childern o' her own, an' it appeared 's if I was jest pizen to +her. 'T wa'n't so much slappin' an' cuffin' with her as 't was tongue. +She c'd say things that 'd jest raise a blister like pizen ivy. I s'pose +I <i>was</i> about as ord'nary, no-account-lookin', red-headed, freckled +little cuss as you ever see, an' slinkin' in my manners. The air of our +home circle wa'n't cal'lated to raise heroes in.</p> + +<p>"I got three four years' schoolin', an' made out to read an' write an' +cipher up to long division 'fore I got through, but after I got to be +six year old, school or no school, I had to work reg'lar at anything I +had strength fer, an' more too. Chores before school an' after school, +an' a two-mile walk to git there. As fur 's clo'es was concerned, any +old thing that 'd hang together was good enough fer me; but by the time +the older boys had outgrowed their duds, an' they was passed on to me, +the' wa'n't much left on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> 'em. A pair of old cowhide boots that leaked +in more snow an' water 'n they kept out, an' a couple pairs of woolen +socks that was putty much all darns, was expected to see me through the +winter, an' I went barefoot f'm the time the snow was off the ground +till it flew agin in the fall. The' wa'n't but two seasons o' the year +with me—them of chilblains an' stun-bruises."</p> + +<p>The speaker paused and stared for a moment into the comfortable glow of +the fire, and then discovering to his apparent surprise that his cigar +had gone out, lighted it from a coal picked out with the tongs.</p> + +<p>"Farmin' 's a hard life," remarked Mrs. Cullom with an air of being +expected to make some contribution to the conversation.</p> + +<p>"An' yit, as it seems to me as I look back on't," David resumed +pensively, "the wust on't was that nobody ever gin me a kind word, 'cept +Polly. I s'pose I got kind o' used to bein' cold an' tired; dressin' in +a snowdrift where it blowed into the attic, an' goin' out to fodder +cattle 'fore sun-up; pickin' up stun in the blazin' sun, an' doin' all +the odd jobs my father set me to, an' the older ones shirked onto me. +That was the reg'lar order o' things; but I remember I never <i>did</i> git +used to never pleasin' nobody. 'Course I didn't expect nothin' f'm my +step-marm, an' the only way I ever knowed I'd done my stent fur 's +father was concerned, was that he didn't say nothin'. But sometimes the +older ones 'd git settin' 'round, talkin' an' laughin', havin' pop corn +an' apples, an' that, an' I'd kind o' sidle up, wantin' to join 'em, an' +some on 'em 'd say, 'What <i>you</i> doin' here? time you was in bed,' an' +give me a shove or a cuff. Yes, ma'am," looking up at Mrs. Cul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>lom, "the +wust on't was that I was kind o' scairt the hull time. Once in a while +Polly 'd give me a mossel o' comfort, but Polly wa'n't but little older +'n me, an' bein' the youngest girl, was chored most to death herself."</p> + +<p>It had stopped snowing, and though the wind still came in gusty blasts, +whirling the drift against the windows, a wintry gleam of sunshine came +in and touched the widow's wrinkled face.</p> + +<p>"It's amazin' how much trouble an' sorrer the' is in the world, an' how +soon it begins," she remarked, moving a little to avoid the sunlight. "I +hain't never ben able to reconcile how many good things the' be, an' how +little most on us gits o' them. I hain't ben to meetin' fer a long spell +'cause I hain't had no fit clo'es, but I remember most of the preachin' +I've set under either dwelt on the wrath to come, or else on the Lord's +doin' all things well, an' providin'. I hope I ain't no wickeder 'n than +the gen'ral run, but it's putty hard to hev faith in the Lord's +providin' when you hain't got nothin' in the house but corn meal, an' +none too much o' that."</p> + +<p>"That's so, Mis' Cullom, that's so," affirmed David. "I don't blame ye a +mite. 'Doubts assail, an' oft prevail,' as the hymn-book says, an' I +reckon it's a sight easier to have faith on meat an' potatoes 'n it is +on corn meal mush. Wa'al, as I was sayin'—I hope I ain't tirin' ye with +my goin's on?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Cullom, "I'm engaged to hear ye, but nobody 'd suppose +to see ye now that ye was such a f'lorn little critter as you make out."</p> + +<p>"It's jest as I'm tellin' ye, an' more also, as the Bible says," +returned David, and then, rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> more impressively, as if he were +leading up to his conclusion, "it come along to a time when I was 'twixt +thirteen an' fourteen. The' was a cirkis billed to show down here in +Homeville, an' ev'ry barn an' shed fer miles around had pictures stuck +onto 'em of el'phants, an' rhinoceroses, an' ev'ry animul that went into +the ark; an' girls ridin' bareback an' jumpin' through hoops, an' +fellers ridin' bareback an' turnin' summersets, an' doin' turnovers on +swings; an' clowns gettin' hoss-whipped, an' ev'ry kind of a thing that +could be pictered out; an' how the' was to be a grand percession at ten +o'clock, 'ith golden chariots, an' scripteral allegories, an' the hull +bus'nis; an' the gran' performance at two o'clock; admission twenty-five +cents, children under twelve, at cetery, an' so forth. Wa'al, I hadn't +no more idee o' goin' to that cirkis 'n I had o' flyin' to the moon, but +the night before the show somethin' waked me 'bout twelve o'clock. I +don't know how 't was. I'd ben helpin' mend fence all day, an' gen'ally +I never knowed nothin' after my head struck the bed till mornin'. But +that night, anyhow, somethin' waked me, an' I went an' looked out the +windo', an' there was the hull thing goin' by the house. The' was more +or less moon, an' I see the el'phant, an' the big wagins—the drivers +kind o' noddin' over the dashboards—an' the chariots with canvas +covers—I don't know how many of 'em—an' the cages of the tigers an' +lions, an' all. Wa'al, I got up the next mornin' at sun-up an' done my +chores; an' after breakfust I set off fer the ten-acre lot where I was +mendin' fence. The ten-acre was the farthest off of any, Homeville way, +an' I had my dinner in a tin pail so't I needn't lose no time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> goin' +home at noon, an', as luck would have it, the' wa'n't nobody with me +that mornin'. Wa'al, I got down to the lot an' set to work; but somehow +I couldn't git that show out o' my head nohow. As I said, I hadn't no +more notion of goin' to that cirkis 'n I had of kingdom come. I'd never +had two shillin' of my own in my hull life. But the more I thought on't +the uneasier I got. Somethin' seemed pullin' an' haulin' at me, an' +fin'ly I gin in. I allowed I'd see that percession anyway if it took a +leg, an' mebbe I c'd git back 'ithout nobody missin' me. 'T any rate, +I'd take the chances of a lickin' jest once—fer that's what it +meant—an' I up an' put fer the village lickity-cut. I done them four +mile lively, I c'n tell ye, an' the stun-bruises never hurt me once.</p> + +<p>"When I got down to the village it seemed to me as if the hull +population of Freeland County was there. I'd never seen so many folks +together in my life, an' fer a spell it seemed to me as if ev'rybody was +a-lookin' at me an' sayin', 'That's old Harum's boy Dave, playin' +hookey,' an' I sneaked 'round dreadin' somebody 'd give me away; but I +fin'ly found that nobody wa'n't payin' any attention to me—they was +there to see the show, an' one red-headed boy more or less wa'n't no +pertic'ler account. Wa'al, putty soon the percession hove in sight, an' +the' was a reg'lar stampede among the boys, an' when it got by, I run +an' ketched up with it agin, an' walked alongside the el'phant, tin pail +an' all, till they fetched up inside the tent. Then I went off to one +side—it must 'a' ben about 'leven or half-past, an' eat my dinner—I +had a devourin' appetite—an' thought I'd jest walk round a spell, an' +then light out fer home. But the' was so many things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> to see an' +hear—all the side-show pictures of Fat Women, an' Livin' Skelitons; an' +Wild Women of Madygasker, an' Wild Men of Borneo; an' snakes windin' +round women's necks; hand-orgins; fellers that played the 'cordion, an' +mouth-pipes, an' drum an' cymbals all to once, an' such like—that I +fergot all about the time an' the ten-acre lot, an' the stun fence, an' +fust I knowed the folks was makin' fer the ticket wagin, an' the band +begun to play inside the tent. Be I taxin' your patience over the +limit?" said David, breaking off in his story and addressing Mrs. Cullom +more directly.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not," she replied; "I was jest thinkin' of a circus I went +to once," she added with an audible sigh.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, taking a last farewell of the end of his cigar, +which he threw into the grate, "mebbe what's comin' 'll int'rest ye more +'n the rest on't has. I was standin' gawpin' 'round, list'nin' to the +band an' watchin' the folks git their tickets, when all of a suddin I +felt a twitch at my hair—it had a way of workin' out of the holes in my +old chip straw hat—an' somebody says to me, 'Wa'al, sonny, what you +thinkin' of?' he says. I looked up, an' who do you s'pose it was? It was +Billy P. Cullom! I knowed who he was, fer I'd seen him before, but of +course he didn't know me. Yes, ma'am, it was Billy P., an' wa'n't he +rigged out to kill!"</p> + +<p>The speaker paused and looked into the fire, smiling. The woman started +forward facing him, and clasping her hands, cried, "My husband! What'd +he have on?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David slowly and reminiscently, "near's I c'n remember, he +had on a blue broad-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>cloth claw-hammer coat with flat gilt buttons, an' +a double-breasted plaid velvet vest, an' pearl-gray pants, strapped down +over his boots, which was of shiny leather, an' a high pointed collar +an' blue stock with a pin in it (I remember wonderin' if it c'd be real +gold), an' a yeller-white plug beaver hat."</p> + +<p>At the description of each article of attire Mrs. Cullom nodded her +head, with her eyes fixed on David's face, and as he concluded she broke +out breathlessly, "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! David, he wore them very same +clo'es, an' he took me to that very same show that very same night!" +There was in her face a look almost of awe, as if a sight of her +long-buried past youth had been shown to her from a coffin.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke for a moment or two, and it was the widow who broke the +silence. As David had conjectured, she was interested at last, and sat +leaning forward with her hands clasped in her lap.</p> + +<p>"Well," she exclaimed, "ain't ye goin' on? What did he say to ye?"</p> + +<p>"Cert'nly, cert'nly," responded David, "I'll tell ye near 's I c'n +remember, an' I c'n remember putty near. As I told ye, I felt a twitch +at my hair, an' he said, 'What be you thinkin' about, sonny?' I looked +up at him, an' looked away quick. 'I dunno,' I says, diggin' my big toe +into the dust; an' then, I dunno how I got the spunk to, for I was shyer +'n a rat, 'Guess I was thinkin' 'bout mendin' that fence up in the +ten-acre lot's much's anythin',' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Ain't you goin' to the cirkis?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'I hain't got no money to go to cirkises,' I says, rubbin' the dusty +toes o' one foot over t' other, 'nor nothin' else,' I says.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, 'why don't you crawl under the canvas?'</p> + +<p>"That kind o' riled me, shy 's I was. 'I don't crawl under no canvases,' +I says. 'If I can't go in same 's other folks, I'll stay out,' I says, +lookin' square at him fer the fust time. He wa'n't exac'ly smilin', but +the' was a look in his eyes that was the next thing to it."</p> + +<p>"Lordy me!" sighed Mrs. Cullom, as if to herself. "How well I can +remember that look; jest as if he was laughin' at ye, an' wa'n't +laughin' at ye, an' his arm around your neck!"</p> + +<p>David nodded in reminiscent sympathy, and rubbed his bald poll with the +back of his hand.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," interjected the widow.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, resuming, "he says to me, 'Would you like to go to +the cirkis?' an' with that it occurred to me that I did want to go to +that cirkis more'n anythin' I ever wanted to before—nor since, it seems +to me. But I tell ye the truth, I was so far f'm expectin' to go't I +really hadn't knowed I wanted to. I looked at him, an' then down agin, +an' began tenderin' up a stun-bruise on one heel agin the other instep, +an' all I says was, bein' so dum'd shy, 'I dunno,' I says. But I guess +he seen in my face what my feelin's was, fer he kind o' laughed an' +pulled out half-a-dollar an' says: 'D' you think you could git a couple +o' tickits in that crowd? If you kin, I think I'll go myself, but I +don't want to git my boots all dust,' he says. I allowed I c'd try; an' +I guess them bare feet o' mine tore up the dust some gettin' over to the +wagin. Wa'al, I had another scare gettin' the tickits, fer fear some one +that knowed me 'd see me with a half-a-dollar, an' think I must 'a' +stole the money. But I got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> 'em an' carried 'em back to him, an' he took +'em an' put 'em in his vest pocket, an' handed me a ten-cent piece, an' +says, 'Mebbe you'll want somethin' in the way of refreshments fer +yourself an' mebbe the el'phant,' he says, an' walked off toward the +tent; an' I stood stun still, lookin' after him. He got off about a rod +or so an' stopped an' looked back. 'Ain't you comin'?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Be I goin' with <i>you</i>?" I says.</p> + +<p>"'Why not?' he says, ''nless you'd ruther go alone,' an' he put his +finger an' thumb into his vest pocket. Wa'al, ma'am, I looked at him a +minute, with his shiny hat an' boots, an' fine clo'es, an' gold pin, an' +thought of my ragged ole shirt, an' cotton pants, an' ole chip hat with +the brim most gone, an' my tin pail an' all. 'I ain't fit to,' I says, +ready to cry—an'—wa'al, he jest laughed, an' says, 'Nonsense,' he +says, 'come along. A man needn't be ashamed of his workin' clo'es,' he +says, an' I'm dum'd if he didn't take holt of my hand, an' in we went +that way together."</p> + +<p>"How like him that was!" said the widow softly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, yes, ma'am, I reckon it was," said David, nodding.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he went on after a little pause, "I was ready to sink into the +ground with shyniss at fust, but that wore off some after a little, an' +we two seen the hull show, I <i>tell</i> ye. We walked 'round the cages, an' +we fed the el'phant—that is, he bought the stuff an' I fed him. I +'member—he, he, he!—'t he says, 'mind you git the right end,' he says, +an' then we got a couple o' seats, an' the doin's begun."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + + +<p>The widow was looking at David with shining eyes and devouring his +words. All the years of trouble and sorrow and privation were wiped out, +and she was back in the days of her girlhood. Ah, yes! how well she +remembered him as he looked that very day—so handsome, so splendidly +dressed, so debonair; and how proud she had been to sit by his side that +night, observed and envied of all the village girls.</p> + +<p>"I ain't goin' to go over the hull show," proceeded David, "well 's I +remember it. The' didn't nothin' git away from me that afternoon, an' +once I come near to stickin' a piece o' gingerbread into my ear 'stid o' +my mouth. I had my ten-cent piece that Billy P. give me, but he wouldn't +let me buy nothin'; an' when the gingerbread man come along he says, +'Air ye hungry, Dave? (I'd told him my name), air ye hungry?' Wa'al, I +was a growin' boy, an' I was hungry putty much all the time. He bought +two big squares an' gin me one, an' when I'd swallered it, he says, +'Guess you better tackle this one too,' he says, 'I've dined.' I didn't +exac'ly know what 'dined' meant, but—he, he, he, he!—I tackled it," +and David smacked his lips in memory.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he went on, "we done the hull pro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>grammy—gingerbread, +lemonade—<i>pink</i> lemonade, an' he took some o' that—pop corn, peanuts, +pep'mint candy, cin'mun candy—scat my ——! an' he payin' fer +ev'rythin'—I thought he was jest made o' money! An' I remember how we +talked about all the doin's; the ridin', an' jumpin', an' summersettin', +an' all—fer he'd got all the shyniss out of me for the time—an' once I +looked up at him, an' he looked down at me with that curious look in his +eyes an' put his hand on my shoulder. Wa'al, now, I tell ye, I had a +queer, crinkly feelin' go up an' down my back, an' I like to up an' +cried."</p> + +<p>"Dave," said the widow, "I kin see you two as if you was settin' there +front of me. He was alwus like that. Oh, my! Oh, my! David," she added +solemnly, while two tears rolled slowly down her wrinkled face, "we +lived together, husban' an' wife, fer seven year, an' he never give me a +cross word."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt it a mossel," said David simply, leaning over and poking +the fire, which operation kept his face out of her sight and was +prolonged rather unduly. Finally he straightened up and, blowing his +nose as it were a trumpet, said:</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, the cirkis fin'ly come to an end, an' the crowd hustled to git +out 's if they was afraid the tent 'd come down on 'em. I got kind o' +mixed up in 'em, an' somebody tried to git my tin pail, or I thought he +did, an' the upshot was that I lost sight o' Billy P., an' couldn't make +out to ketch a glimpse of him nowhere. An' <i>then</i> I kind o' come down to +earth, kerchug! It was five o'clock, an' I had better 'n four mile to +walk—mostly up hill—an' if I knowed anything 'bout<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> the old man, an' I +thought I <i>did</i>, I had the all-firedist lickin' ahead of me 't I'd ever +got, an' that was sayin' a good deal. But, boy 's I was, I had grit +enough to allow 't was wuth it, an' off I put."</p> + +<p>"Did he lick ye much?" inqured Mrs. Cullom anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied David, "he done his best. He was layin' fer me when I +struck the front gate—I knowed it wa'n't no use to try the back door, +an' he took me by the ear—most pulled it off—an' marched me off to the +barn shed without a word. I never see him so mad. Seemed like he +couldn't speak fer a while, but fin'ly he says, 'Where you ben all day?'</p> + +<p>"'Down t' the village,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'What you ben up to down there?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Went to the cirkis,' I says, thinkin' I might 's well make a clean +breast on't.</p> + +<p>"'Where 'd you git the money?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Cullom took me,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'You lie,' he says. 'You stole the money somewheres, an' I'll trounce +it out of ye, if I kill ye,' he says.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, twisting his shoulders in recollection, "I won't +harrer up your feelin's. 'S I told you, he done his best. I was willin' +to quit long 'fore he was. Fact was, he overdone it a little, an' he had +to throw water in my face 'fore he got through; an' he done that as +thorough as the other thing. I was somethin' like a chickin jest out o' +the cistern. I crawled off to bed the best I could, but I didn't lay on +my back fer a good spell, I c'n tell ye."</p> + +<p>"You poor little critter," exclaimed Mrs. Cullom sympathetically. "You +poor little critter!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'T was more'n wuth it, Mis' Cullom," said David emphatically. "I'd had +the most enjoy'ble day, I might say the only enjoy'ble day, 't I'd ever +had in my hull life, an' I hain't never fergot it. I got over the +lickin' in course of time, but I've ben enjoyin' that cirkis fer forty +year. The' wa'n't but one thing to hender, an' that's this, that I +hain't never ben able to remember—an' to this day I lay awake nights +tryin' to—that I said 'Thank ye' to Billy P., an' I never seen him +after that day."</p> + +<p>"How's that?" asked Mrs. Cullom.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," was the reply, "that day was the turnin' point with me. The +next night I lit out with what duds I c'd git together, an' as much grub +'s I could pack in that tin pail; an' the next time I see the old house +on Buxton Hill the' hadn't ben no Harums in it fer years."</p> + +<p>Here David rose from his chair, yawned and stretched himself, and stood +with his back to the fire. The widow looked up anxiously into his face. +"Is that all?" she asked after a while.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, it is an' it ain't. I've got through yarnin' about Dave Harum at +any rate, an' mebbe we'd better have a little confab on your matters, +seein' 't I've got you 'way up here such a mornin' 's this. I gen'ally +do bus'nis fust an' talkin' afterward," he added, "but I kind o' got to +goin' an' kept on this time."</p> + +<p>He put his hand into the breast pocket of his coat and took out three +papers, which he shuffled in review as if to verify their identity, and +then held them in one hand, tapping them softly upon the palm of the +other, as if at a loss how to begin. The widow sat with her eyes +fastened upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> papers, trembling with nervous apprehension. +Presently he broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"About this here morgidge o' your'n," he said, "I sent ye word that I +wanted to close the matter up, an' seein' 't you're here an' come fer +that purpose, I guess we'd better make a job on't. The' ain't no time +like the present, as the sayin' is."</p> + +<p>"I s'pose it'll hev to be as you say," said the widow in a shaking +voice.</p> + +<p>"Mis' Cullom," said David solemnly, "<i>you</i> know, an' I know, that I've +got the repitation of bein' a hard, graspin', schemin' man. Mebbe I be. +Mebbe I've ben hard done by all my hull life, an' have had to be; an' +mebbe, now 't I've got ahead some, it's got to be second nature, an' I +can't seem to help it. 'Bus'nis is bus'nis' ain't part of the golden +rule, I allow, but the way it gen'ally runs, fur 's I've found out, is, +'Do unto the other feller the way he'd like to do unto you, an' do it +fust.' But, if you want to keep this thing a-runnin' as it's goin' on +now fer a spell longer, say one year, or two, or even three, you may, +only I've got somethin' to say to ye 'fore ye elect."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said the poor woman, "I expect it 'd only be pilin' up wrath +agin' the day o' wrath. I can't pay the int'rist now without starvin', +an' I hain't got no one to bid in the prop'ty fer me if it was to be +sold."</p> + +<p>"Mis' Cullom," said David, "I said I'd got somethin' more to tell ye, +an' if, when I git through, you don't think I've treated you right, +includin' this mornin's confab, I hope you'll fergive me. It's this, an' +I'm the only person livin' that 's knowin' to it, an' in fact I may say +that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> I'm the only person that ever was really knowin' to it. It was +before you was married, an' I'm sure he never told ye, fer I don't doubt +he fergot all about it, but your husband, Billy P. Cullom, that was, +made a small investment once on a time, yes, ma'am, he did, an' in his +kind of careless way it jest slipped his mind. The amount of cap'tal he +put in wa'n't large, but the rate of int'rist was uncommon high. Now, he +never drawed no dividends on't, an' they've ben 'cumulatin' fer forty +year, more or less, at compound int'rist."</p> + +<p>The widow started forward, as if to rise from her seat. David put his +hand out gently and said, "Jest a minute, Mis' Cullom, jest a minute, +till I git through. Part o' that cap'tal," he resumed, "consistin' of a +quarter an' some odd cents, was invested in the cirkis bus'nis, an' the +rest on't—the cap'tal, an' all the cash cap'tal that I started in +bus'nis with—was the ten cents your husband give me that day, an' +here," said David, striking the papers in his left hand with the back of +his right, "<i>here</i> is the <i>dividends</i>! This here second morgidge, not +bein' on record, may jest as well go onto the fire—it's gettin' +low—an' here's a satisfaction piece which I'm goin' to execute now, +that'll clear the thousan' dollar one. Come in here, John," he called +out.</p> + +<p>The widow stared at David for a moment speechless, but as the +significance of his words dawned upon her, the blood flushed darkly in +her face. She sprang to her feet and, throwing up her arms, cried out: +"My Lord! My Lord! Dave! Dave Harum! Is it true?—tell me it's true! You +ain't foolin' me, air ye, Dave? You wouldn't fool a poor old woman that +never done<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> ye no harm, nor said a mean word agin ye, would ye? Is it +true? an' is my place clear? an' I don't owe nobody anythin'—I mean, no +money? Tell it agin. Oh, tell it agin! Oh, Dave! it's too good to be +true! Oh! Oh! Oh, <i>my</i>! an' here I be cryin' like a great baby, an', +an'"—fumbling in her pocket—"I do believe I hain't got no +hank'chif—Oh, thank ye," to John; "I'll do it up an' send it back +to-morrer. Oh, what made ye do it, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Set right down an' take it easy, Mis' Cullom," said David soothingly, +putting his hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her back into her +chair. "Set right down an' take it easy.—Yes," to John, "I acknowledge +that I signed that."</p> + +<p>He turned to the widow, who sat wiping her eyes with John's +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," he said, "It's as true as anythin' kin be. I wouldn't no +more fool ye, ye know I wouldn't, don't ye? than I'd—jerk a hoss," he +asseverated. "Your place is clear now, an' by this time to-morro' the' +won't be the scratch of a pen agin it. I'll send the satisfaction over +fer record fust thing in the mornin'."</p> + +<p>"But, Dave," protested the widow, "I s'pose ye know what you're +doin'—?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he interposed, "I cal'late I do, putty near. You ast me why I +done it, an' I'll tell ye if ye want to know. I'm payin' off an old +score, an' gettin' off cheap, too. That's what I'm doin'! I thought I'd +hinted up to it putty plain, seein' 't I've talked till my jaws ache; +but I'll sum it up to ye if you like."</p> + +<p>He stood with his feet aggressively wide<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> apart, one hand in his +trousers pocket, and holding in the other the "morgidge," which he waved +from time to time in emphasis.</p> + +<p>"You c'n estimate, I reckon," he began, "what kind of a bringin'-up I +had, an' what a poor, mis'able, God-fersaken, scairt-to-death little +forlorn critter I was; put upon, an' snubbed, an' jawed at till I'd come +to believe myself—what was rubbed into me the hull time—that I was the +most all-'round no-account animul that was ever made out o' dust, an' +wa'n't ever likely to be no diff'rent. Lookin' back, it seems to me +that—exceptin' of Polly—I never had a kind word said to me, nor a +day's fun. Your husband, Billy P. Cullom, was the fust man that ever +treated me human up to that time. He give me the only enjoy'ble time 't +I'd ever had, an' I don't know 't anythin' 's ever equaled it since. He +spent money on me, an' he give me money to spend—that had never had a +cent to call my own—<i>an'</i>, Mis' Cullom, he took me by the hand, an' he +talked to me, an' he gin me the fust notion 't I'd ever had that mebbe I +wa'n't only the scum o' the earth, as I'd ben teached to believe. I told +ye that that day was the turnin' point of my life. Wa'al, it wa'n't the +lickin' I got, though that had somethin' to do with it, but I'd never +have had the spunk to run away's I did if it hadn't ben for the +heartenin' Billy P. gin me, an' never knowed it, an' never knowed it," +he repeated mournfully. "I alwus allowed to pay some o' that debt back +to him, but seein' 's I can't do that, Mis' Cullom, I'm glad an' +thankful to pay it to his widdo'."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe he knows, Dave," said Mrs. Cullom softly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mebbe he does," assented David in a low voice.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke for a time, and then the widow said: "David, I can't thank +ye 's I ought ter—I don't know how—but I'll pray for ye night an' +mornin' 's long 's I got breath. An', Dave," she added humbly, "I want +to take back what I said about the Lord's providin'."</p> + +<p>She sat a moment, lost in her thoughts, and then exclaimed, "Oh, it +don't seem 's if I c'd wait to write to Charley!"</p> + +<p>"I've wrote to Charley," said David, "an' told him to sell out there an' +come home, an' to draw on me fer any balance he needed to move him. I've +got somethin' in my eye that'll be easier an' better payin' than +fightin' grasshoppers an' drought in Kansas."</p> + +<p>"Dave Harum!" cried the widow, rising to her feet, "you ought to 'a' ben +a king!"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David with a grin, "I don't know much about the kingin' +bus'nis, but I guess a cloth cap 'n' a hoss whip 's more 'n my line than +a crown an' scepter. An' now," he added, "'s we've got through 'th our +bus'nis, s'pose you step over to the house an' see Polly. She's +expectin' on ye to dinner. Oh, yes," replying to the look of deprecation +in her face as she viewed her shabby frock, "you an' Polly c'n prink up +some if you want to, but we can't take 'No' fer an answer Chris'mus day, +clo'es or no clo'es."</p> + +<p>"I'd really like ter," said Mrs. Cullom.</p> + +<p>"All right then," said David cheerfully. "The path is swep' by this +time, I guess, an' I'll see ye later. Oh, by the way," he exclaimed, +"the's somethin' I fergot. I want to make you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> a proposition, ruther an +onusual one, but seein' ev'rythin' is as 't is, perhaps you'll consider +it."</p> + +<p>"Dave," declared the widow, "if I could, an' you ast for it, I'd give ye +anythin' on the face o' this mortal globe!"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, nodding and smiling, "I thought that mebbe, long 's +you got the int'rist of that investment we ben talkin' about, you'd let +me keep what's left of the princ'pal. Would ye like to see it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cullom looked at him with a puzzled expression without replying.</p> + +<p>David took from his pocket a large wallet, secured by a strap, and, +opening it, extracted something enveloped in much faded brown paper. +Unfolding this, he displayed upon his broad fat palm an old silver dime +black with age.</p> + +<p>"There's the cap'tal," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + + +<p>John walked to the front door with Mrs. Cullom, but she declined with +such evident sincerity his offer to carry her bundle to the house that +he let her out of the office and returned to the back room. David was +sitting before the fire, leaning back in his chair with his hands thrust +deep in his trousers pockets. He looked up as John entered and said, +"Draw up a chair."</p> + +<p>John brought a chair and stood by the side of it while he said, "I want +to thank you for the Christmas remembrance, which pleased and touched me +very deeply; and," he added diffidently, "I want to say how mortified I +am—in fact, I want to apologize for—"</p> + +<p>"Regrettin'?" interrupted David with a motion of his hand toward the +chair and a smile of great amusement. "Sho, sho! Se' down, se' down. +I'm glad you found somethin' in your stockin' if it pleased ye, an' as +fur's that regret o' your'n was concerned—wa'al—wa'al, I liked ye all +the better for't, I did fer a fact. He, he, he! Appearances was ruther +agin me, wasn't they, the way I told it."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," said John, seating himself, "I ought not to have—that +is to say, I ought to have known—"</p> + +<p>"How could ye," David broke in, "When I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> as good as told ye I was +cal'latin' to rob the old lady? He, he, he, he! Scat my ——! Your face +was a picture when I told ye to write that note, though I reckon you +didn't know I noticed it."</p> + +<p>John laughed and said, "You have been very generous all through, Mr. +Harum."</p> + +<p>"Nothin' to brag on," he replied, "nothin' to brag on. Fur 's Mis' +Cullom's matter was concerned, 't was as I said, jest payin' off an old +score; an' as fur 's your stockin', it's really putty much the same. +I'll allow you've earned it, if it'll set any easier on your stomach."</p> + +<p>"I can't say that I have been overworked," said John with a slight +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe not," rejoined David, "but you hain't ben overpaid neither, an' I +want ye to be satisfied. Fact is," he continued, "my gettin' you up here +was putty consid'able of an experiment, but I ben watchin' ye putty +close, an' I'm more'n satisfied. Mebbe Timson c'd beat ye at figurin' +an' countin' money when you fust come, an' knowed more about the +pertic'ler points of the office, but outside of that he was the biggist +dumb-head I ever see, an' you know how he left things. He hadn't no +tack, fer one thing. Outside of summin' up figures an' countin' money he +had a faculty fer gettin' things t'other-end to that beat all. I'd tell +him a thing, an' explain it to him two three times over, an' he'd say +'Yes, yes,' an', scat my ——! when it came to carryin' on't out, he +hadn't sensed it a mite—jest got it which-end-t'other. An talk! Wa'al, +I think it must 'a' ben a kind of disease with him. He really didn't +mean no harm, mebbe, but he couldn't no more help lettin' out anythin' +he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> knowed, or thought he knowed, than a settin' hen c'n help settin'. +He kep' me on tenter-hooks the hull endurin' time."</p> + +<p>"I should say he was honest enough, was he not?" said John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," replied David with a touch of scorn, "he was honest enough +fur 's money matters was concerned; but he hadn't no tack, nor no sense, +an' many a time he done more mischief with his gibble-gabble than if +he'd took fifty dollars out an' out. Fact is," said David, "the kind of +honesty that won't actually steal 's a kind of fool honesty that's +common enough; but the kind that keeps a feller's mouth shut when he +hadn't ought to talk 's about the scurcest thing goin'. I'll jest tell +ye, fer example, the last mess he made. You know Purse, that keeps the +gen'ral store? Wa'al, he come to me some months ago, on the quiet, an' +said that he wanted to borro' five hunderd. He didn't want to git no +indorser, but he'd show me his books an' give me a statement an' a +chattel morgidge fer six months. He didn't want nobody to know 't he was +anyway pushed fer money because he wanted to git some extensions, an' so +on. I made up my mind it was all right, an' I done it. Wa'al, about a +month or so after he come to me with tears in his eyes, as ye might say, +an' says, 'I got somethin' I want to show ye,' an' handed out a letter +from the house in New York he had some of his biggist dealin's with, +tellin' him that they regretted"—here David gave John a nudge—"that +they couldn't give him the extensions he ast for, an' that his paper +must be paid as it fell due—some twelve hunderd dollars. 'Somebody 's +leaked,' he says, 'an' they've heard of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> that morgidge, an' I'm in a +putty scrape,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'H'm'm,' I says, 'what makes ye think so?'</p> + +<p>"'Can't be nothin' else,' he says; 'I've dealt with them people fer +years an' never ast fer nothin' but what I got it, an' now to have 'em +round up on me like this, it can't be nothin' but what they've got wind +o' that chattel morgidge,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'H'm'm,' I says. 'Any o' their people ben up here lately?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'That's jest it,' he says. 'One o' their travellin' men was up here +last week, an' he come in in the afternoon as chipper as you please, +wantin' to sell me a bill o' goods, an' I put him off, sayin' that I had +a putty big stock, an' so on, an' he said he'd see me agin in the +mornin'—you know that sort of talk,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'did he come in?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' says Purse, 'he didn't. I never set eyes on him agin, an' more'n +that,' he says, 'he took the first train in the mornin', an' now,' he +says, 'I expect I'll have ev'ry last man I owe anythin' to buzzin' +'round my ears.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I see about how the land lays, an' I reckon +you ain't fur out about the morgidge bein' at the bottom on't, an' the' +ain't no way it c'd 'a' leaked out 'ceptin' through that dum'd +chuckle-head of a Timson. But this is the way it looks to me—you hain't +heard nothin' in the village, have ye?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'No,' he says. 'Not <i>yit</i>,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al, ye won't, I don't believe,' I says, 'an' as fur as that drummer +is concerned, you c'n bet,' I says, 'that he didn't nor won't let on to +nobody but his own folks—not till <i>his</i> bus'nis is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> squared up, an' +more 'n that,' I says, 'seein' that your trouble 's ben made ye by one +o' my help, I don't see but what I'll have to see ye through,' I says. +'You jest give me the address of the New York parties, an' tell me what +you want done, an' I reckon I c'n fix the thing so 't they won't bother +ye. I don't believe,' I says, 'that anybody else knows anythin' yet, an' +I'll shut up Timson's yawp so 's it'll stay shut.'"</p> + +<p>"How did the matter come out?" asked John, "and what did Purse say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," replied David, "Purse went off head up an' tail up. He said he was +everlastin'ly obliged to me, an'—he, he, he!—he said 't was more 'n he +expected. You see I charged him what I thought was right on the 'rig'nal +deal, an' he squimmidged some, an' I reckon he allowed to be putty well +bled if I took holt agin; but I done as I agreed on the extension +bus'nis, an' I'm on his paper for twelve hunderd fer nothin', jest +because that nikum-noddy of a Timson let that drummer bamboozle him into +talkin'. I found out the hull thing, an' the very day I wrote to the New +York fellers fer Purse, I wrote to Gen'ral Wolsey to find me somebody to +take Timson's place. I allowed I'd ruther have somebody that didn't know +nobody, than such a clackin' ole he-hen as Chet."</p> + +<p>"I should have said that it was rather a hazardous thing to do," said +John, "to put a total stranger like me into what is rather a +confidential position, as well as a responsible one."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "in the fust place I knew that the Gen'ral wouldn't +recommend no dead-beat nor no skin, an' I allowed that if the raw +material was O.K., I could break it in; an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> if it wa'n't I should find +it out putty quick. Like a young hoss," he remarked, "if he's sound an' +kind, an' got gumption, I'd sooner break him in myself 'n not—fur's my +use goes—an' if I can't, nobody can, an' I get rid on him. You +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," continued David, "I liked your letter, an' when you come I +liked your looks. Of course I couldn't tell jest how you'd take holt, +nor if you an' me 'd hitch. An' then agin, I didn't know whether you +could stan' it here after livin' in a city all your life. I watched ye +putty close—closter 'n you knowed of, I guess. I seen right off that +you was goin' to fill your collar, fur's the work was concerned, an' +though you didn't know nobody much, an' couldn't have no amusement to +speak on, you didn't mope nor sulk, an' what's more—though I know I +advised ye to stay there fer a spell longer when you spoke about +boardin' somewhere else—I know what the Eagle tavern is in winter; +summer, too, fer that matter, though it's a little better then, an' I +allowed that air test 'd be final. He, he, he! Putty rough, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"It is, rather," said John, laughing. "I'm afraid my endurance is pretty +well at an end. Elright's wife is ill, and the fact is, that since day +before yesterday I have been living on what I could buy at the +grocery—crackers, cheese, salt fish, canned goods, <i>et cetera</i>."</p> + +<p>"Scat my ——!" cried David. "Wa'al! Wa'al! That's too dum'd bad! Why on +earth—why, you must be <i>hungry</i>! Wa'al, you won't have to eat no salt +herrin' to-day, because Polly 'n I are expectin' ye to dinner."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>Two or three times during the conversation David had gone to the window +overlooking his lawn and looked out with a general air of observing the +weather, and at this point he did so again, coming back to his seat with +a look of satisfaction, for which there was, to John, no obvious reason. +He sat for a moment without speaking, and then, looking at his watch, +said: "Wa'al, dinner 's at one o'clock, an' Polly's a great one fer +bein' on time. Guess I'll go out an' have another look at that pesky +colt. You better go over to the house 'bout quarter to one, an' you c'n +make your t'ilet over there. I'm 'fraid if you go over to the Eagle +it'll spoil your appetite. She'd think it might, anyway."</p> + +<p>So David departed to see the colt, and John got out some of the books +and busied himself with them until the time to present himself at +David's house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + + +<p>"Why, Mis' Cullom, I'm real glad to see ye. Come right in," said Mrs. +Bixbee as she drew the widow into the "wing settin' room," and proceeded +to relieve her of her wraps and her bundle. "Set right here by the fire +while I take these things of your'n into the kitchen to dry 'em out. +I'll be right back"; and she bustled out of the room. When she came back +Mrs. Cullom was sitting with her hands in her lap, and there was in her +eyes an expression of smiling peace that was good to see.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bixbee drew up a chair, and seating herself, said: "Wa'al, I don't +know when I've seen ye to git a chance to speak to ye, an' I was real +pleased when David said you was goin' to be here to dinner. An' my! how +well, you're lookin'—more like Cynthy Sweetland than I've seen ye fer I +don't know when; an' yet," she added, looking curiously at her guest, +"you 'pear somehow as if you'd ben cryin'."</p> + +<p>"You're real kind, I'm sure," responded Mrs. Cullom, replying to the +other's welcome and remarks <i>seriatim</i>; "I guess, though, I don't look +much like Cynthy Sweetland, if I do feel twenty years younger 'n I did a +while ago; an' I have ben cryin', I allow, but not fer sorro', Polly +Harum," she exclaimed, giving the other her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> maiden name. "Your brother +Dave comes putty nigh to bein' an angel!"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee with a twinkle, "I reckon Dave might hev to +be fixed up some afore he come out in that pertic'ler shape, but," she +added impressively, "es fur as bein' a <i>man</i> goes, he's 'bout 's good 's +they make 'em. I know folks thinks he's a hard bargainer, an' +close-fisted, an' some on 'em that ain't fit to lick up his tracks says +more'n that. He's got his own ways, I'll allow, but down at bottom, an' +all through, I know the' ain't no better man livin'. No, ma'am, the' +ain't, an' what he's ben to me, Cynthy Cullom, nobody knows but +me—an'—an'—mebbe the Lord—though I hev seen the time," she said +tentatively, "when it seemed to me 't I knowed more about my affairs 'n +He did," and she looked doubtfully at her companion, who had been +following her with affirmative and sympathetic nods, and now drew her +chair a little closer, and said softly: "Yes, yes, I know. I ben putty +doubtful an' rebellious myself a good many times, but seems now as if He +had had me in His mercy all the time." Here Aunt Polly's sense of humor +asserted itself. "What's Dave ben up to now?" she asked.</p> + +<p>And then the widow told her story, with tears and smiles, and the keen +enjoyment which we all have in talking about ourselves to a sympathetic +listener like Aunt Polly, whose interjections pointed and illuminated +the narrative. When it was finished she leaned forward and kissed Mrs. +Cullom on the cheek.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell ye how glad I be for ye," she said; "but if I'd known that +David held that morgidge, I could hev told ye ye needn't hev<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> worried +yourself a mite. He wouldn't never have taken your prop'ty, more'n he'd +rob a hen-roost. But he done the thing his own way—kind o' fetched it +round fer a Merry Chris'mus, didn't he? Curious," she said reflectively, +after a momentary pause, "how he lays up things about his childhood," +and then, with a searching look at the Widow Cullom, "you didn't let on, +an' I didn't ask ye, but of course you've heard the things that some +folks says of him, an' natchally they got some holt on your mind. +There's that story about 'Lish, over to Whitcom—you heard somethin' +about that, didn't ye?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," admitted the widow, "I heard somethin' of it, I s'pose."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mrs. Bixbee, "you never heard the hull story, ner anybody +else really, but I'm goin' to tell it to ye—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Cullom assentingly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bixbee sat up straight in her chair with her hands on her knees and +an air of one who would see justice done.</p> + +<p>"'Lish Harum," she began, "wa'n't only half-brother to Dave. He was +hull-brother to me, though, but notwithstandin' that, I will say that a +meaner boy, a meaner growin' man, an' a meaner man never walked the +earth. He wa'n't satisfied to git the best piece an' the biggist +piece—he hated to hev any one else git anythin' at all. I don't believe +he ever laughed in his life, except over some kind o' suff'rin'—man or +beast—an' what'd tickle him the most was to be the means on't. He took +pertic'ler delight in abusin' an' tormentin' Dave, an' the poor little +critter was jest as 'fraid as death of him, an' good reason. Father was +awful hard, but he didn't go out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> his way; but 'Lish never let no +chance slip. Wa'al, I ain't goin' to give you the hull fam'ly hist'ry, +an' I've got to go into the kitchen fer a while 'fore dinner, but what I +started out fer 's this: 'Lish fin'ly settled over to Whitcom."</p> + +<p>"Did he ever git married?" interrupted Mrs. Cullom.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "he got married when he was past forty. +It's curious," she remarked, in passing, "but it don't seem as if the' +was ever yit a man so mean but he c'd find some woman was fool enough to +marry him, an' she was a putty decent sort of a woman too, f'm all +accounts, an' good lookin'. Wa'al, she stood him six or seven year, an' +then she run off."</p> + +<p>"With another man?" queried the widow in an awed voice. Aunt Polly +nodded assent with compressed lips.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," she went on, "she left him an' went out West somewhere, an' +that was the last of <i>her</i>; an' when her two boys got old enough to look +after themselves a little, they quit him too, an' they wa'n't no way +growed up neither. Wa'al, the long an' the short on't was that 'Lish got +goin' down hill ev'ry way, health an' all, till he hadn't nothin' left +but his disposition, an' fairly got onter the town. The' wa'n't nothin' +for it but to send him to the county house, onless somebody 'd s'port +him. Wa'al, the committee knew Dave was his brother, an' one on 'em come +to see him to see if he'd come forwud an' help out, an' he seen Dave +right here in this room, an' Dave made me stay an' hear the hull thing. +Man's name was Smith, I remember, a peaked little man with long chin +whiskers that he kep' clawin' at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> with his fingers. Dave let him tell +his story, an' he didn't say nothin' fer a minute or two, an' then he +says, 'What made ye come to me?' he says. 'Did he send ye?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'when it was clear that he couldn't do nuthin', we +ast him if the' wa'n't nobody could put up fer him, an' he said you was +his brother, an' well off, an' hadn't ought to let him go t' the +poorhouse.'</p> + +<p>"'He said that, did he?' says Dave.</p> + +<p>"'Amountin' to that,' says Smith.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says Dave, 'it's a good many years sence I see 'Lish, an' +mebbe you know him better 'n I do. You known him some time, eh?'</p> + +<p>"'Quite a number o' years,' says Smith.</p> + +<p>"'What sort of a feller was he,' says Dave, 'when he was somebody? Putty +good feller? good citizen? good neighber? lib'ral? kind to his fam'ly? +ev'rybody like him? gen'ally pop'lar, an' all that?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says Smith, wigglin' in his chair an' pullin' out his whiskers +three four hairs to a time, 'I guess he come some short of all that.'</p> + +<p>"'E'umph!' says Dave, 'I guess he did! Now, honest,' he says, '<i>is</i> the' +man, woman, or child in Whitcom that knows 'Lish Harum that's got a good +word fer him? or ever knowed of his doin' or sayin' anythin' that hadn't +got a mean side to it some way? Didn't he drive his wife off, out an' +out? an' didn't his two boys hev to quit him soon 's they could travel? +<i>An'</i>,' says Dave, 'if any one was to ask you to figure out a pattern of +the meanist human skunk you was capable of thinkin' of, wouldn't +it—honest, now!' Dave says, 'honest, now—wouldn't it be 's near<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> like +'Lish Harum as one buckshot 's like another?'"</p> + +<p>"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom. "What did Mr. Smith say to that?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "he didn't say nuthin' at fust, not in so +many words. He sot fer a minute clawin' away at his whiskers—an' he'd +got both hands into 'em by that time—an' then he made a move as if he +gin the hull thing up an' was goin'. Dave set lookin' at him, an' then +he says, 'You ain't goin', air ye?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'feelin' 's you do, I guess my arrant here ain't +goin' t' amount to nothin', an' I may 's well.'</p> + +<p>"'No, you set still a minute,' says Dave. 'If you'll answer my question +honest an' square, I've got sunthin' more to say to ye. Come, now,' he +says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says Smith, with a kind of give-it-up sort of a grin, 'I guess +you sized him up about right. I didn't come to see you on 'Lish Harum's +account. I come fer the town of Whitcom.' An' then he spunked up some +an' says, 'I don't give a darn,' he says, 'what comes of 'Lish, an' I +don't know nobody as does, fur's he's person'ly concerned; but he's got +to be a town charge less 'n you take 'm off our hands.'</p> + +<p>"Dave turned to me an' says, jest as if he meant it, 'How 'd you like to +have him here, Polly?'</p> + +<p>"'Dave Harum!' I says, 'what be you thinkin' of, seein' what he is, an' +alwus was, an' how he alwus treated you? Lord sakes!' I says, 'you ain't +thinkin' of it!'</p> + +<p>"'Not much,' he says, with an ugly kind of a smile, such as I never see +in his face before,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> 'not much! Not under this roof, or any roof of +mine, if it wa'n't more'n my cow stable—an',' he says, turnin' to +Smith, 'this is what I want to say to you: You've done all right. I +hain't no fault to find with you. But I want you to go back an' say to +'Lish Harum that you've seen me, an' that I told you that not one cent +of my money nor one mossel o' my food would ever go to keep him alive +one minute of time; that if I had an empty hogpen I wouldn't let him +sleep in't overnight, much less to bunk in with a decent hog. You tell +him that I said the poorhouse was his proper dwellin', barrin' the jail, +an' that it 'd have to be a dum'd sight poorer house 'n I ever heard of +not to be a thousan' times too good fer him.'"</p> + +<p>"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom again. "I can't really 'magine it of Dave."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "I told ye how set he is on his young +days, an' nobody knows how cruel mean 'Lish used to be to him; but I +never see it come out of him so ugly before, though I didn't blame him a +mite. But I hain't told ye the upshot: 'Now,' he says to Smith, who set +with his mouth gappin' open, 'you understand how I feel about the +feller, an' I've got good reason for it. I want you to promise me that +you'll say to him, word fer word, jest what I've said to you about him, +an' I'll do this: You folks send him to the poorhouse, an' let him git +jest what the rest on 'em gits—no more an' no less—as long 's he +lives. When he dies you git him the tightest coffin you kin buy, to keep +him f'm spilin' the earth as long as may be, an' then you send me the +hull bill. But this has got to be between you an' me only. You c'n tell +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> rest of the committee what you like, <i>but</i> if you ever tell a +livin' soul about this here understandin', an' I find it out, I'll never +pay one cent, an' you'll be to blame. I'm willin', on them terms, to +stan' between the town of Whitcom an' harm; but fer 'Lish Harum, not one +sumarkee! Is it a barg'in?' Dave says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, sir,' says Smith, puttin' out his hand. 'An' I guess,' he says, +'f'm all 't I c'n gather, thet you're doin' all 't we could expect, an' +more too,' an' off he put."</p> + +<p>"How 'd it come out?" asked Mrs. Cullom.</p> + +<p>"'Lish lived about two year," replied Aunt Polly, "an' Dave done as he +agreed, but even then when he come to settle up, he told Smith he didn't +want no more said about it 'n could be helped."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mrs. Cullom, "it seems to me as if David did take care on +him after all, fur 's spendin' money was concerned."</p> + +<p>"That's the way it looks to me," said Mrs. Bixbee, "but David likes to +think t'other. He meant to be awful mean, an' he was—as mean as he +could—but the fact is, he didn't reelly know how. My sakes! Cynthy +(looking at the clock), I'll hev to excuse myself fer a spell. Ef you +want to do any fixin' up 'fore dinner, jest step into my bedroom. I've +laid some things out on the bed, if you should happen to want any of +'em," and she hurried out of the room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + + +<p>David's house stood about a hundred feet back from the street, facing +the east. The main body of the house was of two stories (through which +ran a deep bay in front), with mansard roof. On the south of the main +body of the house were two stories of the "wing," in which were the +"settin' room," Aunt Polly's room, and, above, David's quarters. Ten +minutes or so before one o'clock John rang the bell at the front door.</p> + +<p>"Sairy's busy," said Mrs. Bixbee apologetically as she let him in, "an' +so I come to the door myself."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," said John. "Mr. Harum told me to come over a +little before one, but perhaps I ought to have waited a few minutes +longer."</p> + +<p>"No, it's all right," she replied, "for mebbe you'd like to wash an' fix +up 'fore dinner, so I'll jest show ye where to," and she led the way +upstairs and into the "front parlor bedroom."</p> + +<p>"There," she said, "make yourself comf'table, an' dinner 'll be ready in +about ten minutes."</p> + +<p>For a moment John mentally rubbed his eyes. Then he turned and caught +both of Mrs. Bixbee's hands and looked at her, speechless. When he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +found words he said: "I don't know what to say, nor how to thank you +properly. I don't believe you know how kind this is."</p> + +<p>"Don't say nothin' about it," she protested, but with a look of great +satisfaction. "I done it jest t' relieve my mind, because ever sence you +fust come, I ben worryin' over your bein' at that nasty tavern," and she +made a motion to go.</p> + +<p>"You and your brother," said John earnestly, still holding her hands, +"have made me a gladder and happier man this Christmas day than I have +been for a very long time."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad on't," she said heartily, "an' I hope you'll be comf'table an' +contented here. I must go now an' help Sairy dish up. Come down to the +settin' room when you're ready," and she gave his hands a little +squeeze.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Po——, I beg pardon, Mrs. Bixbee," said John, moved by a sudden +impulse, "do you think you could find it in your heart to complete my +happiness by giving me a kiss? It's Christmas, you know," he added +smilingly.</p> + +<p>Aunt Polly colored to the roots of her hair. "Wa'al," she said, with a +little laugh, "seein' 't I'm old enough to be your mother, I guess 't +won't hurt me none," and as she went down the stairs she softly rubbed +her lips with the side of her forefinger.</p> + +<p>John understood now why David had looked out of the bank window so often +that morning. All his belongings were in Aunt Polly's best bedroom, +having been moved over from the Eagle while he and David had been in the +office. A delightful room it was, in immeasurable contrast to his +squalid surroundings at that hostelry. The spacious bed, with its snowy +counterpane and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> silk patchwork "comf'table" folded on the foot, the +bright fire in the open stove, the big bureau and glass, the soft +carpet, the table for writing and reading standing in the bay, his books +on the broad mantel, and his dressing things laid out ready to his hand, +not to mention an ample supply of <i>dry</i> towels on the rack.</p> + +<p>The poor fellow's life during the weeks which he had lived in Homeville +had been utterly in contrast with any previous experience. Nevertheless +he had tried to make the best of it, and to endure the monotony, the +dullness, the entire lack of companionship and entertainment with what +philosophy he could muster. The hours spent in the office were the best +part of the day. He could manage to find occupation for all of them, +though a village bank is not usually a scene of active bustle. Many of +the people who did business there diverted him somewhat, and most of +them seemed never too much in a hurry to stand around and talk the sort +of thing that interested them. After John had got acquainted with his +duties and the people he came in contact with, David gave less personal +attention to the affairs of the bank; but he was in and out frequently +during the day, and rarely failed to interest his cashier with his +observations and remarks.</p> + +<p>But the long winter evenings had been very bad. After supper, a meal +which revolted every sense, there had been as many hours to be got +through with as he found wakeful, an empty stomach often adding to the +number of them, and the only resource for passing the time had been +reading, which had often been well-nigh impossible for sheer physical +discomfort. As has been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> remarked, the winter climate of the middle +portion of New York State is as bad as can be imagined. His light was a +kerosene lamp of half-candle power, and his appliance for warmth +consisted of a small wood stove, which (as David would have expressed +it) "took two men an' a boy" to keep in action, and was either red hot +or exhausted.</p> + +<p>As from the depths of a spacious lounging chair he surveyed his new +surroundings, and contrasted them with those from which he had been +rescued out of pure kindness, his heart was full, and it can hardly be +imputed to him as a weakness that for a moment his eyes filled with +tears of gratitude and happiness—no less.</p> + +<p>Indeed, there were four happy people at David's table that Christmas +day. Aunt Polly had "smartened up" Mrs. Cullom with collar and cuffs, +and in various ways which the mind of man comprehendeth not in detail; +and there had been some arranging of her hair as well, which altogether +had so transformed and transfigured her that John thought that he should +hardly have known her for the forlorn creature whom he had encountered +in the morning. And as he looked at the still fine eyes, large and +brown, and shining for the first time in many a year with a soft light +of happiness, he felt that he could understand how it was that Billy P. +had married the village girl.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bixbee was grand in black silk and lace collar fastened with a +shell-cameo pin not quite as large as a saucer, and John caught the +sparkle of a diamond on her plump left hand—David's Christmas +gift—with regard to which she had spoken apologetically to Mrs. +Cullom:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I told David that I was ever so much obliged to him, but I didn't want +a dimun' more'n a cat wanted a flag, an' I thought it was jest throwin' +away money. But he would have it—said I c'd sell it an' keep out the +poorhouse some day, mebbe."</p> + +<p>David had not made much change in his usual raiment, but he was shaved +to the blood, and his round red face shone with soap and satisfaction. +As he tucked his napkin into his shirt collar, Sairy brought in the +tureen of oyster soup, and he remarked, as he took his first spoonful of +the stew, that he was "hungry 'nough t' eat a graven imidge," a +condition that John was able to sympathize with after his two days of +fasting on crackers and such provisions as he could buy at Purse's. It +was, on the whole, he reflected, the most enjoyable dinner that he ever +ate. Never was such a turkey; and to see it give way under David's +skillful knife—wings, drumsticks, second joints, side bones, +breast—was an elevating and memorable experience. And such potatoes, +mashed in cream; such boiled onions, turnips, Hubbard squash, succotash, +stewed tomatoes, celery, cranberries, "currant jell!" Oh! and to "top +off" with, a mince pie to die for and a pudding (new to John, but just +you try it some time) of steamed Indian meal and fruit, with a sauce of +cream sweetened with shaved maple sugar.</p> + +<p>"What'll you have?" said David to Mrs. Cullom, "dark meat? white meat?"</p> + +<p>"Anything," she replied meekly, "I'm not partic'ler. Most any part of a +turkey 'll taste good, I guess."</p> + +<p>"All right," said David. "Don't care means<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> a little o' both. I alwus +know what to give Polly—piece o' the second jint an' the +last-thing-over-the-fence. Nice 'n rich fer scraggly folks," he +remarked. "How fer you, John?—little o' both, eh?" and he heaped the +plate till our friend begged him to keep something for himself.</p> + +<p>"Little too much is jest right," he asserted.</p> + +<p>When David had filled the plates and handed them along—Sairy was for +bringing in and taking out; they did their own helping to vegetables and +"passin'"—he hesitated a moment, and then got out of his chair and +started in the direction of the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Bixbee in surprise. "Where you goin'?"</p> + +<p>"Woodshed," said David.</p> + +<p>"Woodshed!" she exclaimed, making as if to rise and follow.</p> + +<p>"You set still," said David. "Somethin' I fergot."</p> + +<p>"What on earth!" she exclaimed, with an air of annoyance and +bewilderment. "What do you want in the woodshed? Can't you set down an' +let Sairy git it for ye?"</p> + +<p>"No," he asserted with a grin. "Sairy might sqush it. It must be putty +meller by this time," And out he went.</p> + +<p>"Manners!" ejaculated Mrs. Bixbee. "You'll think (to John) we're reg'ler +heathin."</p> + +<p>"I guess not," said John, smiling and much amused.</p> + +<p>Presently Sairy appeared with four tumblers which she distributed, and +was followed by David bearing a bottle. He seated himself and began a +struggle to unwire the same with an ice-pick.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> Aunt Polly leaned forward +with a look of perplexed curiosity.</p> + +<p>"What you got there?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Vewve Clikot's universal an' suv'rin remedy," said David, reading the +label and bringing the corners of his eye and mouth almost together in a +wink to John, "fer toothache, earache, burns, scalds, warts, dispepsy, +fallin' o' the hair, windgall, ringbone, spavin, disapp'inted +affections, an' pips in hens," and out came the cork with a "<i>wop</i>," at +which both the ladies, even Mrs. Cullom, jumped and cried out.</p> + +<p>"David Harum," declared his sister with conviction, "I believe thet +that's a bottle of champagne."</p> + +<p>"If it ain't," said David, pouring into his tumbler, "I ben swindled out +o' four shillin'," and he passed the bottle to John, who held it up +tentatively, looking at Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"No, thank ye," she said with a little toss of the head, "I'm a son o' +temp'rence. I don't believe," she remarked to Mrs. Cullom, "thet that +bottle ever cost <i>less</i> 'n a dollar." At which remarks David apparently +"swallered somethin' the wrong way," and for a moment or two was unable +to proceed with his dinner. Aunt Polly looked at him suspiciously. It +was her experience that, in her intercourse with her brother, he often +laughed utterly without reason—so far as she could see.</p> + +<p>"I've always heard it was dreadful expensive," remarked Mrs. Cullom.</p> + +<p>"Let me give you some," said John, reaching toward her with the bottle. +Mrs. Cullom looked first at Mrs. Bixbee and then at David.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said. "I never tasted any."</p> + +<p>"Take a little," said David, nodding approvingly.</p> + +<p>"Just a swallow," said the widow, whose curiosity had got the better of +scruples. She took a swallow of the wine.</p> + +<p>"How do ye like it?" asked David.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said as she wiped her eyes, into which the gas had driven +the tears, "I guess I could get along if I couldn't have it regular."</p> + +<p>"Don't taste good?" suggested David with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Well," she replied, "I never did care any great for cider, and this +tastes to me about as if I was drinkin' cider an' snuffin' horseradish +at one and the same time."</p> + +<p>"How's that, John?" said David, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's an acquired taste," said John, returning the laugh and +taking a mouthful of the wine with infinite relish. "I don't think I +ever enjoyed a glass of wine so much, or," turning to Aunt Polly, "ever +enjoyed a dinner so much," which statement completely mollified her +feelings, which had been the least bit in the world "set edgeways."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe your app'tite's got somethin' to do with it," said David, +shoveling a knife-load of good things into his mouth. "Polly, this young +man's ben livin' on crackers an' salt herrin' fer a week."</p> + +<p>"My land!" cried Mrs. Bixbee with an expression of horror. "Is that +reelly so? 'T ain't now, reelly?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite so bad as that," John answered, smiling; "but Mrs. Elright +has been ill for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> couple of days and—well, I have been foraging +around Purse's store a little."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, of all the mean shames!" exclaimed Aunt Polly indignantly. +"David Harum, you'd ought to be ridic'lous t' allow such a thing."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I never!" said David, holding his knife and fork straight up in +either fist as they rested on the table, and staring at his sister. "I +believe if the meetin'-house roof was to blow off you'd lay it onto me +somehow. I hain't ben runnin' the Eagle tavern fer quite a consid'able +while. You got the wrong pig by the ear as usual. Jest you pitch into +him," pointing with his fork to John. "It's his funeral, if anybody's."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Aunt Polly, addressing John in a tone of injury, "I do +think you might have let somebody know; I think you'd ortter 've +known—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Bixbee," he interrupted, "I did know how kind you are and +would have been, and if matters had gone on so much longer I should have +appealed to you, I should have indeed; but really," he added, smiling at +her, "a dinner like this is worth fasting a week for."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," she said, mollified again, "you won't git no more herrin' +'nless you ask fer 'em."</p> + +<p>"That is just what your brother said this morning," replied John, +looking at David with a laugh.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + + +<p>The meal proceeded in silence for a few minutes. Mrs. Cullom had said +but little, but John noticed that her diction was more conventional than +in her talk with David and himself in the morning, and that her manner +at the table was distinctly refined, although she ate with apparent +appetite, not to say hunger. Presently she said, with an air of making +conversation, "I suppose you've always lived in the city, Mr. Lenox?"</p> + +<p>"It has always been my home," he replied, "but I have been away a good +deal."</p> + +<p>"I suppose folks in the city go to theaters a good deal," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"They have a great many opportunities," said John, wondering what she +was leading up to. But he was not to discover, for David broke in with a +chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Ask Polly, Mis' Cullom," he said. "She c'n tell ye all about the +theater, Polly kin." Mrs. Cullom looked from David to Mrs. Bixbee, whose +face was suffused.</p> + +<p>"Tell her," said David, with a grin.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd shet up," she exclaimed. "I sha'n't do nothin' of the +sort."</p> + +<p>"Ne' mind," said David cheerfully, "<i>I'll</i> tell ye, Mis' Cullom."</p> + +<p>"Dave Harum!" expostulated Mrs. Bixbee, but he proceeded without heed of +her protest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Polly an' I," he said, "went down to New York one spring some years +ago. Her nerves was some wore out 'long of diff'rences with Sairy about +clearin' up the woodshed, an' bread risin's, an' not bein' able to suit +herself up to Purse's in the qual'ty of silk velvit she wanted fer a +Sunday-go-to-meetin' gown, an' I thought a spell off 'd do her good. +Wa'al, the day after we got there I says to her while we was havin' +breakfust—it was picked-up el'phant on toast, near 's I c'n remember, +wa'n't it, Polly?"</p> + +<p>"That's as near the truth as most o' the rest on't so fur," said Polly +with a sniff.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I says to her," he proceeded, untouched by her scorn, "'How'd +you like to go t' the theater? You hain't never ben,' I says, 'an' now +you're down here you may jest as well see somethin' while you got a +chanst,' I says. Up to that <i>time</i>" he remarked, as it were in passing, +"she'd ben somewhat pre<i>juced</i> 'ginst theaters, an'——"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," Mrs. Bixbee broke in, "I guess what we see that night was +cal'lated——"</p> + +<p>"You hold on," he interposed. "I'm tellin' this story. You had a chanst +to an' wouldn't. Anyway," he resumed, "she allowed she'd try it once, +an' we agreed we'd go somewheres that night. But somethin' happened to +put it out o' my mind, an' I didn't think on't agin till I got back to +the hotel fer supper. So I went to the feller at the news-stand an' +says, 'Got any show-tickits fer to-night?'</p> + +<p>"'Theater?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'I reckon so,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I hain't got nothin' now but two seats fer +'Clyanthy.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Is it a good show?' I says—'moral, an' so on? I'm goin' to take my +sister, an' she's a little pertic'ler about some things,' I says. He +kind o' grinned, the feller did. 'I've took my wife twice, an' she's +putty pertic'ler herself,' he says, laughin.'"</p> + +<p>"She must 'a' ben," remarked Mrs. Bixbee with a sniff that spoke volumes +of her opinion of "the feller's wife." David emitted a chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he continued, "I took the tickits on the feller's recommend, +an' the fact of his wife's bein' so pertic'ler, an' after supper we +went. It was a mighty handsome place inside, gilded an' carved all over +like the outside of a cirkis wagin, an' when we went in the orchestry +was playin' an' the people was comin' in, an' after we'd set a few +minutes I says to Polly, 'What do you think on't?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'I don't see anythin' very unbecomin' so fur, an' the people looks +respectable enough,' she says.</p> + +<p>"'No jail birds in sight fur 's ye c'n see so fur, be they?' I says. He, +he, he, he!"</p> + +<p>"You needn't make me out more of a gump 'n I was," protested Mrs. +Bixbee. "An' you was jest as——" David held up his finger at her.</p> + +<p>"Don't you sp'ile the story by discountin' the sequil. Wa'al, putty soon +the band struck up some kind of a dancin' tune, an' the curt'in went up, +an' a girl come prancin' down to the footlights an' begun singin' an' +dancin', an', scat my ——! to all human appearances you c'd 'a' covered +ev'ry dum thing she had on with a postage stamp." John stole a glance at +Mrs. Cullom. She was staring at the speaker with wide-open eyes of +horror and amazement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I guess I wouldn't go very <i>fur</i> into pertic'lers," said Mrs. Bixbee in +a warning tone.</p> + +<p>David bent his head down over his plate and shook from head to foot, and +it was nearly a minute before he was able to go on. "Wa'al," he said, "I +heard Polly give a kind of a gasp an' a snort, 's if some one 'd throwed +water 'n her face. But she didn't say nothin', an', I swan! I didn't +dast to look at her fer a spell; an' putty soon in come a hull crowd +more girls that had left their clo'es in their trunks or somewhere, +singin', an' dancin', an' weavin' 'round on the stage, an' after a few +minutes I turned an' looked at Polly. He, he, he, he!"</p> + +<p>"David Harum!" cried Mrs. Bixbee, "ef you're goin' to discribe any more +o' them scand'lous goin's on I sh'll take my victuals into the kitchin. +<i>I</i> didn't see no more of 'em," she added to Mrs. Cullom and John, +"after that fust trollop appeared."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe she did," said David, "fer when I turned she set there +with her eys shut tighter 'n a drum, an' her mouth shut too so's her +nose an' chin most come together, an' her face was red enough so 't a +streak o' red paint 'd 'a' made a white mark on it. 'Polly,' I says, +'I'm afraid you ain't gettin' the wuth o' your money.'</p> + +<p>"'David Harum,' she says, with her mouth shut all but a little place in +the corner toward me, 'if you don't take me out o' this place, I'll go +without ye,' she says.</p> + +<p>"'Don't you think you c'd stan' it a little longer?' I says. 'Mebbe +they've sent home fer their clo'es,' I says. He, he, he, he! But with +that she jest give a hump to start, an' I see she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> meant bus'nis. When +Polly Bixbee," said David impressively, "puts that foot o' her'n <i>down</i> +somethin's got to sqush, an' don't you fergit it." Mrs. Bixbee made no +acknowledgment of this tribute to her strength of character. John looked +at David.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, with a solemn bend of the head, as if in answer to a +question, "I squshed. I says to her, 'All right. Don't make no +disturbance more'n you c'n help, an' jest put your hank'chif up to your +nose 's if you had the nosebleed,' an' we squeezed out of the seats, an' +sneaked up the aisle, an' by the time we got out into the entry I guess +my face was as red as Polly's. It couldn't 'a' ben no redder," he added.</p> + +<p>"You got a putty fair color as a gen'ral thing," remarked Mrs. Bixbee +dryly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am, I expect that's so," he assented, "but I got an +extry coat o' tan follerin' you out o' that theater. When we got out +into the entry one o' them fellers that stands 'round steps up to me an' +says, 'Ain't your ma feelin' well?' he says. 'Her feelin's has ben a +trifle rumpled up,' I says, 'an' that gen'ally brings on the nosebleed,' +an' then," said David, looking over Mrs. Bixbee's head, "the feller went +an' leaned up agin the wall."</p> + +<p>"David Harum!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee, "that's a downright <i>lie</i>. You +never spoke to a soul, an'—an'—ev'rybody knows 't I ain't more 'n four +years older 'n you be."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, you see, Polly," her brother replied in a smooth tone of +measureless aggravation, "the feller wa'n't acquainted with us, an' he +only went by appearances."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>Aunt Polly appealed to John: "Ain't he enough to—to—I d' know what?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't see how you live with him," said John, laughing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cullom's face wore a faint smile, as if she were conscious that +something amusing was going on, but was not quite sure what. The widow +took things seriously for the most part, poor soul.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you haven't followed theater-goin' much after that," she said +to her hostess.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," Mrs. Bixbee replied with emphasis, "you better believe I +hain't. I hain't never thought of it sence without tinglin' all over. I +believe," she asserted, "that David 'd 'a' stayed the thing out if it +hadn't ben fer me; but as true 's you live, Cynthy Cullom, I was so +'shamed at the little 't I did see that when I come to go to bed I took +my clo'es off in the dark."</p> + +<p>David threw back his head and roared with laughter. Mrs. Bixbee looked +at him with unmixed scorn. "If I couldn't help makin' a——" she began, +"I'd——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord! Polly," David broke in, "be sure 'n wrap up when you go out. +If you sh'd ketch cold an' your sense o' the ridic'lous sh'd strike in +you'd be a dead-'n'-goner sure." This was treated with the silent +contempt which it deserved, and David fell upon his dinner with the +remark that "he guessed he'd better make up fer lost time," though as a +matter of fact while he had done most of the talking he had by no means +suspended another function of his mouth while so engaged.</p> + +<p>For a time nothing more was said which did not relate to the +replenishment of plates, glasses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> and cups. Finally David cleaned up +his plate with his knife blade and a piece of bread, and pushed it away +with a sigh of fullness, mentally echoed by John.</p> + +<p>"I feel 's if a child could play with me," he remarked. "What's comin' +now, Polly?"</p> + +<p>"The's a mince pie, an' Injun puddin' with maple sugar an' cream, an' +ice cream," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Mercy on us!" he exclaimed. "I guess I'll have to go an' jump up an' +down on the verandy. How do you feel, John? I s'pose you got so used to +them things at the Eagle 't you won't have no stomach fer 'em, eh? +Wa'al, fetch 'em along. May 's well die fer the ole sheep 's the lamb, +but, Polly Bixbee, if you've got designs on my life, I may 's well tell +ye right now 't I've left all my prop'ty to the Institution fer +Disappinted Hoss Swappers."</p> + +<p>"That's putty near next o' kin, ain't it?" was the unexpected rejoinder +of the injured Polly.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, scat my ——!" exclaimed David, hugely amused, "if Polly Bixbee +hain't made a joke! You'll git yourself into the almanic, Polly, fust +thing you know." Sairy brought in the pie and then the pudding.</p> + +<p>"John," said David, "if you've got a pencil an' a piece o' paper handy +I'd like to have ye take down a few of my last words 'fore we proceed to +the pie an' puddin' bus'nis. Any more 'hoss-redish' in that bottle?" +holding out his glass. "Hi! hi! that's enough. You take the rest on't," +which John did, nothing loath.</p> + +<p>David ate his pie in silence, but before he made up his mind to attack +the pudding, which was his favorite confection, he gave an audible +chuckle, which elicited Mrs. Bixbee's notice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What you gigglin' 'bout now?" she asked.</p> + +<p>David laughed. "I was thinkin' of somethin' I heard up to Purse's last +night," he said as he covered his pudding with the thick cream sauce. +"Amri Shapless has ben gittin' married."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I declare!" she exclaimed. "That ole shack! Who in creation +could he git to take him?"</p> + +<p>"Lize Annis is the lucky woman," replied David with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, if that don't beat all!" said Mrs. Bixbee, throwing up her +hands, and even from Mrs. Cullom was drawn a "Well, I never!"</p> + +<p>"Fact," said David, "they was married yestidy forenoon. Squire Parker +done the job. Dominie White wouldn't have nothin' to do with it!"</p> + +<p>"Squire Parker 'd ortter be 'shamed of himself," said Mrs. Bixbee +indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think that trew love had ought to be allowed to take its +course?" asked David with an air of sentiment.</p> + +<p>"I think the squire'd ortter be 'shamed of himself," she reiterated. +"S'pose them two old skinamulinks was to go an' have children?"</p> + +<p>"Polly, you make me blush," protested her brother. "Hain't you got no +respect fer the holy institution of matrimuny?—and—at cet'ry?" he +added, wiping his whole face with his napkin.</p> + +<p>"Much as you hev, I reckon," she retorted. "Of all the amazin' things in +this world, the amazinist to me is the kind of people that gits married +to each other in gen'ral; but this here performence beats ev'rything +holler."</p> + +<p>"Amri give a very good reason for't," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> David with an air of +conviction, and then he broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Ef you got anythin' to tell, tell it," said Mrs. Bixbee impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, taking the last of his pudding into his mouth, "if +you insist on't, painful as 't is. I heard Dick Larrabee tellin' 'bout +it. Amri told Dick day before yestiday that he was thinkin' of gettin' +married, an' ast him to go along with him to Parson White's an' be a +witniss, an' I reckon a kind of moral support. When it comes to moral +supportin'," remarked David in passing, "Dick's as good 's a +professional, an' he'd go an' see his gran'mother hung sooner 'n miss +anythin', an' never let his cigar go out durin' the performence. Dick +said he congratilated Am on his choice, an' said he reckoned they'd be +putty ekally yoked together, if nothin' else."</p> + +<p>Here David leaned over toward Aunt Polly and said, protestingly, "Don't +gi' me but jest a teasp'nful o' that ice cream. I'm so full now 't I +can't hardly reach the table." He took a taste of the cream and resumed: +"I can't give it jest as Dick did," he went on, "but this is about the +gist on't. Him, an' Lize, an' Am went to Parson White's about half after +seven o'clock an' was showed into the parler, an' in a minute he come +in, an' after sayin' 'Good evenin'' all 'round, he says, 'Well, what c'n +I do for ye?' lookin' at Am an' Lize, an' then at Dick.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says Am, 'me an' Mis' Annis here has ben thinkin' fer some +time as how we'd ought to git married.'</p> + +<p>"'<i>Ought</i> to git married?' says Parson White, scowlin' fust at one an' +then at t'other.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says Am, givin' a kind o' shuffle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> with his feet, 'I didn't +mean <i>ortter</i> exac'ly, but jest as <i>well</i>—kinder comp'ny,' he says. 'We +hain't neither on us got nobody, an' we thought we might 's well.'</p> + +<p>"'What have you got to git married on?' says the dominie after a minute. +'Anythin'?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says Am, droppin' his head sideways an' borin' into his ear +'ith his middle finger, 'I got the promise mebbe of a job o' work fer a +couple o' days next week.' 'H'm'm'm,' says the dominie, lookin' at him. +'Have <i>you</i> got anythin' to git married on?' the dominie says, turnin' +to Lize. 'I've got ninety cents comin' to me fer some work I done last +week,' she says, wiltin' down onto the sofy an' beginnin' to snivvle. +Dick says that at that the dominie turned round an' walked to the other +end of the room, an' he c'd see he was dyin' to laugh, but he come back +with a straight face.</p> + +<p>"'How old air you, Shapless?" he says to Am. 'I'll be fifty-eight or +mebbe fifty-nine come next spring,' says Am.</p> + +<p>"'How old air <i>you</i>?' the dominie says, turnin' to Lize. She wriggled a +minute an' says, 'Wa'al, I reckon I'm all o' thirty,' she says."</p> + +<p>"All o' thirty!" exclaimed Aunt Polly. "The woman 's most 's old 's I +be."</p> + +<p>David laughed and went on with, "Wa'al, Dick said at that the dominie +give a kind of a choke, an' Dick he bust right out, an' Lize looked at +him as if she c'd eat him. Dick said the dominie didn't say anythin' fer +a minute or two, an' then he says to Am, 'I suppose you c'n find +somebody that'll marry you, but I cert'inly won't, an' what possesses +you to commit such a piece o'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> folly,' he says, 'passes my +understandin'. What earthly reason have you fer wantin' to marry? On +your own showin',' he says, 'neither one on you 's got a cent o' money +or any settled way o' gettin' any.'</p> + +<p>"'That's jest the very reason,' says Am, 'that's jest the <i>very reason</i>. +I hain't got nothin', an' Mis' Annis hain't got nothin', an' we figured +that we'd jest better git married an' settle down, an' make a good home +fer us both,' an' if that ain't good reasonin'," David concluded, "I +don't know what is."</p> + +<p>"An' be they actially married?" asked Mrs. Bixbee, still incredulous of +anything so preposterous.</p> + +<p>"So Dick says," was the reply. "He says Am an' Lize come away f'm the +dominie's putty down in the mouth, but 'fore long Amri braced up an' +allowed that if he had half a dollar he'd try the squire in the mornin', +an' Dick let him have it. I says to Dick, 'You're out fifty cents on +that deal,' an' he says, slappin' his leg, 'I don't give a dum,' he +says; 'I wouldn't 'a' missed it fer double the money.'"</p> + +<p>Here David folded his napkin and put it in the ring, and John finished +the cup of clear coffee which Aunt Polly, rather under protest, had +given him. Coffee without cream and sugar was incomprehensible to Mrs. +Bixbee.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + + +<p>Two or three days after Christmas John was sitting in his room in the +evening when there came a knock at the door, and to his "Come in" there +entered Mr. Harum, who was warmly welcomed and entreated to take the big +chair, which, after a cursory survey of the apartment and its +furnishings, he did, saying, "Wa'al, I thought I'd come in an' see how +Polly'd got you fixed; whether the baskit [casket?] was worthy of the +jew'l, as I heard a feller say in a theater once."</p> + +<p>"I was never more comfortable in my life," said John. "Mrs. Bixbee has +been kindness itself, and even permits me to smoke in the room. Let me +give you a cigar."</p> + +<p>"Heh! You got putty well 'round Polly, I reckon," said David, looking +around the room as he lighted the cigar, "an' I'm glad you're +comf'table—I reckon 't is a shade better 'n the Eagle," he remarked, +with his characteristic chuckle.</p> + +<p>"I should say so," said John emphatically, "and I am more obliged than I +can tell you."</p> + +<p>"All Polly's doin's," asserted David, holding the end of his cigar +critically under his nose. "That's a trifle better article 'n I'm in the +habit of smokin'," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"I think it's my one extravagance," said John<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> semi-apologetically, "but +I don't smoke them exclusively. I am very fond of good tobacco, and—"</p> + +<p>"I understand," said David, "an' if I had my life to live over agin, +knowin' what I do now, I'd do diff'rent in a number o' ways. I often +think," he proceeded, as he took a pull at the cigar and emitted the +smoke with a chewing movement of his mouth, "of what Andy Brown used to +say. Andy was a curious kind of a customer 't I used to know up to +Syrchester. He liked good things, Andy did, an' didn't scrimp himself +when they was to be had—that is, when he had the go-an'-fetch-it to git +'em with. He used to say, 'Boys, whenever you git holt of a ten-dollar +note you want to git it <i>into</i> ye or <i>onto</i> ye jest 's quick 's you kin. +We're here to-day an' gone to-morrer,' he'd say, 'an' the' ain't no +pocket in a shroud,' an' I'm dum'd if I don't think sometimes," declared +Mr. Harum, "that he wa'n't very fur off neither. 'T any rate," he added +with a philosophy unexpected by his hearer, "'s I look back, it ain't +the money 't I've spent fer the good times 't I've had 't I regret; it's +the good times 't I might 's well 've had an' didn't. I'm inclined to +think," he remarked with an air of having given the matter +consideration, "that after Adam an' Eve got bounced out of the gard'n +they kicked themselves as much as anythin' fer not havin' cleaned up the +hull tree while they was about it."</p> + +<p>John laughed and said that that was very likely among their regrets.</p> + +<p>"Trouble with me was," said David, "that till I was consid'able older 'n +you be I had to scratch grav'l like all possessed, an' it's hard work +now sometimes to git the idee out of my head but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> what the money's wuth +more 'n the things. I guess," he remarked, looking at the ivory-backed +brushes and the various toilet knick-knacks of cut-glass and silver +which adorned John's bureau, and indicating them with a motion of his +hand, "that up to about now you ben in the habit of figurin' the other +way mostly."</p> + +<p>"Too much so, perhaps," said John; "but yet, after all, I don't think I +am sorry. I wouldn't spend the money for those things now, but I am glad +I bought them when I did."</p> + +<p>"Jess so, jess so," said David appreciatively. He reached over to the +table and laid his cigar on the edge of a book, and, reaching for his +hip pocket, produced a silver tobacco box, at which he looked +contemplatively for a moment, opening and shutting the lid with a snap.</p> + +<p>"There," he said, holding it out on his palm, "I was twenty years makin' +up my mind to buy that box, an' to this day I can't bring myself to +carry it all the time. Yes, sir, I wanted that box fer twenty years. I +don't mean to say that I didn't spend the wuth of it foolishly times +over an' agin, but I couldn't never make up my mind to put that amount +o' money into that pertic'ler thing. I was alwus figurin' that some day +I'd have a silver tobacco box, an' I sometimes think the reason it +seemed so extrav'gant, an' I put it off so long, was because I wanted it +so much. Now I s'pose you couldn't understand that, could ye?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, nodding his head thoughtfully, "I think I can +understand it perfectly," and indeed it spoke pages of David's +biography.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said David, "I never spent a small amount o' money but one +other time an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> got so much value, only I alwus ben kickin' myself to +think I didn't do it sooner."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," suggested John, "you enjoyed it all the more for waiting so +long."</p> + +<p>"No," said David, "it wa'n't that—I dunno—'t was the feelin' 't I'd +got there at last, I guess. Fur's waitin' fer things is concerned, the' +is such a thing as waitin' too long. Your appetite 'll change mebbe. I +used to think when I was a youngster that if ever I got where I c'd have +all the custard pie I c'd eat that'd be all 't I'd ask fer. I used to +imagine bein' baked into one an' eatin' my way out. Nowdays the's a good +many things I'd sooner have than custard pie, though," he said with a +wink, "I gen'ally do eat two pieces jest to please Polly."</p> + +<p>John laughed. "What was the other thing?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Other thing I once bought?" queried David. "Oh, yes, it was the fust +hoss I ever owned. I give fifteen dollars fer him, an' if he wa'n't a +dandy you needn't pay me a cent. Crowbait wa'n't no name fer him. He was +stun blind on the off side, an' couldn't see anythin' in pertic'ler on +the nigh side—couldn't get nigh 'nough, I reckon—an' had most +ev'rythin' wrong with him that c'd ail a hoss; but I thought he was a +thoroughbred. I was 'bout seventeen year old then, an' was helpin' +lock-tender on the Erie Canal, an' when the' wa'n't no boat goin' +through I put in most o' my time cleanin' that hoss. If he got through +'th less 'n six times a day he got off cheap, an' once I got up an' give +him a little attention at night. Yes, sir, if I got big money's wuth out +o' that box it was mostly a matter of feelin'; but as fur 's that old +plugamore of a hoss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> was concerned, I got it both ways, for I got my +fust real start out of his old carkiss."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said John encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," affirmed David, "I cleaned him up, an' fed him up, an' +almost got 'im so'st he c'd see enough out of his left eye to shy at a +load of hay close by; an' fin'ly traded him off fer another +record-breaker an' fifteen dollars to boot."</p> + +<p>"Were you as enthusiastic over the next one as the first?" asked John, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied David, relighting his temporarily abandoned cigar +against a protest and proffer of a fresh one—"wa'al, he didn't lay holt +on my affections to quite the same extent. I done my duty by him, but I +didn't set up with him nights. You see," he added with a grin, "I'd got +some used to bein' a hoss owner, an' the edge had wore off some." He +smoked for a minute or two in silence, with as much apparent relish as +if the cigar had not been stale.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going on?" asked John at last</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he replied, pleased with his audience, "I c'd go on, I s'pose, +fast enough an' fur enough, but I don't want to tire ye out. I reckon +you never had much to do with canals?"</p> + +<p>"No," said John, smiling, "I can't say that I have, but I know something +about the subject in a general way, and there is no fear of your tiring +me out."</p> + +<p>"All right," proceeded David. "As I was sayin', I got another equine +wonder an' fifteen dollars to boot fer my old plug, an' it wa'n't a +great while before I was in the hoss bus'nis to stay. After between two +an' three years I had fifty or sixty hosses an' mules, an' took all +sorts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> of towin' jobs. Then a big towin' concern quit bus'nis, an' I +bought their hull stock an' got my money back three four times over, an' +by the time I was about twenty-one I had got ahead enough to quit the +canal an' all its works fer good, an' go into other things. But there +was where I got my livin' after I run away f'm Buxton Hill. Before I got +the job of lock-tendin' I had made the trip to Albany an' back +twice—'walkin' my passage,' as they used to call it, an' I made one +trip helpin' steer, so 't my canal experience was putty thorough, take +it all 'round."</p> + +<p>"It must have been a pretty hard life," remarked John.</p> + +<p>David took out his penknife and proceeded to impale his cigar upon the +blade thereof. "No," he said, to John's proffer of the box, "this 'll +last quite a spell yet. Wa'al," he resumed after a moment, in reply to +John's remark, "viewin' it all by itself, it <i>was</i> a hard life. A thing +is hard though, I reckon, because it's harder 'n somethin' else, or you +think so. Most things go by comparin'. I s'pose if the gen'ral run of +trotters never got better 'n three 'n a half that a hoss that c'd do it +in three 'd be fast, but we don't call 'em so nowdays. I s'pose if at +that same age you'd had to tackle the life you'd 'a' found it hard, an' +the' was hard things about it—trampin' all night in the rain, fer +instance; sleepin' in barns at times, an' all that; an' once the cap'n +o' the boat got mad at somethin' an' pitched me head over heels into the +canal. It was about the close of navigation an' the' was a scum of ice. +I scrambled out somehow, but he wouldn't 'a' cared if I'd ben drownded. +He was an exception, though. The canalers was a rough set in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> gen'ral, +but they averaged fer disposition 'bout like the ord'nary run o' folks; +the' was mean ones an' clever ones; them that would put upon ye, an' +them that would treat ye decent. The work was hard an' the grub wasn't +alwus much better 'n what you—he, he, he!—what you ben gettin' at the +Eagle" (John was now by the way of rather relishing jokes on that +subject); "but I hadn't ben raised in the lap o' luxury—not to any +consid'able extent—not enough to stick my nose up much. The men I +worked fer was rough, an' I got my share of cusses an' cuffs, an' once +in a while a kick to keep up my spirit of perseverance; but, on the +hull, I think I got more kindness 'n I did at home (leavin' Polly out), +an' as fer gen'ral treatment, none on 'em c'd come up to my father, an' +wuss yet, my oldest brother 'Lish. The cap'n that throwed me overboard +was the wust, but alongside o' 'Lish he was a forty hosspower angil with +a hull music store o' harps; an' even my father c'd 'a' given him cards +an' spades; an' as fer the victuals" (here David dropped his cigar end +and pulled from his pocket the silver tobacco box)—"as fer the +victuals," he repeated, "they mostly averaged up putty high after what +I'd ben used to. Why, I don't believe I ever tasted a piece of beefsteak +or roast beef in my life till after I left home. When we had meat at all +it was pork—boiled pork, fried pork, pigs' liver, an' all that, enough +to make you 'shamed to look a pig in the face—an' fer the rest, +potatoes, an' duff, an' johnny-cake, an' meal mush, an' milk emptins +bread that you c'd smell a mile after it got cold. With 'leven folks on +a small farm nuthin' c'd afford to be eat that c'd be sold, an' +ev'rythin' that couldn't be sold had to be eat. Once in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> while the' 'd +be pie of some kind, or gingerbread; but with 'leven to eat 'em I didn't +ever git more 'n enough to set me hankerin'."</p> + +<p>"I must say that I think I should have liked the canal better," remarked +John as David paused. "You were, at any rate, more or less free—that +is, comparatively, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I did," said David, "an' I never see the time, no matter how +rough things was, that I wished I was back on Buxton Hill. I used to +want to see Polly putty bad once in a while, an' used to figure that if +I ever growed up to be a man, an' had money enough, I'd buy her a new +pair o' shoes an' the stuff fer a dress, an' sometimes my cal'lations +went as fur 's a gold breastpin; but I never wanted to see none o' the +rest on 'em, an' fer that matter, I never did. Yes, sir, the old ditch +was better to me than the place I was borned in, an', as you say, I +wa'n't nobody's slave, an' I wa'n't scairt to death the hull time. Some +o' the men was rough, but they wa'n't cruel, as a rule, an' as I growed +up a little I was putty well able to look out fer myself—wa'al, wa'al +(looking at his watch), I guess you must 'a' had enough o' my meemores +fer one sittin'."</p> + +<p>"No, really," John protested, "don't go yet. I have a little proposal to +make to you," and he got up and brought a bottle from the bottom of the +washstand.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "fire it out."</p> + +<p>"That you take another cigar and a little of this," holding up the +bottle.</p> + +<p>"Got any glasses?" asked David with practical mind.</p> + +<p>"One and a tooth mug," replied John, laugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>ing. "Glass for you, tooth +mug for me. Tastes just as good out of a tooth mug."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, with a comical air of yielding as he took the glass +and held it out to John, "under protest, stric'ly under protest—sooner +than have my clo'es torn. I shall tell Polly—if I should happen to +mention it—that you threatened me with vi'lence. Wa'al, here's lookin' +at ye," which toast was drunk with the solemnity which befitted it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + + +<p>The two men sat for a while smoking in silence, John taking an +occasional sip of his grog. Mr. Harum had swallowed his own liquor +"raw," as was the custom in Homeville and vicinity, following the +potation with a mouthful of water. Presently he settled a little farther +down in his chair and his face took on a look of amused recollection.</p> + +<p>He looked up and gave a short laugh. "Speakin' of canals," he said, as +if the subject had only been casually mentioned, "I was thinkin' of +somethin'."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said John.</p> + +<p>"E-up," said David. "That old ditch f'm Albany to Buffalo was an +almighty big enterprise in them days, an' a great thing fer the +prosperity of the State, an' a good many better men 'n I be walked the +ole towpath when they was young. Yes, sir, that's a fact. Wa'al, some +years ago I had somethin' of a deal on with a New York man by the name +of Price. He had a place in Newport where his fam'ly spent the summer, +an' where he went as much as he could git away. I was down to New York +to see him, an' we hadn't got things quite straightened out, an' he says +to me, 'I'm goin' over to Newport, where my wife an' fam'ly is, fer +Sunday, an' why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> can't you come with me,' he says, 'an' stay over till +Monday? an' we c'n have the day to ourselves over this matter?' 'Wa'al,' +I says, 'I'm only down here on this bus'nis, an' as I left a hen on, up +home, I'm willin' to save the time 'stid of waitin' here fer you to git +back, if you don't think,' I says, 'that it'll put Mis' Price out any to +bring home a stranger without no notice.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, laughin', 'I guess she c'n manage fer once,' an' so I +went along. When we got there the' was a carriage to meet us, an' two +men in uniform, one to drive an' one to open the door, an' we got in an' +rode up to the house—cottige, he called it, but it was built of stone, +an' wa'n't only about two sizes smaller 'n the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Some +kind o' doin's was goin' on, fer the house was blazin' with light, an' +music was playin'.</p> + +<p>"'What's on?' says Price to the feller that let us in.</p> + +<p>"'Sir and Lady somebody 's dinin' here to-night, sir,' says the man.</p> + +<p>"'Damn!' says Price, 'I fergot all about the cussed thing. Have Mr. +Harum showed to a room,' he says, 'an' serve dinner in my office in a +quarter of an hour, an' have somebody show Mr. Harum there when it's +ready.'</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," pursued David, "I was showed up to a room. The' was lace +coverin's on the bed pillers, an' a silk an' lace spread, an' more dum +trinkits an' bottles an' lookin'-glasses 'n you c'd shake a stick at, +an' a bathroom, an' Lord knows what; an' I washed up, an' putty soon one +o' them fellers come an' showed me down to where Price was waitin'. +Wa'al, we had all manner o' things fer supper, an' champagne, an' so on, +an' after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> we got done, Price says, 'I've got to ask you to excuse me, +Harum,' he says. 'I've got to go an' dress an' show up in the +drawin'-room,' he says. 'You smoke your cigar in here, an' when you want +to go to your room jest ring the bell.'</p> + +<p>"'All right,' I says. 'I'm 'bout ready to turn in anyway.'"</p> + +<p>The narrator paused for a moment. John was rather wondering what it all +had to do with the Erie Canal, but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, next mornin'," David resumed, "I got up an' shaved an' dressed, +an' set 'round waitin' fer the breakfust bell to ring till nigh on to +half-past nine o'clock. Bom-by the' came a knock at the door, an' I +says, 'Come in,' an' in come one o' them fellers. 'Beg pah'din, sir,' he +says. 'Did you ring, sir?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' I says, 'I didn't ring. I was waitin' to hear the bell.'</p> + +<p>"'Thank you, sir,' he says. 'An' will you have your breakfust now, sir?'</p> + +<p>"'Where?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Oh,' he says, kind o' grinnin', 'I'll bring it up here, sir, +d'rec'ly,' he says, an' went off. Putty soon come another knock, an' in +come the feller with a silver tray covered with a big napkin, an' on it +was a couple of rolls wrapped up in a napkin, a b'iled egg done up in +another napkin, a cup an' saucer, a little chiney coffee-pot, a little +pitcher of cream, some loaf sugar in a silver dish, a little pancake of +butter, a silver knife, two little spoons like what the childern play +with, a silver pepper duster an' salt dish, an' an orange. Oh, yes, the' +was another contraption—a sort of a chiney wineglass. The feller set +down the tray an' says, 'Anythin' else you'd like to have, sir?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'No,' I says, lookin' it over, 'I guess there's enough to last me a day +or two,' an' with that he kind o' turned his face away fer a second or +two. 'Thank you, sir,' he says. 'The second breakfust is at half-past +twelve, sir,' an' out he put. Wa'al," David continued, "the bread an' +butter was all right enough, exceptin' they'd fergot the salt in the +butter, an' the coffee was all right; but when it come to the egg, dum'd +if I wa'n't putty nigh out of the race; but I made up my mind it must be +hard-b'iled, an' tackled it on that idee. Seems t' amuse ye," he said +with a grin, getting up and helping himself. After swallowing the +refreshment, and the palliating mouthful of water, he resumed his seat +and his narrative.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, sir," he said, "that dum'd egg was about 's near raw as it was +when i' was laid, an' the' was a crack in the shell, an' fust thing I +knowed it kind o' c'lapsed, an' I give it a grab, an' it squirtid all +over my pants, an' the floor, an' on my coat an' vest, an' up my sleeve, +an' all over the tray. Scat my ——! I looked gen'ally like an ab'lition +orator before the war. You never see such a mess," he added, with an +expression of rueful recollection. "I believe that dum'd egg held more +'n a pint."</p> + +<p>John fairly succumbed to a paroxysm of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Funny, wa'n't it?" said David dryly.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," pleaded John, when he got his breath.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," said David, "but it wa'n't the kind of emotion +it kicked up in my breast at the time. I cleaned myself up with a towel +well 's I could, an' thought I'd step out an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> take the air before the +feller 'd come back to git that tray, an' mebbe rub my nose in't."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!" cried John.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said David, unheeding, "I allowed 't I'd walk 'round with my +mouth open a spell, an' git a little air on my stomech to last me till +that second breakfust; an' as I was pokin' 'round the grounds I come to +a sort of arbor, an' there was Price, smokin' a cigar.</p> + +<p>"'Mornin', Harum; how you feelin'?' he says, gettin' up an' shakin' +hands; an' as we passed the time o' day, I noticed him noticin' my coat. +You see as they dried out, the egg spots got to showin' agin.</p> + +<p>"'Got somethin' on your coat there,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' I says, tryin' to scratch it out with my finger nail.</p> + +<p>"'Have a cigar?' he says, handin' one out.</p> + +<p>"'Never smoke on an empty stomach,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'What?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Bad fer the ap'tite,' I says, 'an' I'm savin' mine fer that second +breakfust o' your'n.'</p> + +<p>"'What!' he says, 'haven't you had anythin' to eat?' An' then I told him +what I ben tellin' you. Wa'al, sir, fust he looked kind o' mad an' +disgusted, an' then he laughed till I thought he'd bust, an' when he +quit he says, 'Excuse me, Harum, it's too damned bad; but I couldn't +help laughin' to save my soul. An' it's all my fault too,' he says. 'I +intended to have you take your breakfust with me, but somethin' happened +last night to upset me, an' I woke with it on my mind, an' I fergot. Now +you jest come right into the house, an' I'll have somethin' got fer you +that'll stay your stomach better 'n air,' he says.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'No,' I says, 'I've made trouble enough fer one day, I guess,' an' I +wouldn't go, though he urged me agin an' agin. 'You don't fall in with +the customs of this region?' I says to him.</p> + +<p>"'Not in that pertic'ler, at any rate,' he says. 'It's one o' the fool +notions that my wife an' the girls brought home f'm Eurup. I have a good +solid meal in the mornin', same as I alwus did,' he says."</p> + +<p>Mr. Harum stopped talking to relight his cigar, and after a puff or two, +"When I started out," he said, "I hadn't no notion of goin' into all the +highways an' byways, but when I git begun one thing's apt to lead to +another, an' you never c'n tell jest where I <i>will</i> fetch up. Now I +started off to tell somethin' in about two words, an' I'm putty near as +fur off as when I begun."</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, "it's Saturday night, and the longer your story is +the better I shall like it. I hope the second breakfast was more of a +success than the first one," he added with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"I managed to average up on the two meals, I guess," David remarked. +"Wa'al," he resumed, "Price an' I set 'round talkin' bus'nis an' things +till about twelve or a little after, mebbe, an' then he turned to me an' +kind o' looked me over an' says, 'You an' me is about of a build, an' if +you say so I'll send one of my coats an' vests up to your room an' have +the man take yours an' clean 'em.'</p> + +<p>"'I guess the' is ruther more egg showin' than the law allows,' I says, +'an' mebbe that 'd be a good idee; but the pants caught it the wust,' I +says.</p> + +<p>"'Mine'll fit ye,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'What'll your wife say to seein' me airifyin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> 'round in your git-up?' +I says. He gin me a funny kind of look. 'My wife?' he says. 'Lord, she +don't know more about my clo'es 'n you do.' That struck me as bein' +ruther curious," remarked David. "Wouldn't it you?"</p> + +<p>"Very," replied John gravely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said David. "Wa'al, when we went into the eatin' room the +table was full, mostly young folks, chatterin' an' laughin'. Price +int'duced me to his wife, an' I set down by him at the other end of the +table. The' wa'n't nothin' wuth mentionin'; nobody paid any attention to +me 'cept now an' then a word from Price, an' I wa'n't fer talkin' +anyway—I c'd have eat a raw dog. After breakfust, as they called it, +Price an' I went out onto the verandy an' had some coffee, an' smoked +an' talked fer an hour or so, an' then he got up an' excused himself to +write a letter. 'You may like to look at the papers awhile,' he says. +'I've ordered the hosses at five, an' if you like I'll show you 'round a +little.'</p> + +<p>"'Won't your wife be wantin' 'em?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'No, I guess she'll git along,' he says, kind o' smilin'.</p> + +<p>"'All right,' I says, 'don't mind me.' An' so at five up come the hosses +an' the two fellers in uniform an' all. I was lookin' the hosses over +when Price come out. 'Wa'al, what do you think of 'em?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Likely pair,' I says, goin' over an' examinin' the nigh one's feet an' +legs. 'Sore forr'ed?' I says, lookin' up at the driver.</p> + +<p>"'A trifle, sir,' he says, touchin' his hat.</p> + +<p>"'What's that?' says Price, comin' up an' examinin' the critter's face +an' head. 'I don't see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> anythin' the matter with his forehead,' he says. +I looked up an' give the driver a wink," said David with a chuckle, "an' +he give kind of a chokin' gasp, but in a second was lookin' as solemn as +ever.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell ye jest where we went," the narrator proceeded, "but +anyway it was where all the nabobs turned out, an' I seen more style an' +git-up in them two hours 'n I ever see in my life, I reckon. The' didn't +appear to be no one we run across that, accordin' to Price's tell, was +wuth under five million, though we may 'a' passed one without his +noticin'; an' the' was a good many that run to fifteen an' twenty an' +over, an' most on 'em, it appeared, was f'm New York. Wa'al, fin'ly we +got back to the house a little 'fore seven. On the way back Price says, +'The' are goin' to be three four people to dinner to-night in a quiet +way, an' the' ain't no reason why you shouldn't stay dressed jest as you +are, but if you would feel like puttin' on evenin' clo'es (that's what +he called 'em), why I've got an extry suit that'll fit ye to a "tee,"' +he says.</p> + +<p>"'No,' I says, 'I guess I better not. I reckon I'd better git my grip +an' go to the hotel. I sh'd be ruther bashful to wear your swallertail, +an' all them folks'll be strangers,' I says. But he insisted on't that I +sh'd come to dinner anyway, an' fin'ly I gin in, an' thinkin' I might 's +well go the hull hog, I allowed I'd wear his clo'es; 'but if I do +anythin' or say anythin' 't you don't like,' says I, 'don't say I didn't +warn ye.' What would you 'a' done?" Mr. Harum asked.</p> + +<p>"Worn the clothes without the slightest hesitation," replied John. +"Nobody gave your costume a thought."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They didn't appear to, fer a fact," said David, "an' I didn't either, +after I'd slipped up once or twice on the matter of pockets. The same +feller brought 'em up to me that fetched the stuff in the mornin'; an' +the rig was complete—coat, vest, pants, shirt, white necktie, an', by +gum! shoes an' silk socks, an', sir, scat my ——! the hull outfit +fitted me as if it was made fer me. 'Shell I wait on you, sir?' says the +man. 'No,' I says, 'I guess I c'n git into the things; but mebbe you +might come up in 'bout quarter of an hour an' put on the finishin' +touches, an' here,' I says, 'I guess that brand of eggs you give me this +mornin' 's wuth about two dollars apiece.'</p> + +<p>"'Thank you, sir,' he says, grinnin', 'I'd like to furnish 'em right +along at that rate, sir, an' I'll be up as you say, sir.'"</p> + +<p>"You found the way to <i>his</i> heart," said John, smiling.</p> + +<p>"My experience is," said David dryly, "that most men's hearts is located +ruther closter to their britchis pockets than they are to their breast +pockets."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid that's so," said John.</p> + +<p>"But this feller," Mr. Harum continued, "was a putty decent kind of a +chap. He come up after I'd got into my togs an' pulled me here, an' +pulled me there, an' fixed my necktie, an' hitched me in gen'ral so'st I +wa'n't neither too tight nor too free, an' when he got through, 'You'll +do now, sir,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Think I will?' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Couldn't nobody look more fit, sir,' he says, an' I'm dum'd," said +David, with an assertive nod, "when I looked at myself in the +lookin'-glass. I scurcely knowed myself, an' (with a con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>fidential +lowering of the voice) when I got back to New York the very fust hard +work I done was to go an' buy the hull rig-out—an'," he added with a +grin, "strange as it may appear, it ain't wore out <i>yit</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + + +<p>"People don't dress for dinner in Homeville, as a rule, then," John +said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. Harum, "when they dress fer breakfust that does 'em fer +all three meals. I've wore them things two three times when I've ben +down to the city, but I never had 'em on but once up here."</p> + +<p>"No?" said John.</p> + +<p>"No," said David, "I put 'em on <i>once</i> to show to Polly how city folks +dressed—he, he, he, he!—an' when I come into the room she set forwud +on her chair an' stared at me over her specs. 'What on airth!' she says.</p> + +<p>"'I bought these clo'es,' I says, 'to wear when bein' ent'tained by the +fust fam'lies. How do I look?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Turn 'round,' she says. 'You look f'm behind,' she says, 'like a +red-headed snappin' bug, an' in front,' she says, as I turned agin, +'like a reg'lar slinkum. I'll bet,' she says, 'that you hain't throwed +away less 'n twenty dollars on that foolishniss.' Polly's a very +conserv'tive person," remarked her brother, "and don't never imagine a +vain thing, as the Bible says, not when she <i>knows</i> it, an' I thought it +wa'n't wuth while to argue the point with her."</p> + +<p>John laughed and said, "Do you recall that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> memorable interview between +the governors of the two Carolinas?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin' in the historical lit'riture of our great an' glorious +country," replied Mr. Harum reverently, "sticks closter to my mind—like +a burr to a cow's tail," he added, by way of illustration. "Thank you, +jest a mouthful."</p> + +<p>"How about the dinner?" John asked after a little interlude. "Was it +pleasant?"</p> + +<p>"Fust rate," declared David. "The young folks was out somewhere else, +all but one o' Price's girls. The' was twelve at the table all told. I +was int'duced to all of 'em in the parlor, an' putty soon in come one of +the fellers an' said somethin' to Mis' Price that meant dinner was +ready, an' the girl come up to me an' took holt of my arm. 'You're goin' +to take me out,' she says, an' we formed a procession an' marched out to +the dinin' room. 'You're to sit by mammer,' she says, showin' me, an' +there was my name on a card, sure enough. Wa'al, sir, that table was a +show! I couldn't begin to describe it to ye. The' was a hull flower +garden in the middle, an' a worked tablecloth; four five glasses of all +colors an' sizes at ev'ry plate, an' a nosegay, an' five six diff'rent +forks an' a lot o' knives, though fer that matter," remarked the +speaker, "the' wa'n't but one knife in the lot that amounted to +anythin', the rest on 'em wouldn't hold nothin'; an' the' was three four +sort of chiney slates with what they call—the—you 'n me——"</p> + +<p>"Menu," suggested John.</p> + +<p>"I guess that's it," said David, "but that wa'n't the way it was spelt. +Wa'al, I set down an' tucked my napkin into my neck, an' though I +noticed none o' the rest on 'em seemed to care,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> I allowed that 't +wa'n't <i>my</i> shirt, an' mebbe Price might want to wear it agin 'fore 't +was washed."</p> + +<p>John put his handkerchief over his face and coughed violently. David +looked at him sharply. "Subject to them spells?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," said John when he recovered his voice, and then, with as +clear an expression of innocence as he could command, but somewhat +irrelevantly, asked, "How did you get on with Mrs. Price?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said David, "nicer 'n a cotton hat. She appeared to be a quiet +sort of woman that might 'a' lived anywhere, but she was dressed to +kill—an' so was the rest on 'em, fer that matter," he remarked with a +laugh. "I tried to tell Polly about 'em afterwuds, an'—he, he, he!—she +shut me up mighty quick, an' I thought myself at the time, thinks I, +it's a good thing it's warm weather, I says to myself. Oh, yes, Mis' +Price made me feel quite to home, but I didn't talk much the fust part +of dinner, an' I s'pose she was more or less took up with havin' so many +folks at table; but fin'ly she says to me, 'Mr. Price was so annoyed +about your breakfust, Mr. Harum.'</p> + +<p>"'Was he?' I says. 'I was afraid you'd be the one that 'd be vexed at +me.'</p> + +<p>"'Vexed with you? I don't understand,' she says.</p> + +<p>"''Bout the napkin I sp'iled,' I says. 'Mebbe not actially sp'iled,' I +says, 'but it'll have to go into the wash 'fore it c'n be used agin.' +She kind o' smiled, an' says, 'Really, Mr. Harum, I don't know what you +are talkin' about.'</p> + +<p>"'Hain't nobody told ye?' I says. 'Well, if they hain't they will, an' I +may 's well make a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> clean breast on't. I'm awful sorry,' I says, 'but +this mornin' when I come to the egg I didn't see no way to eat it 'cept +to peel it, an' fust I knew it kind of exploded and daubed ev'rythin' +all over creation. Yes'm,' I says, 'it went <i>off</i>, 's ye might say, like +old Elder Maybee's powder,' I guess," said David, "that I must 'a' ben +talkin' ruther louder 'n I thought, fer I looked up an' noticed that +putty much ev'ry one on 'em was lookin' our way, an' kind o' laughin', +an' Price in pertic'ler was grinnin' straight at me.</p> + +<p>"'What's that,' he says, 'about Elder Maybee's powder?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, nuthin' much,' I says, 'jest a little supprise party the elder had +up to his house.'</p> + +<p>"'Tell us about it,' says Price. 'Oh, yes, do tell us about it,' says +Mis' Price.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'the' ain't much to it in the way of a story, but +seein' dinner must be most through,' I says, 'I'll tell ye all the' was +of it. The elder had a small farm 'bout two miles out of the village,' I +says, 'an' he was great on raisin' chickins an' turkeys. He was a slow, +putterin' kind of an ole foozle, but on the hull a putty decent citizen. +Wa'al,' I says, 'one year when the poultry was comin' along, a family o' +skunks moved onto the premises an' done so well that putty soon, as the +elder said, it seemed to him that it was comin' to be a ch'ice between +the chickin bus'nis an' the skunk bus'nis, an' though he said he'd heard +the' was money in it, if it was done on a big enough scale, he hadn't +ben edicated to it, he said, and didn't take to it <i>any</i> ways. So,' I +says, 'he scratched 'round an' got a lot o' traps an' set 'em, an' the +very next mornin' he went out an' found he'd ketched an ole +he-one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>—president of the comp'ny. So he went to git his gun to shoot +the critter, an' found he hadn't got no powder. The boys had used it all +up on woodchucks, an' the' wa'n't nothin' fer it but to git some more +down to the village, an', as he had some more things to git, he hitched +up 'long in the forenoon an' drove down.' At this," said David, "one of +the ladies, wife to the judge, name o' Pomfort, spoke up an' says, 'Did +he leave that poor creature to suffer all that time? Couldn't it have +been put out of it's misery some other way?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al marm,' I says, 'I never happened to know but one feller that set +out to kill one o' them things with a club, an' <i>he</i> put in most o' +<i>his</i> time fer a week or two up in the woods <i>hatin'</i> himself,' I says. +'He didn't mingle in gen'ral soci'ty, an' in fact,' I says, 'he had the +hull road to himself, as ye might say, fer a putty consid'able spell.'"</p> + +<p>John threw back his head and laughed. "Did she say any more?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," said David with a chuckle. "All the men set up a great laugh, an' +she colored up in a kind of huff at fust, an' then she begun to laugh +too, an' then one o' the waiter fellers put somethin' down in front of +me an' I went eatin' agin. But putty soon Price, he says, 'Come,' he +says, 'Harum, ain't you goin' on? How about that powder?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'mebbe we had ought to put that critter out of his +misery. The elder went down an' bought a pound o' powder an' had it done +up in a brown paper bundle, an' put it with his other stuff in the +bottom of his dem'crat wagin; but it come on to rain some while he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +ridin' back, an' the stuff got more or less wet, an' so when he got home +he spread it out in a dishpan an' put it under the kitchen stove to dry, +an' thinkin' that it wa'n't dryin' fast enough, I s'pose, made out to +assist Nature, as the sayin' is, by stirrin' on't up with the kitchin +poker. Wa'al,' I says, 'I don't jest know how it happened, an' the elder +cert'inly didn't, fer after they'd got him untangled f'm under what was +left of the woodshed an' the kitchin stove, an' tied him up in cotton +battin', an' set his leg, an' put out the house, an' a few things like +that, bom-by he come round a little, an' the fust thing he says was, +"Wa'al, wa'al, wa'al!" "What is it, pa?" says Mis' Maybee, bendin' down +over him. "That peowder," he says, in almost no voice, "that peowder! I +was jest stirrin' on't a little, an' it went <i>o-f-f</i>, it went <i>o-f-f</i>," +he says, "<i>seemin'ly—in—a—minute</i>!" an' that,' I says to Mis' Price, +'was what that egg done.'</p> + +<p>"'We'll have to forgive you that egg,' she says, laughin' like +ev'rything, 'for Elder Maybee's sake'; an' in fact," said David, "they +all laughed except one feller. He was an Englishman—I fergit his name. +When I got through he looked kind o' puzzled an' says" (Mr. Harum +imitated his style as well as he could), "'But ra'ally, Mr. Harum, you +kneow that's the way powdah always geoes off, don't you kneow,' an' +then," said David, "they laughed harder 'n ever, an' the Englishman got +redder 'n a beet."</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" asked John.</p> + +<p>"Nuthin'," said David. "They was all laughin' so't I couldn't git in a +word, an' then the waiter brought me another plateful of somethin'. Scat +my ——!" he exclaimed, "I thought that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> dinner 'd go on till kingdom +come. An' wine! Wa'al! I begun to feel somethin' like the old feller did +that swallered a full tumbler of white whisky, thinkin' it was water. +The old feller was temp'rence, an' the boys put up a job on him one hot +day at gen'ral trainin'. Somebody ast him afterwuds how it made him +feel, an' he said he felt as if he was sittin' straddle the meetin' +house, an' ev'ry shingle was a Jew's-harp. So I kep' mum fer a while. +But jest before we fin'ly got through, an' I hadn't said nothin' fer a +spell, Mis' Price turned to me an' says, 'Did you have a pleasant drive +this afternoon?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes'm,' I says, 'I seen the hull show, putty much. I guess poor folks +must be 't a premium 'round here. I reckon,' I says, 'that if they'd +club together, the folks your husband p'inted out to me to-day could +<i>almost</i> satisfy the requirements of the 'Merican Soci'ty fer For'n +Missions.' Mis' Price laughed, an' looked over at her husband. 'Yes,' +says Price, 'I told Mr. Harum about some of the people we saw this +afternoon, an' I must say he didn't appear to be as much impressed as I +thought he would. How's that, Harum?' he says to me.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says I, 'I was thinkin' 't I'd like to bet you two dollars to +a last year's bird's nest,' I says, 'that if all them fellers we seen +this afternoon, that air over fifty, c'd be got together, an' some one +was suddinly to holler "LOW BRIDGE!" that nineteen out o' twenty 'd +<i>duck their heads</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"And then?" queried John.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "all on 'em laughed some, but Price—he jest lay +back an' roared, and I found out afterwuds," added David, "that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> ev'ry +man at the table, except the Englis'man, know'd what 'low bridge' meant +from actial experience. Wa'al, scat my ——!" he exclaimed, as he looked +at his watch, "it ain't hardly wuth while undressin'," and started for +the door. As he was halfway through it, he turned and said, "Say, I +s'pose <i>you'd</i> 'a' known what to do with that egg," but he did not wait +for a reply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + + +<p>It must not be understood that the Harums, Larrabees, Robinsons, +Elrights, and sundry who have thus far been mentioned, represented the +only types in the prosperous and enterprising village of Homeville, and +David perhaps somewhat magnified the one-time importance of the Cullom +family, although he was speaking of a period some forty years earlier. +Be that as it may, there were now a good many families, most of them +descendants of early settlers, who lived in good and even fine houses, +and were people of refinement and considerable wealth. These constituted +a coterie of their own, though they were on terms of acquaintance and +comity with the "village people," as they designated the rank and file +of the Homeville population. To these houses came in the summer sons and +daughters, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren, and at the period of +which I am writing there had been built on the shore of the lake, or in +its vicinity, a number of handsome and stately residences by people who +had been attracted by the beauty of the situation and the salubrity of +the summer climate. And so, for some months in the pleasant season, the +village was enlivened by a concourse of visitors who brought with them +urban customs, costumes, and equipages, and gave a good deal of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> life +and color to the village streets. Then did Homeville put its best foot +forward and money in its pouch.</p> + +<p>"I ain't what ye might call an old residenter," said David, "though I +was part raised on Buxton Hill, an' I ain't so well 'quainted with the +nabobs; but Polly's lived in the village ever sence she got married, an' +knows their fam'ly hist'ry, dam, an' sire, an' pedigree gen'ally. Of +course," he remarked, "I know all the men folks, an' they know me, but I +never ben into none o' their houses except now an' then on a matter of +bus'nis, an' I guess," he said with a laugh, "that Polly 'd allow 't she +don't spend all her time in that circle. Still," he added, "they all +know her, an' ev'ry little while some o' the women folks 'll come in an' +see her. She's putty popular, Polly is," he concluded.</p> + +<p>"I should think so, indeed," remarked John.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said David, "the's worse folks 'n Polly Bixbee, if she don't +put on no style; an' the fact is, that some of the folks that lives here +the year 'round, an' always have, an' call the rest on us 'village +people,' 'r' jest as countryfied in their way 's me an' Polly is in +our'n—only they don't know it. 'Bout the only diff'rence is the way +they talk an' live." John looked at Mr. Harum in some doubt as to the +seriousness of the last remark.</p> + +<p>"Go to the 'Piscopal church, an' have what they call dinner at six +o'clock," said David. "Now, there's the The'dore Verjooses," he +continued; "the 'rig'nal Verjoos come an' settled here some time in the +thirties, I reckon. He was some kind of a Dutchman, I guess" +["Dutchman" was Mr. Harum's generic name for all peo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>ple native to the +Continent of Europe]; "but he had some money, an' bought land an' +morgidges, an' so on, an' havin' money—money was awful scurce in them +early days—made more; never spent anythin' to speak of, an' died +pinchin' the 'rig'nal cent he started in with."</p> + +<p>"He was the father of Mr. Verjoos the other banker here, I suppose?" +said John.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said David, "the' was two boys an' a sister. The oldest son, +Alferd, went into the law an' done bus'nis in Albany, an' afterw'ds +moved to New York; but he's always kept up the old place here. The old +man left what was a good deal o' propity fer them days, an' Alf he kept +his share an' made more. He was in the Assembly two three terms, an' +afterw'ds member of Congress, an' they do say," remarked Mr. Harum with +a wink, "that he never lost no money by his politics. On the other hand, +The'dore made more or less of a muddle on't, an' 'mongst 'em they set +him up in the bankin' bus'nis. I say 'them' because the Verjooses, an' +the Rogerses, an' the Swaynes, an' a lot of 'em, is all more or less +related to each other, but Alf's reely the one at the bottom on't, an' +after The 'd lost most of his money it was the easiest way to kind o' +keep him on his legs."</p> + +<p>"He seems a good-natured, easy-going sort of person," said John by way +of comment, and, truth to say, not very much interested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said David rather contemptuously, "you could drive him with a +tow string. He don't <i>know</i> enough to run away. But what I was gettin' +at was this: He an' his wife—he married one of the Tenakers—has lived +right here fer the Lord knows how long; born an' brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> up here both +on 'em, an' somehow we're 'village people' an' they ain't, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Rather a fine distinction," remarked his hearer, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said David. "Now, there's old maid Allis, relative of the +Rogerses, lives all alone down on Clark Street in an old house that +hain't had a coat o' paint or a new shingle sence the three Thayers was +hung, an' she talks about the folks next door, both sides, that she's +knowed alwus, as 'village people,' and I don't believe," asserted the +speaker, "she was ever away f'm Homeville two weeks in the hull course +of her life. She's a putty decent sort of a woman too," Mr. Harum +admitted. "If the' was a death in the house she'd go in an' help, but +she wouldn't never think of askin' one on 'em to tea."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have heard it said," remarked John, laughing, "that it +takes all sorts of people to make a world."</p> + +<p>"I think I hev heard a rumor to that effect," said David, "an' I guess +the' 's about as much human nature in some folks as the' is in others, +if not more."</p> + +<p>"And I don't fancy that it makes very much difference to you," said +John, "whether the Verjooses or Miss Allis call you 'village people' or +not."</p> + +<p>"Don't cut no figger at all," declared Mr. Harum. "Polly 'n I are too +old to set up fer shapes even if we wanted to. A good fair road-gait 's +good enough fer me; three square meals, a small portion of the 'filthy +weed,' as it's called in po'try, a hoss 'r two, a ten-dollar note where +you c'n lay your hand on't, an' once in a while, when your consciunce +pricks ye, a little some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>thin' to permote the cause o' temp'rence, an' +make the inwurd moniter quit jerkin' the reins—wa'al, I guess I c'n git +along, heh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, by way of making some rejoinder, "if one has all one +needs it is enough."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, yes," observed the philosopher, "that's so, as you might say, up +to a certain <i>point</i>, an' in some <i>ways</i>. I s'pose a feller could git +along, but at the same time I've noticed that, gen'ally speakin', a +leetle too big 's about the right size."</p> + +<p>"I am told," said John, after a pause in which the conversation seemed +to be dying out for lack of fuel, and apropos of nothing in particular, +"that Homeville is quite a summer resort."</p> + +<p>"Quite a consid'able," responded Mr. Harum. "It has ben to some extent +fer a good many years, an' it's gettin' more an' more so all the time, +only diff'rent. I mean," he said, "that the folks that come now make +more show an' most on 'em who ain't visitin' their relations either has +places of their own or hires 'em fer the summer. One time some folks +used to come an' stay at the hotel. The' was quite a fair one then," he +explained; "but it burned up, an' wa'n't never built up agin because it +had got not to be thought the fash'nable thing to put up there. Mis' +Robinson (Dug's wife), an' Mis' Truman, 'round on Laylock Street, has +some fam'lies that come an' board with them ev'ry year, but that's about +all the boardin' the' is nowdays." Mr. Harum stopped and looked at his +companion thoughtfully for a moment, as if something had just occurred +to him.</p> + +<p>"The' 'll be more o' your kind o' folk 'round,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> come summer," he said; +and then, on a second thought, "you're 'Piscopal, ain't ye?"</p> + +<p>"I have always attended that service," replied John, smiling, "and I +have gone to St. James's here nearly every Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Hain't they taken any notice of ye?" asked David.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Euston, the rector, called upon me," said John, "but I have made no +further acquaintances."</p> + +<p>"E-um'm!" said David, and, after a moment, in a sort of confidential +tone, "Do you like goin' to church?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, "that depends—yes, I think I do. I think it is the +proper thing," he concluded weakly.</p> + +<p>"Depends some on how a feller's ben brought up, don't ye think so?" said +David.</p> + +<p>"I should think it very likely," John assented, struggling manfully with +a yawn.</p> + +<p>"I guess that's about my case," remarked Mr. Harum, "an' I sh'd have to +admit that I ain't much of a hand fer church-goin'. Polly has the +princ'pal charge of that branch of the bus'nis, an' the one I stay away +from, when I <i>don't</i> go," he said with a grin, "'s the Prespyteriun." +John laughed.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said David, "I ain't much of a hand for't. Polly used to +worry at me about it till I fin'ly says to her, 'Polly,' I says, 'I'll +tell ye what I'll do. I'll compermise with ye,' I says. 'I won't +undertake to foller right along in your track—I hain't got the req'sit +speed,' I says, 'but f'm now on I'll go to church reg'lar on +Thanksgivin'.' It was putty near Thanksgivin' time," he remarked, "an' I +dunno but she thought if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> she c'd git me started I'd finish the heat, +an' so we fixed it at that."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said John with a laugh, "you kept your promise?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, sir," declared David with the utmost gravity, "fer the next five +years I never missed attendin' church on Thanksgivin' day but <i>four</i> +times; but after that," he added, "I had to beg off. It was too much of +a strain," he declared with a chuckle, "an' it took more time 'n Polly +c'd really afford to git me ready." And so he rambled on upon such +topics as suggested themselves to his mind, or in reply to his auditor's +comments and questions, which were, indeed, more perfunctory than +otherwise. For the Verjooses, the Rogerses, the Swaynes, and the rest, +were people whom John not only did not know, but whom he neither +expected nor cared to know; and so his present interest in them was +extremely small.</p> + +<p>Outside of his regular occupations, and despite the improvement in his +domestic environment, life was so dull for him that he could not imagine +its ever being otherwise in Homeville. It was a year since the +world—his world—had come to an end, and though his sensations of loss +and defeat had passed the acute stage, his mind was far from healthy. He +had evaded David's question, or only half answered it, when he merely +replied that the rector had called upon him. The truth was that some +tentative advances had been made to him, and Mr. Euston had presented +him to a few of the people in his flock; but beyond the point of mere +politeness he had made no response, mainly from indifference, but to a +degree because of a suspicion that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> his connection with Mr. Harum would +not, to say the least, enhance his position in the minds of certain of +the people of Homeville. As has been intimated, it seemed at the outset +of his career in the village as if there had been a combination of +circumstance and effort to put him on his guard, and, indeed, rather to +prejudice him against his employer; and Mr. Harum, as it now appeared to +our friend, had on one or two occasions laid himself open to +misjudgment, if no more. No allusion had ever been made to the episode +of the counterfeit money by either his employer or himself, and it was +not till months afterward that the subject was brought up by Mr. Richard +Larrabee, who sauntered into the bank one morning. Finding no one there +but John, he leaned over the counter on his elbows, and, twisting one +leg about the other in a restful attitude, proceeded to open up a +conversation upon various topics of interest to his mind. Dick was Mr. +Harum's confidential henchman and factotum, although not regularly so +employed. His chief object in life was apparently to get as much +amusement as possible out of that experience, and he was quite +unhampered by over-nice notions of delicacy or bashfulness. But, withal, +Mr. Larrabee was a very honest and loyal person, strong in his likes and +dislikes, devoted to David, for whom he had the greatest admiration, and +he had taken a fancy to our friend, stoutly maintaining that he "wa'n't +no more stuck-up 'n you be," only, as he remarked to Bill Perkins, "he +hain't had the advantigis of your bringin' up."</p> + +<p>After some preliminary talk—"Say," he said to John, "got stuck with any +more countyfit money lately?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>John's face reddened a little and Dick laughed.</p> + +<p>"The old man told me about it," he said. "Say, you'd ought to done as he +told ye to. You'd 'a' saved fifteen dollars," Dick declared, looking at +our friend with an expression of the utmost amusement.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand," said John rather stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Didn't he tell ye to charge 'em up to the bank, an' let him take 'em?" +asked Dick.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said John shortly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know," said Mr. Larrabee. "He said sumpthin' to make you +think he was goin' to pass 'em out, an' you didn't give him no show to +explain, but jest marched into the back room an' stuck 'em onto the +fire. Ho, ho, ho, ho! He told me all about it," cried Dick. "Say," he +declared, "I dunno 's I ever see the old man more kind o' womble-cropped +over anythin'. Why, he wouldn't no more 'a' passed them bills 'n he'd +'a' cut his hand off. He, he, he, he! He was jest ticklin' your heels a +little," said Mr. Larrabee, "to see if you'd kick, an'," chuckled the +speaker, "you <i>surely</i> did."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I acted rather hastily," said John, laughing a little from +contagion.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Dick, "Dave's got ways of his own. I've summered an' +wintered with him now for a good many years, an' <i>I</i> ain't got to the +bottom of him yet, an'," he added, "I don't know nobody that has."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + + +<p>Although, as time went on and John had come to a better insight of the +character of the eccentric person whom Dick had failed to fathom, his +half-formed prejudices had fallen away, it must be admitted that he +ofttimes found him a good deal of a puzzle. The domains of the serious +and the facetious in David's mind seemed to have no very well defined +boundaries.</p> + +<p>The talk had drifted back to the people and gossip of Homeville, but, +sooth to say, it had not on this occasion got far away from those +topics.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Harum, "Alf Verjoos is on the hull the best off of any +of the lot. As I told ye, he made money on top of what the old man left +him, an' he married money. The fam'ly—some on 'em—comes here in the +summer, an' he's here part o' the time gen'ally, but the women folks +won't stay here winters, an' the house is left in care of Alf's sister +who never got married. He don't care a hill o' white beans fer anything +in Homeville but the old place, and he don't cal'late to have nobody on +his grass, not if he knows it. Him an' me are on putty friendly terms, +but the fact is," said David, in a semi-confidential tone, "he's about +an even combine of pykery an' viniger, an' about as pop'lar in gen'ral +'round here as a skunk in a hen-house; but Mis' Verjoos is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> putty well +liked; an' one o' the girls, Claricy is her name, is a good deal of a +fav'rit. Juliet, the other one, don't mix with the village folks much, +an' sometimes don't come with the fam'ly at all. She favors her father," +remarked the historian.</p> + +<p>"Inherits his popularity, I conclude," remarked John, smiling.</p> + +<p>"She does favor him to some extent in that respect," was the reply; "an' +she's dark complected like him, but she's a mighty han'some girl, +notwithstandin'. Both on 'em is han'some girls," observed Mr. Harum, +"an' great fer hosses, an' that's the way I got 'quainted with 'em. +They're all fer ridin' hossback when they're up here. Did you ever ride +a hoss?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said John, "I have ridden a good deal one time and another."</p> + +<p>"Never c'd see the sense on't," declared David. "I c'n imagine gettin' +on to a hoss's back when 't was either that or walkin', but to do it fer +the fun o' the thing 's more 'n I c'n understand. There you be," he +continued, "stuck up four five feet up in the air like a clo'espin, +havin' your backbone chucked up into your skull, an' takin' the skin off +in spots an' places, expectin' ev'ry next minute the critter'll git out +f'm under ye—no, sir," he protested, "if it come to be that it was +either to ride a hossback fer the fun o' the thing or have somebody kick +me, an' kick me hard, I'd say, 'Kick away.' It comes to the same thing +fur 's enjoyment goes, and it's a dum sight safer."</p> + +<p>John laughed outright, while David leaned forward with his hands on his +knees, looking at him with a broad though somewhat doubtful smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That being your feeling," remarked John, "I should think saddle horses +would be rather out of your line. Was it a saddle horse that the Misses +Verjoos were interested in?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I didn't buy him fer that," replied David, "an' in fact when the +feller that sold him to me told me he'd ben rode, I allowed that ought +to knock twenty dollars off 'n the price, but I did have such a hoss, +an', outside o' that, he was a nice piece of hoss flesh. I was up to the +barn one mornin', mebbe four years ago," he continued, "when in drove +the Verjoos carriage with one of the girls, the oldest one, inside, an' +the yeller-haired one on a hossback. 'Good mornin'. You're Mr. Harum, +ain't you?' she says. 'Good mornin',' I says, 'Harum's the name 't I use +when I appear in public. You're Miss Verjoos, I reckon,' I says.</p> + +<p>"She laughed a little, an' says, motionin' with her head to'ds the +carriage, 'My sister is Miss Verjoos. I'm Miss Claricy.' I took off my +cap, an' the other girl jest bowed her head a little.</p> + +<p>"'I heard you had a hoss 't I could ride,' says the one on hossback.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, lookin' at her hoss, an' he was a good one," remarked +David, "'fer a saddle hoss, I shouldn't think you was entirely out o' +hosses long's you got that one.' 'Oh,' she says, this is my sister's +hoss. Mine has hurt his leg so badly that I am 'fraid I sha'n't be able +to ride him this summer.' 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I've got a hoss that's ben +rode, so I was told, but I don't know of my own knowin'.'</p> + +<p>"'Don't you ride?' she says. 'Hossback?' I says. 'Why, of course,' she +says. '<i>No</i>, ma'am,' I says, 'not when I c'n raise the money<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> to pay my +<i>fine</i>' She looked kind o' puzzled at that," remarked David, "but I see +the other girl look at her an' give a kind of quiet laugh."</p> + +<p>"'Can I see him?' says Miss Claricy. 'Cert'nly,' I says, an' went an' +brought him out. 'Oh!' she says to her sister, 'ain't he a beauty? C'n I +try him?' she says to me. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I c'n resk it if you +can, but I didn't buy him fer a saddle hoss, an' if I'm to own him fer +any len'th of time I'd ruther he'd fergit the saddle bus'nis, an' in any +case,' I says, 'I wouldn't like him to git a sore back, an' then agin,' +I says, 'I hain't got no saddle.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' she says, givin' her head a toss, 'if I couldn't sit straight +I'd never ride agin. I never made a hoss's back sore in my life,' she +says. 'We c'n change the saddle,' she says, an' off she jumps, an', scat +my ——!" exclaimed David, "the way she knowed about gettin' that saddle +fixed, pads, straps, girt's, an' the hull bus'nis, an' put up her foot +fer me to give her a lift, an' wheeled that hoss an' went out o' the +yard a-kitin', was as slick a piece o' hoss bus'nis as ever I see. It +took fust money, that did," said Mr. Harum with a confirmatory shake of +the head. "Wa'al," he resumed, "in about a few minutes back she come, +lickity-cut, an' pulled up in front of me. 'C'n you send my sister's +hoss home?' she says, 'an' then I sha'n't have to change agin. I'll stay +on <i>my</i> hoss,' she says, laughin', an' then agin laughin' fit to kill, +fer I stood there with my mouth open clear to my back teeth, not bein' +used to doin' bus'nis 'ith quite so much neatniss an' dispatch, as the +sayin' is.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, it's all right,' she says. 'Poppa came home last night an' I'll +have him see you this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> afternoon or to-morro'.' 'But mebbe he 'n I won't +agree about the price,' I says. 'Yes, you will,' she says, 'an' if you +don't I won't make his back sore'—an' off they went, an' left me +standin' there like a stick in the mud. I've bought an' sold hosses to +some extent fer a consid'able number o' years," said Mr. Harum +reflectively, "but that partic'ler transaction's got a peg all to +itself."</p> + +<p>John laughed and asked, "How did it come out? I mean, what sort of an +interview did you have with the young woman's father, the popular Mr. +Verjoos?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said David, "he druv up to the office the next mornin', 'bout ten +o'clock, an' come into the back room here, an' after we'd passed the +time o' day, he says, clearin' his throat in a way he's got, 'He-uh, +he-uh!' he says, 'my daughter tells me that she run off with a hoss of +yours yestidy in rather a summery manner, an—he-uh-uh—I have come to +see you about payin' fer him. What is the price?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, more 'n anythin' to see what he'd say, 'what would you +say he was wuth?' An' with that he kind o' stiffened a little stiffer 'n +he was before, if it could be.</p> + +<p>"'Really,' he says, 'he-uh-uh, I haven't any idea. I haven't seen the +animal, an' I should not consider myself qual'fied to give an opinion +upon his value if I had, but,' he says, 'I don't know that that makes +any material diff'rence, however, because I am quite—he-uh, he-uh—in +your hands—he-uh!—within limits—he-uh-uh!—within limits,' he says. +That kind o' riled me," remarked David. "I see in a minute what was +passin' in his mind. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'Mr. Verjoos, I guess the fact o' +the matter is 't I'm about as much in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> mud as you be in the +mire—your daughter's got my hoss,' I says. 'Now you ain't dealin' with +a hoss jockey,' I says, 'though I don't deny that I buy an' sell hosses, +an' once in a while make money at it. You're dealin' with David Harum, +Banker, an' I consider 't I'm dealin' with a lady, or the father of one +on her account,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'He-uh, he-uh! I meant no offense, sir,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'None bein' meant, none will be took,' I says. 'Now,' I says,' I was +offered one-seventy-five fer that hoss day before yestidy, an' wouldn't +take it. I can't sell him fer that,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'He-uh, uh! cert'nly not,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Wait a minit,' I says. 'I can't sell him fer that because I <i>said</i> I +wouldn't; but if you feel like drawin' your check fer +one-seventy-<i>six</i>,' I says, 'we'll call it a deal,'" The speaker paused +with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said John.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "he, he, he, he! That clean took the wind out of +him, an' he got redder 'n a beet. 'He-uh-uh-uh-huh! really,' he says, 'I +couldn't think of offerin' you less than two hunderd.'</p> + +<p>"'All right,' I says, 'I'll send up fer the hoss. One-seventy-six is my +price, no more an' no less,' an' I got up out o' my chair."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say then?" asked John.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied Mr. Harum, "he settled his neck down into his collar +an' necktie an' cleared his throat a few times, an' says, 'You put me in +ruther an embarrassin' position, Mr. Harum. My daughter has set her +heart on the hoss, an'—he-uh-uh-uh!'—with a kind of a smile like a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +wrinkle in a boot, 'I can't very well tell her that I wouldn't buy him +because you wouldn't accept a higher offer than your own price. I—I +think I must accede to your proposition, an'—he-uh-uh—accept the +favor,' he says, draggin' the words out by the roots.</p> + +<p>"'No favor at all,' I says, 'not a bit on't, not a bit on't. It was the +cleanest an' slickist deal I ever had,' I says, 'an' I've had a good +many. That girl o' your'n,' I says, 'if you don't mind my sayin' it, +comes as near bein' a full team an' a cross dog under the wagin as you +c'n git; an' you c'n tell her if you think fit,' I says, 'that if she +ever wants anythin' more out o' <i>my</i> barn I'll throw off twenty-four +dollars ev'ry time, if she'll only do her own buyin'.'</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, "I didn't know but what he'd gag a little at +that, but he didn't seem to, an' when he went off after givin' me his +check, he put out his hand an' shook hands, a thing he never done +before."</p> + +<p>"That was really very amusing," was John's comment.</p> + +<p>"'T wa'n't a bad day's work either," observed Mr. Harum. "I've sold the +crowd a good many hosses since then, an' I've laughed a thousan' times +over that pertic'ler trade. Me 'n Miss Claricy," he added, "has alwus +ben good friends sence that time—an' she 'n Polly are reg'lar neetups. +She never sees me in the street but what it's 'How dee do, Mr. H-a-rum?' +An' I'll say, 'Ain't that ole hoss wore out yet?' or, 'When you comin' +'round to run off with another hoss?' I'll say."</p> + +<p>At this point David got out of his chair, yawned, and walked over to the +window.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you ever in all your born days," he said, "see such dum'd weather? +Jest look out there—no sleighin', no wheelin', an' a barn full wantin' +exercise. Wa'al, I guess I'll be moseyin' along." And out he went.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + + +<p>If John Lenox had kept a diary for the first year of his life in +Homeville most of its pages would have been blank.</p> + +<p>The daily routine of the office (he had no assistant but the callow +Hopkins) was more exacting than laborious, but it kept him confined +seven hours in the twenty-four. Still, there was time in the lengthened +days as the year advanced for walking, rowing, and riding or driving +about the picturesque country which surrounds Homeville. He and Mr. +Harum often drove together after the bank closed, or after "tea," and it +was a pleasure in itself to observe David's dexterous handling of his +horses, and his content and satisfaction in the enjoyment of his +favorite pastime. In pursuit of business he "jogged 'round," as he said, +behind the faithful Jinny, but when on pleasure bent, a pair of +satin-coated trotters drew him in the latest and "slickest" model of +top-buggies.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said, "I'd ruther ride all alone than not to ride at +all, but the's twice as much fun in't when you've got somebody along. I +ain't much of a talker, unless I happen to git started" (at which +assertion John repressed a smile), "but once in a while I like to have +somebody to say somethin' to. You like to come along, don't ye?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very much indeed."</p> + +<p>"I used to git Polly to come once in a while," said David, "but it +wa'n't no pleasure to her. She hadn't never ben used to hosses an' alwus +set on the edge of the seat ready to jump, an' if one o' the critters +capered a little she'd want to git right out then an' there. I reckon +she never went out but what she thanked mercy when she struck the hoss +block to git back with hull bones."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have thought that she would have been nervous with the +reins in your hands," said John.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," replied David, "the last time she come along somethin' give the +team a little scare an' she reached over an' made a grab at the lines. +That," he remarked with a grin, "was quite a good while ago. I says to +her when we got home, 'I guess after this you'd better take your airin's +on a stun-boat. You won't be so liable to git run away with an' throwed +out,' I says."</p> + +<p>John laughed a little, but made no comment.</p> + +<p>"After all," said David, "I dunno 's I blamed her fer bein' skittish, +but I couldn't have her grabbin' the lines. It's curi's," he reflected, +"I didn't used to mind what I rode behind, nor who done the drivin', but +I'd have to admit that as I git older I prefer to do it myself, I ride +ev'ry once in a while with fellers that c'n drive as well, an' mebbe +better, 'n I can, an' I know it, but if anythin' turns up, or looks like +it, I can't help wishin' 't I had holt o' the lines myself."</p> + +<p>The two passed a good many hours together thus beguiling the time. +Whatever David's other merits as a companion, he was not exacting of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +response when engaged in conversation, and rarely made any demands upon +his auditor.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>During that first year John made few additions to his social +acquaintance, and if in the summer the sight of a gay party of young +people caused some stirrings in his breast, they were not strong enough +to induce him to make any attempts toward the acquaintance which he +might have formed. He was often conscious of glances of curiosity +directed toward himself, and Mr. Euston was asked a good many questions +about the latest addition to his congregation.</p> + +<p>Yes, he had called upon Mr. Lenox and his call had been returned. In +fact, they had had several visits together—had met out walking once and +had gone on in company. Was Mr. Lenox "nice"? Yes, he had made a +pleasant impression upon Mr. Euston, and seemed to be a person of +intelligence and good breeding—very gentlemanlike. Why did not people +know him? Well, Mr. Euston had made some proffers to that end, but Mr. +Lenox had merely expressed his thanks. No, Mr. Euston did not know how +he happened to be in Homeville and employed by that queer old Mr. Harum, +and living with him and his funny old sister; Mr. Lenox had not confided +in him at all, and though very civil and pleasant, did not appear to +wish to be communicative.</p> + +<p>So our friend did not make his entrance that season into the drawing or +dining rooms of any of what David called the "nabobs'" houses. By the +middle or latter part of October Homeville was deserted of its visitors +and as many of that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> class of its regular population as had the means to +go with and a place to go to.</p> + +<p>It was under somewhat different auspices that John entered upon the +second winter of his sojourn. It has been made plain that his relations +with his employer and the kind and lovable Polly were on a satisfactory +and permanent footing.</p> + +<p>"I'm dum'd," said David to Dick Larrabee, "if it hain't got putty near +to the p'int when if I want to git anythin' out o' the common run out o' +Polly, I'll have to ask John to fix it fer me. She's like a cow with a +calf," he declared.</p> + +<p>"David sets all the store in the world by him," stated Mrs. Bixbee to a +friend, "though he don't jest let on to—not in so many words. He's got +a kind of a notion that his little boy, if he'd lived, would 'a' ben +like him some ways. I never seen the child," she added, with an +expression which made her visitor smile, "but as near 's I c'n make out +f'm Dave's tell, he must 'a' ben red-headed. Didn't you know 't he'd +ever ben married? Wa'al, he was fer a few years, though it's the one +thing—wa'al, I don't mean exac'ly that—it's <i>one</i> o' the things he +don't have much to say about. But once in a while he'll talk about the +boy, what he'd be now if he'd lived, an' so on; an' he's the greatest +hand fer childern—everlastin'ly pickin' on 'em up when he's ridin' and +such as that—an' I seen him once when we was travelin' on the cars go +an' take a squawlin' baby away f'm it's mother, who looked ready to +drop, an' lay it across that big chest of his, an' the little thing +never gave a whimper after he got it into his arms—jest went right off +to sleep. No," said Mrs. Bixbee, "I never had no childern, an' I don't +know but what I was glad of it at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> time; Jim Bixbee was about as +much baby as I thought I could manage, but now—"</p> + +<p>There was some reason for not concluding the sentence, and so we do not +know what was in her mind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + + +<p>The year that had passed had seemed a very long one to John, but as the +months came and went he had in a measure adjusted himself to the change +in his fortunes and environment; and so as time went on the poignancy of +his sorrow and regret diminished, as it does with all of us. Yet the +sight of a gray-haired man still brought a pang to his heart, and there +were times of yearning longing to recall every line of the face, every +detail of the dress, the voice, the words, of the girl who had been so +dear to him, and who had gone out of his life as irrevocably, it seemed +to him, as if by death itself. It may be strange, but it is true that +for a very long time it never occurred to him that he might communicate +with her by mailing a letter to her New York address to be forwarded, +and when the thought came to him the impulse to act upon it was very +strong, but he did not do so. Perhaps he would have written had he been +less in love with her, but also there was mingled with that sentiment +something of bitterness which, though he could not quite explain or +justify it, did exist. Then, too, he said to himself, "Of what avail +would it be? Only to keep alive a longing for the impossible." No, he +would forget it all. Men had died and worms had eaten them, but not for +love. Many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> men lived all their lives without it and got on very well +too, he was aware. Perhaps some day, when he had become thoroughly +affiliated and localized, he would wed a village maiden, and rear a +Freeland County brood. Our friend, as may be seen, had a pretty healthy +mind, and we need not sympathize with him to the disturbance of our own +peace.</p> + +<p>Books accumulated in the best bedroom. John's expenses were small, and +there was very little temptation, or indeed opportunity, for spending. +At the time of his taking possession of his quarters in David's house he +had raised the question of his contribution to the household expenses, +but Mr. Harum had declined to discuss the matter at all and referred him +to Mrs. Bixbee, with whom he compromised on a weekly sum which appeared +to him absurdly small, but which she protested she was ashamed to +accept. After a while a small upright piano made its appearance, with +Aunt Polly's approval.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," she said. "You needn't to hev ast me. I'd like to hev +you anyway. I like music ever so much, an' so does David, though I guess +it would floor him to try an' raise a tune. I used to sing quite a +little when I was younger, an' I gen'ally help at church an' prayer +meetin' now. Why, cert'nly. Why not? When would you play if it wa'n't in +the evenin'? David sleeps over the wing. Do you hear him snore?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly ever," replied John, smiling. "That is to say, not very +much—just enough sometimes to know that he is asleep."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," she said decidedly, "if he's fur enough off so 't you can't +hear <i>him</i>, I guess he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> won't hear <i>you</i> much, an' he sure won't hear +you after he gits to sleep."</p> + +<p>So the piano came, and was a great comfort and resource. Indeed, before +long it became the regular order of things for David and his sister to +spend an hour or so on Sunday evenings listening to his music and their +own as well—that is, the music of their choice—which latter was mostly +to be found in "Carmina Sacra" and "Moody and Sankey"; and Aunt Polly's +heart was glad indeed when she and John together made concord of sweet +sounds in some familiar hymn tune, to the great edification of Mr. +Harum, whose admiration was unbounded.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Did I tell you," said David to Dick Larrabee, "what happened the last +time me an' John went ridin' together?"</p> + +<p>"Not's I remember on," replied Dick.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, we've rode together quite a consid'able," said Mr. Harum, "but I +hadn't never said anythin' to him about takin' a turn at the lines. This +day we'd got a piece out into the country an' I had the brown colts. I +says to him, 'Ever do any drivin'?"</p> + +<p>"'More or less,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Like to take the lines fer a spell?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' he says, lookin' kind o' pleased, 'if you ain't afraid to trust +me with 'em,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al, I'll be here,' I says, an' handed 'em over. Wa'al, sir, I see +jest by the way he took holt on 'em it wa'n't the fust time, an' we went +along to where the road turns in through a piece of woods, an' the track +is narrer, an' we run slap onto one o' them dum'd road-engines that had +got wee-wawed putty near square across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> track. Now I tell ye," said +Mr. Harum, "them hosses didn't like it fer a cent, an' tell the truth I +didn't like it no better. We couldn't go ahead fer we couldn't git by +the cussed thing, an' the hosses was 'par'ntly tryin' to git back under +the buggy, an', scat my ——! if he didn't straighten 'em out an' back +'em 'round in that narrer road, an' hardly scraped a wheel. Yes, sir," +declared Mr. Harum, "I couldn't 'a' done it slicker myself, an' I don't +know nobody that could."</p> + +<p>"Guess you must 'a' felt a little ticklish yourself," said Dick +sympathetically, laughing as usual.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, you better believe," declared the other. "The' was 'bout half a +minute when I'd have sold out mighty cheap, an' took a promise fer the +money. He's welcome to drive any team in <i>my</i> barn," said David, +feeling—in which view Mr. Larrabee shared—that encomium was pretty +well exhausted in that assertion.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe," said Mr. Harum after a moment, in which he and his +companion reflected upon the gravity of his last declaration, "that +the's any dum thing that feller can't do. The last thing 's a piany. +He's got a little one that stands up on it's hind legs in his room, an' +he c'n play it with both hands 'thout lookin' on. Yes, sir, we have +reg'lar concerts at my house ev'ry Sunday night, admission free, an' +childern half price, an'," said David, "you'd ought to hear him an' +Polly sing, an'—he, he, he! you'd ought to <i>see</i> her singin'—tickleder +'n a little dog with a nosegay tied to his tail."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + + +<p>Our friend's acquaintance with the rector of St. James's church had +grown into something like friendship, and the two men were quite often +together in the evening. John went sometimes to Mr. Euston's house, and +not unfrequently the latter would spend an hour in John's room over a +cigar and a chat. On one of the latter occasions, late in the autumn, +Mr. Euston went to the piano after sitting a few minutes and looked over +some of the music, among which were two or three hymnals. "You are +musical," he said.</p> + +<p>"In a modest way," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"I am very fond of it," said the clergyman, "but have little knowledge +of it. I wish I had more," he added in a tone of so much regret as +to cause his hearer to look curiously at him. "Yes," he said, "I wish I +knew more—or less. It's the bane of my existence," declared the rector +with a half laugh. John looked inquiringly at him, but did not respond.</p> + +<p>"I mean the music—so called—at St. James's," said Mr. Euston. "I don't +wonder you smile," he remarked; "but it's not a matter for smiling with +me."</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon," said John.</p> + +<p>"No, you need not," returned the other, "but really—Well, there are a +good many unpleas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>ant and disheartening experiences in a clergyman's +life, and I can, I hope, face and endure most of them with patience, but +the musical part of my service is a never-ending source of anxiety, +perplexity, and annoyance. I think," said Mr. Euston, "that I expend +more nerve tissue upon that branch of my responsibilities than upon all +the rest of my work. You see we can not afford to pay any of the +singers, and indeed my people—some of them, at least—think fifty +dollars is a great sum for poor little Miss Knapp, the organist. The +rest are volunteers, or rather, I should say, have been pressed into the +service. We are supposed to have two sopranos and two altos; but in +effect it happens sometimes that neither of a pair will appear, each +expecting the other to be on duty. The tenor, Mr. Hubber, who is an +elderly man without any voice to speak of, but a very devout and +faithful churchman, is to be depended upon to the extent of his +abilities; but Mr. Little, the bass—well," observed Mr. Euston, "the +less said about him the better."</p> + +<p>"How about the organist?" said John. "I think she does very well, +doesn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Knapp is the one redeeming feature," replied the rector, "but she +has not much courage to interfere. Hubber is nominally the leader, but +he knows little of music." Mr. Euston gave a sorry little laugh. "It's +trying enough," he said, "one Sunday with another, but on Christmas and +Easter, when my people make an unusual effort, and attempt the +impossible, it is something deplorable."</p> + +<p>John could not forbear a little laugh. "I should think it must be pretty +trying," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is simply corroding," declared Mr. Euston.</p> + +<p>They sat for a while smoking in silence, the contemplation of his woes +having apparently driven other topics from the mind of the harassed +clergyman. At last he said, turning to our friend:</p> + +<p>"I have heard your voice in church."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"And I noticed that you sang not only the hymns but the chants, and in a +way to suggest the idea that you have had experience and training. I did +not come here for the purpose," said Mr. Euston, after waiting a moment +for John to speak, "though I confess the idea has occurred to me before, +but it was suggested again by the sight of your piano and music. I know +that it is asking a great deal," he continued, "but do you think you +could undertake, for a while at least, to help such a lame dog as I am +over the stile? You have no idea," said the rector earnestly, "what a +service you would be doing not only to me, but to my people and the +church."</p> + +<p>John pulled thoughtfully at his mustache for a moment, while Mr. Euston +watched his face. "I don't know," he said at last in a doubtful tone. "I +am afraid you are taking too much for granted—I don't mean as to my +good will, but as to my ability to be of service, for I suppose you mean +that I should help in drilling your choir."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Mr. Euston. "I suppose it would be too much to ask you to +sing as well."</p> + +<p>"I have had no experience in the way of leading or directing," replied +John, ignoring the suggestion, "though I have sung in church more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> or +less, and am familiar with the service, but even admitting my ability to +be of use, shouldn't you be afraid that my interposing might make more +trouble than it would help? Wouldn't your choir resent it? Such people +are sometimes jealous, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, yes," sighed the rector. "But," he added, "I think I can +guarantee that there will be no unpleasant feeling either toward you or +about you. Your being from New York will give you a certain prestige, +and their curiosity and the element of novelty will make the beginning +easy."</p> + +<p>There came a knock at the door and Mr. Harum appeared, but, seeing a +visitor, was for withdrawing.</p> + +<p>"Don't go," said John. "Come in. Of course you know Mr. Euston."</p> + +<p>"Glad to see ye," said David, advancing and shaking hands. "You folks +talkin' bus'nis?" he asked before sitting down.</p> + +<p>"I am trying to persuade Mr. Lenox to do me a great favor," said Mr. +Euston.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess he won't want such an awful sight o' persuadin'," said +David, taking a chair, "if he's able to do it. What does he want of ye?" +he asked, turning to John. Mr. Euston explained, and our friend gave his +reasons for hesitating—all but the chief one, which was that he was +reluctant to commit himself to an undertaking which he apprehended would +be not only laborious but disagreeable.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "as fur 's the bus'nis itself 's concerned, the +hull thing's all nix-cum-rouse to me; but as fur 's gettin' folks to +come an' sing, you c'n git a barn full, an' take your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> pick; an' a +feller that c'n git a pair of hosses an' a buggy out of a tight fix the +way you done a while ago ought to be able to break in a little team of +half a dozen women or so."</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, laughing, "<i>you</i> could have done what I was lucky +enough to do with the horses, but—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," David broke in, scratching his cheek, "I guess you got me +that time."</p> + +<p>Mr. Euston perceived that for some reason he had an ally and advocate in +Mr. Harum. He rose and said good-night, and John escorted him downstairs +to the door. "Pray think of it as favorably as you can," he said, as +they shook hands at parting.</p> + +<p>"Putty nice kind of a man," remarked David when John came back; "putty +nice kind of a man. 'Bout the only 'quaintance you've made of his kind, +ain't he? Wa'al, he's all right fur 's he goes. Comes of good stock, I'm +told, an' looks it. Runs a good deal to emptins in his preachin' though, +they say. How do you find him?"</p> + +<p>"I think I enjoy his conversation more than his sermons," admitted John +with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Less of it at times, ain't the'?" suggested David. "I may have told +ye," he continued, "that I wa'n't a very reg'lar churchgoer, but I've +ben more or less in my time, an' when I did listen to the sermon all +through, it gen'ally seemed to me that if the preacher 'd put all the' +really was in it together he wouldn't need to have took only 'bout +quarter the time; but what with scorin' fer a start, an' laggin' on the +back stretch, an' ev'ry now an' then breakin' to a stan'still, I +gen'ally wanted to come down out o' the stand be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>fore the race was over. +The's a good many fast quarter hosses," remarked Mr. Harum, "but them +that c'n keep it up fer a full mile is scurce. What you goin' to do +about the music bus'nis, or hain't ye made up your mind yet?" he asked, +changing the subject.</p> + +<p>"I like Mr. Euston," said John, "and he seems very much in earnest about +this matter; but I am not sure," he added thoughtfully, "that I can do +what he wants, and I must say that I am very reluctant to undertake it; +still, I don't know but that I ought to make the trial," and he looked +up at David.</p> + +<p>"I guess I would if I was you," said the latter. "It can't do ye no +harm, an' it may do ye some good. The fact is," he continued, "that you +ain't out o' danger of runnin' in a rut. It would do you good mebbe to +git more acquainted, an' mebbe this'll be the start on't."</p> + +<p>"With a little team of half a dozen women, as you called them," said +John. "Mr. Euston has offered to introduce me to any one I cared to +know."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean the singin' folks," responded Mr. Harum, "I meant the +church folks in gen'ral, an' it'll come 'round in a natur'l sort of +way—not like bein' took 'round by Mr. Euston as if you'd <i>ast</i> him to. +You can't git along—you may, an' have fer a spell, but not alwus—with +nobody to visit with but me an' Polly an' Dick, an' so on, an' once in a +while with the parson; you ben used to somethin' diff'rent, an' while I +ain't sayin' that Homeville soci'ty, pertic'lerly in the winter, 's the +finest in the land, or that me an' Polly ain't all right in our way, you +want a change o' feed once in a while, or you <i>may</i> git the colic. +Now,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> proceeded the speaker, "if this singin' bus'nis don't do more'n +to give ye somethin' new to think about, an' take up an evenin' now an' +then, even if it bothers ye some, I think mebbe it'll be a good thing +fer ye. They say a reasonable amount o' fleas is good fer a dog—keeps +him from broodin' over <i>bein'</i> a dog, mebbe," suggested David.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right," said John. "Indeed, I don't doubt that you are +right, and I will take your advice."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said David a minute or two later on, holding out the glass +while John poured, "jest a wisdom toothful. I don't set up to be no +Sol'mon, an' if you ever find out how I'm bettin' on a race jest +'copper' me an' you c'n wear di'monds, but I know when a hoss has stood +too long in the barn as soon as the next man."</p> + +<p>It is possible that even Mr. Euston did not fully appreciate the +difficulties of the task which he persuaded our friend John to +undertake; and it is certain that had the latter known all that they +were to be he would have hardened his heart against both the pleadings +of the rector and the advice of David. His efforts were welcomed and +seconded by Mr. Hubber the tenor, and Miss Knapp the organist, and there +was some earnestness displayed at first by the ladies of the choir; but +Mr. Little, the bass, proved a hopeless case, and John, wholly against +his intentions, and his inclinations as well, had eventually to take +over the basso's duty altogether, as being the easiest way—in fact, the +only way—to save his efforts from downright failure.</p> + +<p>Without going in detail into the trials and tribulations incident to the +bringing of the mu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>sical part of the service at Mr. Euston's church up +to a respectable if not a high standard, it may be said that with +unremitting pains this end was accomplished, to the boundless relief and +gratitude of that worthy gentleman, and to a good degree of the members +of his congregation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + + +<p>On a fine Sunday in summer after the close of the service the exit of +the congregation of St. James's church presents an animated and +inspiring spectacle. A good many well-dressed ladies of various ages, +and not quite so many well-dressed men, mostly (as David would have put +it) "runnin' a little younger," come from out the sacred edifice with an +expression of relief easily changeable to something gayer. A few drive +away in handsome equipages, but most prefer to walk, and there is +usually a good deal of smiling talk in groups before parting, in which +Mr. Euston likes to join. He leaves matters in the vestry to the care of +old Barlow, the sexton, and makes, if one may be permitted the +expression, "a quick change."</p> + +<p>Things had come about very much as David had desired and anticipated, +and our friend had met quite a number of the "summer people," having +been waylaid at times by the rector—in whose good graces he stood so +high that he might have sung anything short of a comic song during the +offertory—and presented willy-nilly. On this particular Sunday he had +lingered a while in the gallery after service over some matter connected +with the music, and when he came out of the church most of the people +had made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> their way down the front steps and up the street; but standing +near the gate was a group of three—the rector and two young women whom +John had seen the previous summer, and now recognized as the Misses +Verjoos. He raised his hat as he was passing the group, when Mr. Euston +detained him: "I want to present you to the Misses Verjoos." A tall +girl, dressed in some black material which gave John the impression of +lace, recognized his salutation with a slight bow and a rather +indifferent survey from a pair of very somber dark eyes, while her +sister, in light colors, gave him a smiling glance from a pair of very +blue ones, and, rather to his surprise, put out her hand with the usual +declaration of pleasure, happiness, or what not.</p> + +<p>"We were just speaking of the singing," said the rector, "and I was +saying that it was all your doing."</p> + +<p>"You really have done wonders," condescended she of the somber eyes. "We +have only been here a day or two and this is the first time we have been +at church."</p> + +<p>The party moved out of the gate and up the street, the rector leading +with Miss Verjoos, followed by our friend and the younger sister.</p> + +<p>"Indeed you have," said the latter, seconding her sister's remark. "I +don't believe even yourself can quite realize what the difference is. +My! it is very nice for the rest of us, but it must be a perfect killing +bore for you."</p> + +<p>"I have found it rather trying at times," said John; "but now—you are +so kind—it is beginning to appear to me as the most delightful of +pursuits."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very pretty," remarked Miss Clara. "Do you say a good deal of that sort +of thing?"</p> + +<p>"I am rather out of practice," replied John. "I haven't had much +opportunity for some time."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you need feel discouraged," she returned. "A good method +is everything, and I have no doubt you might soon be in form again."</p> + +<p>"Thanks for your encouragement," said John, smiling. "I was beginning to +feel quite low in my mind about it." She laughed a little.</p> + +<p>"I heard quite a good deal about you last year from a very good friend +of yours," said Miss Clara after a pause.</p> + +<p>John looked at her inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bixbee," she said. "Isn't she an old dear?"</p> + +<p>"I have reason to think so, with all my heart," said John stoutly.</p> + +<p>"She talked a lot about you to me," said Miss Clara.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and if your ears did not burn you have no sense of gratitude. +Isn't Mr. Harum funny?"</p> + +<p>"I have sometimes suspected it," said John, laughing. "He once told me +rather an amusing thing about a young woman's running off with one of +his horses."</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you that? Really? I wonder what you must have thought of +me?"</p> + +<p>"Something of what Mr. Harum did, I fancy," said John.</p> + +<p>"What was that?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," was the reply, "but I have been snubbed once this morning." +She gave a little laugh.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Harum and I are great 'neetups,' as he says. Is 'neetups' a nice +word?" she asked, looking at her companion.</p> + +<p>"I should think so if I were in Mr. Harum's place," said John. "It means +'cronies,' I believe, in his dictionary."</p> + +<p>They had come to where Freeland Street terminates in the Lake Road, +which follows the border of the lake to the north and winds around the +foot of it to the south and west.</p> + +<p>"Why!" exclaimed Miss Clara, "there comes David. I haven't seen him this +summer."</p> + +<p>They halted and David drew up, winding the reins about the whipstock and +pulling off his buckskin glove.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Harum?" said the girl, putting her hand in his.</p> + +<p>"How air ye, Miss Claricy? Glad to see ye agin," he said. "I'm settin' +up a little ev'ry day now, an' you don't look as if you was off your +feed much, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, laughing, "I'm in what you call pretty fair +condition, I think."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I reckon," he said, looking at her smiling face with the +frankest admiration. "Guess you come out a little finer ev'ry season, +don't ye? Hard work to keep ye out o' the 'free-fer-all' class, I guess. +How's all the folks?"</p> + +<p>"Nicely, thanks," she replied.</p> + +<p>"That's right," said David.</p> + +<p>"How is Mrs. Bixbee?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David with a grin, "I ben a little down in the mouth +lately 'bout Polly—seems to be fallin' away some—don't weigh much more +'n I do, I guess;" but Miss Clara only laughed at this gloomy report.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How is my horse Kirby?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, the ole bag-o'-bones is breathin' yet," said David, chuckling, +"but he's putty well wore out—has to lean up agin the shed to whicker. +Guess I'll have to sell ye another putty soon now. Still, what the' is +left of him 's 's good 's ever 't will be, an' I'll send him up in the +mornin'." He looked from Miss Clara to John, whose salutation he had +acknowledged with the briefest of nods.</p> + +<p>"How'd you ketch <i>him</i>?" he asked, indicating our friend with a motion +of his head. "Had to go after him with a four-quart measure, didn't ye? +or did he let ye corner him?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Euston caught him for me," she said, laughing, but coloring +perceptibly, while John's face grew very red. "I think I will run on and +join my sister, and Mr. Lenox can drive home with you. Good bye, Mr. +Harum. I shall be glad to have Kirby whenever it is convenient. We shall +be glad to see you at Lakelawn," she said to John cordially, "whenever +you can come;" and taking her prayer book and hymnal from him, she sped +away.</p> + +<p>"Look at her git over the ground," said David, turning to watch her +while John got into the buggy. "Ain't that a gait?"</p> + +<p>"She is a charming girl," said John as old Jinny started off.</p> + +<p>"She's the one I told you about that run off with my hoss," remarked +David, "an' I alwus look after him fer her in the winter."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," said John. "She was laughing about it to-day, and saying +that you and she were great friends."</p> + +<p>"She was, was she?" said David, highly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> pleased. "Yes, sir, that's the +girl, an', scat my ——! if I was thirty years younger she c'd run off +with me jest as easy—an' I dunno but what she could anyway," he added.</p> + +<p>"Charming girl," repeated John rather thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "I don't know as much about girls as I do about +some things; my experience hain't laid much in that line, but I wouldn't +like to take a contract to match <i>her</i> on any <i>limit</i>. I guess," he +added softly, "that the consideration in that deal 'd have to be 'love +an' affection.' Git up, old lady," he exclaimed, and drew the whip along +old Jinny's back like a caress. The mare quickened her pace, and in a +few minutes they drove into the barn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + + +<p>"Where you ben?" asked Mrs. Bixbee of her brother as the three sat at +the one o'clock dinner. "I see you drivin' off somewheres."</p> + +<p>"Ben up the Lake Road to 'Lizer Howe's," replied David. "He's got a hoss +'t I've some notion o' buyin'."</p> + +<p>"Ain't the' week-days enough," she asked, "to do your horse-tradin' in +'ithout breakin' the Sabbath?"</p> + +<p>David threw back his head and lowered a stalk of the last asparagus of +the year into his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Some o' the best deals I ever made," he said, "was made on a Sunday. +Hain't you never heard the sayin', 'The better the day, the better the +deal'?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," declared Mrs. Bixbee, "the' can't be no blessin' on money +that's made in that way, an' you'd be better off without it."</p> + +<p>"I dunno," remarked her brother, "but Deakin Perkins might ask a +blessin' on a hoss trade, but I never heard of it's bein' done, an' I +don't know jest how the deakin 'd put it; it'd be two fer the deakin an' +one fer the other feller, though, somehow, you c'n bet."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" she ejaculated. "I guess nobody ever did; an' I sh'd think you +had money enough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> an' horses enough an' time enough to keep out o' that +bus'nis on Sunday, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, wa'al," said David, "mebbe I'll swear off before long, an' +anyway the' wa'n't no blessin' needed on this trade, fer if you'll ask +'Lizer he'll tell ye the' wa'n't none made. 'Lizer 's o' your way o' +thinkin' on the subjict."</p> + +<p>"That's to his credit, anyway," she asserted.</p> + +<p>"Jes' so," observed her brother; "I've gen'ally noticed that folks who +was of your way o' thinkin' never made no mistakes, an' 'Lizer 's a very +consistent believer;" whereupon he laughed in a way to arouse both Mrs. +Bixbee's curiosity and suspicion.</p> + +<p>"I don't see anythin' in that to laugh at," she declared.</p> + +<p>"He, he, he, he!" chuckled David.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, you may 's well tell it one time 's another. That's the way," +she said, turning to John with a smile trembling on her lips, "'t he +picks at me the hull time."</p> + +<p>"I've noticed it," said John. "It's shameful."</p> + +<p>"I do it hully fer her good," asserted David with a grin. "If it wa'n't +fer me she'd git in time as narrer as them seven-day Babtists over to +Peeble—they call 'em the 'narrer Babtists.' You've heard on 'em, hain't +you, Polly?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said, without looking up from her plate, "I never heard on +'em, an' I don't much believe you ever did neither."</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed David, "You lived here goin' on seventy year an' never +heard on 'em?"</p> + +<p>"David Harum!" she cried, "I ain't within ten year——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hold on," he protested, "don't throw that teacup. I didn't say you +<i>was</i>, I only said you was <i>goin' on</i>—an' about them people over to +Peeble, they've got the name of the 'narrer Babtists' because they're so +narrer in their views that fourteen on 'em c'n sit, side an' side, in a +buggy." This astonishing statement elicited a laugh even from Aunt +Polly, but presently she said:</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I'm glad you found one man that would stan' you off on Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said her brother, "'Lizer 's jest your kind. I knew 't he'd +hurt his foot, an' prob'ly couldn't go to meetin', an' sure enough, he +was settin' on the stoop, an' I drove in an' pulled up in the lane +alongside. We said good mornin' an' all that, an' I ast after the folks +an' how his foot was gettin' 'long, an' so on, an' fin'ly I says, 'I see +your boy drivin' a hoss the other day that looked a little—f'm the +middle o' the road—as if he might match one I've got, an' I thought I'd +drive up this mornin' an' see if we couldn't git up a dicker.' Wa'al, he +give a kind of a hitch in his chair as if his foot hurt him, an' then he +says, 'I guess I can't deal with ye to-day. I don't never do no bus'nis +on Sunday,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'I've heard you was putty pertic'ler,' I says, 'but I'm putty busy jest +about now, an' I thought that mebbe once in a way, an' seein' that you +couldn't go to meetin' anyway, an' that I've come quite a ways an' don't +know when I c'n see you agin, an' so on, that mebbe you'd think, under +all the circumstances, the' wouldn't be no great harm in't—long 's I +don't pay over no money, at cetery,' I says.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'No,' he says, shakin' his head in a sort o' mournful way, 'I'm glad to +see ye, an' I'm sorry you've took all that trouble fer nuthin', but my +conscience won't allow me,' he says, 'to do no bus'nis on Sunday.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I don't ask no man to go agin his conscience, but it +wouldn't be no very glarin' transgression on your part, would it, if I +was to go up to the barn all alone by myself an' look at the hoss?' I +c'd see," continued Mr. Harum, "that his face kind o' brightened up at +that, but he took his time to answer. 'Wa'al,' he says fin'ly, 'I don't +want to lay down no law fer <i>you</i>, an' if <i>you</i> don't see no harm in't, +I guess the' ain't nuthin' to prevent ye.' So I got down an' started fer +the barn, an'—he, he, he!—when I'd got about a rod he hollered after +me, 'He's in the end stall,' he says.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," the narrator proceeded, "I looked the critter over an' made up +my mind about what he was wuth to me, an' went back an' got in, an' +drove into the yard, an' turned 'round, an' drew up agin 'longside the +stoop. 'Lizer looked up at me in an askin' kind of a way, but he didn't +say anythin'.</p> + +<p>"'I s'pose,' I says, 'that you wouldn't want me to say anythin' more to +ye, an' I may 's well jog along back.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I can't very well help hearin' ye, kin I, if you got +anythin' to say?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'the hoss ain't exac'ly what I expected to find, nor +jest what I'm lookin' fer; but I don't say I wouldn't 'a' made a deal +with ye if the price had ben right, an' it hadn't ben Sunday.' I +reckon," said David with a wink at John, "that that there foot o' his'n +must 'a'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> give him an extry twinge the way he wriggled in his chair; but +I couldn't break his lockjaw yit. So I gathered up the lines an' took +out the whip, an' made all the motions to go, an' then I kind o' stopped +an' says, 'I don't want you to go agin your princ'ples nor the law an' +gosp'l on my account, but the' can't be no harm in s'posin' a case, can +the'?' No, he allowed that s'posin' wa'n't jest the same as doin'. +'Wa'al,' says I, 'now s'posin' I'd come up here yestidy as I have +to-day, an' looked your hoss over, an' said to you, "What price do you +put on him?" what do you s'pose you'd 'a' said?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he said, 'puttin' it that way, I s'pose I'd 'a' said +one-seventy.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' I says, 'an' then agin, if I'd said that he wa'n't wuth that +money to me, not bein' jest what I wanted—an' so he ain't—but that I'd +give one-forty, <i>cash</i>, what do you s'pose you'd 'a' said?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, givin' a hitch, 'of course I don't know jest what I +would have said, but I <i>guess</i>,' he says, ''t I'd 'a' said if you'll +make it one-fifty you c'n have the hoss.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al, now,' I says, 's'posin' I was to send Dick Larrabee up here in +the mornin' with the money, what do you s'pose you'd do?'</p> + +<p>"'I <i>s'pose</i> I'd let him go,' says 'Lizer.</p> + +<p>"'All right,' I says, an' off I put. That conscience o' 'Lizer's," +remarked Mr. Harum in conclusion, "is wuth its weight in gold, <i>jest +about</i>."</p> + +<p>"David Harum," declared Aunt Polly, "you'd ort to be 'shamed o' +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David with an air of meekness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> "if I've done anythin' I'm +sorry for, I'm willin' to be forgi'n. Now, s'posin'——"</p> + +<p>"I've heard enough 'bout s'posin' fer one day," said Mrs. Bixbee +decisively, "unless it's s'posin' you finish your dinner so's't Sairy +c'n git through her work sometime."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + + +<p>After dinner John went to his room and David and his sister seated +themselves on the "verandy." Mr. Harum lighted a cigar and enjoyed his +tobacco for a time in silence, while Mrs. Bixbee perused, with rather +perfunctory diligence, the columns of her weekly church paper.</p> + +<p>"I seen a sight fer sore eyes this mornin'," quoth David presently.</p> + +<p>"What was that?" asked Aunt Polly, looking up over her glasses.</p> + +<p>"Claricy Verjoos fer one part on't," said David.</p> + +<p>"The Verjooses hev come, hev they? Wa'al, that's good. I hope she'll +come up an' see me."</p> + +<p>David nodded. "An' the other part on't was," he said, "she an' that +young feller of our'n was walkin' together, an' a putty slick pair they +made too."</p> + +<p>"Ain't she purty?" said Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"They don't make 'em no puttier," affirmed David; "an' they was a nice +pair. I couldn't help thinkin'," he remarked, "what a nice hitch up +they'd make."</p> + +<p>"Guess the' ain't much chance o' that," she observed.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not either," said David.</p> + +<p>"He hain't got anythin' to speak of, I s'pose,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> an' though I reckon +she'll hev prop'ty some day, all that set o' folks seems to marry money, +an' some one's alwus dyin' an' leavin' some on 'em some more. The' ain't +nothin' truer in the Bible," declared Mrs. Bixbee with conviction, "'n +that sayin' thet them that has gits."</p> + +<p>"That's seemin'ly about the way it runs in gen'ral," said David.</p> + +<p>"It don't seem right," said Mrs. Bixbee, with her eyes on her brother's +face. "Now there was all that money one o' Mis' Elbert Swayne's +relations left her last year, an' Lucy Scramm, that's poorer 'n +poverty's back kitchin, an' the same relation to him that Mis' Swayne +was, only got a thousan' dollars, an' the Swaynes rich already. Not but +what the thousan' was a godsend to the Scramms, but he might jest as +well 'a' left 'em comf'tibly off as not, 'stid of pilin' more onto the +Swaynes that didn't need it."</p> + +<p>"Does seem kind o' tough," David observed, leaning forward to drop his +cigar ash clear of the veranda floor, "but that's the way things goes, +an' I've often had to notice that a man'll sometimes do the foolishist +thing or the meanest thing in his hull life after he's dead."</p> + +<p>"You never told me," said Mrs. Bixbee, after a minute or two, in which +she appeared to be following up a train of reflection, "much of anythin' +about John's matters. Hain't he ever told you anythin' more 'n what +you've told me? or don't ye want me to know? Didn't his father leave +anythin'?"</p> + +<p>"The' was a little money," replied her brother, blowing out a cloud of +smoke, "an' a lot of unlikely chances, but nothin' to live on."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + +<p>"An' the' wa'n't nothin' for 't but he had to come up here?" she +queried.</p> + +<p>"He'd 'a' had to work on a salary somewhere, I reckon," was the reply. +"The' was one thing," added David thoughtfully after a moment, "that'll +mebbe come to somethin' some time, but it may be a good while fust, an' +don't you ever let on to him nor nobody else 't I ever said anythin' +about it."</p> + +<p>"I won't open my head to a livin' soul," she declared. "What was it?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I don't know 's I ever told ye," he said, "but a good many years +ago I took some little hand in the oil bus'nis, but though I didn't git +in as deep as I wish now 't I had, I've alwus kept up a kind of int'rist +in what goes on in that line."</p> + +<p>"No, I guess you never told me," she said. "Where you goin'?" as he got +out of his chair.</p> + +<p>"Goin' to git my cap," he answered. "Dum the dum things! I don't believe +the's a fly in Freeland County that hain't danced the wild kachuky on my +head sence we set here. Be I much specked?" he asked, as he bent his +bald poll for her inspection.</p> + +<p>"Oh, go 'long!" she cried, as she gave him a laughing push.</p> + +<p>"'Mongst other-things," he resumed, when he had returned to his chair +and relighted his cigar, "the' was a piece of about ten or twelve +hunderd acres of land down in Pennsylvany havin' some coal on it, he +told me he understood, but all the timber, ten inch an' over, 'd ben +sold off. He told me that his father's head clerk told him that the old +gentleman had tried fer a long time to dispose of it; but it called fer +too much to de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>velop it, I guess; 't any rate he couldn't, an' John's +got it to pay taxes on."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think it was wuth anythin' to him but jest a bill of +expense," observed Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"Tain't now," said David, "an' mebbe won't be fer a good while; still, +it's wuth somethin', an' I advised him to hold onto it on gen'ral +princ'ples. I don't know the pertic'ler prop'ty, of course," he +continued, "but I do know somethin' of that section of country, fer I +done a little prospectin' 'round there myself once on a time. But it +wa'n't in the oil territory them days, or wa'n't known to be, anyway."</p> + +<p>"But it's eatin' itself up with taxes, ain't it?" objected Mrs. Bixbee.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he replied, "it's free an' clear, an' the taxes ain't so very +much—though they do stick it to an outside owner down there—an' the +p'int is here: I've alwus thought they didn't drill deep enough in that +section. The' was some little traces of oil the time I told ye of, an' +I've heard lately that the's some talk of a move to test the territory +agin, an', if anythin' was to be found, the young feller's prop'ty might +be wuth somethin', but," he added, "of course the' ain't no tellin'."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + + +<p>"Well," said Miss Verjoos, when her sister overtook her, Mr. Euston +having stopped at his own gate, "you and your latest discovery seemed to +be getting on pretty well from the occasional sounds which came to my +ears. What is he like?"</p> + +<p>"He's charming," declared Miss Clara.</p> + +<p>"Indeed," remarked her sister, lifting her eyebrows. "You seem to have +come to a pretty broad conclusion in a very short period of time. +'Charming' doesn't leave very much to be added on longer acquaintance, +does it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes it does," said Miss Clara, laughing. "There are all degrees: +Charming, very charming, most charming, and <i>perfectly</i> charming."</p> + +<p>"To be sure," replied the other. "And there is the descending scale: +Perfectly charming, most charming, very charming, charming, very +pleasant, quite nice, and, oh, yes, well enough. Of course you have +asked him to call."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have," said Miss Clara.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think that mamma——"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," declared the girl with decision. "I know from what Mr. +Euston said, and I know from the little talk I had with him this +morning, from his manner and—<i>je ne sais quoi</i>—that he will be a +welcome addition to a set of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> people in which every single one knows +just what every other one will say on any given subject and on any +occasion. You know how it is."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the elder sister, smiling and half shutting her eyes with a +musing look, "I think myself that we all know each other a little too +well to make our affairs very exciting. Let us hope the new man will be +all you anticipate, and," she added with a little laugh, and a side +glance at her sister, "that there will be enough of him to go 'round."</p> + +<p>It hardly needs to be said that the aristocracy of Homeville and all the +summer visitors and residents devoted their time to getting as much +pleasure and amusement out of their life as was to be afforded by the +opportunities at hand: Boating, tennis, riding, driving; an occasional +picnic, by invitation, at one or the other of two very pretty +waterfalls, far enough away to make the drive there and back a feature; +as much dancing in an informal way as could be managed by the younger +people; and a certain amount of flirtation, of course (but of a very +harmless sort), to supply zest to all the rest. But it is not intended +to give a minute account of the life, nor to describe in detail all the +pursuits and festivities which prevailed during the season. Enough to +say that our friend soon had opportunity to partake in them as much and +often as was compatible with his duties. His first call at Lakelawn +happened to be on an evening when the ladies were not at home, and it is +quite certain that upon this, the occasion of his first essay of the +sort, he experienced a strong feeling of relief to be able to leave +cards instead of meeting a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> number of strange people, as he had thought +would be likely.</p> + +<p>One morning, some days later, Peleg Hopkins came in with a grin and +said, "The's some folks eout in front wants you to come eout an' see +'em."</p> + +<p>"Who are they?" asked John, who for the moment was in the back room and +had not seen the carriage drive up.</p> + +<p>"The two Verjoos gals," said Peleg with another distortion of his +freckled countenance. "One on 'em hailed me as I was comin' in and ast +me to ast you to come eout." John laughed a little as he wondered what +their feeling would be were they aware that they were denominated as the +"Verjoos gals" by people of Peleg's standing in the community.</p> + +<p>"We were so sorry to miss your visit the other evening," said Miss +Clara, after the usual salutations.</p> + +<p>John said something about the loss having been his own, and after a few +remarks of no special moment the young woman proceeded to set forth her +errand.</p> + +<p>"Do you know the Bensons from Syrchester?" she asked.</p> + +<p>John replied that he knew who they were but had not the pleasure of +their acquaintance.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Miss Clara, "they are extremely nice people, and Mrs. +Benson is very musical; in fact, Mr. Benson does something in that line +himself. They have with them for a few days a violinist, Fairman I think +his name is, from Boston, and a pianist—what was it, Juliet?"</p> + +<p>"Schlitz, I think," said Miss Verjoos.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, that is it, and they are coming to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> the house to-night, and we +are going to have some music in an informal sort of way. We shall be +glad to have you come if you can."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted," said John sincerely. "At what time?"</p> + +<p>"Any time you like," she said; "but the Bensons will probably get there +about half-past eight or nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much, and I shall be delighted," he repeated.</p> + +<p>Miss Clara looked at him for a moment with a hesitating air.</p> + +<p>"There is another thing," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, "I may as well tell you that you will surely be +asked to sing. Quite a good many people who have heard you in the +quartette in church are anxious to hear you sing alone, Mrs. Benson +among them."</p> + +<p>John's face fell a little.</p> + +<p>"You do sing other than church music, do you not?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he admitted, "I know some other music."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it would be a bore to you."</p> + +<p>"No," said John, who indeed saw no way out of it; "I will bring some +music, with pleasure, if you wish."</p> + +<p>"That's very nice of you," said Miss Clara, "and you will give us all a +great deal of pleasure."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with a smile.</p> + +<p>"That will depend," he said, and after a moment, "Who will play for me?"</p> + +<p>"I had not thought of that," was the reply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> "I think I rather took it +for granted that you could play for yourself. Can't you?"</p> + +<p>"After a fashion, and simple things," he said, "but on an occasion I +would rather not attempt it."</p> + +<p>The girl looked at her sister in some perplexity.</p> + +<p>"I should think," suggested Miss Verjoos, speaking for the second time, +"that Mr. or Herr Schlitz would play your accompaniments, particularly +if Mrs. Benson were to ask him, and if he can play for the violin I +should fancy he can for the voice."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said John, "we will let it go at that." As he spoke David +came round the corner of the bank and up to the carriage.</p> + +<p>"How d'y' do, Miss Verjoos? How air ye, Miss Claricy?" he asked, taking +off his straw hat and mopping his face and head with his handkerchief. +"Guess we're goin' to lose our sleighin', ain't we?"</p> + +<p>"It seems to be going pretty fast," replied Miss Clara, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," he remarked, "we sh'll be scrapin' bare ground putty soon now +if this weather holds on. How's the old hoss now you got him agin?" he +asked. "Seem to 've wintered putty well? Putty chipper, is he?"</p> + +<p>"Better than ever," she affirmed. "He seems to grow younger every year."</p> + +<p>"Come, now," said David, "that ain't a-goin' to do. I cal'lated to sell +ye another hoss <i>this</i> summer anyway. Ben dependin' on't in fact, to pay +a dividend. The bankin' bus'nis has been so neglected since this feller +come that it don't amount to much any more," and he laid his hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> on +John's shoulder, who colored a little as he caught a look of demure +amusement in the somber eyes of the elder sister.</p> + +<p>"After that," he said, "I think I had better get back to my neglected +duties," and he bowed his adieus.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Miss Clara to David, "you must get your dividend out of +some one else this summer."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said he, "I see I made a mistake takin' such good care on him. +Guess I'll have to turn him over to Dug Robinson to winter next year. +Ben havin' a little visit with John?" he asked. Miss Clara colored a +little, with something of the same look which John had seen in her +sister's face.</p> + +<p>"We are going to have some music at the house to-night, and Mr. Lenox +has kindly promised to sing for us," she replied.</p> + +<p>"He has, has he?" said David, full of interest. "Wa'al, he's the feller +c'n do it if anybody can. We have singin' an' music up t' the house +ev'ry Sunday night—me an' Polly an' him—an' it's fine. Yes, ma'am, I +don't know much about music myself, but I c'n beat time, an' he's got a +stack o' music more'n a mile high, an' one o' the songs he sings 'll +jest make the windows rattle. That's my fav'rit," averred Mr. Harum.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the name of it?" asked Miss Clara.</p> + +<p>"No," he said; "John told me, an' I guess I'd know it if I heard it; but +it's about a feller sittin' one day by the org'n an' not feelin' exac'ly +right—kind o' tired an' out o' sorts an' not knowin' jest where he was +drivin' at—jest joggin' 'long with a loose rein fer quite a piece, an' +so on; an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> then, by an' by, strikin' right into his gait an' goin' on +stronger 'n stronger, an' fin'ly finishin' up with an A—men that +carries him quarter way round the track 'fore he c'n pull up. That's my +fav'rit," Mr. Harum repeated, "'cept when him an' Polly sings together, +an' if that ain't a show—pertic'lerly Polly—I don't want a cent. No, +ma'am, when him an' Polly gits good an' goin' you can't see 'em fer +dust."</p> + +<p>"I should like to hear them," said Miss Clara, laughing, "and I should +particularly like to hear your favorite, the one which ends with the +Amen—the very <i>large</i> A—men."</p> + +<p>"Seventeen hands," declared Mr. Harum. "Must you be goin'? Wa'al, glad +to have seen ye. Polly's hopin' you'll come an' see her putty soon."</p> + +<p>"I will," she promised. "Give her my love, and tell her so, please."</p> + +<p>They drove away and David sauntered in, went behind the desks, and +perched himself up on a stool near the teller's counter as he often did +when in the office, and John was not particularly engaged.</p> + +<p>"Got you roped in, have they?" he said, using his hat as a fan. "Scat my +----! but ain't this a ring-tail squealer?"</p> + +<p>"It is very hot," responded John.</p> + +<p>"Miss Claricy says you're goin' to sing fer 'em up to their house +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, as he pinned a +paper strap around a pile of bills and began to count out another.</p> + +<p>"Don't feel very fierce for it, I guess, do ye?" said David, looking +shrewdly at him.</p> + +<p>"Not very," said John, with a short laugh.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Feel a little skittish 'bout it, eh?" suggested Mr. Harum. "Don't see +why ye should—anybody that c'n put up a tune the way you kin."</p> + +<p>"It's rather different," observed the younger man, "singing for you and +Mrs. Bixbee and standing up before a lot of strange people."</p> + +<p>"H-m, h-m," said David with a nod; "diff'rence 'tween joggin' along on +the road an' drivin' a fust heat on the track; in one case the' ain't +nothin' up, an' ye don't care whether you git there a little more +previously or a little less; an' in the other the's the crowd, an' the +judges, an' the stake, an' your record, an' mebbe the pool box into the +barg'in, that's all got to be considered. Feller don't mind it so much +after he gits fairly off, but thinkin' on't beforehand 's fidgity +bus'nis."</p> + +<p>"You have illustrated it exactly," said John, laughing, and much amused +at David's very characteristic, as well as accurate, illustration.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"My!" exclaimed Aunt Polly, when John came into the sitting room after +dinner dressed to go out. "My, don't he look nice? I never see you in +them clo'es. Come here a minute," and she picked a thread off his sleeve +and took the opportunity to turn him round for the purpose of giving him +a thorough inspection.</p> + +<p>"That wa'n't what you said when you see me in <i>my</i> gold-plated harniss," +remarked David, with a grin. "You didn't say nothin' putty to me."</p> + +<p>"Humph! I guess the's some diff'rence," observed Mrs. Bixbee with scorn, +and her brother laughed.</p> + +<p>"How was you cal'latin' to git there?" he asked, looking at our friend's +evening shoes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I thought at first I would walk," was the reply, "but I rather think I +will stop at Robinson's and get him to send me over."</p> + +<p>"I guess you won't do nothin' o' the sort," declared David. "Tom's all +hitched to take you over, an' when you're ready jest ring the bell."</p> + +<p>"You're awfully kind," said John gratefully, "but I don't know when I +shall be coming home."</p> + +<p>"Come back when you git a good ready," said Mr. Harum. "If you keep him +an' the hoss waitin' a spell, I guess they won't take cold this +weather."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + + +<p>The Verjoos house, of old red brick, stands about a hundred feet back +from the north side of the Lake Road, on the south shore of the lake. +Since its original construction a <i>porte cochère</i> has been built upon +the front. A very broad hall, from which rises the stairway with a +double turn and landing, divides the main body of the house through the +middle. On the left, as one enters, is the great drawing room; on the +right a parlor opening into a library; and beyond, the dining room, +which looks out over the lake. The hall opens in the rear upon a broad, +covered veranda, facing the lake, with a flight of steps to a lawn which +slopes down to the lake shore, a distance of some hundred and fifty +yards.</p> + +<p>John had to pass through a little flock of young people who stood near +and about the entrance to the drawing room, and having given his package +of music to the maid in waiting, with a request that it be put upon the +piano, he mounted the stairs to deposit his hat and coat, and then went +down.</p> + +<p>In the south end of the drawing room were some twenty people sitting and +standing about, most of them the elders of the families who constituted +society in Homeville, many of whom John had met, and nearly all of whom +he knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> by sight and name. On the edge of the group, and halfway down +the room, were Mrs. Verjoos and her younger daughter, who gave him a +cordial greeting; and the elder lady was kind enough to repeat her +daughter's morning assurances of regret that they were out on the +occasion of his call.</p> + +<p>"I trust you have been as good as your word," said Miss Clara, "and +brought some music."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is on the piano," he replied, looking across the room to where +the instrument stood.</p> + +<p>The girl laughed. "I wish," she said, "you could have heard what Mr. +Harum said this morning about your singing, particularly his description +of The Lost Chord, and I wish that I could repeat it just as he gave +it."</p> + +<p>"It's about a feller sittin' one day by the org'n," came a voice from +behind John's shoulder, so like David's as fairly to startle him, "an' +not feelin' exac'ly right—kind o' tired an' out o' sorts, an' not +knowin' jest where he was drivin' at—jest joggin' along with a loose +rein fer quite a piece, an' so on; an' then, by an' by, strikin' right +into his gait an' goin' on stronger an' stronger, an' fin'ly finishin' +up with an A—men that carries him quarter way 'round the track 'fore he +c'n pull up." They all laughed except Miss Verjoos, whose gravity was +unbroken, save that behind the dusky windows of her eyes, as she looked +at John, there was for an instant a gleam of mischievous drollery.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Mr. Lenox," she said. "I am very glad to see you," and +hardly waiting for his response, she turned and walked away.</p> + +<p>"That is Juliet all over," said her sister.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> "You would not think to see +her ordinarily that she was given to that sort of thing, but once in a +while, when she feels like it—well—pranks! She is the funniest +creature that ever lived, I believe, and can mimic and imitate any +mortal creature. She sat in the carriage this morning, and one might +have fancied from her expression that she hardly heard a word, but I +haven't a doubt that she could repeat every syllable that was uttered. +Oh, here come the Bensons and their musicians."</p> + +<p>John stepped back a pace or two toward the end of the room, but was +presently recalled and presented to the newcomers. After a little talk +the Bensons settled themselves in the corner at the lower end of the +room, where seats were placed for the two musicians, and our friend took +a seat near where he had been standing. The violinist adjusted his +folding music rest. Miss Clara stepped over to the entrance door and put +up her finger at the young people in the hall. "After the music begins," +she said, with a shake of the head, "if I hear one sound of giggling or +chattering, I will send every one of you young heathen home. Remember +now! This isn't your party at all."</p> + +<p>"But, Clara, dear," said Sue Tenaker (aged fifteen), "if we are very +good and quiet do you think they would play for us to dance a little by +and by?"</p> + +<p>"Impudence!" exclaimed Miss Clara, giving the girl's cheek a playful +slap and going back to her place. Miss Verjoos came in and took a chair +by her sister. Mrs. Benson leaned forward and raised her eyebrows at +Miss Clara, who took a quick survey of the room and nodded in return.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +Herr Schlitz seated himself on the piano chair, pushed it a little back, +drew it a little forward to the original place, looked under the piano +at the pedals, took out his handkerchief and wiped his face and hands, +and after arpeggioing up and down the key-board, swung into a waltz of +Chopin's (Opus 34, Number 1), a favorite of our friend's, and which he +would have thoroughly enjoyed—for it was splendidly played—if he had +not been uneasily apprehensive that he might be asked to sing after it. +And while on some accounts he would have been glad of the opportunity to +"have it over," he felt a cowardly sense of relief when the violinist +came forward for the next number. There had been enthusiastic applause +at the north end of the room, and more or less clapping of hands at the +south end, but not enough to impel the pianist to supplement his +performance at the time. The violin number was so well received that Mr. +Fairman added a little minuet of Boccherini's without accompaniment, and +then John felt that his time had surely come. But he had to sit, drawing +long breaths, through a Liszt fantasie on themes from Faust before his +suspense was ended by Miss Clara, who was apparently mistress of +ceremonies and who said to him, "Will you sing now, Mr. Lenox?"</p> + +<p>He rose and went to the end of the room where the pianist was sitting. +"I have been asked to sing," he said to that gentleman. "Can I induce +you to be so kind as to play for me?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure he will," said Mrs. Benson, looking at Herr Schlitz.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I blay for you if you vant," he said. "Vhere is your moosic?" +They went over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> to the piano. "Oh, ho! Jensen, Lassen, Helmund, +Grieg—you zing dem?"</p> + +<p>"Some of them," said John. The pianist opened the Jensen album.</p> + +<p>"You want to zing one of dese?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"As well as anything," replied John, who had changed his mind a dozen +times in the last ten minutes and was ready to accept any suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Ver' goot," said the other. "Ve dry dis: Lehn deine wang' an meine +Wang'." His face brightened as John began to sing the German words. In a +measure or two the singer and player were in perfect accord, and as the +former found his voice the ends of his fingers grew warm again. At the +end of the song the applause was distributed about as after the Chopin +waltz.</p> + +<p>"Sehr schön!" exclaimed Herr Schlitz, looking up and nodding; "you must +zing zome more," and he played the first bars of Marie, am Fenster +sitzest du, humming the words under his breath, and quite oblivious of +any one but himself and the singer.</p> + +<p>"Zierlich," he said when the song was done, reaching for the collection +of Lassen. "Mit deinen blauen Augen," he hummed, keeping time with his +hands, but at this point Miss Clara came across the room, followed by +her sister.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Tenaker," she said, laughing, "asked me to ask you, Mr. Lenox, if +you wouldn't please sing something they could understand."</p> + +<p>"I have a song I should like to hear you sing," said Miss Verjoos. +"There is an obligato for violin and we have a violinist here. It is a +beautiful song—Tosti's Beauty's Eyes. Do you know it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Will you sing it for me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"With the greatest pleasure," he answered.</p> + +<p>Once, as he sang the lines of the song, he looked up. Miss Verjoos was +sitting with her elbows on the arm of her chair, her cheek resting upon +her clasped hands and her dusky eyes were fastened upon his face. As the +song concluded she rose and walked away. Mrs. Tenaker came over to the +piano and put out her hand.</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much for your singing, Mr. Lenox," she said. "Would you +like to do an old woman a favor?"</p> + +<p>"Very much so," said John, smiling and looking first at Mrs. Tenaker and +then about the room, "but there are no old women here as far as I can +see."</p> + +<p>"Very pretty, sir, very pretty," she said, looking very graciously at +him. "Will you sing Annie Laurie for me?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," he said, bowing. He looked at Herr Schlitz, who +shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Let me play it for you," said Mrs. Benson, coming over to the piano.</p> + +<p>"Where do you want it?" she asked, modulating softly from one key to +another.</p> + +<p>"I think D flat will be about right," he replied. "Kindly play a little +bit of it."</p> + +<p>The sound of the symphony brought most of even the young people into the +drawing room. At the end of the first verse there was a subdued rustle +of applause, a little more after the second, and at the end of the song +so much of a burst of approval as could be produced by the audience.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +Mrs. Benson looked up into John's face and smiled.</p> + +<p>"We appear to have scored the success of the evening," she said with a +touch of sarcasm. Miss Clara joined them.</p> + +<p>"What a dear old song that is!" she said. "Did you see Aunt Charlie +(Mrs. Tenaker) wiping her eyes?—and that lovely thing of Tosti's! We +are ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Lenox."</p> + +<p>John bowed his acknowledgments.</p> + +<p>"Will you take Mrs. Benson out to supper? There is a special table for +you musical people at the east end of the veranda."</p> + +<p>"Is this merely a segregation or a distinction?" said John as they sat +down.</p> + +<p>"We shall have to wait developments to decide that point, I should say," +replied Mrs. Benson. "I suppose that fifth place was put on the off +chance that Mr. Benson might be of our party, but," she said, with a +short laugh, "he is probably nine fathoms deep in a flirtation with Sue +Tenaker. He shares Artemas Ward's tastes, who said, you may remember, +that he liked little girls—big ones too."</p> + +<p>A maid appeared with a tray of eatables, and presently another with a +tray on which were glasses and a bottle of Pommery <i>sec</i>. "Miss Clara's +compliments," she said.</p> + +<p>"What do you think now?" asked Mrs. Benson, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Distinctly a distinction, I should say," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Das ist nicht so schlecht," grunted Herr Schlitz as he put half a +<i>pâté</i> into his mouth, "bot I vould brefer beer."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The music has been a great treat to me," remarked John. "I have heard +nothing of the sort for two years."</p> + +<p>"You have quite contributed your share of the entertainment," said Mrs. +Benson.</p> + +<p>"You and I together," he responded, smiling.</p> + +<p>"You have got a be-oodifool woice," said Herr Schlitz, speaking with a +mouthful of salad, "und you zing ligh a moosician, und you bronounce +your vorts very goot."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said John.</p> + +<p>After supper there was more singing in the drawing room, but it was not +of a very classical order. Something short and taking for violin and +piano was followed by an announcement from Herr Schlitz.</p> + +<p>"I zing you a zong," he said. The worthy man "breferred beer," but had, +perhaps, found the wine quicker in effect, and in a tremendous bass +voice he roared out, Im tiefen Keller sitz' ich hier, auf einem Fass +voll Reben, which, if not wholly understood by the audience, had some of +its purport conveyed by the threefold repetition of "trinke" at the end +of each verse. Then a deputation waited upon John, to ask in behalf of +the girls and boys if he knew and could sing Solomon Levi.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, sitting down at the piano, "if you'll all sing with me," +and it came to pass that that classic, followed by Bring Back my Bonnie +to Me, Paddy Duffy's Cart, There's Music in the Air, and sundry other +ditties dear to all hearts, was given by "the full strength of the +company" with such enthusiasm that even Mr. Fairman was moved to join in +with his violin; and when the Soldier's Farewell was given, Herr Schlitz +would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> have sung the windows out of their frames had they not been open. +Altogether, the evening's programme was brought to an end with a grand +climax.</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," said John as he said good night to Mrs. Verjoos. +"I don't know when I have enjoyed an evening so much."</p> + +<p>"Thank <i>you</i> very much," she returned graciously. "You have given us all +a great deal of pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Verjoos, giving her hand with a mischievous gleam in +her half-shut eyes, "I was enchanted with Solomon Levi."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + + +<p>David and John had been driving for some time in silence. The elder man +was apparently musing upon something which had been suggested to his +mind. The horses slackened their gait to a walk as they began the ascent +of a long hill. Presently the silence was broken by a sound which caused +John to turn his head with a look of surprised amusement—Mr. Harum was +singing. The tune, if it could be so called, was scaleless, and these +were the words:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>Mon</i>day <i>mor</i>nin' I <i>mar</i>ried me a <i>wife</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Think</i>in' to <i>lead</i> a <i>more</i> contented <i>life</i>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Fid</i>dlin' an' <i>danc</i>in' <i>the</i>' was <i>played</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To <i>see</i> how un<i>happy</i> poor <i>I</i> was <i>made</i>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>Tues</i>day <i>morn</i>in', <i>'bout</i> break o' <i>day</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>While</i> my <i>head</i> on the <i>pil</i>ler did <i>lay</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She <i>tuned</i> up her <i>clack</i>, an' <i>scold</i>ed <i>more</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Than</i> I <i>ever</i> heard be<i>fore</i>."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Never heard me sing before, did ye?" he said, looking with a grin at +his companion, who laughed and said that he had never had that pleasure. +"Wa'al, that's all 't I remember on't," said David, "an' I dunno 's I've +thought about it in thirty year. The' was a number o' verses which +carried 'em through the rest o' the week, an' ended up in a case of +'sault an' battery, I rec'lect,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> but I don't remember jest how. +Somethin' we ben sayin' put the thing into my head, I guess."</p> + +<p>"I should like to hear the rest of it," said John, smiling.</p> + +<p>David made no reply to this, and seemed to be turning something over in +his mind. At last he said:</p> + +<p>"Mebbe Polly's told ye that I'm a wid'wer."</p> + +<p>John admitted that Mrs. Bixbee had said as much as that.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said David, "I'm a wid'wer of long standin'."</p> + +<p>No appropriate comment suggesting itself to his listener, none was made.</p> + +<p>"I hain't never cared to say much about it to Polly," he remarked, +"though fer that matter Jim Bixbee, f'm all accounts, was about as poor +a shack as ever was turned out, I guess, an'—"</p> + +<p>John took advantage of the slight hesitation to interpose against what +he apprehended might be a lengthy digression on the subject of the +deceased Bixbee by saying:</p> + +<p>"You were quite a young fellow when you were married, I infer."</p> + +<p>"Two or three years younger 'n you be, I guess," said David, looking at +him, "an' a putty green colt too in some ways," he added, handing over +the reins and whip while he got out his silver tobacco box and helped +himself to a liberal portion of its contents. It was plain that he was +in the mood for personal reminiscences.</p> + +<p>"As I look back on't now," he began, "it kind o' seems as if it must 'a' +ben some other feller, an' yet I remember it all putty dum'd well +too—all but one thing, an' that the biggist part on't, an' that is how +I ever come to git married<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> at all. She was a widdo' at the time, an' +kep' the boardin' house where I was livin'. It was up to Syrchester. I +was better lookin' them days 'n I be now—had more hair at any +rate—though," he remarked with a grin, "I was alwus a better goer than +I was a looker. I was doin' fairly well," he continued, "but mebbe not +so well as was thought by some.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, she was a good-lookin' woman, some older 'n I was. She seemed to +take some shine to me. I'd roughed it putty much alwus, an' she was +putty clever to me. She was a good talker, liked a joke an' a laugh, an' +had some education, an' it come about that I got to beauin' her 'round +quite a consid'able, and used to go an' set in her room or the parlor +with her sometimes evenin's an' all that, an' I wouldn't deny that I +liked it putty well."</p> + +<p>It was some minutes before Mr. Harum resumed his narrative. The reins +were sagging over the dashboard, held loosely between the first two +fingers and thumb of his left hand, while with his right he had been +making abstracted cuts at the thistles and other eligible marks along +the roadside.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he said at last, "we was married, an' our wheels tracked putty +well fer quite a consid'able spell. I got to thinkin' more of her all +the time, an' she me, seemin'ly. We took a few days off together two +three times that summer, to Niag'ry, an' Saratogy, an' 'round, an' had +real good times. I got to thinkin' that the state of matrimony was a +putty good institution. When it come along fall, I was doin' well enough +so 't she could give up bus'nis, an' I hired a house an' we set up +housekeepin'. It was really more on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> my account than her'n, fer I got to +kind o' feelin' that when the meat was tough or the pie wa'n't done on +the bottom that I was 'sociated with it, an' gen'ally I wanted a place +of my own. But," he added, "I guess it was a mistake, fur 's she was +concerned."</p> + +<p>"Why?" said John, feeling that some show of interest was incumbent.</p> + +<p>"I reckon," said David, "'t she kind o' missed the comp'ny an' the talk +at table, an' the goin's on gen'ally, an' mebbe the work of runnin' the +place—she was a great worker—an' it got to be some diff'rent, I +s'pose, after a spell, settin' down to three meals a day with jest only +me 'stid of a tableful, to say nothin' of the evenin's. I was glad +enough to have a place of my own, but at the same time I hadn't ben used +to settin' 'round with nothin' pertic'ler to do or say, with somebody +else that hadn't neither, an' I wa'n't then nor ain't now, fer that +matter, any great hand fer readin'. Then, too, we'd moved into a +diff'rent part o' the town where my wife wa'n't acquainted. Wa'al, +anyway, fust things begun to drag some—she begun to have spells of not +speakin', an' then she begun to git notions about me. Once in a while +I'd have to go down town on some bus'nis in the evenin'. She didn't seem +to mind it at fust, but bom-by she got it into her head that the' wa'n't +so much bus'nis goin' on as I made out, an' though along that time she'd +set sometimes mebbe the hull evenin' without sayin' anythin' more 'n yes +or no, an' putty often not that, yet if I went out there'd be a +flare-up; an' as things went on the'd be spells fer a fortni't together +when I couldn't any time of day git a word out of her hardly, unless it +was to go fer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> me 'bout somethin' that mebbe I'd done an' mebbe I +hadn't—it didn't make no diff'rence. An' when them spells was on, what +she didn't take out o' me she did out o' the house—diggin' an' +scrubbin', takin' up carpits, layin' down carpits, shiftin' the +furniture, eatin' one day in the kitchin an' another in the settin' +room, an' sleepin' most anywhere. She wa'n't real well after a while, +an' the wuss she seemed to feel, the fiercer she was fer scrubbin' an' +diggin' an' upsettin' things in gen'ral, an' bom-by she got so she +couldn't keep a hired girl in the house more 'n a day or two at a time. +She either wouldn't have 'em, or they wouldn't stay, an' more 'n half +the time we was without one. This can't int'rist you much, can it?" said +Mr. Harum, turning to his companion.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," replied John, "it interests me very much. I was +thinking," he added, "that probably the state of your wife's health had +a good deal to do with her actions and views of things, but it must have +been pretty hard on you all the same."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, yes," said David, "I guess that's so. Her health wa'n't jest +right, an' she showed it in her looks. I noticed that she'd pined an' +pindled some, but I thought the' was some natural criss-crossedniss +mixed up into it too. But I tried to make allow'nces an' the best o' +things, an' git along 's well 's I could; but things kind o' got wuss +an' wuss. I told ye that she begun to have notions about me, an' 't +ain't hardly nec'sary to say what shape they took, an' after a while, +mebbe a year 'n a half, she got so 't she wa'n't satisfied to know where +I was <i>nights</i>—she wanted to know where I was <i>daytimes</i>. Kind o'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +makes me laugh now," he observed, "it seems so redic'lous; but it wa'n't +no laughin' matter then. If I looked out o' winder she'd hint it up to +me that I was watchin' some woman. She grudged me even to look at a +picture paper; an' one day when we happened to be walkin' together she +showed feelin' about one o' them wooden Injun women outside a cigar +store."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, Mr. Harum," said John, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David with a short laugh, "mebbe I did stretch that a +little; but 's I told ye, she wanted to know where I was daytimes well +'s nights, an' ev'ry once 'n a while she'd turn up at my bus'nis place, +an' if I wa'n't there she'd set an' wait fer me, an' I'd either have to +go home with her or have it out in the office. I don't mean to say that +all the sort of thing I'm tellin' ye of kep' up all the time. It kind o' +run in streaks; but the streaks kep' comin' oftener an' oftener, an' you +couldn't never tell when the' was goin' to appear. Matters 'd go along +putty well fer a while, an' then, all of a sudden, an' fer nothin' 't I +could see, the' 'd come on a thunder shower 'fore you c'd git in out o' +the wet."</p> + +<p>"Singular," said John thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said David. "Wa'al, it come along to the second spring, +'bout the first of May. She'd ben more like folks fer about a week mebbe +'n she had fer a long spell, an' I begun to chirk up some. I don't +remember jest how I got the idee, but f'm somethin' she let drop I +gathered that she was thinkin' of havin' a new bunnit. I will say this +for her," remarked David, "that she was an economical woman, an' never +spent no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> money jest fer the sake o' spendin' it. Wa'al, we'd got along +so nice fer a while that I felt more 'n usual like pleasin' her, an' I +allowed to myself that if she wanted a new bunnit, money shouldn't stand +in the way, an' I set out to give her a supprise."</p> + +<p>They had reached the level at the top of the long hill and the horses +had broken into a trot, when Mr. Harum's narrative was interrupted and +his equanimity upset by the onslaught of an excessively shrill, active, +and conscientious dog of the "yellow" variety, which barked and sprang +about in front of the mares with such frantic assiduity as at last to +communicate enough of its excitement to them to cause them to bolt +forward on a run, passing the yellow nuisance, which, with the facility +of long practice, dodged the cut which David made at it in passing. It +was with some little trouble that the horses were brought back to a +sober pace.</p> + +<p>"Dum that dum'd dog!" exclaimed David with fervor, looking back to where +the object of his execrations was still discharging convulsive yelps at +the retreating vehicle, "I'd give a five-dollar note to git one good +lick at him. I'd make him holler 'pen-an'-ink' <i>once</i>! Why anybody's +willin' to have such a dum'd, wuthless, pestiferous varmint as that +'round 's more 'n I c'n understand. I'll bet that the days they churn, +that critter, unless they ketch him an' tie him up the night before, 'll +be under the barn all day, an' he's jest blowed off steam enough to run +a dog churn a hull forenoon."</p> + +<p>Whether or not the episode of the dog had diverted Mr. Harum's mind from +his previous topic, he did not resume it until John ventured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> to remind +him of it, with "You were saying something about the surprise for your +wife."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said David. "Yes, wa'al, when I went home that night I +stopped into a mil'nery store, an' after I'd stood 'round a minute, a +girl come up an' ast me if she c'd show me anythin'.</p> + +<p>"'I want to buy a bunnit,' I says, an' she kind o' laughed. 'No,' I +says, 'it ain't fer me, it's fer a lady,' I says; an' then we both +laughed.</p> + +<p>"'What sort of a bunnit do you want?' she says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al, I dunno,' I says, 'this is the fust time I ever done anythin' +in the bunnit line.' So she went over to a glass case an' took one out +an' held it up, turnin' it 'round on her hand.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess it's putty enough fur 's it goes, but the' +don't seem to be much of anythin' <i>to</i> it. Hain't you got somethin' a +little bit bigger an'—'</p> + +<p>"'Showier?' she says. 'How is this?' she says, doin' the same trick with +another.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'that looks more like it, but I had an idee that the A +1, trible-extry fine article had more traps on't, an' most any one might +have on either one o' them you've showed me an' not attrac' no attention +at all. You needn't mind expense,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, very well,' she says, 'I guess I know what you want,' an' goes +over to another case an' fetches out another bunnit twice as big as +either the others, an' with more notions on't than you c'd shake a stick +at—flowers, an' gard'n stuff, an' fruit, an' glass beads, an' feathers, +an' all that, till you couldn't see what they was fixed on to. She took +holt on't with both hands, the girl did, an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> put it onto her head, an' +kind o' smiled an' turned 'round slow so 't I c'd git a gen'ral view +on't.</p> + +<p>"'Style all right?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'The very best of its kind,' she says.</p> + +<p>"'How 'bout the <i>kind</i>?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'The very best of its style,' she says."</p> + +<p>John laughed outright. David looked at him for a moment with a doubtful +grin.</p> + +<p>"She <i>was</i> a slick one, wa'n't she?" he said. "What a hoss trader she +would 'a' made. I didn't ketch on at the time, but I rec'lected +afterward. Wa'al," he resumed, after this brief digression, "'how much +is it?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Fifteen dollars,' she says.</p> + +<p>"'What?' I says. 'Scat my ——! I c'd buy head rigging enough to last me +ten years fer that.'</p> + +<p>"'We couldn't sell it for less,' she says.</p> + +<p>"'S'posin' the lady 't I'm buyin' it fer don't jest like it,' I says, +'can you alter it or swap somethin' else for it?'</p> + +<p>"'Cert'nly, within a reasonable time,' she says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al, all right,' I says, 'do her up.' An' so she wrapped the thing +'round with soft paper an' put it in a box, an' I paid for't an' moseyed +along up home, feelin' that ev'ry man, woman, an' child had their eyes +on my parcel, but thinkin' how tickled my wife would be."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + + +<p>The road they were on was a favorite drive with the two men, and at the +point where they had now arrived David always halted for a look back and +down upon the scene below them—to the south, beyond the intervening +fields, bright with maturing crops, lay the village; to the west the +blue lake, winding its length like a broad river, and the river itself a +silver ribbon, till it was lost beneath the southern hills.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke. For a few minutes John took in the scene with the +pleasure it always afforded him, and then glanced at his companion, who +usually had some comment to make upon anything which stirred his +admiration or interest. He was gazing, not at the landscape, but +apparently at the top of the dashboard. "Ho, hum," he said, +straightening the reins, with a "clk" to the horses, and they drove +along for a while in silence—so long, in fact, that our friend, while +aware that the elder man did not usually abandon a topic until he had +"had his say out," was moved to suggest a continuance of the narrative +which had been rather abruptly broken off, and in which he had become +considerably interested.</p> + +<p>"Was your wife pleased?" he asked at last.</p> + +<p>"Where was I?" asked the other in return.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You were on your way home with your purchase," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Mr. Harum resumed. "It was a little after tea time when I got +to the house, an' I thought prob'ly I'd find her in the settin' room +waitin' fer me; but she wa'n't, an' I went up to the bedroom to find +her, feelin' a little less sure o' things. She was settin' lookin' out +o' winder when I come in, an' when I spoke to her she didn't give me no +answer except to say, lookin' up at the clock, 'What's kept ye like +this?'</p> + +<p>"'Little matter o' bus'nis,' I says, lookin' as smilin' 's I knew how, +an' holdin' the box behind me.</p> + +<p>"'What you got there?' she says, slewin' her head 'round to git a sight +at it.</p> + +<p>"'Little matter o' bus'nis,' I says agin, bringin' the box to the front +an' feelin' my face straighten out 's if you'd run a flat iron over it. +She seen the name on the paper.</p> + +<p>"'You ben spendin' your time there, have ye?' she says, settin' up in +her chair an' pointin' with her finger at the box. '<i>That's</i> where you +ben the last half hour, hangin' 'round with them minxes in Mis' +Shoolbred's. What's in that box?' she says, with her face a-blazin'.</p> + +<p>"'Now, Lizy,' I says, 'I wa'n't there ten minutes if I was that, an' I +ben buyin' you a bunnit.'</p> + +<p>"'<i>You—ben—buyin'—me—a—bunnit</i>?' she says, stifnin' up stiffer 'n a +stake.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' I says, 'I heard you say somethin' 'bout a spring bunnit, an' I +thought, seein' how economicle you was, that I'd buy you a nicer one 'n +mebbe you'd feel like yourself. I thought it would please ye,' I says, +tryin' to rub her the right way.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Let me see it,' she says, in a voice dryer 'n a lime-burner's hat, +pressin' her lips together an' reachin' out fer the box. Wa'al, sir, she +snapped the string with a jerk an' sent the cover skimmin' across the +room, an' then, as she hauled the parcel out of the box, she got up onto +her feet. Then she tore the paper off on't an' looked at it a minute, +an' then took it 'tween her thumb an' finger, like you hold up a dead +rat by the tail, an' held it off at the end of her reach, an' looked it +all over, with her face gettin' even redder if it could. Fin'ly she +says, in a voice 'tween a whisper 'n a choke:</p> + +<p>"'What'd you pay fer the thing?'</p> + +<p>"'Fifteen dollars,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Fifteen <i>dollars</i>?' she says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' I says, 'don't ye like it?' Wa'al," said David, "she never said +a word. She drawed in her arm an' took holt of the bunnit with her left +hand, an' fust she pulled off one thing an' dropped it on the floor, fur +off as she c'd reach, an' then another, an' then another, an' then, by +gum! she went at it with both hands jest as fast as she could work 'em, +an' in less time 'n I'm tellin' it to ye she picked the thing cleaner 'n +any chicken you ever see, an' when she got down to the carkis she +squeezed it up between her two hands, give it a wring an' a twist like +it was a wet dish towel, an' flung it slap in my face. Then she made a +half turn, throwin' back her head an' grabbin' into her hair, an' give +the awfullest screechin' laugh—one screech after another that you c'd +'a' heard a mile—an' then throwed herself face down on the bed, +screamin' an' kickin'. Wa'al, sir, if I wa'n't at my wits' end, you c'n +have my watch an' chain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She wouldn't let me touch her no way, but, as luck had it, it was one +o' the times when we had a hired girl, an' hearin' the noise she come +gallopin' up the stairs. She wa'n't a young girl, an' she had a face +humbly 'nough to keep her awake nights, but she had some sense, +an'—'You'd bether run fer the docther,' she says, when she see the +state my wife was in. You better believe I done the heat of my life," +said David, "an' more luck, the doctor was home an' jest finishin' his +tea. His house an' office wa'n't but two three blocks off, an' in about +a few minutes me an' him an' his bag was leggin' it fer my house, though +I noticed he didn't seem to be 'n as much of a twitter 's I was. He ast +me more or less questions, an' jest as we got to the house he says:</p> + +<p>"'Has your wife had any thin' to 'larm or shock her this evenin'?'</p> + +<p>"'Nothin' 't I know on,' I says, ''cept I bought her a new bunnit that +didn't seem to come quite up to her idees.' At that," remarked Mr. +Harum, "he give me a funny look, an' we went in an' upstairs.</p> + +<p>"The hired girl," he proceeded, "had got her quieted down some, but when +we went in she looked up, an' seein' me, set up another screech, an' he +told me to go downstairs an' he'd come down putty soon, an' after a +while he did.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'She's quiet fer the present,' he says, takin' a pad o' paper out o' +his pocket, an' writin' on it.</p> + +<p>"'Do you know Mis' Jones, your next-door neighbor?' he says. I allowed +'t I had a speakin' acquaintance with her.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, 'fust, you step in an' tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> her I'm here an' want to +see her, and ast her if she won't come right along; an' then you go down +to my office an' have these things sent up; an' then,' he says, 'you go +down town an' send this'—handin' me a note that he'd wrote an' put in +an envelope—'up to the hospital—better send it up with a hack, or, +better yet, go yourself,' he says, 'an' hurry. You can't be no use +here,' he says. 'I'll stay, but I want a nurse here in an hour, an' less +if possible.' I was putty well scared," said David, "by all that, an' I +says, 'Lord,' I says, 'is she as bad off as that? What is it ails her?'</p> + +<p>"'Don't you know?' says the doc, givin' me a queer look.</p> + +<p>"'No,' I says, 'she hain't ben fust rate fer a spell back, but I +couldn't git nothin' out of her what was the matter, an' don't know what +pertic'ler thing ails her now, unless it's that dum'd bunnit,' I says.</p> + +<p>"At that the doctor laughed a little, kind as if he couldn't help it.</p> + +<p>"'I don't think that was hully to blame,' he says; 'may have hurried +matters up a little—somethin' that was liable to happen any time in the +next two months.'</p> + +<p>"'You don't mean it?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' he says. 'Now you git out as fast as you can. Wait a minute,' he +says. 'How old is your wife?'</p> + +<p>"'F'm what she told me 'fore we was married,' I says, 'she's +thirty-one.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh!' he says, raisin' his eyebrows. 'All right; hurry up, now,'</p> + +<p>"I dusted around putty lively, an' inside of an hour was back with the +nurse, an 'jest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> after we got inside the door—" David paused +thoughtfully for a moment and then, lowering his tone a little, "jest as +we got inside the front door, a door upstairs opened an' I heard a +little 'Waa! waa!' like it was the leetlist kind of a new lamb—an' I +tell you," said David, with a little quaver in his voice, and looking +straight over the off horse's ears, "nothin' 't I ever heard before nor +since ever fetched me, right where I <i>lived</i>, as that did. The nurse, +she made a dive fer the stairs, wavin' me back with her hand, an' +I—wa'al—I went into the settin' room, an—wa'al—ne' mind.</p> + +<p>"I dunno how long I set there list'nin' to 'em movin' 'round overhead, +an' wonderin' what was goin' on; but fin'ly I heard a step on the stair +an' I went out into the entry, an' it was Mis' Jones. 'How be they?' I +says.</p> + +<p>"'We don't quite know yet,' she says. 'The little boy is a nice formed +little feller,' she says, 'an' them childern very often grow up, but he +is <i>very little</i>,' she says.</p> + +<p>"'An' how 'bout my wife?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' she says, 'we don't know jest yet, but she is quiet now, an' +we'll hope fer the best. If you want me,' she says, 'I'll come any time, +night or day, but I must go now. The doctor will stay all night, an' the +nurse will stay till you c'n git some one to take her place,' an' she +went home, an'," declared David, "you've hearn tell of the 'salt of the +earth,' an' if that woman wa'n't more on't than a hoss c'n draw down +hill, the' ain't no such thing."</p> + +<p>"Did they live?" asked John after a brief silence, conscious of the +bluntness of his question, but curious as to the sequel.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The child did," replied David; "not to grow up, but till he was 'twixt +six an' seven; but my wife never left her bed, though she lived three +four weeks. She never seemed to take no int'rist in the little feller, +nor nothin' else much; but one day—it was Sunday, long to the last—she +seemed a little more chipper 'n usual. I was settin' with her, an' I +said to her how much better she seemed to be, tryin' to chirk her up.</p> + +<p>"'No,' she says, 'I ain't goin' to live.'</p> + +<p>"'Don't ye say that,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'No,' she says, 'I ain't, an' I don't care.'</p> + +<p>"I didn't know jest what to say, an' she spoke agin:</p> + +<p>"'I want to tell you, Dave,' she says, 'that you've ben good an' kind to +me.'</p> + +<p>"'I've tried to,' I says, 'an' Lizy,' I says, 'I'll never fergive myself +about that bunnit, long 's I live.'</p> + +<p>"'That hadn't really nothin' to do with it,' she says, 'an' you meant +all right, though,' she says, almost in a whisper, an' the' came across +her face, not a smile exac'ly, but somethin' like a little riffle on a +piece o' still water, 'that bunnit <i>was</i> enough to kill most +<i>any</i>body.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + + +<p>John leaned out of the buggy and looked back along the road, as if +deeply interested in observing something which had attracted his +attention, and David's face worked oddly for a moment.</p> + +<p>Turning south in the direction of the village, they began the descent of +a steep hill, and Mr. Harum, careful of loose stones, gave all his +attention to his driving. Our friend, respecting his vigilance, forebore +to say anything which might distract his attention until they reached +level ground, and then, "You never married again?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"No," was, the reply. "My matrymonial experience was 'brief an' to the +p'int,' as the sayin' is."</p> + +<p>"And yet," urged John, "you were a young man, and I should have +supposed——"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, breaking in and emitting his chuckling laugh, "I +allow 't mebbe I sometimes thought on't, an' once, about ten year after +what I ben tellin' ye, I putty much made up my mind to try another +hitch-up. The' was a woman that I seen quite a good deal of, an' liked +putty well, an' I had some grounds fer thinkin' 't she wouldn't show me +the door if I was to ask her. In fact, I made up my mind I would take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +the chances, an' one night I put on my best bib an' tucker an' started +fer her house. I had to go 'cross the town to where she lived, an' the +farther I walked the fiercer I got—havin' made up my mind—so 't putty +soon I was travelin' 's if I was 'fraid some other feller'd git there +'head o' me. Wa'al, it was Sat'day night, an' the stores was all open, +an' the streets was full o' people, an' I had to pull up in the crowd a +little, an' I don't know how it happened in pertic'ler, but fust thing I +knew I run slap into a woman with a ban'box, an' when I looked 'round, +there was a mil'nery store in full blast an' winders full o' bunnits. +Wa'al, sir, do you know what I done? Ye don't. Wa'al, the' was a hoss +car passin' that run three mile out in the country in a diff'rent +direction f'm where I started fer, an' I up an' got onto that car, an' +rode the length o' that road, an' got off an' <i>walked back</i>—an' I never +went near her house f'm that day to this, an' that," said David, "was +the nearest I ever come to havin' another pardner to my joys an' +sorro's."</p> + +<p>"That was pretty near, though," said John, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "mebbe Prov'dence might 'a' had some other plan fer +stoppin' me 'fore I smashed the hull rig, if I hadn't run into the +mil'nery shop, but as it was, that fetched me to a stan'still, an' I +never started to run agin."</p> + +<p>They drove on for a few minutes in silence, which John broke at last by +saying, "I have been wondering how you got on after your wife died and +left you with a little child."</p> + +<p>"That was where Mis' Jones come in," said David. "Of course I got the +best nurse I could, an' Mis' Jones 'd run in two three times ev'ry day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +an' see 't things was goin' on as right 's they could; but it come on +that I had to be away f'm home a good deal, an' fin'ly, come fall, I got +the Joneses to move into a bigger house, where I could have a room, an' +fixed it up with Mis' Jones to take charge o' the little feller right +along. She hadn't but one child, a girl of about thirteen, an' had lost +two little ones, an' so between havin' took to my little mite of a thing +f'm the fust, an' my makin' it wuth her while, she was willin', an' we +went on that way till—the' wa'n't no further occasion fur 's he was +concerned, though I lived with them a spell longer when I was at home, +which wa'n't very often, an' after he died I was gone fer a good while. +But before that time, when I was at home, I had him with me all the time +I could manage. With good care he'd growed up nice an' bright, an' as +big as the average, an' smarter 'n a steel trap. He liked bein' with me +better 'n anybody else, and when I c'd manage to have him I couldn't +bear to have him out o' my sight. Wa'al, as I told you, he got to be +most seven year old. I'd had to go out to Chicago, an' one day I got a +telegraph sayin' he was putty sick—an' I took the fust train East. It +was 'long in March, an' we had a breakdown, an' run into an awful +snowstorm, an' one thing another, an' I lost twelve or fifteen hours. It +seemed to me that them two days was longer 'n my hull life, but I fin'ly +did git home about nine o'clock in the mornin'. When I got to the house +Mis' Jones was on the lookout fer me, an' the door opened as I run up +the stoop, an' I see by her face that I was too late. 'Oh, David, +David!' she says (she'd never called me David before), puttin' her hands +on my shoulders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'When?' I says.</p> + +<p>"''Bout midnight,' she says.</p> + +<p>"'Did he suffer much?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'No,' she says, 'I don't think so; but he was out of his head most of +the time after the fust day, an' I guess all the time the last +twenty-four hours.'</p> + +<p>"'Do you think he'd 'a' knowed me?' I says. 'Did he say anythin'?' an' +at that," said David, "she looked at me. She wa'n't cryin' when I come +in, though she had ben; but at that her face all broke up. 'I don't +know,' she says. 'He kept sayin' things, an' 'bout all we could +understand was "Daddy, daddy,"' an' then she throwed her apern over her +face, an'——"</p> + +<p>David tipped his hat a little farther over his eyes, though, like many +if not most "horsey" men, he usually wore it rather far down, and +leaning over, twirled the whip in the socket between his two fingers and +thumb. John studied the stitched ornamentation of the dashboard until +the reins were pushed into his hands. But it was not for long. David +straightened himself, and, without turning his head, resumed them as if +that were a matter of course.</p> + +<p>"Day after the fun'ral," he went on, "I says to Mis' Jones, 'I'm goin' +back out West,' I says, 'an' I can't say how long I shall be gone—long +enough, anyway,' I says, 'to git it into my head that when I come back +the' won't be no little feller to jump up an' 'round my neck when I come +into the house; but, long or short, I'll come back some time, an' +meanwhile, as fur 's things between you an' me air, they're to go on +jest the same, an' more 'n that, do you think you'll remember him some?' +I says.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'As long as I live,' she says, 'jest like my own.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'long 's you remember him, he'll be, in a way, livin' +to ye, an' as long 's that I allow to pay fer his keep an' tendin' jest +the same as I have, <i>an'</i>,' I says, 'if you don't let me you ain't no +friend o' mine, an' you <i>ben</i> a <i>good</i> one.' Wa'al, she squimmidged +some, but I wouldn't let her say 'No.' 'I've 'ranged it all with my +pardner an' other ways,' I says, 'an' more 'n that, if you git into any +kind of a scrape an' I don't happen to be got at, you go to him an' git +what you want.'"</p> + +<p>"I hope she lived and prospered," said John fervently.</p> + +<p>"She lived twenty year," said David, "an' I wish she was livin' now. I +never drawed a check on her account without feelin' 't I was doin' +somethin' for my little boy.</p> + +<p>"The's a good many diff'rent sorts an' kinds o' sorro'," he said, after +a moment, "that's in some ways kind o' kin to each other, but I guess +losin' a child 's a specie by itself. Of course I passed the achin', +smartin' point years ago, but it's somethin' you can't fergit—that is, +you can't help feelin' about it, because it ain't only what the child +<i>was</i> to you, but what you keep thinkin' he'd 'a' ben growin' more an' +more to <i>be</i> to you. When I lost my little boy I didn't only lose him as +he was, but I ben losin' him over an' agin all these years. What he'd +'a' ben when he was <i>so</i> old; an' what when he'd got to be a big boy; +an' what he'd 'a' ben when he went mebbe to collidge; an' what he'd 'a' +ben afterward, an' up to <i>now</i>. Of course the times when a man stuffs +his face down into the pillers nights, passes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> after a while; but while +the's some sorro's that the happenin' o' things helps ye to fergit, I +guess the's some that the happenin' o' things keeps ye rememberin', an' +losin' a child 's one on 'em."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + + +<p>It was the latter part of John's fifth winter in Homeville. The business +of the office had largely increased. The new manufactories which had +been established did their banking with Mr. Harum, and the older +concerns, including nearly all the merchants in the village, had +transferred their accounts from Syrchester banks to David's. The callow +Hopkins had fledged and developed into a competent all-'round man, able +to do anything in the office, and there was a new "skeezicks" +discharging Peleg's former functions. Considerable impetus had been +given to the business of the town by the new road whose rails had been +laid the previous summer. There had been a strong and acrimonious +controversy over the route which the road should take into and through +the village. There was the party of the "nabobs" (as they were +characterized by Mr. Harum) and their following, and the party of the +"village people," and the former had carried their point; but now the +road was an accomplished fact, and most of the bitterness which had been +engendered had died away. Yet the struggle was still matter for talk.</p> + +<p>"Did I ever tell you," said David, as he and his cashier were sitting in +the rear room of the bank, "how Lawyer Staples come to switch round in +that there railroad jangle last spring?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I remember," said John, "that you told me he had deserted his party, +and you laughed a little at the time, but you did not tell me how it +came about."</p> + +<p>"I kind o' thought I told ye," said David.</p> + +<p>"No," said John, "I am quite sure you did not."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, "the' was, as you know, the Tenaker-Rogers +crowd wantin' one thing, an' the Purse-Babbit lot bound to have the +other, an' run the road under the other fellers' noses. Staples was +workin' tooth an' nail fer the Purse crowd, an' bein' a good deal of a +politician, he was helpin' 'em a good deal. In fact, he was about their +best card. I wa'n't takin' much hand in the matter either way, though my +feelin's was with the Tenaker party. I know 't would come to a point +where some money 'd prob'ly have to be used, an' I made up my mind I +wouldn't do much drivin' myself unless I had to, an' not then till the +last quarter of the heat. Wa'al, it got to lookin' like a putty even +thing. What little show I had made was if anythin' on the Purse side. +One day Tenaker come in to see me an' wanted to know flat-footed which +side the fence I was on. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I've ben settin' up fer +shapes to be kind o' on the fence, but I don't mind sayin', betwixt you +an' me, that the bulk o' my heft is a-saggin' your way; but I hain't +took no active part, an' Purse an' them thinks I'm goin' to be on their +side when it comes to a pinch.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, 'it's goin' to be a putty close thing, an' we're +goin' to need all the help we c'n git.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess that's so, but fer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> the present I reckon I +c'n do ye more good by keepin' in the shade. Are you folks prepared to +spend a little money?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' he says, 'if it comes to that.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'it putty most gen'ally does come to that, don't it? +Now, the's one feller that's doin' ye more harm than some others.'</p> + +<p>"'You mean Staples?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' I says, 'I mean Staples. He don't really care a hill o' white +beans which way the road comes in, but he thinks he's on the pop'lar +side. Now,' I says, 'I don't know as it'll be nec'sary to use money with +him, an' I don't say 't you could, anyway, but mebbe his yawp c'n be +stopped. I'll have a quiet word with him,' I says, 'an' see you agin.' +So," continued Mr. Harum, "the next night the' was quite a lot of 'em in +the bar of the new hotel, an' Staples was haranguin' away the best he +knowed how, an' bime by I nodded him off to one side, an' we went across +the hall into the settin' room.</p> + +<p>"'I see you feel putty strong 'bout this bus'nis,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, sir, it's a matter of princ'ple with me,' he says, knockin' his +fist down onto the table.</p> + +<p>"'How does the outcome on't look to ye?' I says. 'Goin' to be a putty +close race, ain't it?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, ''tween you an' me, I reckon it is.'</p> + +<p>"'That's the way it looks to me,' I says, 'an' more'n that, the other +fellers are ready to spend some money at a pinch.'</p> + +<p>"'They be, be they?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, sir,' I says, 'an' we've got to meet 'em halfway. Now,' I says, +takin' a paper out o' my pocket, 'what I wanted to say to you is this:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +You ben ruther more prom'nent in this matter than most anybody—fur's +talkin' goes—but I'm consid'ably int'risted. The's got to be some money +raised, an' I'm ready,' I says, 'to put down as much as you be up to a +couple o' hunderd, an' I'll take the paper 'round to the rest; but,' I +says, unfoldin' it, 'I think you'd ought to head the list, an' I'll come +next.' Wa'al," said David with a chuckle and a shake of the head, "you'd +ought to have seen his jaw go down. He wriggled 'round in his chair, an' +looked ten diff'rent ways fer Sunday.</p> + +<p>"'What do you say?' I says, lookin' square at him, ''ll you make it a +couple a hunderd?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I guess I couldn't go 's fur 's that, an' I wouldn't +like to head the list anyway.'</p> + +<p>"'All right,' I says, 'I'll head it. Will you say one-fifty?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' he says, pullin' his whiskers, 'I guess not.'</p> + +<p>"'A hunderd?' I says, an' he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"'Fifty,' I says, 'an' I'll go a hunderd,' an at that he got out his +hank'chif an' blowed his nose, an' took his time to it. 'Wa'al,' I says, +'what <i>do</i> ye say?'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I ain't quite prepared to give ye 'n answer +to-night. Fact on't is,' he says, 'it don't make a cent's wuth o' +diff'rence to me person'ly which way the dum'd road comes in, an' I +don't jest this minute see why I should spend any money in it.'</p> + +<p>"'There's the <i>princ'ple</i> o' the thing,' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' he says, gettin' out of his chair, 'of course, there's the +princ'ple of the thing, an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>—wa'al, I'll think it over an' see you +agin,' he says, lookin' at his watch. 'I got to go now.'</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, the next night," proceeded Mr. Harum, "I went down to the hotel +agin, an' the' was about the same crowd, but no Staples. The' wa'n't +much goin' on, an' Purse, in pertic'ler, was lookin' putty down in the +mouth. 'Where's Staples?' I says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' says Purse, 'he said mebbe he'd come to-night, an' mebbe he +couldn't. Said it wouldn't make much diff'rence; an' anyhow he was goin' +out o' town up to Syrchester fer a few days. I don't know what's come +over the feller,' says Purse. 'I told him the time was gittin' short an' +we'd have to git in our best licks, an' he said he guessed he'd done +about all 't he could, an' in fact,' says Purse, 'he seemed to 'a' lost +int'rist in the hull thing.'"</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" John asked.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David with a grin, "Purse went on to allow 't he guessed +somebody's pocketbook had ben talkin', but I didn't say much of +anythin', an' putty soon come away. Two three days after," he continued, +"I see Tenaker agin. 'I hear Staples has gone out o' town,' he says, +'an' I hear, too,' he says, 'that he's kind o' soured on the hull +thing—didn't care much how it did come out.'</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'when he comes back you c'n use your own judgment +about havin' a little interview with him. Mebbe somethin' 's made him +think the's two sides to this thing. But anyway,' I says, 'I guess he +won't do no more hollerin'.'</p> + +<p>"'How's that?' says Tenaker.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I'll have to tell ye<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> a little story. Mebbe +you've heard it before, but it seems to be to the point. Once on a +time,' I says, 'the' was a big church meetin' that had lasted three +days, an' the last evenin' the' was consid'able excitement. The prayin' +an' singin' had warmed most on 'em up putty well, an' one o' the most +movin' of the speakers was tellin' 'em what was what. The' was a big +crowd, an' while most on 'em come to be edified, the' was quite a lot in +the back part of the place that was ready fer anythin'. Wa'al, it +happened that standin' mixed up in that lot was a feller named—we'll +call him Smith, to be sure of him—an' Smith was jest runnin' over with +power, an' ev'ry little while when somethin' the speaker said touched +him on the funny bone he'd out with an "A—men! <i>Yes</i>, Lord!" in a voice +like a fact'ry whistle. Wa'al, after a little the' was some snickerin' +an' gigglin' an' scroughin' an' hustlin' in the back part, an' even some +of the serioustest up in front would kind o' smile, an' the moderator +leaned over an' says to one of the bretherin on the platform, "Brother +Jones," he says, "can't you git down to the back of the hall an' say +somethin' to quiet Brother Smith? Smith's a good man, an' a pious man," +the moderator says, "but he's very excitable, an' I'm 'fraid he'll git +the boys to goin' back there an' disturb the meetin'." So Jones he +worked his way back to where Smith was, an' the moderator watched him go +up to Smith and jest speak to him 'bout ten seconds; an' after that +Smith never peeped once. After the meetin' was over, the moderator says +to Jones, "Brother Jones," he says, "what did you say to Brother Smith +to-night that shut him up so quick?" "I ast him fer a dollar for For'n<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +Missions," says Brother Jones, 'an', wa'al,' I says to Tenaker, 'that's +what I done to Staples.'"</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Tenaker see the point?" asked John, laughing.</p> + +<p>"He laughed a little," said David, "but didn't quite ketch on till I +told him about the subscription paper, an' then he like to split."</p> + +<p>"Suppose Staples had taken you up," suggested John.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "I didn't think I was takin' many chances. If, in +the fust place, I hadn't knowed Staples as well's I did, the Smith +fam'ly, so fur 's my experience goes, has got more members 'n any other +fam'ly on top of the earth." At this point a boy brought in a telegram. +David opened it, gave a side glance at his companion, and, taking out +his pocketbook, put the dispatch therein.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + + +<p>The next morning David called John into the rear room. "Busy?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," said John. "Nothing that can't wait."</p> + +<p>"Set down," said Mr. Harum, drawing a chair to the fire. He looked up +with his characteristic grin. "Ever own a hog?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No," said John, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Ever feel like ownin' one?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember ever having any cravings in that direction."</p> + +<p>"Like pork?" asked Mr. Harum.</p> + +<p>"In moderation," was the reply. David produced from his pocketbook the +dispatch received the day before and handed it to the young man at his +side. "Read that," he said.</p> + +<p>John looked at it and handed it back.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't convey any idea to my mind," he said.</p> + +<p>"What?" said David, "you don't know what 'Bangs Galilee' means? nor who +'Raisin' is?"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to ask me an easier one," said John, smiling.</p> + +<p>David sat for a moment in silence, and then, "How much money have you +got?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," was the reply, "with what I had and what I have saved since I +came I could get together about five thousand dollars, I think."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it where you c'n put your hands on't?"</p> + +<p>John took some slips of paper from his pocketbook and handed them to +David.</p> + +<p>"H'm, h'm," said the latter. "Wa'al, I owe ye quite a little bunch o' +money, don't I? Forty-five hunderd! Wa'al! Couldn't you 'a' done better +'n to keep this here at four per cent?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, "perhaps so, and perhaps not. I preferred to do this +at all events."</p> + +<p>"Thought the old man was <i>safe</i> anyway, didn't ye?" said David in a tone +which showed that he was highly pleased.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John.</p> + +<p>"Is this all?" asked David.</p> + +<p>"There is some interest on those certificates, and I have some balance +in my account," was the reply; "and then, you know, I have some very +valuable securities—a beautiful line of mining stocks, and that +promising Pennsylvania property."</p> + +<p>At the mention of the last-named asset David looked at him for an +instant as if about to speak, but if so he changed his mind. He sat for +a moment fingering the yellow paper which carried the mystic words. +Presently he said, opening the message out, "That's from an old friend +of mine out to Chicago. He come from this part of the country, an' we +was young fellers together thirty years ago. I've had a good many deals +with him and through him, an' he never give me a wrong steer, fur 's I +know. That is, I never done as he told me without comin' out all right, +though he's give me a good many pointers I never did nothin' about. +'Tain't nec'sary to name no names, but 'Bangs Galilee' means 'buy pork,' +an' as I've ben watchin' the market fer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> quite a spell myself, an' +standard pork 's a good deal lower 'n it costs to pack it, I've made up +my mind to buy a few thousan' barrels fer fam'ly use. It's a handy thing +to have in the house," declared Mr. Harum, "an' I thought mebbe it +wouldn't be a bad thing fer you to have a little. It looks cheap to me," +he added, "an' mebbe bime-by what you don't eat you c'n sell."</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, laughing, "you see me at table every day and know +what my appetite is like. How much pork do you think I could take care +of?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, at the present price," said David, "I think about four thousan' +barrels would give ye enough to eat fer a spell, an' mebbe leave ye a +few barrels to dispose of if you should happen to strike a feller later +on that wanted it wuss 'n you did."</p> + +<p>John opened his eyes a little. "I should only have a margin of a dollar +and a quarter," he said.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I've got a notion that that'll carry ye," said David. "It may go +lower 'n what it is now. I never bought anythin' yet that didn't drop +some, an' I guess nobody but a fool ever did buy at the bottom more'n +once; but I've had an idee for some time that it was about bottom, an' +this here telegraph wouldn't 'a' ben sent if the feller that sent it +didn't think so too, an' I've had some other cor'spondence with him." +Mr. Harum paused and laughed a little.</p> + +<p>"I was jest thinkin'," he continued, "of what the Irishman said about +Stofford. Never ben there, have ye? Wa'al, it's a place eight nine mile +f'm here, an' the hills 'round are so steep that when you're goin' up +you c'n look right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> back under the buggy by jest leanin' over the edge +of the dash. I was drivin' 'round there once, an' I met an Irishman with +a big drove o' hogs.</p> + +<p>"'Hello, Pat!' I says, 'where 'd all them hogs come from?'</p> + +<p>"'Stofford,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I wouldn't 'a' thought the' was so many hogs <i>in</i> +Stofford.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, be gobs!' he says, 'sure they're <i>all</i> hogs in Stofford;' an'," +declared David, "the bears ben sellin' that pork up in Chicago as if the +hull everlastin' West was <i>all</i> hogs."</p> + +<p>"It's very tempting," said John thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "I don't want to tempt ye exac'ly, an' certain I +don't want to urge ye. The' ain't no sure things but death an' taxes, as +the sayin' is, but buyin' pork at these prices is buyin' somethin' +that's got value, an' you can't wipe it out. In other words, it's buyin' +a warranted article at a price consid'ably lower 'n it c'n be produced +for, an' though it may go lower, if a man c'n <i>stick</i>, it's bound to +level up in the long run."</p> + +<p>Our friend sat for some minutes apparently looking into the fire, but he +was not conscious of seeing anything at all. Finally he rose, went over +to Mr. Harum's desk, figured the interest on the certificates up to the +first of January, indorsed them, and filling up a check for the balance +of the amount in question, handed the check and certificate to David.</p> + +<p>"Think you'll go it, eh?" said the latter.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John; "but if I take the quantity you suggest, I shall have +nothing to remar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>gin the trade in case the market goes below a certain +point."</p> + +<p>"I've thought of that," replied David, "an' was goin' to say to you that +I'd carry the trade down as fur as your money would go, in case more +margins had to be called."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said John. "And will you look after the whole matter for +me?"</p> + +<p>"All right," said David.</p> + +<p>John thanked him and returned to the front room.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There were times in the months which followed when our friend had reason +to wish that all swine had perished with those whom Shylock said "your +prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into;" and the news of the world +in general was of secondary importance compared with the market reports. +After the purchase pork dropped off a little, and hung about the lower +figure for some time. Then it began to advance by degrees until the +quotation was a dollar above the purchase price.</p> + +<p>John's impulse was to sell, but David made no sign. The market held firm +for a while, even going a little higher. Then it began to drop rather +more rapidly than it had advanced, to about what the pork had cost, and +for a long period fluctuated only a few cents one way or the other. This +was followed by a steady decline to the extent of half-a-dollar, and, as +the reports came, it "looked like going lower," which it did. In fact, +there came a day when it was so "low," and so much more "looked like +going lower" than ever (as such things usually do when the "bottom" is +pretty nearly reached), that our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> friend had not the courage to examine +the market reports for the next two days, and simply tried to keep the +subject out of his mind. On the morning of the third day the Syrchester +paper was brought in about ten o'clock, as usual, and laid on Mr. +Harum's desk. John shivered a little, and for some time refrained from +looking at it. At last, more by impulse than intention, he went into the +back room and glanced at the first page without taking the paper in his +hands. One of the press dispatches was headed: "Great Excitement on +Chicago Board of Trade: Pork Market reported Cornered: Bears on the +Run," and more of the same sort, which struck our friend as being the +most profitable, instructive, and delightful literature that he had ever +come across. David had been in Syrchester the two days previous, +returning the evening before. Just then he came into the office, and +John handed him the paper.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," he said, holding it off at arm's length, and then putting on +his glasses, "them fellers that thought they was <i>all</i> hogs up West, are +havin' a change of heart, are they? I reckoned they would 'fore they got +through with it. It's ben ruther a long pull, though, eh?" he said, +looking at John with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said our friend, with a slight shrug of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Things looked ruther colicky the last two three days, eh?" suggested +David. "Did you think 'the jig was up an' the monkey was in the box?'"</p> + +<p>"Rather," said John. "The fact is," he admitted, "I am ashamed to say +that for a few days back I haven't looked at a quotation. I suppose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> you +must have carried me to some extent. How much was it?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "I kept the trade margined, of course, an' if we'd +sold out at the bottom you'd have owed me somewhere along a thousan' or +fifteen hunderd; but," he added, "it was only in the slump, an' didn't +last long, an' anyway I cal'lated to carry that pork to where it would +'a' ketched fire. I wa'n't worried none, an' you didn't let on to be, +an' so I didn't say anythin'."</p> + +<p>"What do you think about it now?" asked John.</p> + +<p>"My opinion is now," replied Mr. Harum, "that it's goin' to putty near +where it belongs, an' mebbe higher, an' them 's my advices. We can sell +now at some profit, an' of course the bears 'll jump on agin as it goes +up, an' the other fellers 'll take the profits f'm time to time. If I +was where I could watch the market, I'd mebbe try to make a turn in 't +'casionally, but I guess as 't is we'd better set down an' let her take +her own gait. I don't mean to try an' git the top price—I'm alwus +willin' to let the other feller make a little—but we've waited fer +quite a spell, an' as it's goin' our way, we might 's well wait a little +longer."</p> + +<p>"All right," said John, "and I'm very much obliged to you."</p> + +<p>"Sho, sho!" said David.</p> + +<p>It was not until August, however, that the deal was finally closed out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + + +<p>The summer was drawing to a close. The season, so far as the social part +of it was concerned, had been what John had grown accustomed to in +previous years, and there were few changes in or among the people whom +he had come to know very well, save those which a few years make in +young people: some increase of importance in demeanor on the part of the +young men whose razors were coming into requisition; and the changes +from short to long skirts, from braids, pig-tails, and flowing-manes to +more elaborate coiffures on the part of the young women. The most +notable event had been the reopening of the Verjoos house, which had +been closed for two summers, and the return of the family, followed by +the appearance of a young man whom Miss Clara had met abroad, and who +represented himself as the acknowledged <i>fiancé</i> of that young woman. It +need hardly be said that discussions of the event, and upon the +appearance, manners, prospects, etc., of that fortunate gentleman had +formed a very considerable part of the talk of the season among the +summer people; and, indeed, interest in the affair had permeated all +grades and classes of society.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was some six weeks after the settlement of the transaction in "pork" +that David and John<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> were driving together in the afternoon as they had +so often done in the last five years. They had got to that point of +understanding where neither felt constrained to talk for the purpose of +keeping up conversation, and often in their long drives there was little +said by either of them. The young man was never what is called "a great +talker," and Mr. Harum did not always "git goin'." On this occasion they +had gone along for some time, smoking in silence, each man absorbed in +his thoughts. Finally David turned to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that Dutchman Claricy Verjoos is goin' to marry?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied John, laughing; "I have met him a number of times. But he +isn't a Dutchman. What gave you that idea?"</p> + +<p>"I heard it was over in Germany she run across him," said David.</p> + +<p>"I believe that is so, but he isn't a German. He is from Philadelphia, +and is a friend of the Bradways."</p> + +<p>"What kind of a feller is he? Good enough for her?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said John, smiling, "in the sense in which that question is +usually taken, I should say yes. He has good looks, good manners, a good +deal of money, I am told, and it is said that Miss Clara—which is the +main point, after all—is very much in love with him."</p> + +<p>"H'm," said David after a moment. "How do you git along with the Verjoos +girls? Was Claricy's ears pointed all right when you seen her fust after +she come home?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" replied John, smiling, "she and her sister were perfectly +pleasant and cordial,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> and Miss Verjoos and I are on very friendly +terms."</p> + +<p>"I was thinkin'," said David, "that you an' Claricy might be got to +likin' each other, an' mebbe—"</p> + +<p>"I don't think there could ever have been the smallest chance of it," +declared John hastily.</p> + +<p>"Take the lines a minute," said David, handing them to his companion +after stopping the horses. "The nigh one's picked up a stone, I guess," +and he got out to investigate. "The river road," he remarked as he +climbed back into the buggy after removing the stone from the horse's +foot, "is about the puttiest road 'round here, but I don't drive it +oftener jest on account of them dum'd loose stuns." He sucked the air +through his pursed-up lips, producing a little squeaking sound, and the +horses started forward. Presently he turned to John:</p> + +<p>"Did you ever think of gettin' married?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," said our friend with a little hesitation, "I don't remember that +I ever did, very definitely."</p> + +<p>"Somebody 't you knew 'fore you come up here?" said David, jumping at a +conclusion.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, smiling a little at the question.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't she have ye?" queried David, who stuck at no trifles when in +pursuit of information.</p> + +<p>John laughed. "I never asked her," he replied, in truth a little +surprised at his own willingness to be questioned.</p> + +<p>"Did ye cal'late to when the time come right?" pursued Mr. Harum.</p> + +<p>Of this part of his history John had, of course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> never spoken to David. +There had been a time when, if not resenting the attempt upon his +confidence, he would have made it plain that he did not wish to discuss +the matter, and the old wound still gave him twinges. But he had not +only come to know his questioner very well, but to be much attached to +him. He knew, too, that the elder man would ask him nothing save in the +way of kindness, for he had had a hundred proofs of that; and now, so +far from feeling reluctant to take his companion into his confidence, he +rather welcomed the idea. He was, withal, a bit curious to ascertain the +drift of the inquiry, knowing that David, though sometimes working in +devious ways, rarely started without an intention. And so he answered +the question and what followed as he might have told his story to a +woman.</p> + +<p>"An' didn't you never git no note, nor message, nor word of any kind?" +asked David.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Nor hain't ever heard a word about her f'm that day to this?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Nor hain't ever tried to?"</p> + +<p>"No," said John. "What would have been the use?"</p> + +<p>"Prov'dence seemed to 've made a putty clean sweep in your matters that +spring, didn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It seemed so to me," said John.</p> + +<p>Nothing more was said for a minute or two. Mr. Harum appeared to have +abandoned the pursuit of the subject of his questions. At last he said:</p> + +<p>"You ben here most five years."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very nearly," John replied.</p> + +<p>"Ben putty contented, on the hull?"</p> + +<p>"I have grown to be," said John. "Indeed, it's hard to realize at times +that I haven't always lived in Homeville. I remember my former life as +if it were something I have read in a book. There was a John Lenox in +it, but he seems to me sometimes more like a character in a story than +myself."</p> + +<p>"An' yet," said David, turning toward him, "if you was to go back to it, +this last five years 'd git to be that way to ye a good deal quicker. +Don't ye think so?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," replied John. "Yes," he added thoughtfully, "it is +possible."</p> + +<p>"I guess on the hull, though," remarked Mr. Harum, "you done better up +here in the country 'n you might some 'ers else—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said John sincerely, "thanks to you, I have indeed, and—"</p> + +<p>"—an'—ne' mind about me—you got quite a little bunch o' money +together now. I was thinkin' 't mebbe you might feel 't you needn't to +stay here no longer if you didn't want to."</p> + +<p>The young man turned to the speaker inquiringly, but Mr. Harum's face +was straight to the front, and betrayed nothing.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be no more 'n natural," he went on, "an' mebbe it would be +best for ye. You're too good a man to spend all your days workin' fer +Dave Harum, an' I've had it in my mind fer some time—somethin' like +that pork deal—to make you a little independent in case anythin' should +happen, an'—gen'ally. I couldn't give ye no money 'cause you wouldn't +'a' took it even if I'd wanted to, but now you got it, why——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I feel very much as if you had given it to me," protested the young +man.</p> + +<p>David put up his hand. "No, no," he said, "all 't I did was to propose +the thing to ye, an' to put up a little money fer two three days. I +didn't take no chances, an' it's all right, an' it's your'n, an' it +makes ye to a certain extent independent of Homeville."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite see it so," said John.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, turning to him, "if you'd had as much five years +ago you wouldn't 'a' come here, would ye?"</p> + +<p>John was silent.</p> + +<p>"What I was leadin' up to," resumed Mr. Harum after a moment, "is this: +I ben thinkin' about it fer some time, but I haven't wanted to speak to +ye about it before. In fact, I might 'a' put it off some longer if +things wa'n't as they are, but the fact o' the matter is that I'm goin' +to take down my sign."</p> + +<p>John looked at him in undisguised amazement, not unmixed with +consternation.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said David, obviously avoiding the other's eye, "'David Harum, +Banker,' is goin' to come down. I'm gettin' to be an' old man," he went +on, "an' what with some investments I've got, an' a hoss-trade once in a +while, I guess I c'n manage to keep the fire goin' in the kitchin stove +fer Polly an' me, an' the' ain't no reason why I sh'd keep my sign up +much of any longer. Of course," he said, "if I was to go on as I be now +I'd want ye to stay jest as you are; but, as I was sayin', you're to a +consid'able extent independent. You hain't no speciul ties to keep ye, +an' you ought anyway, as I said before, to be doin' better for yourself +than jest drawin' pay in a country bank."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p> + +<p>One of the most impressive morals drawn from the fairy tales of our +childhood, and indeed from the literature and experience of our later +periods of life, is that the fulfilment of wishes is often attended by +the most unwelcome results. There had been a great many times when to +our friend the possibility of being able to bid farewell to Homeville +had seemed the most desirable of things, but confronted with the idea as +a reality—for what other construction could he put upon David's words +except that they amounted practically to a dismissal, though a most kind +one?—he found himself simply in dismay.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he said after a few moments, "that by 'taking down your +sign' you mean going out of business—"</p> + +<p>"Figger o' speech," explained David.</p> + +<p>"—and your determination is not only a great surprise to me, but +grieves me very much. I am very sorry to hear it—more sorry than I can +tell you. As you remind me, if I leave Homeville I shall not go almost +penniless as I came, but I shall leave with great regret, and, +indeed—Ah, well—" he broke off with a wave of his hands.</p> + +<p>"What was you goin' to say?" asked David, after a moment, his eyes on +the horizon.</p> + +<p>"I can't say very much more," replied the young man, "than that I am +very sorry. There have been times," he added, "as you may understand, +when I have been restless and discouraged for a while, particularly at +first; but I can see now that, on the whole, I have been far from +unhappy here. Your house has grown to be more a real home than any I +have ever known, and you and your sister are like my own people. What +you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> say, that I ought not to look forward to spending my life behind +the counter of a village bank on a salary, may be true; but I am not, at +present at least, a very ambitious person, nor, I am afraid, a very +clever one in the way of getting on in the world; and the idea of +breaking out for myself, even if that were all to be considered, is not +a cheerful one. I am afraid all this sounds rather selfish to you, when, +as I can see, you have deferred your plans for my sake, and after all +else that you have done for me."</p> + +<p>"I guess I sha'n't lay it up agin ye," said David quietly.</p> + +<p>They drove along in silence for a while.</p> + +<p>"May I ask," said John, at length, "when you intend to 'take down your +sign,' as you put it?"</p> + +<p>"Whenever you say the word," declared David, with a chuckle and a side +glance at his companion. John turned in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David with another short laugh, "fur 's the sign 's +concerned, I s'pose we <i>could</i> stick a new one over it, but I guess it +might 's well come down; but we'll settle that matter later on."</p> + +<p>John still looked at the speaker in utter perplexity, until the latter +broke out into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Got any idee what's goin' onto the new sign?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," declared Mr. Harum, "an' my notion 's this, an' don't you +say aye, yes, nor no till I git through," and he laid his left hand +restrainingly on John's knee.</p> + +<p>"The new sign 'll read 'Harum & Comp'ny,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> or 'Harum & Lenox,' jest as +you elect. You c'n put in what money you got an' I'll put in as much +more, which 'll make cap'tal enough in gen'ral, an' any extry money +that's needed—wa'al, up to a certain point, I guess I c'n manage. Now +putty much all the new bus'nis has come in through you, an' practically +you got the hull thing in your hands. You'll do the work about 's you're +doin' now, an' you'll draw the same sal'ry; an' after that's paid we'll +go snucks on anythin' that's left—that <i>is</i>," added David with a +chuckle, "if you feel that you c'n <i>stan'</i> it in Homeville."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"I wish you was married to one of our Homeville girls, though," declared +Mr. Harum later on as they drove homeward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> + + +<p>Since the whooping-cough and measles of childhood the junior partner of +Harum & Company had never to his recollection had a day's illness in his +life, and he fought the attack which came upon him about the first week +in December with a sort of incredulous disgust, until one morning when +he did not appear at breakfast. He spent the next week in bed, and at +the end of that time, while he was able to be about, it was in a languid +and spiritless fashion, and he was shaken and exasperated by a +persistent cough. The season was and had been unusually inclement even +for that region, where the thermometer sometimes changes fifty degrees +in thirty-six hours; and at the time of his release from his room there +was a period of successive changes of temperature from thawing to zero +and below, a characteristic of the winter climate of Homeville and its +vicinity. Dr. Hayes exhibited the inevitable quinine, iron, and all the +tonics in his pharmacop[oe]ia, with cough mixtures and sundry, but in +vain. Aunt Polly pressed bottles of sovereign decoctions and infusions +upon him—which were received with thanks and neglected with the +blackest ingratitude—and exhausted not only the markets of Homeville, +but her own and Sairy's culinary resources (no mean ones, by the way)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> +to tempt the appetite which would not respond. One week followed another +without any improvement in his condition; and indeed as time went on he +fell into a condition of irritable listlessness which filled his partner +with concern.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with him, Doc?" said David to the physician. "He +don't seem to take no more int'rist than a foundered hoss. Can't ye do +nothin' for him?"</p> + +<p>"Not much use dosin' him," replied the doctor. "Pull out all right, may +be, come warm weather. Big strong fellow, but this cussed influenzy, or +grip, as they call it, sometimes hits them hardest."</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, warm weather 's some way off," remarked Mr. Harum, "an' he +coughs enough to tear his head off sometimes."</p> + +<p>The doctor nodded. "Ought to clear out somewhere," he said. "Don't like +that cough myself."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked David.</p> + +<p>"Ought to go 'way for a spell," said the doctor; "quit working, and get +a change of climate."</p> + +<p>"Have you told him so?" asked Mr. Harum.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the doctor; "said he couldn't get away."</p> + +<p>"H'm'm!" said David thoughtfully, pinching his lower lip between his +thumb and finger.</p> + +<p>A day or two after the foregoing interview, John came in and laid an +open letter in front of David, who was at his desk, and dropped +languidly into a chair without speaking. Mr. Harum read the letter, +smiled a little, and turning in his chair, took off his glasses and +looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> at the young man, who was staring abstractedly at the floor.</p> + +<p>"I ben rather expectin' you'd git somethin' like this. What be you goin' +to do about it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied John. "I don't like the idea of leasing the +property in any case, and certainly not on the terms they offer; but it +is lying idle, and I'm paying taxes on it——"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, as I said, I ben expectin' fer some time they'd be after ye in +some shape. You got this this mornin'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I expect you'd sell the prop'ty if you got a good chance, wouldn't ye?"</p> + +<p>"With the utmost pleasure," said John emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, I've got a notion they'll buy it of ye," said David, "if it's +handled right. I wouldn't lease it if it was mine an' I wanted to sell +it, an' yet, in the long run, you might git more out of it—an' then +agin you mightn't," he added.</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about it," said John, putting his handkerchief to +his mouth in a fit of coughing. David looked at him with a frown.</p> + +<p>"I ben aware fer some time that the' was a movement on foot in your +direction," he said. "You know I told ye that I'd ben int'ristid in the +oil bus'nis once on a time; an' I hain't never quite lost my int'rist, +though it hain't ben a very active one lately, an' some fellers down +there have kep' me posted some. The' 's ben oil found near where you're +located, an' the prospectin' points your way. The hull thing has ben +kep' as close as possible, an' the holes has ben plugged, but the oil is +there somewhere. Now it's like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> this: If you lease on shares an' they +strike the oil on your prop'ty, mebbe it'll bring you more money; but +they might strike, an' agin they mightn't. Sometimes you git a payin' +well an' a dry hole only a few hunderd feet apart. Nevertheless they +want to drill your prop'ty. I know who the parties is. These fellers +that wrote this letter are simply actin' for 'em."</p> + +<p>The speaker was interrupted by another fit of coughing, which left the +sufferer very red in the face, and elicited from him the word which is +always greeted with laughter in a theater.</p> + +<p>"Say," said David, after a moment, in which he looked anxiously at his +companion, "I don't like that cough o' your'n."</p> + +<p>"I don't thoroughly enjoy it myself," was the rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"Seems to be kind o' growin' on ye, don't it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said John.</p> + +<p>"I was talkin' with Doc Hayes about ye," said David, "an' he allowed +you'd ought to have your shoes off an' run loose a spell."</p> + +<p>John smiled a little, but did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Spoke to you about it, didn't he?" continued David.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"An' you told him you couldn't git away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Didn't tell him you wouldn't go if you could, did ye?"</p> + +<p>"I only told him I couldn't go," said John.</p> + +<p>David sat for a moment thoughtfully tapping the desk with his +eyeglasses, and then said with his characteristic chuckle:</p> + +<p>"I had a letter f'm Chet Timson yestidy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span></p> + +<p>John looked up at him, failing to see the connection.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said David, "he's out fer a job, an' the way he writes I guess +the dander's putty well out of him. I reckon the' hain't ben nothin' +much but hay in <i>his</i> manger fer quite a spell," remarked Mr. Harum.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said John, raising his brows, conscious of a humane but very +faint interest in Mr. Timson's affairs. Mr. Harum got out a cigar, and, +lighting it, gave a puff or two, and continued with what struck the +younger man as a perfectly irrelevant question. It really seemed to him +as if his senior were making conversation.</p> + +<p>"How's Peleg doin' these days?" was the query.</p> + +<p>"Very well," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"C'n do most anythin' 't's nec'sary, can't he?"</p> + +<p>A brief interruption followed upon the entrance of a man, who, after +saying good-morning, laid a note on David's desk, asking for the money +on it. Mr. Harum handed it back, indicating John with a motion of his +thumb.</p> + +<p>The latter took it, looked at the face and back, marked his initials on +it with a pencil, and the man went out to the counter.</p> + +<p>"If you was fixed so 't you could git away fer a spell," said David a +moment or two after the customer's departure, "where would you like to +go?"</p> + +<p>"I have not thought about it," said John rather listlessly.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, s'pose you think about it a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> now, if you hain't got no +pressin' engagement. Bus'nis don't seem to be very rushin' this +mornin'."</p> + +<p>"Why?" said John.</p> + +<p>"Because," said David impressively, "you're goin' somewhere right off, +quick 's you c'n git ready, an' you may 's well be makin' up your mind +where."</p> + +<p>John looked up in surprise. "I don't want to go away," he said, "and if +I did, how could I leave the office?"</p> + +<p>"No," responded Mr. Harum, "you don't want to make a move of any kind +that you don't actually have to, an' that's the reason fer makin' one. +F'm what the doc said, an' f'm what I c'n see, you got to git out o' +this dum'd climate," waving his hand toward the window, against which +the sleet was beating, "fer a spell; an' as fur 's the office goes, Chet +Timson 'd be tickled to death to come on an' help out while you're away, +an' I guess 'mongst us we c'n mosey along some gait. I ain't <i>quite</i> to +the bone-yard yet myself," he added with a grin.</p> + +<p>The younger man sat for a moment or two with brows contracted, and +pulling thoughtfully at his moustache.</p> + +<p>"There is that matter," he said, pointing to the letter on the desk.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, "the' ain't no tearin' hurry 'bout that; an' any +way, I was goin' to make you a suggestion to put the matter into my +hands to some extent."</p> + +<p>"Will you take it?" said John quickly. "That is exactly what I should +wish in any case."</p> + +<p>"If you want I should," replied Mr. Harum. "Would you want to give full +power attorney,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> or jest have me say 't I was instructed to act for ye?"</p> + +<p>"I think a better way would be to put the property in your name +altogether," said John. "Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al," said David, thoughtfully, after a moment, "I hadn't thought of +that, but mebbe I <i>could</i> handle the matter better if you was to do +that. I know the parties, an' if the' was any bluffin' to be done either +side, mebbe it would be better if they thought I was playin' my own +hand."</p> + +<p>At that point Peleg appeared and asked Mr. Lenox a question which took +the latter to the teller's counter. David sat for some time drumming on +his desk with the fingers of both hands. A succession of violent coughs +came from the front room. His mouth and brows contracted in a wince, and +rising, he put on his coat and hat and went slowly out of the bank.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2> + + +<p>The Vaterland was advertised to sail at one o'clock, and it wanted but +fifteen or twenty minutes of the hour. After assuring himself that his +belongings were all together in his state-room, John made his way to the +upper deck and leaning against the rail, watched the bustle of +embarkation, somewhat interested in the people standing about, among +whom it was difficult in instances to distinguish the passengers from +those who were present to say farewell. Near him at the moment were two +people, apparently man and wife, of middle age and rather distinguished +appearance, to whom presently approached, with some evidence of hurry +and with outstretched hand, a very well dressed and pleasant looking +man.</p> + +<p>"Ah, here you are, Mrs. Ruggles," John heard him say as he shook hands.</p> + +<p>Then followed some commonplaces of good wishes and farewells, and in +reply to a question which John did not catch, he heard the lady +addressed as Mrs. Ruggles say, "Oh, didn't you see her? We left her on +the lower deck a few minutes ago. Ah, here she comes."</p> + +<p>The man turned and advanced a step to meet the person in question. +John's eyes involuntarily followed the movement, and as he saw her +ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span>proach his heart contracted sharply: it was Mary Blake. He turned +away quickly, and as the collar of his ulster was about his face, for +the air of the January day was very keen, he thought that she had not +recognized him. A moment later he went aft around the deck-house, and +going forward to the smoking-room, seated himself therein, and took the +passenger list out of his pocket. He had already scanned it rather +cursorily, having but the smallest expectation of coming upon a familiar +name, yet feeling sure that, had hers been there, it could not have +escaped him. Nevertheless, he now ran his eye over the columns with +eager scrutiny, and the hands which held the paper shook a little.</p> + +<p>There was no name in the least like Blake. It occurred to him that by +some chance or error hers might have been omitted, when his eye caught +the following:</p> + + + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" width="60%" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>William Ruggles</td><td align='center'> New York.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Ruggles</td><td align='center'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Edward Ruggles</td><td align='center'> " "</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>It was plain to him then. She was obviously traveling with the people +whom she had just joined on deck, and it was equally plain that she was +Mrs. Edward Ruggles. When he looked up the ship was out in the river.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2> + + +<p>John had been late in applying for his passage, and in consequence, the +ship being very full, had had to take what berth he could get, which +happened to be in the second cabin. The occupants of these quarters, +however, were not rated as second-class passengers. The Vaterland took +none such on her outward voyages, and all were on the same footing as to +the fare and the freedom of the ship. The captain and the orchestra +appeared at dinner in the second saloon on alternate nights, and the +only disadvantage in the location was that it was very far aft; unless +it could be considered a drawback that the furnishings were of plain +wood and plush instead of carving, gilding, and stamped leather. In +fact, as the voyage proceeded, our friend decided that the after-deck +was pleasanter than the one amidships, and the cozy second-class +smoking-room more agreeable than the large and gorgeous one forward.</p> + +<p>Consequently, for a while he rarely went across the bridge which spanned +the opening between the two decks. It may be that he had a certain +amount of reluctance to encounter Mrs. Edward Ruggles.</p> + +<p>The roof of the second cabin deck-house was, when there was not too much +wind, a favorite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> place with him. It was not much frequented, as most of +those who spent their time on deck apparently preferred a place nearer +amidships. He was sitting there on the morning of the fifth day out, +looking idly over the sea, with an occasional glance at the people who +were walking on the promenade-deck below, or leaning on the rail which +bounded it. He turned at a slight sound behind him, and rose with his +hat in his hand. The flush in his face, as he took the hand which was +offered him, reflected the color in the face of the owner, but the +grayish brown eyes, which he remembered so well, looked into his, a +little curiously, perhaps, but frankly and kindly. She was the first to +speak.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Lenox?" she said.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mrs. Ruggles?" said John, throwing up his hand as, at +the moment of his reply, a puff of wind blew the cape of his mackintosh +over his head. They both laughed a little (this was their greeting after +nearly six years), and sat down.</p> + +<p>"What a nice place!" she said, looking about her.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John; "I sit here a good deal when it isn't too windy."</p> + +<p>"I have been wondering why I did not get a sight of you," she said. "I +saw your name in the passenger list. Have you been ill?"</p> + +<p>"I'm in the second cabin," he said, smiling.</p> + +<p>She looked at him a little incredulously, and he explained.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," she said, "I saw your name, but as you did not appear in the +dining saloon, I thought you must either be ill or that you did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> not +sail. Did you know that I was on board?" she asked.</p> + +<p>It was rather an embarrassing question.</p> + +<p>"I have been intending," he replied rather lamely, "to make myself known +to you—that is, to—well, make my presence on board known to you. I got +just a glimpse of you before we sailed, when you came up to speak to a +man who had been saying good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Ruggles. I heard him +speak their name, and looking over the passenger list I identified you +as Mrs. Edward Ruggles."</p> + +<p>"Ah," she said, looking away for an instant, "I did not know that you +had seen me, and I wondered how you came to address me as Mrs. Ruggles +just now."</p> + +<p>"That was how," said John; and then, after a moment, "it seems rather +odd, doesn't it, that we should be renewing an acquaintance on an ocean +steamer as we did once before, so many years ago? and that the first bit +of intelligence that I have had of you in all the years since I saw you +last should come to me through the passenger list?"</p> + +<p>"Did you ever try to get any?" she asked. "I have always thought it very +strange that we should never have heard anything about you."</p> + +<p>"I went to the house once, some weeks after you had gone," said John, +"but the man in charge was out, and the maid could tell me nothing."</p> + +<p>"A note I wrote you at the time of your father's death," she said, "we +found in my small nephew's overcoat pocket after we had been some time +in California; but I wrote a second one before we left New York, telling +you of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> our intended departure, and where we were going."</p> + +<p>"I never received it," he said. Neither spoke for a while, and then:</p> + +<p>"Tell me of your sister and brother-in-law," he said.</p> + +<p>"My sister is at present living in Cambridge, where Jack is at college," +was the reply; "but poor Julius died two years ago."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said John, "I am grieved to hear of Mr. Carling's death. I liked +him very much."</p> + +<p>"He liked you very much," she said, "and often spoke of you."</p> + +<p>There was another period of silence, so long, indeed, as to be somewhat +embarrassing. None of the thoughts which followed each other in John's +mind was of the sort which he felt like broaching. He realized that the +situation was getting awkward, and that consciousness added to the +confusion of his ideas. But if his companion shared his embarrassment, +neither her face nor her manner betrayed it as at last she said, +turning, and looking frankly at him:</p> + +<p>"You seem very little changed. Tell me about yourself. Tell me something +of your life in the last six years."</p> + +<p>During the rest of the voyage they were together for a part of every +day, sometimes with the company of Mrs. William Ruggles, but more often +without it, as her husband claimed much of her attention and rarely came +on deck; and John, from time to time, gave his companion pretty much the +whole history of his later career. But with regard to her own life, and, +as he noticed, especially the two years since the death of her +brother-in-law, she was distinctly reticent. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> never spoke of her +marriage or her husband, and after one or two faintly tentative +allusions, John forebore to touch upon those subjects, and was driven to +conclude that her experience had not been a happy one. Indeed, in their +intercourse there were times when she appeared distrait and even moody; +but on the whole she seemed to him to be just as he had known and loved +her years ago; and all the feeling that he had had for her then broke +forth afresh in spite of himself—in spite of the fact that, as he told +himself, it was more hopeless than ever: absolutely so, indeed.</p> + +<p>It was the last night of their voyage together. The Ruggleses were to +leave the ship the next morning at Algiers, where they intended to +remain for some time.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind going to the after-deck?" he asked. "These people +walking about fidget me," he added rather irritably.</p> + +<p>She rose, and they made their way aft. John drew a couple of chairs near +to the rail. "I don't care to sit down for the present," she said, and +they stood looking out at sea for a while in silence.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember," said John at last, "a night six years ago when we +stood together, at the end of the voyage, leaning over the rail like +this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"Does this remind you of it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of it," she said.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the last night I was at your house?" he asked, looking +straight out over the moonlit water.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you know that night what was in my heart to say to you?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"May I tell you now?" he asked, giving a side glance at her profile, +which in the moonlight showed very white.</p> + +<p>"Do you think you ought?" she answered in a low voice, "or that I ought +to listen to you?"</p> + +<p>"I know," he exclaimed. "You think that as a married woman you should +not listen, and that knowing you to be one I should not speak. If it +were to ask anything of you I would not. It is for the first and last +time. To-morrow we part again, and for all time, I suppose. I have +carried the words that were on my lips that night all these years in my +heart. I know I can have no response—I expect none; but it can not harm +you if I tell you that I loved you then, and have——"</p> + +<p>She put up her hand in protest.</p> + +<p>"You must not go on, Mr. Lenox," she said, turning to him, "and I must +leave you."</p> + +<p>"Are you very angry with me?" he asked humbly.</p> + +<p>She turned her face to the sea again and gave a sad little laugh.</p> + +<p>"Not so much as I ought to be," she answered; "but you yourself have +given the reason why you should not say such things, and why I should +not listen, and why I ought to say good-night."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," he said bitterly; "of course you are right, and this is to be +the end."</p> + +<p>She turned and looked at him for a moment. "You will never again speak +to me as you have to-night, will you?" she asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I should not have said what I did had I not thought I should never see +you again after to-morrow," said John, "and I am not likely to do that, +am I?"</p> + +<p>"If I could be sure," she said hesitatingly, and as if to herself.</p> + +<p>"Well," said John eagerly. She stood with her eyes downcast for a +moment, one hand resting on the rail, and then she looked up.</p> + +<p>"We expect to stay in Algiers about two months," she said, "and then we +are going to Naples to visit some friends for a few days, about the time +you told me you thought you might be there. Perhaps it would be better +if we said good-bye to-night; but if after we get home you are to spend +your days in Homeville and I mine in New York, we shall not be likely to +meet, and, except on this side of the ocean, we may, as you say, never +see each other again. So, if you wish, you may come to see me in Naples +if you happen to be there when we are. I am sure after to-night that I +may trust you, may I not? But," she added, "perhaps you would not care. +I am treating you very frankly; but from your standpoint you would +expect or excuse more frankness than if I were a young girl."</p> + +<p>"I care very much," he declared, "and it will be a happiness to me to +see you on any footing, and you may trust me never to break bounds +again." She made a motion as if to depart.</p> + +<p>"Don't go just yet," he said pleadingly; "there is now no reason why you +should for a while, is there? Let us sit here in this gorgeous night a +little longer, and let me smoke a cigar."</p> + +<p>At the moment he was undergoing a revulsion of feeling. His state of +mind was like that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> of an improvident debtor who, while knowing that the +note must be paid some time, does not quite realize it for a while after +an extension. At last the cigar was finished. There had been but little +said between them.</p> + +<p>"I really must go," she said, and he walked with her across the hanging +bridge and down the deck to the gangway door.</p> + +<p>"Where shall I address you to let you know when we shall be in Naples?" +she asked as they were about to separate.</p> + +<p>"Care of Cook & Son," he said. "You will find the address in Baedeker."</p> + +<p>He saw her the next morning long enough for a touch of the hand and a +good-bye before the bobbing, tubby little boat with its Arab crew took +the Ruggleses on board.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2> + + +<p>How John Lenox tried to kill time during the following two months, and +how time retaliated during the process, it is needless to set forth. It +may not, however, be wholly irrelevant to note that his cough had +gradually disappeared, and that his appetite had become good enough to +carry him through the average table d'hôte dinner. On the morning after +his arrival at Naples he found a cable dispatch at the office of Cook & +Son, as follows: "Sixty cash, forty stock. Stock good. Harum."</p> + +<p>"God bless the dear old boy!" said John fervently. The Pennsylvania +property was sold at last; and if "stock good" was true, the dispatch +informed him that he was, if not a rich man for modern days, still, as +David would have put it, "wuth consid'able." No man, I take it, is very +likely to receive such a piece of news without satisfaction; but if our +friend's first sensation was one of gratification, the thought which +followed had a drop of bitterness in it. "If I could only have had it +before!" he said to himself; and indeed many of the disappointments of +life, if not the greater part, come because events are unpunctual. They +have a way of arriving sometimes too early, or worse, too late.</p> + +<p>Another circumstance detracted from his sat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span>isfaction: a note he +expected did not appear among the other communications waiting him at +the bankers, and his mind was occupied for the while with various +conjectures as to the reason, none of which was satisfactory. Perhaps +she had changed her mind. Perhaps—a score of things! Well, there was +nothing for it but to be as patient as possible and await events. He +remembered that she had said she was to visit some friends by the name +of Hartleigh, and she had told him the name of their villa, but for the +moment he did not remember it. In any case he did not know the +Hartleighs, and if she had changed her mind—as was possibly indicated +by the omission to send him word—well——! He shrugged his shoulders, +mechanically lighted a cigarette, and strolled down and out of the +Piazza Martiri and across to the Largo della Vittoria. He had a +half-formed idea of walking back through the Villa Nazionale, spending +an hour at the Aquarium, and then to his hotel for luncheon. It occurred +to him at the moment that there was a steamer from Genoa on the Monday +following, that he was tired of wandering about aimlessly and alone, and +that there was really no reason why he should not take the said steamer +and go home. Occupied with these reflections, he absently observed, just +opposite to him across the way, a pair of large bay horses in front of a +handsome landau. A coachman in livery was on the box, and a small +footman, very much coated and silk-hatted, was standing about; and, as +he looked, two ladies came out of the arched entrance to the court of +the building before which the equipage was halted, and the small footman +sprang to the carriage door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span></p> + +<p>One of the ladies was a stranger to him, but the other was Mrs. William +Ruggles; and John, seeing that he had been recognized, at once crossed +over to the carriage; and presently, having accepted an invitation to +breakfast, found himself sitting opposite them on his way to the Villa +Violante. The conversation during the drive up to the Vomero need not be +detailed. Mrs. Hartleigh arrived at the opinion that our friend was +rather a dull person. Mrs. Ruggles, as he had found out, was usually +rather taciturn. Neither is it necessary to say very much of the +breakfast, nor of the people assembled.</p> + +<p>It appeared that several guests had departed the previous day, and the +people at table consisted only of Mr. and Mrs. Ruggles, Mary, Mr. and +Mrs. Hartleigh and their two daughters, and John, whose conversation was +mostly with his host, and was rather desultory. In fact, there was +during the meal a perceptible air of something like disquietude. Mr. +Ruggles in particular said almost nothing, and wore an appearance of +what seemed like anxiety. Once he turned to his host: "When ought I to +get an answer to that cable, Hartleigh? to-day, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should say so without doubt," was the reply, "if it's answered +promptly, and in fact there's plenty of time. Remember that we are about +six hours earlier than New York by the clock, and it's only about seven +in the morning over there."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Coffee was served on the balustraded platform of the flight of marble +steps leading down to the grounds below.</p> + +<p>"Mary," said Mrs. Hartleigh, when cigarettes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> had been offered, "don't +you want to show Mr. Lenox something of La Violante?"</p> + +<p>"I shall take you to my favorite place," she said, as they descended the +steps together.</p> + +<p>The southern front of the grounds of the Villa Violante is bounded and +upheld by a wall of tufa fifty feet in height and some four hundred feet +long. About midway of its length a semicircular bench of marble, with a +rail, is built out over one of the buttresses. From this point is +visible the whole bay and harbor of Naples, and about one third of the +city lies in sight, five hundred feet below. To the left one sees +Vesuvius and the Sant' Angelo chain, which the eye follows to Sorrento. +Straight out in front stands Capri, and to the right the curve of the +bay, ending at Posilipo. The two, John and his companion, halted near +the bench, and leaned upon the parapet of the wall for a while in +silence. From the streets below rose no rumble of traffic, no sound of +hoof or wheel; but up through three thousand feet of distance came from +here and there the voices of street-venders, the clang of a bell, and +ever and anon the pathetic supplication of a donkey. Absolute quiet +prevailed where they stood, save for these upcoming sounds. The April +sun, deliciously warm, drew a smoky odor from the hedge of box with +which the parapet walk was bordered, in and out of which darted small +green lizards with the quickness of little fishes.</p> + +<p>John drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe there is another such view in the world," he said. "I +do not wonder that this is your favorite spot."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "you should see the grounds—the whole place is +superb—but this is the glory<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> of it all, and I have brought you +straight here because I wanted to see it with you, and this may be the +only opportunity."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"You heard Mr. Ruggles's question about the cable dispatch?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "our plans have been very much upset by some things he +has heard from home. We came on from Algiers ten days earlier than we +had intended, and if the reply to Mr. Ruggles's cable is unfavorable, we +are likely to depart for Genoa to-morrow and take the steamer for home +on Monday. The reason why I did not send a note to your bankers," she +added, "was that we came on the same boat that I intended to write by; +and Mr. Hartleigh's man has inquired for you every day at Cook's so that +Mr. Hartleigh might know of your coming and call upon you."</p> + +<p>John gave a little exclamation of dismay. Her face was very still as she +gazed out over the sea with half-closed eyes. He caught the scent of the +violets in the bosom of her white dress.</p> + +<p>"Let us sit down," she said at last. "I have something I wish to say to +you."</p> + +<p>He made no rejoinder as they seated themselves, and during the moment or +two of silence in which she seemed to be meditating how to begin, he sat +bending forward, holding his stick with both hands between his knees, +absently prodding holes in the gravel.</p> + +<p>"I think," she began, "that if I did not believe the chances were for +our going to-morrow, I would not say it to-day." John bit his lip and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> +gave the gravel a more vigorous punch. "But I have felt that I must say +it to you some time before we saw the last of each other, whenever that +time should be."</p> + +<p>"Is it anything about what happened on board ship?" he asked in a low +voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, "it concerns all that took place on board ship, or +nearly all, and I have had many misgivings about it. I am afraid that I +did wrong, and I am afraid, too, that in your secret heart you would +admit it."</p> + +<p>"No, never!" he exclaimed. "If there was any wrong done, it was wholly +of my own doing. I was alone to blame. I ought to have remembered that +you were married, and perhaps—yes, I did remember it in a way, but I +could not realize it. I had never seen or heard of your husband, or +heard of your marriage. He was a perfectly unreal person to me, and +you—you seemed only the Mary Blake that I had known, and as I had known +you. I said what I did that night upon an impulse which was as +unpremeditated as it was sudden. I don't see how you were wrong. You +couldn't have foreseen what took place—and——"</p> + +<p>"Have you not been sorry for what took place?" she asked, with her eyes +on the ground. "Have you not thought the less of me since?"</p> + +<p>He turned and looked at her. There was a little smile upon her lips and +on her downcast eyes.</p> + +<p>"No, by Heaven!" he exclaimed desperately, "I have not, and I am not +sorry. Whether I ought to have said what I did or not, it was true, and +I wanted you to know——"</p> + +<p>He broke off as she turned to him with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> smile and a blush. The smile +was almost a laugh.</p> + +<p>"But, John," she said, "I am not Mrs. Edward Ruggles. I am Mary Blake."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The parapet was fifty feet above the terrace. The hedge of box was an +impervious screen.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Well, and then, after a little of that sort of thing, they both began +hurriedly to admire the view again, for some one was coming. But it was +only one of the gardeners, who did not understand English; and +confidence being once more restored, they fell to +discussing—everything.</p> + +<p>"Do you think you could live in Homeville, dear?" asked John after a +while.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall have to, shall I not?" said Mary. "And are you, too, +really happy, John?"</p> + +<p>John instantly proved to her that he was. "But it almost makes me +unhappy," he added, "to think how nearly we have missed each other. If I +had only known in the beginning that you were not Mrs. Edward Ruggles!"</p> + +<p>Mary laughed joyously. The mistake which a moment before had seemed +almost tragic now appeared delightfully funny.</p> + +<p>"The explanation is painfully simple," she answered. "Mrs. Edward +Ruggles—the real one—did expect to come on the Vaterland, whereas I +did not. But the day before the steamer sailed she was summoned to +Andover by the serious illness of her only son, who is at school there. +I took her ticket, got ready overnight—I like to start on these +unpremeditated journeys—and here I am." John put his arm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> about her to +make sure of this, and kept it there—lest he should forget. "When we +met on the steamer and I saw the error you had made I was tempted—and +yielded—to let you go on uncorrected. But," she added, looking lovingly +up into John's eyes, "I'm glad you found out your mistake at last."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2> + + +<p>A fortnight later Mr. Harum sat at his desk in the office of Harum & Co. +There were a number of letters for him, but the one he opened first bore +a foreign stamp, and was postmarked "Napoli." That he was deeply +interested in the contents of this epistle was manifest from the +beginning, not only from the expression of his face, but from the +frequent "wa'al, wa'als" which were elicited as he went on; but interest +grew into excitement as he neared the close, and culminated as he read +the last few lines.</p> + +<p>"Scat my CATS!" he cried, and, grabbing his hat and the letter, he +bolted out of the back door in the direction of the house, leaving the +rest of his correspondence to be digested—any time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE.</h2> + + +<p>I might, in conclusion, tell how John's further life in Homeville was of +comparatively short duration; how David died of injuries received in a +runaway accident; how John found himself the sole executor of his late +partner's estate, and, save for a life provision for Mrs. Bixbee, the +only legatee, and rich enough (if indeed with his own and his wife's +money he had not been so before) to live wherever he pleased. But as +heretofore I have confined myself strictly to facts, I am, to be +consistent, constrained to abide by them now. Indeed, I am too +conscientious to do otherwise, notwithstanding the temptation to make +what might be a more artistic ending to my story. David is not only +living, but appears almost no older than when we first knew him, and is +still just as likely to "git goin'" on occasion. Even "old Jinny" is +still with us, though her master does most of his "joggin' 'round" +behind a younger horse. Whatever Mr. Harum's testamentary intentions may +be, or even whether he has made a will or not, nobody knows but himself +and his attorney. Aunt Polly—well, there is a little more of her than +when we first made her acquaintance, say twenty pounds.</p> + +<p>John and his wife live in a house which they built on the shore of the +lake. It is a settled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> thing that David and his sister dine with them +every Sunday. Mrs. Bixbee at first looked a little askance at the wine +on the table, but she does not object to it now. Being a "son o' +temp'rence," she has never been induced to taste any champagne, but on +one occasion she was persuaded to take the smallest sip of claret. +"Wa'al," she remarked with a wry face, "I guess the' can't be much sin +or danger 'n drinkin' anythin' 't tastes the way <i>that</i> does."</p> + +<p>She and Mrs. Lenox took to each other from the first, and the latter has +quite supplanted (and more) Miss Claricy (Mrs. Elton) with David. In +fact, he said to our friend one day during the first year of the +marriage, "Say, John, I ain't sure but what we'll have to hitch that +wife o' your'n on the off side."</p> + +<p>I had nearly forgotten one person whose conversation has yet to be +recorded in print, but which is considered very interesting by at least +four people. His name is David Lenox.</p> + +<p>I think that's all.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID HARUM***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 17617-h.txt or 17617-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/6/1/17617">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/6/1/17617</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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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: David Harum + A Story of American Life + + +Author: Edward Noyes Westcott + + + +Release Date: January 28, 2006 [eBook #17617] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID HARUM*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia, Janet B, and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/) + + + +DAVID HARUM + +A Story of American Life + +by + +EDWARD NOYES WESTCOTT + + + + + + + +New York +D. Appleton and Company +1899 +Copyright, 1898, +By D. Appleton and Company. + + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + The's as much human nature in some folks as th' is in others, if + not more.--DAVID HARUM. + + +One of the most conspicuous characteristics of our contemporary native +fiction is an increasing tendency to subordinate plot or story to the +bold and realistic portrayal of some of the types of American life and +manners. And the reason for this is not far to seek. The extraordinary +mixing of races which has been going on here for more than a century has +produced an enormously diversified human result; and the products of +this "hybridization" have been still further differentiated by an +environment that ranges from the Everglades of Florida to the glaciers +of Alaska. The existence of these conditions, and the great literary +opportunities which they contain, American writers long ago perceived; +and, with a generally true appreciation of artistic values, they have +created from them a gallery of brilliant _genre_ pictures which to-day +stand for the highest we have yet attained in the art of fiction. + +Thus it is that we have (to mention but a few) studies of Louisiana and +her people by Mr. Cable; of Virginia and Georgia by Thomas Nelson Page +and Joel Chandler Harris; of New England by Miss Jewett and Miss +Wilkins; of the Middle West by Miss French (Octave Thanet); of the great +Northwest by Hamlin Garland; of Canada and the land of the _habitans_ by +Gilbert Parker; and finally, though really first in point of time, the +Forty-niners and their successors by Bret Harte. This list might be +indefinitely extended, for it is growing daily, but it is long enough as +it stands to show that every section of our country has, or soon will +have, its own painter and historian, whose works will live and become a +permanent part of our literature in just the degree that they are +artistically true. Some of these writers have already produced many +books, while others have gained general recognition and even fame by the +vividness and power of a single study, like Mr. Howe with The Story of a +Country Town. But each one, it will be noticed, has chosen for his field +of work that part of our country wherein he passed the early and +formative years of his life; a natural selection that is, perhaps, an +unconscious affirmation of David Harum's aphorism: "Ev'ry hoss c'n do a +thing better 'n' spryer if he's ben broke to it as a colt." + +In the case of the present volume the conditions are identical with +those just mentioned. Most of the scenes are laid in central New York, +where the author, Edward Noyes Westcott, was born, September 24, 1847, +and where he died of consumption, March 31, 1898. Nearly all his life +was passed in his native city of Syracuse, and although banking and not +authorship was the occupation of his active years, yet his sensitive and +impressionable temperament had become so saturated with the local +atmosphere, and his retentive memory so charged with facts, that when at +length he took up the pen he was able to create in David Harum a +character so original, so true, and so strong, yet withal so +delightfully quaint and humorous, that we are at once compelled to admit +that here is a new and permanent addition to the long list of American +literary portraits. + +The book is a novel, and throughout it runs a love story which is +characterized by sympathetic treatment and a constantly increasing +interest; but the title role is taken by the old country banker, +David Harum: dry, quaint, somewhat illiterate, no doubt, but possessing +an amazing amount of knowledge not found in printed books, and holding +fast to the cheerful belief that there is nothing wholly bad or useless +in this world. Or, in his own words: "A reasonable amount of fleas +is good for a dog--they keep him f'm broodin' on bein' a dog." +This horse-trading country banker and reputed Shylock, but real +philanthropist, is an accurate portrayal of a type that exists in the +rural districts of central New York to-day. Variations of him may be +seen daily, driving about in their road wagons or seated in their "bank +parlors," shrewd, sharp-tongued, honest as the sunlight from most points +of view, but in a horse trade much inclined to follow the rule laid down +by Mr. Harum himself for such transactions: "Do unto the other feller +the way he'd like to do unto you--an' do it fust." + +The genial humor and sunny atmosphere which pervade these pages are in +dramatic contrast with the circumstances under which they were written. +The book was finished while the author lay upon his deathbed, but, +happily for the reader, no trace of his sufferings appears here. It was +not granted that he should live to see his work in its present completed +form, a consummation he most earnestly desired; but it seems not +unreasonable to hope that the result of his labors will be appreciated, +and that David Harum will endure. + +FORBES HEERMANS. + +SYRACUSE, N.Y., _August 20, 1898._ + + + + +DAVID HARUM. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +David poured half of his second cup of tea into his saucer to lower its +temperature to the drinking point, and helped himself to a second cut of +ham and a third egg. Whatever was on his mind to have kept him unusually +silent during the evening meal, and to cause certain wrinkles in his +forehead suggestive of perplexity or misgiving, had not impaired his +appetite. David was what he called "a good feeder." + +Mrs. Bixbee, known to most of those who enjoyed the privilege of her +acquaintance as "Aunt Polly," though nieces and nephews of her blood +there were none in Homeville, Freeland County, looked curiously at her +brother, as, in fact, she had done at intervals during the repast; and +concluding at last that further forbearance was uncalled for, relieved +the pressure of her curiosity thus: + +"Guess ye got somethin' on your mind, hain't ye? You hain't hardly said +aye, yes, ner no sence you set down. Anythin' gone 'skew?" + +David lifted his saucer, gave the contents a precautionary blow, and +emptied it with sundry windy suspirations. + +"No," he said, "nothin' hain't gone exac'ly wrong, 's ye might say--not +yet; but I done that thing I was tellin' ye of to-day." + +"Done what thing?" she asked perplexedly. + +"I telegraphed to New York," he replied, "fer that young feller to come +on--the young man General Wolsey wrote me about. I got a letter from him +to-day, an' I made up my mind 'the sooner the quicker,' an' I +telegraphed him to come 's soon 's he could." + +"I forgit what you said his name was," said Aunt Polly. + +"There's his letter," said David, handing it across the table. "Read it +out 'loud." + +"You read it," she said, passing it back after a search in her pocket; +"I must 'a' left my specs in the settin'-room." + +The letter was as follows: + + "DEAR SIR: I take the liberty of addressing you at the + instance of General Wolsey, who spoke to me of the matter of your + communication to him, and was kind enough to say that he would + write you in my behalf. My acquaintance with him has been in the + nature of a social rather than a business one, and I fancy that he + can only recommend me on general grounds. I will say, therefore, + that I have had some experience with accounts, but not much + practice in them for nearly three years. Nevertheless, unless the + work you wish done is of an intricate nature, I think I shall be + able to accomplish it with such posting at the outset as most + strangers would require. General Wolsey told me that you wanted + some one as soon as possible. I have nothing to prevent me from + starting at once if you desire to have me. A telegram addressed to + me at the office of the Trust Company will reach me promptly. + + "Yours very truly, + + "JOHN K. LENOX." + +"Wa'al," said David, looking over his glasses at his sister, "what do +you think on't?" + +"The' ain't much brag in't," she replied thoughtfully. + +"No," said David, putting his eyeglasses back in their case, "th' ain't +no brag ner no promises; he don't even say he'll do his best, like most +fellers would. He seems to have took it fer granted that I'll take it +fer granted, an' that's what I like about it. Wa'al," he added, "the +thing's done, an' I'll be lookin' fer him to-morrow mornin' or evenin' +at latest." + +Mrs. Bixbee sat for a moment with her large, light blue, and rather +prominent eyes fixed on her brother's face, and then she said, with a +slight undertone of anxiety, "Was you cal'latin' to have that young man +from New York come here?" + +"I hadn't no such idee," he replied, with a slight smile, aware of what +was passing in her mind. "What put that in your head?" + +"Wa'al," she answered, "you know the' ain't scarcely anybody in the +village that takes boarders in the winter, an' I was wonderin' what he +would do." + +"I s'pose he'll go to the Eagle," said David. "I dunno where else, +'nless it's to the Lake House." + +"The Eagil!" she exclaimed contemptuously. "Land sakes! Comin' here from +New York! He won't stan' it there a week." + +"Wa'al," replied David, "mebbe he will an' mebbe he won't, but I don't +see what else the' is for it, an' I guess 'twon't kill him for a spell +The fact is--" he was proceeding when Mrs. Bixbee interrupted him. + +"I guess we'd better adjourn t' the settin'-room an' let Sairy clear off +the tea-things," she said, rising and going into the kitchen. + +"What was you sayin'?" she asked, as she presently found her brother in +the apartment designated, and seated herself with her mending-basket in +her lap. + +"The fact is, I was sayin'," he resumed, sitting with hand and forearm +resting on a round table, in the centre of which was a large kerosene +lamp, "that my notion was, fust off, to have him come here, but when I +come to think on't I changed my mind. In the fust place, except that +he's well recommended, I don't know nothin' about him; an' in the +second, you'n I are pretty well set in our ways, an' git along all right +just as we be. I may want the young feller to stay, an' then agin I may +not--we'll see. It's a good sight easier to git a fishhook in 'n 'tis to +git it out. I expect he'll find it putty tough at first, but if he's a +feller that c'n be drove out of bus'nis by a spell of the Eagle Tavern, +he ain't the feller I'm lookin' fer--though I will allow," he added with +a grimace, "that it'll be a putty hard test. But if I want to say to +him, after tryin' him a spell, that I guess me an' him don't seem likely +to hitch, we'll both take it easier if we ain't livin' in the same +house. I guess I'll take a look at the Trybune," said David, unfolding +that paper. + +Mrs. Bixbee went on with her needlework, with an occasional side glance +at her brother, who was immersed in the gospel of his politics. Twice +or thrice she opened her lips as if to address him, but apparently some +restraining thought interposed. Finally, the impulse to utter her mind +culminated. "Dave," she said, "d' you know what Deakin Perkins is sayin' +about ye?" + +David opened his paper so as to hide his face, and the corners of his +mouth twitched as he asked in return, "Wa'al, what's the deakin sayin' +now?" + +"He's sayin'," she replied, in a voice mixed of indignation and +apprehension, "thet you sold him a balky horse, an' he's goin' to hev +the law on ye." David's shoulders shook behind the sheltering page, and +his mouth expanded in a grin. + +"Wa'al," he replied after a moment, lowering the paper and looking +gravely at his companion over his glasses, "next to the deakin's +religious experience, them of lawin' an' horse-tradin' air his strongest +p'ints, an' he works the hull on 'em to once sometimes." + +The evasiveness of this generality was not lost on Mrs. Bixbee, and she +pressed the point with, "Did ye? an' will he?" + +"Yes, an' no, an' mebbe, an' mebbe not," was the categorical reply. + +"Wa'al," she answered with a snap, "mebbe you call that an answer. I +s'pose if you don't want to let on you won't, but I do believe you've +ben playin' some trick on the deakin, an' won't own up. I do wish," she +added, "that if you hed to git rid of a balky horse onto somebody you'd +hev picked out somebody else." + +"When you got a balker to dispose of," said David gravely, "you can't +alwus pick an' choose. Fust come, fust served." Then he went on more +seriously: "Now I'll tell ye. Quite a while ago--in fact, not long +after I come to enjoy the priv'lidge of the deakin's acquaintance--we +hed a deal. I wasn't jest on my guard, knowin' him to be a deakin an' +all that, an' he lied to me so splendid that I was took in, clean over +my head, he done me so brown I was burnt in places, an' you c'd smell +smoke 'round me fer some time." + +"Was it a horse?" asked Mrs. Bixbee gratuitously. + +"Wa'al," David replied, "mebbe it _had_ ben some time, but at that +partic'lar time the only thing to determine that fact was that it wa'n't +nothin' else." + +"Wa'al, I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee, wondering not more at the +deacon's turpitude than at the lapse in David's acuteness, of which she +had an immense opinion, but commenting only on the former. "I'm 'mazed +at the deakin." + +"Yes'm," said David with a grin, "I'm quite a liar myself when it comes +right down to the hoss bus'nis, but the deakin c'n give me both bowers +ev'ry hand. He done it so slick that I had to laugh when I come to think +it over--an' I had witnesses to the hull confab, too, that he didn't +know of, an' I c'd 've showed him up in great shape if I'd had a mind +to." + +"Why didn't ye?" said Aunt Polly, whose feelings about the deacon were +undergoing a revulsion. + +"Wa'al, to tell ye the truth, I was so completely skunked that I hadn't +a word to say. I got rid o' the thing fer what it was wuth fer hide an' +taller, an' stid of squealin' 'round the way you say he's doin', like a +stuck pig, I kep' my tongue between my teeth an' laid to git even some +time." + +"You ort to 've hed the law on him," declared Mrs. Bixbee, now fully +converted. "The old scamp!" + +"Wa'al," was the reply, "I gen'all prefer to settle out of court, an' in +this partic'lar case, while I might 'a' ben willin' t' admit that I hed +ben did up, I didn't feel much like swearin' to it. I reckoned the time +'d come when mebbe I'd git the laugh on the deakin, an' it did, an' +we're putty well settled now in full." + +"You mean this last pufformance?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. "I wish you'd quit +beatin' about the bush, an' tell me the hull story." + +"Wa'al, it's like this, then, if you _will_ hev it. I was over to +Whiteboro a while ago on a little matter of worldly bus'nis, an' I seen +a couple of fellers halter-exercisin' a hoss in the tavern yard. I stood +'round a spell watchin' 'em, an' when he come to a standstill I went an' +looked him over, an' I liked his looks fust rate. + +"'Fer sale?' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' says the chap that was leadin' him, 'I never see the hoss that +wa'n't if the price was right.' + +"'Your'n?' I says. + +"'Mine an' his'n,' he says, noddin' his head at the other feller. + +"'What ye askin' fer him?' I says. + +"'One-fifty,' he says. + +"I looked him all over agin putty careful, an' once or twice I kind o' +shook my head 's if I didn't quite like what I seen, an' when I got +through I sort o' half turned away without sayin' anythin', 's if I'd +seen enough. + +"'The' ain't a scratch ner a pimple on him,' says the feller, kind o' +resentin' my looks. 'He's sound an' kind, an' 'll stand without +hitchin', an' a lady c'n drive him 's well 's a man."' + +"'I ain't got anythin' agin him,' I says, 'an' prob'ly that's all true, +ev'ry word on't; but one-fifty's a consid'able price fer a hoss these +days. I hain't no pressin' use fer another hoss, an', in fact,' I says, +'I've got one or two fer sale myself.' + +"'He's wuth two hunderd jest as he stands,' the feller says. 'He hain't +had no trainin', an' he c'n draw two men in a road-wagin better'n +fifty.' + +"Wa'al, the more I looked at him the better I liked him, but I only +says, 'Jes' so, jes' so, he may be wuth the money, but jest as I'm fixed +now he ain't wuth it to _me_, an' I hain't got that much money with me +if he was,' I says. The other feller hadn't said nothin' up to that +time, an' he broke in now. 'I s'pose you'd take him fer a gift, wouldn't +ye?' he says, kind o' sneerin'. + +"'Wa'al, yes,' I says, 'I dunno but I would if you'd throw in a pound of +tea an' a halter.' + +"He kind o' laughed an' says, 'Wa'al, this ain't no gift enterprise, an' +I guess we ain't goin' to trade, but I'd like to know,' he says, 'jest +as a matter of curios'ty, what you'd say he _was_ wuth to ye?' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I come over this mornin' to see a feller that owed me +a trifle o' money. Exceptin' of some loose change, what he paid me 's +all I got with me,' I says, takin' out my wallet. 'That wad's got a +hunderd an' twenty-five into it, an' if you'd sooner have your hoss an' +halter than the wad,' I says, 'why, I'll bid ye good-day.' + +"'You're offerin' one-twenty-five fer the hoss an' halter?' he says. + +"'That's what I'm doin',' I says. + +"'You've made a trade,' he says, puttin' out his hand fer the money an' +handin' the halter over to me." + +"An' didn't ye suspicion nuthin' when he took ye up like that?" asked +Mrs. Bixbee. + +"I did smell woolen some," said David, "but I had the _hoss_ an' they +had the _money_, an', as fur 's I c'd see, the critter was all right. +Howsomever, I says to 'em: 'This here's all right, fur 's it's gone, but +you've talked putty strong 'bout this hoss. I don't know who you fellers +be, but I c'n find out,' I says. Then the fust feller that done the +talkin' 'bout the hoss put in an' says, 'The' hain't ben one word said +to you about this hoss that wa'n't gospel truth, not one word.' An' when +I come to think on't afterward," said David with a half laugh, "it mebbe +wa'n't _gospel_ truth, but it was good enough _jury_ truth. I guess this +ain't over 'n' above interestin' to ye, is it?" he asked after a pause, +looking doubtfully at his sister. + +"Yes, 'tis," she asserted. "I'm lookin' forrered to where the deakin +comes in, but you jest tell it your own way." + +"I'll git there all in good time," said David, "but some of the point of +the story'll be lost if I don't tell ye what come fust." + +"I allow to stan' it 's long 's you can," she said encouragingly, +"seein' what work I had gettin' ye started. Did ye find out anythin' +'bout them fellers?" + +"I ast the barn man if he knowed who they was, an' he said he never seen +'em till the yestiddy before, an' didn't know 'em f'm Adam. They come +along with a couple of hosses, one drivin' an' t'other leadin'--the one +I bought. I ast him if they knowed who I was, an' he said one on 'em +ast him, an' he told him. The feller said to him, seein' me drive up: +'That's a putty likely-lookin' hoss. Who's drivin' him?' An' he says to +the feller: 'That's Dave Harum, f'm over to Homeville. He's a great +feller fer hosses,' he says." + +"Dave," said Mrs. Bixbee, "them chaps jest laid fer ye, didn't they?" + +"I reckon they did," he admitted; "an' they was as slick a pair as was +ever drawed to," which expression was lost upon his sister. David rubbed +the fringe of yellowish-gray hair which encircled his bald pate for a +moment. + +"Wa'al," he resumed, "after the talk with the barn man, I smelt woolen +stronger'n ever, but I didn't say nothin', an' had the mare hitched an' +started back. Old Jinny drives with one hand, an' I c'd watch the new +one all right, an' as we come along I begun to think I wa'n't stuck +after all. I never see a hoss travel evener an' nicer, an' when we come +to a good level place I sent the old mare along the best she knew, an' +the new one never broke his gait, an' kep' right up 'ithout 'par'ntly +half tryin'; an' Jinny don't take most folks' dust neither. I swan! +'fore I got home I reckoned I'd jest as good as made seventy-five +anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +"Then the' wa'n't nothin' the matter with him, after all," commented +Mrs. Bixbee in rather a disappointed tone. + +"The meanest thing top of the earth was the matter with him," declared +David, "but I didn't find it out till the next afternoon, an' then I +found it out good. I hitched him to the open buggy an' went 'round by +the East road, 'cause that ain't so much travelled. He went along all +right till we got a mile or so out of the village, an' then I slowed him +down to a walk. Wa'al, sir, scat my ----! He hadn't walked more'n a rod +'fore he come to a dead stan'still. I clucked an' git-app'd, an' finely +took the gad to him a little; but he only jest kind o' humped up a +little, an' stood like he'd took root." + +"Wa'al, now!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee. + +"Yes'm," said David; "I was stuck in ev'ry sense of the word." + +"What d'ye do?" + +"Wa'al, I tried all the tricks I knowed--an' I could lead him--but when +I was in the buggy he wouldn't stir till he got good an' ready; 'n' then +he'd start of his own accord an' go on a spell, an'--" + +"Did he keep it up?" Mrs. Bixbee interrupted. + +"Wa'al, I s'd say he did. I finely got home with the critter, but I +thought one time I'd either hev to lead him or spend the night on the +East road. He balked five sep'rate times, varyin' in length, an' it was +dark when we struck the barn." + +"I should hev thought you'd a wanted to kill him," said Mrs. Bixbee; +"an' the fellers that sold him to ye, too." + +"The' _was_ times," David replied, with a nod of his head, "when if he'd +a fell down dead I wouldn't hev figgered on puttin' a band on my hat, +but it don't never pay to git mad with a hoss; an' as fur 's the feller +I bought him of, when I remembered how he told me he'd stand without +hitchin', I swan! I had to laugh. I did, fer a fact. 'Stand without +hitchin'!' He, he, he!" + +"I guess you wouldn't think it was so awful funny if you hadn't gone an' +stuck that horse onto Deakin Perkins--an' I don't see how you done it." + +"Mebbe that _is_ part of the joke," David allowed, "an' I'll tell ye th' +rest on't. Th' next day I hitched the new one to th' dem'crat wagin an' +put in a lot of straps an' rope, an' started off fer the East road agin. +He went fust rate till we come to about the place where we had the fust +trouble, an', sure enough, he balked agin. I leaned over an' hit him a +smart cut on the off shoulder, but he only humped a little, an' never +lifted a foot. I hit him another lick, with the selfsame result. Then I +got down an' I strapped that animal so't he couldn't move nothin' but +his head an' tail, an' got back into the buggy. Wa'al, bom-by, it may +'a' ben ten minutes, or it may 'a' ben more or less--it's slow work +settin' still behind a balkin' hoss--he was ready to go on his own +account, but he couldn't budge. He kind o' looked around, much as to +say, 'What on earth's the matter?' an' then he tried another move, an' +then another, but no go. Then I got down an' took the hopples off an' +then climbed back into the buggy, an' says 'Cluck, to him, an' off he +stepped as chipper as could be, an' we went joggin' along all right +mebbe two mile, an' when I slowed up, up he come agin. I gin him another +clip in the same place on the shoulder, an' I got down an' tied him up +agin, an' the same thing happened as before, on'y it didn't take him +quite so long to make up his mind about startin', an' we went some +further without a hitch. But I had to go through the pufformance the +third time before he got it into his head that if he didn't go when _I_ +wanted he couldn't go when _he_ wanted, an' that didn't suit him; an' +when he felt the whip on his shoulder it meant bus'nis." + +"Was that the end of his balkin'?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. + +"I had to give him one more go-round," said David, "an' after that I +didn't have no more trouble with him. He showed symptoms at times, but a +touch of the whip on the shoulder alwus fetched him. I alwus carried +them straps, though, till the last two or three times." + +"Wa'al, what's the deakin kickin' about, then?" asked Aunt Polly. +"You're jest sayin' you broke him of balkin'." + +"Wa'al," said David slowly, "some hosses will balk with some folks an' +not with others. You can't most alwus gen'ally tell." + +"Didn't the deakin have a chance to try him?" + +"He had all the chance he ast fer," replied David. "Fact is, he done +most of the sellin', as well 's the buyin', himself." + +"How's that?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "it come about like this: After I'd got the hoss +where I c'd handle him I begun to think I'd had some int'restin' an' +valu'ble experience, an' it wa'n't scurcely fair to keep it all to +myself. I didn't want no patent on't, an' I was willin' to let some +other feller git a piece. So one mornin', week before last--let's see, +week ago Tuesday it was, an' a mighty nice mornin' it was, too--one o' +them days that kind o' lib'ral up your mind--I allowed to hitch an' +drive up past the deakin's an' back, an' mebbe git somethin' to +strengthen my faith, et cetery, in case I run acrost him. Wa'al, 's I +come along I seen the deakin putterin' 'round, an' I waved my hand to +him an' went by a-kitin'. I went up the road a ways an' killed a little +time, an' when I come back there was the deakin, as I expected. He was +leanin' over the fence, an' as I jogged up he hailed me, an' I pulled +up. + +"'Mornin', Mr. Harum,' he says. + +"'Mornin', deakin,' I says. 'How are ye? an' how's Mis' Perkins these +days?' + +"'I'm fair,' he says; 'fair to middlin', but Mis' Perkins is ailin' +some--as _usyul_' he says." + +"They do say," put in Mrs. Bixbee, "thet Mis' Perkins don't hev much of +a time herself." + +"Guess she hez all the time the' is," answered David. "Wa'al," he went +on, "we passed the time o' day, an' talked a spell about the weather an' +all that, an' finely I straightened up the lines as if I was goin' on, +an' then I says: 'Oh, by the way,' I says, 'I jest thought on't. I heard +Dominie White was lookin' fer a hoss that 'd suit him.' 'I hain't +heard,' he says; but I see in a minute he had--an' it really was a +fact--an' I says: 'I've got a roan colt risin' five, that I took on a +debt a spell ago, that I'll sell reasonable, that's as likely an' nice +ev'ry way a young hoss as ever I owned. I don't need him,' I says, 'an' +didn't want to take him, but it was that or nothin' at the time an' glad +to git it, an' I'll sell him a barg'in. Now what I want to say to you, +deakin, is this: That hoss 'd suit the dominie to a tee in my opinion, +but the dominie won't come to me. Now if _you_ was to say to him--bein' +in his church an' all thet,' I says, 'that you c'd get him the right +kind of a hoss, he'd believe you, an' you an' me 'd be doin' a little +stroke of bus'nis, an' a favor to the dominie into the bargain. The +dominie's well off,' I says, 'an' c'n afford to drive a good hoss.'" + +"What did the deakin say?" asked Aunt Polly as David stopped for breath. + +"I didn't expect him to jump down my throat," he answered; "but I seen +him prick up his ears, an' all the time I was talkin' I noticed him +lookin' my hoss over, head an' foot. 'Now I 'member,' he says, 'hearin' +sunthin' 'bout Mr. White's lookin' fer a hoss, though when you fust +spoke on't it had slipped my mind. Of course,' he says, 'the' ain't any +real reason why Mr. White shouldn't deal with you direct, an' yit mebbe +I _could_ do more with him 'n you could. But,' he says, 'I wa'n't +cal'latin' to go t' the village this mornin', an' I sent my hired man +off with my drivin' hoss. Mebbe I'll drop 'round in a day or two,' he +says, 'an' look at the roan.' + +"'You mightn't ketch me,' I says, 'an' I want to show him myself; an' +more'n that,' I says, 'Dug Robinson's after the dominie. I'll tell ye,' +I says, 'you jest git in 'ith me an' go down an' look at him, an' I'll +send ye back or drive ye back, an' if you've got anythin' special on +hand you needn't be gone three quarters of an hour,' I says." + +"He come, did he?" inquired Mrs. Bixbee. + +"He done _so_," said David sententiously. "Jest as I knowed he would, +after he'd hem'd an' haw'd about so much, an' he rode a mile an' a half +livelier 'n he done in a good while, I reckon. He had to pull that old +broad-brim of his'n down to his ears, an' don't you fergit it. He, he, +he, he! The road was jest _full_ o' hosses. Wa'al, we drove into the +yard, an' I told the hired man to unhitch the bay hoss an' fetch out the +roan, an' while he was bein' unhitched the deakin stood 'round an' never +took his eyes off'n him, an' I knowed I wouldn't sell the deakin no roan +hoss _that_ day, even if I wanted to. But when he come out I begun to +crack him up, an' I talked hoss fer all I was wuth. The deakin looked +him over in a don't-care kind of a way, an' didn't 'parently give much +heed to what I was sayin'. Finely I says, 'Wa'al, what do you think of +him?' 'Wa'al,' he says, 'he seems to be a likely enough critter, but I +don't believe he'd suit Mr. White--'fraid not,' he says. 'What you +askin' fer him?' he says. 'One-fifty,' I says, 'an' he's a cheap hoss at +the money'; but," added the speaker with a laugh, "I knowed I might 's +well of said a thousan'. The deakin wa'n't buyin' no roan colts that +mornin'." + +"What did he say?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'wa'al, I guess you ought to git that much fer him, +but I'm 'fraid he ain't what Mr. White wants.' An' then, 'That's quite +a hoss we come down with,' he says. 'Had him long?' 'Jest long 'nough to +git 'quainted with him,' I says. 'Don't you want the roan fer your own +use?' I says. 'Mebbe we c'd shade the price a little.' 'No,' he says, 'I +guess not. I don't need another hoss jest now.' An' then, after a minute +he says: 'Say, mebbe the bay hoss we drove 'd come nearer the mark fer +White, if he's all right. Jest as soon I'd look at him?' he says. +'Wa'al, I hain't no objections, but I guess he's more of a hoss than the +dominie 'd care for, but I'll go an' fetch him out,' I says. So I +brought him out, an' the deakin looked him all over. I see it was a case +of love at fust sight, as the story-books says. 'Looks all right,' he +says. 'I'll tell ye,' I says, 'what the feller I bought him of told me.' +'What's that?' says the deakin. 'He said to me,' I says, '"that hoss +hain't got a scratch ner a pimple on him. He's sound an' kind, an' 'll +stand without hitchin', an' a lady c'd drive him as well 's a man."' + +"'That's what he said to me,' I says, 'an' it's every word on't true. +You've seen whether or not he c'n travel,' I says, 'an', so fur 's I've +seen, he ain't 'fraid of nothin'.' 'D'ye want to sell him?' the deakin +says. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I ain't offerin' him fer sale. You'll go a good +ways,' I says, ''fore you'll strike such another; but, of course, he +ain't the only hoss in the world, an' I never had anythin' in the hoss +line I wouldn't sell at _some_ price.' 'Wa'al,' he says, 'what d' ye ask +fer him?' 'Wa'al,' I says, 'if my own brother was to ask me that +question I'd say to him two hunderd dollars, cash down, an' I wouldn't +hold the offer open an hour,' I says." + +"My!" ejaculated Aunt Polly. "Did he take you up?" + +"'That's more'n I give fer a hoss 'n a good while,' he says, shakin' his +head, 'an' more'n I c'n afford, I'm 'fraid.' 'All right,' I says; 'I c'n +afford to keep him'; but I knew I had the deakin same as the woodchuck +had Skip. 'Hitch up the roan,' I says to Mike; 'the deakin wants to be +took up to his house.' 'Is that your last word?' he says. 'That's what +it is,' I says. 'Two hunderd, cash down.'" + +"Didn't ye dast to trust the deakin?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. + +"Polly," said David, "the's a number of holes in a ten-foot ladder." +Mrs. Bixbee seemed to understand this rather ambiguous rejoinder. + +"He must 'a' squirmed some," she remarked. David laughed. + +"The deakin ain't much used to payin' the other feller's price," he +said, "an' it was like pullin' teeth; but he wanted that hoss more'n a +cow wants a calf, an' after a little more squimmidgin' he hauled out his +wallet an' forked over. Mike come out with the roan, an' off the deakin +went, leadin' the bay hoss." + +"I don't see," said Mrs. Bixbee, looking up at her brother, "thet after +all the' was anythin' you said to the deakin thet he could ketch holt +on." + +"The' wa'n't nothin'," he replied. "The only thing he c'n complain +about's what I _didn't_ say to him." + +"Hain't he said anythin' to ye?" Mrs. Bixbee inquired. + +"He, he, he, he! He hain't but once, an' the' wa'n't but little of it +then." + +"How?" + +"Wa'al, the day but one after the deakin sold himself Mr. +Stickin'-Plaster I had an arrant three four mile or so up past his +place, an' when I was comin' back, along 'bout four or half past, it +come on to rain like all possessed. I had my old umbrel'--though it +didn't hender me f'm gettin' more or less wet--an' I sent the old mare +along fer all she knew. As I come along to within a mile f'm the +deakin's house I seen somebody in the road, an' when I come up closter I +see it was the deakin himself, in trouble, an' I kind o' slowed up to +see what was goin' on. There he was, settin' all humped up with his ole +broad-brim hat slopin' down his back, a-sheddin' water like a roof. Then +I seen him lean over an' larrup the hoss with the ends of the lines fer +all he was wuth. It appeared he hadn't no whip, an' it wouldn't done him +no good if he'd had. Wa'al, sir, rain or no rain, I jest pulled up to +watch him. He'd larrup a spell, an' then he'd set back; an' then he'd +lean over an' try it agin, harder'n ever. Scat my ----! I thought I'd +die a-laughin'. I couldn't hardly cluck to the mare when I got ready to +move on. I drove alongside an' pulled up. 'Hullo, deakin,' I says, +'what's the matter?' He looked up at me, an' I won't say he was the +maddest man I ever see, but he was long ways the maddest-lookin' man, +an' he shook his fist at me jest like one o' the unregen'rit. 'Consarn +ye, Dave Harum!' he says, 'I'll hev the law on ye fer this.' 'What fer?' +I says. 'I didn't make it come on to rain, did I?' I says. 'You know +mighty well what fer,' he says. 'You sold me this _damned beast_,' he +says, 'an' he's balked with me _nine_ times this afternoon, an' I'll fix +ye for 't,' he says. 'Wa'al, deakin,' I says, 'I'm 'fraid the squire's +office 'll be shut up 'fore you _git_ there, but I'll take any word +you'd like to send. You know I told ye,' I says, 'that he'd stand +'ithout hitchin'.' An' at that he only jest kind o' choked an' +sputtered. He was so mad he couldn't say nothin', an' on I drove, an' +when I got about forty rod or so I looked back, an' there was the deakin +a-comin' along the road with as much of his shoulders as he could git +under his hat an' _leadin'_ his new hoss. He, he, he, he! Oh, my stars +an' garters! Say, Polly, it paid me fer bein' born into this vale o' +tears. It did, I declare for't!" Aunt Polly wiped her eyes on her apron. + +"But, Dave," she said, "did the deakin really say--_that word_?" + +"Wa'al," he replied, "if 'twa'n't that it was the puttiest imitation +on't that ever I heard." + +"David," she continued, "don't you think it putty mean to badger the +deakin so't he swore, an' then laugh 'bout it? An' I s'pose you've told +the story all over." + +"Mis' Bixbee," said David emphatically, "if I'd paid good money to see a +funny show I'd be a blamed fool if I didn't laugh, wouldn't I? That +specticle of the deakin cost me consid'able, but it was more'n wuth it. +But," he added, "I guess, the way the thing stands now, I ain't so much +out on the hull." + +Mrs. Bixbee looked at him inquiringly. + +"Of course, you know Dick Larrabee?" he asked. + +She nodded. + +"Wa'al, three four days after the shower, an' the story 'd got aroun' +some--as _you_ say, the deakin _is_ consid'able of a talker--I got holt +of Dick--I've done him some favors an' he natur'ly expects more--an' I +says to him: 'Dick,' I says, 'I hear 't Deakin Perkins has got a hoss +that don't jest suit him--hain't got knee-action enough at times,' I +says, 'an' mebbe he'll sell him reasonable.' 'I've heerd somethin' about +it,' says Dick, laughin'. 'One of them kind o' hosses 't you don't like +to git ketched out in the rain with,' he says. 'Jes' so,' I says. 'Now,' +I says, 'I've got a notion 't I'd like to own that hoss at a price, an' +that mebbe _I_ c'd git him home even if it did rain. Here's a hunderd +an' ten,' I says, 'an' I want you to see how fur it'll go to buyin' him. +If you git me the hoss you needn't bring none on't back. Want to try?' I +says. 'All right,' he says, an' took the money. 'But,' he says, 'won't +the deakin suspicion that it comes from you?' 'Wa'al,' I says, 'my +portrit ain't on none o' the bills, an' I reckon _you_ won't tell him +so, out an' out,' an' off he went. Yistidy he come in, an' I says, +'Wa'al, done anythin'?' 'The hoss is in your barn,' he says. 'Good fer +you!' I says. 'Did you make anythin'?' 'I'm satisfied,' he says. 'I made +a ten-dollar note.' An' that's the net results on't," concluded David, +"that I've got the hoss, an' he's cost me jest thirty-five dollars." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Master Jacky Carling was a very nice boy, but not at that time in his +career the safest person to whom to intrust a missive in case its sure +and speedy delivery were a matter of importance. But he protested with +so much earnestness and good will that it should be put into the very +first post-box he came to on his way to school, and that nothing could +induce him to forget it, that Mary Blake, his aunt, confidante and not +unfrequently counsel and advocate, gave it him to post, and dismissed +the matter from her mind. Unfortunately the weather, which had been very +frosty, had changed in the night to a summer-like mildness. As Jacky +opened the door, three or four of his school-fellows were passing. He +felt the softness of the spring morning, and to their injunction to +"Hurry up and come along!" replied with an entreaty to "Wait a minute +till he left his overcoat" (all boys hate an overcoat), and plunged back +into the house. + +If John Lenox (John Knox Lenox) had received Miss Blake's note of +condolence and sympathy, written in reply to his own, wherein, besides +speaking of his bereavement, he had made allusion to some changes in his +prospects and some necessary alterations in his ways for a time, he +might perhaps have read between the lines something more than merely a +kind expression of her sorrow for the trouble which had come upon him, +and the reminder that he had friends who, if they could not do more to +lessen his grief, would give him their truest sympathy. And if some days +later he had received a second note, saying that she and her people were +about to go away for some months, and asking him to come and see them +before their departure, it is possible that very many things set forth +in this narrative would not have happened. + + * * * * * + +Life had always been made easy for John Lenox, and his was not the +temperament to interpose obstacles to the process. A course at Andover +had been followed by two years at Princeton; but at the end of the +second year it had occurred to him that practical life ought to begin +for him, and he had thought it rather fine of himself to undertake a +clerkship in the office of Rush & Co., where in the ensuing year and a +half or so, though he took his work in moderation, he got a fair +knowledge of accounts and the ways and methods of "the Street." But that +period of it was enough. He found himself not only regretting the +abandonment of his college career, but feeling that the thing for which +he had given it up had been rather a waste of time. He came to the +conclusion that, though he had entered college later than most, even now +a further acquaintance with text-books and professors was more to be +desired than with ledgers and brokers. His father (somewhat to his +wonderment, and possibly a little to his chagrin) seemed rather to +welcome the suggestion that he spend a couple of years in Europe, taking +some lectures at Heidelberg or elsewhere, and traveling; and in the +course of that time he acquired a pretty fair working acquaintance with +German, brought his knowledge of French up to about the same point, and +came back at the end of two years with a fine and discriminating taste +in beer, and a scar over his left eyebrow which could be seen if +attention were called to it. + +He started upon his return without any definite intentions or for any +special reason, except that he had gone away for two years and that the +two years were up. He had carried on a desultory correspondence with his +father, who had replied occasionally, rather briefly, but on the whole +affectionately. He had noticed that during the latter part of his stay +abroad the replies had been more than usually irregular, but had +attributed no special significance to the fact. It was not until +afterward that it occurred to him that in all their correspondence his +father had never alluded in any way to his return. + +On the passenger list of the Altruria John came upon the names of Mr. +and Mrs. Julius Carling and Miss Blake. + +"Blake, Blake," he said to himself. "Carling--I seem to remember to have +known that name at some time. It must be little Mary Blake whom I knew +as a small girl years ago, and, yes, Carling was the name of the man her +sister married. Well, well, I wonder what she is like. Of course, I +shouldn't know her from Eve now, or she me from Adam. All I can remember +seems to be a pair of very slim and active legs, a lot of flying hair, a +pair of brownish-gray or grayish-brown eyes, and that I thought her a +very nice girl, as girls went. But it doesn't in the least follow that +I might think so now, and shipboard is pretty close quarters for seven +or eight days." + +Dinner is by all odds the chief event of the day on board ship to those +who are able to dine, and they will leave all other attractions, even +the surpassingly interesting things which go on in the smoking-room, at +once on the sound of the gong of promise. On this first night of the +voyage the ship was still in smooth water at dinner time, and many a +place was occupied which would know its occupant for the first, and very +possibly for the last, time. The passenger list was fairly large, but +not full. John had assigned to him a seat at a side table. He was +hungry, having had no luncheon but a couple of biscuits and a glass of +"bitter," and was taking his first mouthful of Perrier-Jouet, after the +soup, and scanning the dinner card when the people at his table came in. +The man of the trio was obviously an invalid of the nervous variety, and +the most decided type. The small, dark woman who took the corner seat at +his left was undoubtedly, from the solicitous way in which she adjusted +a small shawl about his shoulders--to his querulous uneasiness--his +wife. There was a good deal of white in the dark hair, brushed smoothly +back from her face. + +A tall girl, with a mass of brown hair under a felt traveling hat, took +the corner seat at the man's right. That was all the detail of her +appearance which the brief glance that John allowed himself revealed to +him at the moment, notwithstanding the justifiable curiosity which he +had with regard to the people with whom he was likely to come more or +less in contact for a number of days. But though their faces, so far as +he had seen them, were unfamiliar to him, their identity was made plain +to him by the first words which caught his ear. There were two soups on +the _menu_, and the man's mind instantly poised itself between them. + +"Which soup shall I take?" he asked, turning with a frown of uncertainty +to his wife. + +"I should say the _consomme_, Julius," was the reply. + +"I thought I should like the broth better," he objected. + +"I don't think it will disagree with you," she said. + +"Perhaps I had better have the _consomme_," he argued, looking with +appeal to his wife and then to the girl at his right. "Which would you +take, Mary?" + +"I?" said the young woman; "I should take both in my present state of +appetite.--Steward, bring both soups.--What wine shall I order for you, +Julius? I want some champagne, and I prescribe it for you. After your +mental struggle over the soup question you need a quick stimulant." + +"Don't you think a red wine would be better for me?" he asked; "or +perhaps some sauterne? I'm afraid that I sha'n't go to sleep if I drink +champagne. In fact, I don't think I had better take any wine at all. +Perhaps some ginger ale or Apollinaris water." + +"No," she said decisively, "whatever you decide upon, you know that +you'll think whatever I have better for you, and I shall want more than +one glass, and Alice wants some, too. Oh, yes, you do, and I shall order +a quart of champagne.--Steward"--giving her order--"please be as quick +as you can." + +John had by this fully identified his neighbors, and the talk which +ensued between them, consisting mostly of controversies between the +invalid and his family over the items of the bill of fare, every course +being discussed as to its probable effect upon his stomach or his +nerves--the question being usually settled with a whimsical +high-handedness by the young woman--gave him a pretty good notion of +their relations and the state of affairs in general. Notwithstanding +Miss Blake's benevolent despotism, the invalid was still wrangling +feebly over some last dish when John rose and went to the smoking room +for his coffee and cigarette. + +When he stumbled out in search of his bath the next morning the steamer +was well out, and rolling and pitching in a way calculated to disturb +the gastric functions of the hardiest. But, after a shower of sea water +and a rub down, he found himself with a feeling for bacon and eggs that +made him proud of himself, and he went in to breakfast to find, rather +to his, surprise, that Miss Blake was before him, looking as +fresh--well, as fresh as a handsome girl of nineteen or twenty and in +perfect health could look. She acknowledged his perfunctory bow as he +took his seat with a stiff little bend of the head; but later on, when +the steward was absent on some order, he elicited a "Thank you!" by +handing her something which he saw she wanted, and, one thing leading to +another, as things have a way of doing where young and attractive people +are concerned, they were presently engaged in an interchange of small +talk, but before John was moved to the point of disclosing himself on +the warrant of a former acquaintance she had finished her breakfast. + +The weather continued very stormy for two days, and during that time +Miss Blake did not appear at table. At any rate, if she breakfasted +there it was either before or after his appearance, and he learned +afterward that she had taken luncheon and dinner in her sister's room. + +The morning of the third day broke bright and clear. There was a long +swell upon the sea, but the motion of the boat was even and endurable to +all but the most susceptible. As the morning advanced the deck began to +fill with promenaders, and to be lined with chairs, holding wrapped-up +figures, showing faces of all shades of green and gray. + +John, walking for exercise, and at a wholly unnecessary pace, turning at +a sharp angle around the deck house, fairly ran into the girl about whom +he had been wondering for the last two days. She received his somewhat +incoherent apologies, regrets, and self-accusations in such a spirit of +forgiveness that before long they were supplementing their first +conversation with something more personal and satisfactory; and when he +came to the point of saying that half by accident he had found out her +name, and begged to be allowed to tell her his own, she looked at him +with a smile of frank amusement and said: "It is quite unnecessary, Mr. +Lenox. I knew you instantly when I saw you at table the first night; +but," she added mischievously, "I am afraid your memory for people you +have known is not so good as mine." + +"Well," said John, "you will admit, I think, that the change from a +little girl in short frocks to a tall young woman in a tailor-made gown +might be more disguising than what might happen with a boy of fifteen or +so. I saw your name in the passenger list with Mr. and Mrs. Carling, and +wondered if it could be the Mary Blake whom I really did remember, and +the first night at dinner, when I heard your sister call Mr. Carling +'Julius,' and heard him call you 'Mary,' I was sure of you. But I hardly +got a fair look at your face, and, indeed, I confess that if I had had +no clew at all I might not have recognized you." + +"I think you would have been quite excusable," she replied, "and whether +you would or would not have known me is 'one of those things that no +fellow can find out,' and isn't of supreme importance anyway. We each +know who the other is now, at all events." + +"Yes," said John, "I am happy to think that we have come to a conclusion +on that point. But how does it happen that I have heard nothing of you +all these years, or you of me, as I suppose?" + +"For the reason, I fancy," she replied, "that during that period of +short frocks with me my sister married Mr. Carling and took me with her +to Chicago, where Mr. Carling was in business. We have been back in New +York only for the last two or three years." + +"It might have been on the cards that I should come across you in +Europe," said John. "The beaten track is not very broad. How long have +you been over?" + +"Only about six months," she replied. "We have been at one or another of +the German Spas most of the time, as we went abroad for Mr. Carling's +health, and we are on our way home on about such an impulse as that +which started us off--he thinks now that he will be better off there." + +"I am afraid you have not derived much pleasure from your European +experiences," said John. + +"Pleasure!" she exclaimed. "If ever you saw a young woman who was glad +and thankful to turn her face toward home, _I_ am that person. I think +that one of the heaviest crosses humanity has to bear is to have +constantly to decide between two or more absolutely trivial conclusions +in one's own affairs; but when one is called upon to multiply one's +useless perplexities by, say, ten, life is really a burden. + +"I suppose," she added after a pause, "you couldn't help hearing our +discussions at dinner the other night, and I have wondered a little what +you must have thought." + +"Yes," he said, "I did hear it. Is it the regular thing, if I may ask?" + +"Oh, yes," she replied, with a tone of sadness; "it has grown to be." + +"It must be very trying at times," John remarked. + +"It is, indeed," she said, "and would often be unendurable to me if it +were not for my sense of humor, as it would be to my sister if it were +not for her love, for Julius is really a very lovable man, and I, too, +am very fond of him. But I must laugh sometimes, though my better nature +should rather, I suppose, impel me to sighs.'" + +"'A little laughter is much more worth,'" he quoted. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +They were leaning upon the rail at the stern of the ship, which was +going with what little wind there was, and a following sea, with which, +as it plunged down the long slopes of the waves, the vessel seemed to be +running a victorious race. The sea was a deep sapphire, and in the wake +the sunlight turned the broken water to vivid emerald. The air was of a +caressing softness, and altogether it was a day and scene of +indescribable beauty and inspiration. For a while there was silence +between them, which John broke at last. + +"I suppose," he said, "that one would best show his appreciation of all +this by refraining from the comment which must needs be comparatively +commonplace, but really this is so superb that I must express some of my +emotion even at the risk of lowering your opinion of my good taste, +provided, of course, that you have one." + +"Well," she said, laughing, "it may relieve your mind, if you care, to +know that had you kept silent an instant longer I should have taken the +risk of lowering your opinion of my good taste, provided, of course, +that you have one, by remarking that this was perfectly magnificent." + +"I should think that this would be the sort of day to get Mr. Carling +on deck. This air and sun would brace him up," said John. + +She turned to him with a laugh, and said: "That is the general opinion, +or was two hours ago; but I'm afraid it's out of the question now, +unless we can manage it after luncheon." + +"What do you mean?" he asked with a puzzled smile at the mixture of +annoyance and amusement visible in her face. "Same old story?" + +"Yes," she replied, "same old story. When I went to my breakfast I +called at my sister's room and said, '"Come, boys and girls, come out to +play, the sun doth shine as bright as day," and when I've had my +breakfast I'm coming to lug you both on deck. It's a perfectly glorious +morning, and it will do you both no end of good after being shut up so +long.' 'All right,' my sister answered, 'Julius has quite made up his +mind to go up as soon as he is dressed. You call for us in half an hour, +and we will be ready.'" + +"And wouldn't he come?" John asked; "and why not?" + +"Oh," she exclaimed with a laugh and a shrug of her shoulders, "shoes." + +"Shoes!" said John. "What do you mean?" + +"Just what I say," was the rejoinder. "When I went back to the room I +found my brother-in-law sitting on the edge of the lounge, or what you +call it, all dressed but his coat, rubbing his chin between his finger +and thumb, and gazing with despairing perplexity at his feet. It seems +that my sister had got past all the other dilemmas, but in a moment of +inadvertence had left the shoe question to him, with the result that he +had put on one russet shoe and one black one, and had laced them up +before discovering the discrepancy." + +"I don't see anything very difficult in that situation," remarked John. + +"Don't you?" she said scornfully. "No, I suppose not, but it was quite +enough for Julius, and more than enough for my sister and me. His first +notion was to take off _both_ shoes and begin all over again, and +perhaps if he had been allowed to carry it out he would have been all +right; but Alice was silly enough to suggest the obvious thing to +him--to take off one, and put on the mate to the other--and then the +trouble began. First he was in favor of the black shoes as being thicker +in the sole, and then he reflected that they hadn't been blackened since +coming on board. It seemed to him that the russets were more appropriate +anyway, but the blacks were easier to lace. Had I noticed whether the +men on board were wearing russet or black as a rule, and did Alice +remember whether it was one of the russets or one of the blacks that he +was saying the other day pinched his toe? He didn't quite like the looks +of a russet shoe with dark trousers, and called us to witness that those +he had on were dark; but he thought he remembered that it was the black +shoe which pinched him. He supposed he could change his trousers--and so +on, and so on, _al fine_, _de capo_, _ad lib._, sticking out first one +foot and then the other, lifting them alternately to his knee for +scrutiny, appealing now to Alice and now to me, and getting more +hopelessly bewildered all the time. It went on that way for, it seemed +to me, at least half an hour, and at last I said, 'Oh, come now, Julius, +take off the brown shoe--it's too thin, and doesn't go with your dark +trousers, and pinches your toe, and none of the men are wearing +them--and just put on the other black one, and come along. We're all +suffocating for some fresh air, and if you don't get started pretty soon +we sha'n't get on deck to-day.' 'Get on deck!' he said, looking up at me +with a puzzled expression, and holding fast to the brown shoe on his +knee with both hands, as if he were afraid I would take it away from him +by main strength--'get on deck! Why--why--I believe I'd better not go +out this morning, don't you?'" + +"And then?" said John after a pause. + +"Oh," she replied, "I looked at Alice, and she shook her head as much to +say, 'It's no use for the present,' and I fled the place." + +"M'm!" muttered John. "He must have been a nice traveling companion. Has +it been like that all the time?" + +"Most of it," she said, "but not quite all, and this morning was rather +an exaggeration of the regular thing. But getting started on a journey +was usually pretty awful. Once we quite missed our train because he +couldn't make up his mind whether to put on a light overcoat or a heavy +one. I finally settled the question for him, but we were just too late." + +"You must be a very amiable person," remarked John. + +"Indeed, I am not," she declared, "but Julius is, and it's almost +impossible to be really put out with him, particularly in his condition. +I have come to believe that he can not help it, and he submits to my +bullying with such sweetness that even my impatience gives way." + +"Have you three people been alone together all the time?" John asked. + +"Yes," she replied, "except for four or five weeks. We visited some +American friends in Berlin, the Nollises, for a fortnight, and after our +visit to them they traveled with us for three weeks through South +Germany and Switzerland. We parted with them at Metz only about three +weeks since." + +"How did Mr. Carling seem while you were all together?" asked John, +looking keenly at her. + +"Oh," she replied, "he was more like himself than I have seen him for a +long time--since he began to break down, in fact." + +He turned his eyes from her face as she looked up at him, and as he did +not speak she said suggestively, "You are thinking something you don't +quite like to say, but I think I know pretty nearly what it is." + +"Yes?" said John, with a query. + +"You think he has had too much feminine companionship, or had it too +exclusively. Is that it? You need not be afraid to say so." + +"Well," said John, "if you put it 'too exclusively,' I will admit that +there was something of the sort in my mind, and," he added, "if you will +let me say so, it must at times have been rather hard for him to be +interested or amused--that it must have--that is to say--" + +"Oh, _say_ it!" she exclaimed. "It must have been very _dull_ for him. +Is that it?" + +"'Father,'" said John with a grimace, "'I can not tell a lie!'" + +"Oh," she said, laughing, "your hatchet isn't very sharp. I forgive you. +But really," she added, "I know it has been. You will laugh when I tell +you the one particular resource we fell back upon." + +"Bid me to laugh, and I will laugh," said John. + +"Euchre!" she said, looking at him defiantly. "Two-handed euchre! We +have played, as nearly as I can estimate, fifteen hundred games, in +which he has held both bowers and the ace of trumps--or something +equally victorious--I should say fourteen hundred times. Oh!" she +cried, with an expression of loathing, "may I never, never, never see a +card again as long as I live!" John laughed without restraint, and after +a petulant little _moue_ she joined him. + +"May I light up my pipe?" he said. "I will get to leeward." + +"I shall not mind in the least," she assented. + +"By the way," he asked, "does Mr. Carling smoke?" + +"He used to," she replied, "and while we were with the Nollises he +smoked every day, but after we left them he fell back into the notion +that it was bad for him." + +John filled and lighted his pipe in silence, and after a satisfactory +puff or two said: "Will Mr. Carling go in to dinner to-night?" + +"Yes," she replied, "I think he will if it is no rougher than at +present." + +"It will probably be smoother," said John. "You must introduce me to +him--" + +"Oh," she interrupted, "of course, but it will hardly be necessary, as +Alice and I have spoken so often to him of you--" + +"I was going to say," John resumed, "that he may possibly let me take +him off your hands a little, and after dinner will be the best time. I +think if I can get him into the smoking room that a cigar +and--and--something hot with a bit of lemon peel and so forth later on +may induce him to visit with me for a while, and pass the evening, or +part of it." + +"You want to be an angel!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I--we--shall be so +obliged. I know it's just what he wants--some _man_ to take him in +hand." + +"I'm in no hurry to be an angel," said John, laughing, and, with a bow, +"It's better sometimes to be _near_ the rose than to _be_ the rose, and +you are proposing to overpay me quite. I shall enjoy doing what I +proposed, if it be possible." + +Their talk then drifted off into various channels as topics suggested +themselves until the ship's bell sounded the luncheon hour. Miss Blake +went to join her sister and brother-in-law, but John had some bread and +cheese and beer in the smoking room. It appeared that the ladies had +better success than in the morning, for he saw them later on in their +steamer chairs with Mr. Carling, who was huddled in many wraps, with the +flaps of his cap down over his ears. All the chairs were full--his own +included (as happens to easy-tempered men)--and he had only a brief +colloquy with the party. He noticed, however, that Mr. Carling had on +the russet shoes, and wondered if they pinched him. In fact, though he +couldn't have said exactly why, he rather hoped that they did. He had +just that sympathy for the nerves of two-and-fifty which is to be +expected from those of five-and-twenty--that is, very little. + +When he went in to dinner the Carlings and Miss Blake had been at table +some minutes. There had been the usual controversy about what Mr. +Carling would drink with his dinner, and he had decided upon +Apollinaris water. But Miss Blake, with an idea of her own, had given an +order for champagne, and was exhibiting some consternation, real or +assumed, at the fact of having a whole bottle brought in with the cork +extracted--a customary trick at sea. + +"I hope you will help me out," she said to John as he bowed and seated +himself. "'Some one has blundered,' and here is a whole bottle of +champagne which must be drunk to save it. Are you prepared to help turn +my, or somebody's, blunder into hospitality?" + +"I am prepared to make any sacrifice," said John, laughing, "in the +sacred cause." + +"No less than I expected of you," she said. "_Noblesse oblige!_ Please +fill your glass." + +"Thanks," said John. "Permit me," and he filled her own as well. + +As the meal proceeded there was some desultory talk about the weather, +the ship's run, and so on; but Mrs. Carling was almost silent, and her +husband said but little more. Even Miss Blake seemed to have something +on her mind, and contributed but little to the conversation. Presently +Mr. Carling said, "Mary, do you think a mouthful of wine would hurt me?" + +"Certainly not," was the reply. "It will do you good," reaching over for +his glass and pouring the wine. + +"That's enough, that's enough!" he protested as the foam came up to the +rim of the glass. She proceeded to fill it up to the brim and put it +beside him, and later, as she had opportunity, kept it replenished. + +As the dinner concluded, John said to Mr. Carling: "Won't you go up to +the smoking room with me for coffee? I like a bit of tobacco with mine, +and I have some really good cigars and some cigarettes--if you prefer +them--that I can vouch for." + +As usual, when the unexpected was presented to his mind, Mr. Carling +passed the perplexity on to his women-folk. At this time, however, his +dinner and the two glasses of wine which Miss Blake had contrived that +he should swallow had braced him up, and John's suggestion was so warmly +seconded by the ladies that, after some feeble protests and misgivings, +he yielded, and John carried him off. + +"I hope it won't upset Julius," said Mrs. Carling doubtfully. + +"It won't do anything of the sort," her sister replied. "He will get +through the evening without worrying himself and you into fits, and, if +Mr. Lenox succeeds, you won't see anything of him till ten o'clock or +after, and not then, I hope. Mind, you're to be sound asleep when he +comes in--snore a little if necessary--and let him get to bed without +any talk at all." + +"Why do you say 'if Mr. Lenox succeeds'?" asked Mrs. Carling. + +"It was his suggestion," Miss Blake answered. "We had been talking about +Julius, and he finally told me he thought he would be the better of an +occasional interval of masculine society, and I quite agreed with him. +You know how much he enjoyed being with George Nollis, and how much like +himself he appeared." + +"That is true," said Mrs. Carling. + +"And you know that just as soon as he got alone again with us two women +he began backing and filling as badly as ever. I believe Mr. Lenox is +right, and that Julius is just petticoated to death between us." + +"Did Mr. Lenox say that?" asked Mrs. Carling incredulously. + +"No," said her sister, laughing, "he didn't make use of precisely that +figure, but that was what he thought plainly enough." + +"What do you think of Mr. Lenox?" said Mrs. Carling irrelevantly. "Do +you like him? I thought that he looked at you very admiringly once or +twice to-night," she added, with her eyes on her sister's face. + +"Well," said Mary, with a petulant toss of the head, "except that I've +had about an hour's talk with him, and that I knew him when we were +children--at least when I was a child--he is a perfect stranger to me, +and I do wish," she added in a tone of annoyance, "that you would give +up that fad of yours, that every man who comes along is going to--to--be +a nuisance." + +"He seems very pleasant," said Mrs. Carling, meekly ignoring her +sister's reproach. + +"Oh, yes," she replied indifferently, "he's pleasant enough. Let us go +up and have a walk on deck. I want you to be sound asleep when Julius +comes in." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +John found his humane experiment pleasanter than he expected. Mr. +Carling, as was to be anticipated, demurred a little at the coffee, and +still more at the cigarette; but having his appetite for tobacco +aroused, and finding that no alarming symptoms ensued, he followed it +with a cigar and later on was induced to go the length of "Scotch and +soda," under the pleasant effect of which--and John's sympathetic +efforts--he was for the time transformed, the younger man being +surprised to find him a man of interesting experience, considerable +reading, and, what was most surprising, a jolly sense of humor and a +fund of anecdotes which he related extremely well. The evening was a +decided success, perhaps the best evidence of it coming at the last, +when, at John's suggestion that they supplement their modest potations +with a "night-cap," Mr. Carling cheerfully assented upon the condition +that they should "have it with him"; and as he went along the deck after +saying "Good night," John was positive that he heard a whistled tune. + +The next day was equally fine, but during the night the ship had run +into the swell of a storm, and in the morning there was more motion than +the weaker ones could relish. The sea grew quieter as the day advanced. +John was early, and finished his breakfast before Miss Blake came in. +He found her on deck about ten o'clock. She gave him her hand as they +said good morning, and he turned and walked by her side. + +"How is your brother-in-law this morning?" he inquired. + +"Oh," she said, laughing, "he's in a mixture of feeling very well and +feeling that he ought not to feel so, but, as they are coming up pretty +soon, it would appear that the misgivings are not overwhelming. He came +in last night, and retired without saying a word. My sister pretended to +be asleep. She says he went to sleep at once, and that she was awake at +intervals and knows that he slept like a top. He won't make any very +sweeping admissions, however, but has gone so far as to concede that he +had a very pleasant evening--which is going a long way for him--and to +say that you are a very agreeable young man. There! I didn't intend to +tell you that, but you have been so good that perhaps so much as a +second-hand compliment is no more than your due." + +"Thank you very much," said John. "Mr. Carling is evidently a very +discriminating person. Really it wasn't good of me at all. I was quite +the gainer, for he entertained me more than I did him. We had a very +pleasant evening, and I hope we shall have more of them, I do, indeed. I +got an entirely different impression of him," he added. + +"Yes," she said, "I can imagine that you did. He can be very agreeable, +and he is really a man of a great deal of character when he is himself. +He has been goodness itself to me, and has managed my affairs for years. +Even to-day his judgment in business matters is wonderfully sound. If +it had not been for him," she continued, "I don't know but I should have +been a pauper. My father left a large estate, but he died very suddenly, +and his affairs were very much spread out and involved and had to be +carried along. Julius put himself into the breach, and not only saved +our fortunes, but has considerably increased them. Of course, Alice is +his wife, but I feel very grateful to him on my own account. I did not +altogether appreciate it at the time, but now I shudder to think that I +might have had either to 'fend for myself' or be dependent." + +"I don't think that dependence would have suited your book," was John's +comment as he took in the lines of her clear-cut face. + +"No," she replied, "and I thank heaven that I have not had to endure it. +I am not," she added, "so impressed with what money procures for people +as what it saves them from." + +"Yes," said John, "I think your distinction is just. To possess it is to +be free from some of the most disagreeable apprehensions certainly, but +I confess, whether to my credit or my shame I don't know, I have never +thought much about it. I certainly am not rich positively, and I haven't +the faintest notion whether I may or not be prospectively. I have always +had as much as I really needed, and perhaps more, but I know absolutely +nothing about the future." They were leaning over the rail on the port +side. + +"I should think," she said after a moment, looking at him thoughtfully, +"that it was, if you will not think me presuming, a matter about which +you might have some justifiable curiosity." + +"Oh, not at all," he assured her, stepping to leeward and producing a +cigar. "I have had some stirrings of late. And please don't think me an +incorrigible idler. I spent nearly two years in a down-town office and +earned--well, say half my salary. In fact, my business instincts were so +strong that I left college after my second year for that purpose, but +seeing no special chance of advancement in the race for wealth, and as +my father seemed rather to welcome the idea, I broke off and went over +to Germany. I haven't been quite idle, though I should be puzzled, I +admit, to find a market for what I have to offer to the world. Would you +be interested in a schedule of my accomplishments." + +"Oh," she said, "I should be charmed, but as I am every moment expecting +the advent of my family, and as I am relied upon to locate them and tuck +them up, I'm afraid I shall not have time to hear it." + +"No," he said, laughing, "it's quite too long." + +She was silent for some moments, gazing down into the water, apparently +debating something in her mind, and quite unconscious of John's +scrutiny. Finally she turned to him with a little laugh. "You might +begin on your list, and if I am called away you can finish it at another +time." + +"I hope you didn't think I was speaking in earnest," he said. + +"No," she replied, "I did not think you really intended to unpack your +wares, but, speaking seriously--and at the risk, I fear, that you may +think me rather 'cheeky,' if I may be allowed that expression--I know a +good many men in America, and I think that without an exception they are +professional men or business men, or, being neither--and I know but few +such--have a competence or more; and I was wondering just now after what +you told me what a man like you would or could do if he were thrown upon +his own resources. I'm afraid that is rather frank for the acquaintance +of a day, isn't it?" she asked with a slight flush, "but it really is +not so personal as it may sound to you." + +"My dear Miss Blake," he replied, "our acquaintance goes back at least +ten years. Please let that fact count for something in your mind. The +truth is, I have done some wondering along that same line myself without +coming to any satisfactory conclusion. I devoutly hope I may not be so +thrown absolutely, for the truth is I haven't a marketable commodity. 'A +little Latin, and less Greek,' German and French enough to read and +understand and talk--on the surface of things--and what mathematics, +history, et cetera, I have not forgotten. I know the piano well enough +to read and play an accompaniment after a fashion, and I have had some +good teaching for the voice, and some experience in singing, at home and +abroad. In fact, I come nearer to a market there, I think, than in any +other direction perhaps. I have given some time to fencing in various +schools, and before I left home Billy Williams would sometimes speak +encouragingly of my progress with the gloves. There! That is my list, +and not a dollar in it from beginning to end, I'm afraid." + +"Who is Billy Williams?" she asked. + +"Billy," said John, "is the very mild-mannered and gentlemanlike +'bouncer' at the Altman House, an ex-prize-fighter, and about the most +accomplished member of his profession of his day and weight, who is +employed to keep order and, if necessary, to thrust out the riotous who +would disturb the contemplations of the lovers of art that frequent the +bar of that hotel." It was to be seen that Miss Blake was not +particularly impressed by this description of Billy and his functions, +upon which she made no comment. + +"You have not included in your list," she remarked, "what you acquired +in the down-town office you told me of." + +"No, upon my word I had forgotten that, and it's about the only thing of +use in the whole category," he answered. "If I were put to it, and could +find a place, I think I might earn fifty dollars a month as a clerk or +messenger, or something. Hullo! here are your people." + +He went forward with his companion and greeted Mrs. Carling and her +husband, who returned his "Good morning" with a feeble smile, and +submitted to his ministrations in the matter of chair and rugs with an +air of unresisting invalidism, which was almost too obvious, he thought. +But after luncheon John managed to induce him to walk for a while, to +smoke a cigarette, and finally to brave the perils of a sherry and +bitters before dinner. The ladies had the afternoon to themselves. John +had no chance of a further visit with Mary during the day, a loss only +partially made good to him by a very approving smile and a remark which +she made to him at dinner, that he must be a lineal descendant of the +Samaritan. Mr. Carling submitted himself to him for the evening. Indeed, +it came about that for the rest of the voyage he had rather more of the +company of that gentleman, who fairly attached himself to him, than, +under all the circumstances, he cared for; but the gratitude of the +ladies was so cordial that he felt paid for some sacrifices of his +inclinations. And there was an hour or so every morning--for the fine +weather lasted through--which he spent with Mary Blake, with increasing +interest and pleasure, and he found himself inwardly rejoicing over a +mishap to the engine which, though of no very great magnitude, would +retard the passage by a couple of days. + +There can hardly be any conditions more favorable to the forming of +acquaintanceships, friendships, and even more tender relations than are +afforded by the life on board ship. There is opportunity, propinquity, +and the community of interest which breaks down the barriers of ordinary +reserve. These relations, to be sure, are not always of the most lasting +character, and not infrequently are practically ended before the parties +thereto are out of the custom-house officer's hands and fade into +nameless oblivion, unless one happens to run across the passenger list +among one's souvenirs. But there are exceptions. If at this time the +question had been asked our friend, even by himself, whether, to put it +plainly, he were in love with Mary Blake, he would, no doubt, have +strenuously denied it; but it is certain that if any one had said or +intimated that any feature or characteristic of hers was faulty or +susceptible of any change for the better, he would have secretly +disliked that person, and entertained the meanest opinion of that +person's mental and moral attributes. He would have liked the voyage +prolonged indefinitely, or, at any rate, as long as the provisions held +out. + +It has been remarked by some one that all mundane things come to an end +sooner or later, and, so far as my experience goes, it bears out that +statement. The engines were successfully repaired, and the ship +eventually came to anchor outside the harbor about eleven o'clock on the +night of the last day. Mary and John were standing together at the +forward rail. There had been but little talk between them, and only of a +desultory and impersonal character. As the anchor chains rattled in the +hawse-pipes, John said, "Well, that ends it." + +"What ends what?" she asked. + +"The voyage, and the holiday, and the episode, and lots of things," he +replied. "We have come to anchor." + +"Yes," she said, "the voyage is over, that is true; but, for my part, if +the last six months can be called a holiday, its end is welcome, and I +should think you might be glad that your holiday is over, too. But I +don't quite understand what you mean by 'the episode and lots of +things.'" + +There was an undertone in her utterance which her companion did not +quite comprehend, though it was obvious to him. + +"The episode of--of--our friendship, if I may call it so," he replied. + +"I call it so," she said decisively. "You have certainly been a friend +to _all_ of us. This episode is over to be sure, but is there any more +than that?" + +"Somebody says that 'friendship is largely a matter of streets,'" said +John gloomily. "To-morrow you will go your way and I shall go mine." + +"Yes," she replied, rather sharply, "that is true enough; but if that +cynical quotation of yours has anything in it, it's equally true, isn't +it, that friendship is a matter of cabs, and street cars, and the +elevated road? Of course, we can hardly be expected to look you up, but +Sixty-ninth Street isn't exactly in California, and the whole question +lies with yourself. I don't know if you care to be told so, but Julius +and my sister like you very much, and will welcome you heartily always." + +"Thanks, very much!" said John, staring straight out in front of him, +and forming a determination that Sixty-ninth Street would see but +precious little of _him_. She gave a side glance at him as he did not +speak further. There was light enough to see the expression of his +mouth, and she read his thought almost in words. She had thought that +she had detected a suggestion of sentimentality on his part which she +intended to keep strictly in abeyance, but in her intention not to seem +to respond to it she had taken an attitude of coolness and a tone which +was almost sarcastic, and now perceived that, so far as results were +apparent, she had carried matters somewhat further than she intended. +Her heart smote her a little, too, to think that he was hurt. She really +liked him very much, and contritely recalled how kind and thoughtful and +unselfish he had been, and how helpful, and she knew that it had been +almost wholly for her. Yes, she was willing--and glad--to think so. But +while she wished that she had taken a different line at the outset, she +hated desperately to make any concession, and the seconds of their +silence grew into minutes. She stole another glance at his face. It was +plain that negotiations for harmony would have to begin with her. +Finally she said in a quiet voice: + +"'Thanks, very much,' is an entirely polite expression, but it isn't +very responsive." + +"I thought it met your cordiality quite half way," was the rejoinder. +"Of course, I am glad to be assured of Mr. and Mrs. Carling's regard, +and that they would be glad to see me, but I think I might have been +justified in hoping that you would go a little further, don't you +think?" + +He looked at her as he asked the question, but she did not turn her +head. Presently she said in a low voice, and slowly, as if weighing her +words: + +"Will it be enough if I say that I shall be very sorry if you do not +come?" He put his left hand upon her right, which was resting on the +rail, and for two seconds she let it stay. + +"Yes," he said, "thanks--very--much!" + +"I must go now," she said, turning toward him, and for a moment she +looked searchingly in his face. "Good night," she said, giving him her +hand, and John looked after her as she walked down the deck, and he knew +how it was with him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +John saw Miss Blake the next morning in the saloon among the passengers +in line for the customs official. It was an easy conjecture that Mr. +Carling's nerves were not up to committing himself to a "declaration" of +any sort, and that Miss Blake was undertaking the duty for the party. He +did not see her again until he had had his luggage passed and turned it +over to an expressman. As he was on his way to leave the wharf he came +across the group, and stopped to greet them and ask if he could be of +service, and was told that their houseman had everything in charge, and +that they were just going to their carriage, which was waiting. "And," +said Miss Blake, "if you are going up town, we can offer you a seat." + +"Sha'n't I discommode you?" he asked. "If you are sure I shall not, I +shall be glad to be taken as far as Madison Avenue and Thirty-third +Street, for I suppose that will be your route." + +"Quite sure," she replied, seconded by the Carlings, and so it happened +that John went directly home instead of going first to his father's +office. The weather was a chilly drizzle, and he was glad to be spared +the discomfort of going about in it with hand-bag, overcoat, and +umbrella, and felt a certain justification in concluding that, after +two years, a few hours more or less under the circumstances would make +but little difference. And then, too, the prospect of half or +three-quarters of an hour in Miss Blake's company, the Carlings +notwithstanding, was a temptation to be welcomed. But if he had hoped or +expected, as perhaps would have been not unnatural, to discover in that +young woman's air any hint or trace of the feeling she had exhibited, +or, perhaps it should be said, to a degree permitted to show itself, +disappointment was his portion. Her manner was as much in contrast with +that of the last days of their voyage together as the handsome street +dress and hat in which she was attired bore to the dress and headgear of +her steamer costume, and it almost seemed to him as if the contrasts +bore some relation to each other. After the question of the carriage +windows--whether they should be up or down, either or both, and how +much--had been settled, and, as usual in such dilemmas, by Miss Blake, +the drive up town was comparatively a silent one. John's mind was +occupied with sundry reflections and speculations, of many of which his +companion was the subject, and to some extent in noting the changes in +the streets and buildings which an absence of two years made noticeable +to him. + +Mary looked steadily out of window, lost in her own thoughts save for an +occasional brief response to some casual comment or remark of John's. +Mr. Carling had muffled himself past all talking, and his wife preserved +the silence which was characteristic of her when unurged. + +John was set down at Thirty-third Street, and, as he made his adieus, +Mrs. Carling said, "Do come and see us as soon as you can, Mr. Lenox"; +but Miss Blake simply said "Good-by" as she gave him her hand for an +instant, and he went on to his father's house. + +He let himself in with the latch-key which he had carried through all +his absence, but was at once encountered by Jeffrey, who, with his wife, +had for years constituted the domestic staff of the Lenox household. + +"Well, Jeff," said John, as he shook hands heartily with the old +servant, "how are you? and how is Ann? You don't look a day older, and +the climate seems to agree with you, eh?" + +"You're welcome home, Mr. John," replied Jeffrey, "and thank you, sir. +Me and Ann is very well, sir. It's a pleasure to see you again and home. +It is, indeed." + +"Thank you, Jeff," said John. "It's rather nice to be back. Is my room +ready?" + +"Yes, sir," said Jeffrey, "I think it's all right, though we thought +that maybe it 'd be later in the day when you got here, sir. We thought +maybe you'd go to Mr. Lenox's office first." + +"I did intend to," said John, mounting the stairs, followed by Jeffrey +with his bag, "but I had a chance to drive up with some friends, and the +day is so beastly that I took advantage of it. How is my father?" he +asked after entering the chamber, which struck him as being so strangely +familiar and so familiarly strange. + +"Well, sir," said Jeffrey, "he's much about the same most ways, and then +again he's different, too. Seeing him every day, perhaps I wouldn't +notice so much; but if I was to say that he's kind of quieter, perhaps +that'd be what I mean, sir." + +"Well," said John, smiling, "my father was about the quietest person I +ever knew, and if he's grown more so--what do you mean?" + +"Well, sir," replied the man, "I notice at table, sir, for one thing. +We've been alone here off and on a good bit, sir, and he used always to +have a pleasant word or two to say to me, and may be to ask me questions +and that, sir; but for a long time lately he hardly seems to notice me. +Of course, there ain't any need of his saying anything, because I know +all he wants, seeing I've waited on him so long, but it's different in a +way, sir." + +"Does he go out in the evening to his club?" asked John. + +"Very rarely, sir," said Jeffrey. "He mostly goes to his room after +dinner, an' oftentimes I hear him walking up an' down, up an' down, and, +sir," he added, "you know he often used to have some of his friends to +dine with him, and that ain't happened in, I should guess, for a year." + +"Have things gone wrong with him in any way?" said John, a sudden +anxiety overcoming some reluctance to question a servant on such a +subject. + +"You mean about business, and such like?" replied Jeffrey. "No, sir, not +so far as I know. You know, Mr. John, sir, that I pay all the house +accounts, and there hasn't never been no--no shortness, as I might say, +but we're living a bit simpler than we used to--in the matter of wine +and such like--and, as I told you, we don't have comp'ny no more." + +"Is that all?" asked John, with some relief. + +"Well, sir," was the reply, "perhaps it's because Mr. Lenox is getting +older and don't care so much about such things, but I have noticed that +he hasn't had anything new from the tailor in a long time, and really, +sir, though perhaps I oughtn't to say it, his things is getting a bit +shabby, sir, and he used to be always so partic'lar." + +John got up and walked over to the window which looked out at the rear +of the house. The words of the old servant disquieted him, +notwithstanding that there was nothing so far that could not be +accounted for without alarm. Jeffrey waited for a moment and then asked: + +"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. John? Will you be having +luncheon here, sir?" + +"No, thank you, Jeff," said John; "nothing more now, and I will lunch +here. I'll come down and see Ann presently." + +"Thank you, sir," said Jeffrey, and withdrew. + +The view from the back windows of most city houses is not calculated to +arouse enthusiasm at the best of times, and the day was singularly +dispiriting: a sky of lead and a drizzling rain, which emphasized the +squalor of the back yards in view. It was all very depressing. Jeffrey's +talk, though inconclusive, had stirred in John's mind an uneasiness +which was near to apprehension. He turned and walked about the familiar +room, recognizing the well-known furniture, his mother's picture over +the mantel, the bookshelves filled with his boyhood's accumulations, the +well-remembered pattern of the carpet, and the wall-paper--nothing was +changed. It was all as he had left it two years ago, and for the time it +seemed as if he had merely dreamed the life and experiences of those +years. Indeed, it was with difficulty that he recalled any of them for +the moment. And then suddenly there came into his mind the thought that +he was at the beginning of a new epoch--that on this day his boyhood +ended, for up to then he had been but a boy. The thought was very vivid. +It had come, the time when he must take upon himself the +responsibilities of his own life, and make it for himself; the time +which he had looked forward to as to come some day, but not hitherto at +any particular moment, and so not to be very seriously considered. + +It has been said that life had always been made easy for him, and that +he had accepted the situation without protest. To easy-going natures the +thought of any radical change in the current of affairs is usually +unwelcome, but he was too young to find it really repugnant; and then, +too, as he walked about the room with his hands in his pockets, it was +further revealed to him that he had recently found a motive and impulse +such as he had never had before. He recalled the talk that he had had +with the companion of his voyage. He thought of her as one who could be +tender to misfortune and charitable to incapacity, but who would have +nothing but scorn for shiftlessness and malingering; and he realized +that he had never cared for anything as for the good opinion of that +young woman. No, there should be for him no more sauntering in the vales +and groves, no more of loitering or dallying. He would take his place in +the working world, and perhaps--some day-- + +A thought came to him with the impact of a blow: What could he do? What +work was there for him? How could he pull his weight in the boat? All +his life he had depended upon some one else, with easy-going +thoughtlessness. Hardly had it ever really occurred to him that he +might have to make a career for himself. Of business he had thought as +something which he should undertake some time, but it was always a +business ready made to his hand, with plenty of capital not of his own +acquiring--something for occupation, not of necessity. It came home to +him that his father was his only resource, and that of his father's +affairs he knew next to nothing. + +In addition to his affection for him, he had always had an unquestioning +confidence in his father. It was his earliest recollection, and he still +retained it to almost a childish extent. There had always been plenty. +His own allowance, from time to time increased, though never +extravagant, had always been ample, and on the one occasion when he had +grievously exceeded it the excess had been paid with no more protest +than a gentle "I think you ought not to have done this." The two had +lived together when John was at home without ostentation or any +appearance of style, but with every essential of luxury. The house and +its furnishings were old-fashioned, but everything was of the best, and +when three or four of the elder man's friends would come to dine, as +happened occasionally, the contents of the cellar made them look at each +other over their glasses. Mr. Lenox was very reticent in all matters +relating to himself, and in his talks with his son, which were mostly at +the table, rarely spoke of business matters in general, and almost never +of his own. He had read well, and was fond of talking of his reading +when he felt in the vein of talking, which was not always; but John had +invariably found him ready with comment and sympathy upon the topics in +which he himself had interest, and there was a strong if undemonstrative +affection between the father and son. + +It was not strange, perhaps, all things considered, that John had come +even to nearly six-and-twenty with no more settled intentions; that his +boyhood should have been so long. He was not at all of a reckless +disposition, and, notwithstanding the desultory way in which he had +spent time, he had strong mental and moral fiber, and was capable of +feeling deeply and enduringly. He had been desultory, but never before +had he had much reason or warning against it. But now, he reflected, a +time had come. Work he must, if only for work's sake, and work he would; +and there was a touch of self-reproach in the thought of his father's +increasing years and of his lonely life. He might have been a help and a +companion during those two years of his not very fruitful European +sojourn, and he would lose no time in finding out what there was for him +to do, and in setting about it. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The day seemed very long. He ate his luncheon, having first paid a visit +to Ann, who gave him an effusive welcome. Jeffrey waited, and during the +meal they had some further talk, and among other things John said to +him, "Does my father dress for dinner nowadays?" + +"No, sir," was the reply, "I don't know when I've seen your father in +his evenin' clothes, sir. Not for a long time, and then maybe two or +three times the past year when he was going out to dinner, but not here, +sir. Maybe it'll be different now you're back again, sir." + +After luncheon John's luggage arrived, and he superintended the +unpacking, but that employment was comparatively brief. The day dragged +with him. Truly his home-coming was rather a dreary affair. How +different had been yesterday, and the day before, and all those days +before when he had so enjoyed the ship life, and most of all the daily +hour or more of the companionship which had grown to be of such +surpassing interest to him, and now seemed so utterly a thing of the +past. + +Of course, he should see her again. (He put aside a wonder if it would +be within the proprieties on that evening or, at latest, the next.) But, +in any case, "the episode," as he had said to her, was done, and it had +been very pleasant--oh, yes, very dear to him. He wondered if she was +finding the day as interminable as it seemed to him, and if the interval +before they saw each other again would seem as long as his impatience +would make it for him. Finally, the restless dullness became +intolerable. He sallied forth into the weather and went to his club, +having been on non-resident footing during his absence, and, finding +some men whom he knew, spent there the rest of the afternoon. + +His father was at home and in his room when John got back. + +"Well, father," he said, "the prodigal has returned." + +"He is very welcome," was the reply, as the elder man took both his +son's hands and looked at him affectionately. "You seem very well." + +"Yes," said John; "and how are you, sir?" + +"About as usual, I think," said Mr. Lenox. + +They looked at each other for a moment in silence. John thought that his +father seemed thinner than formerly, and he had instantly observed that +a white beard covered the always hitherto smooth-shaven chin, but he +made no comment. + +"The old place appears very familiar," he remarked. "Nothing is changed +or even moved, as I can see, and Ann and Jeff are just the same old +sixpences as ever." + +"Yes," said his father, "two years make less difference with old people +and their old habits than with young ones. You will have changed more +than we have, I fancy." + +"Do we dress for dinner?" asked John, after some little more unimportant +talk. + +"Yes," said his father, "in honor of the occasion, if you like. I +haven't done it lately," he added, a little wearily. + + * * * * * + +"I haven't had such a glass of wine since I left home," John remarked as +they sat together after dinner. + +"No," said his father, looking thoughtfully at his glass, "it's the old +'Mouton,' and pretty nearly the last of it; it's very old and wants +drinking," he observed as he held his glass up to get the color. "It has +gone off a bit even in two years." + +"All right," said John cheerfully, "we'll drink it to save it, if needs +be." The elder man smiled and filled both glasses. + +There had been more or less talk during the meal, but nothing of special +moment. John sat back in his chair, absently twirling the stem of his +glass between thumb and fingers. Presently he said, looking straight +before him at the table: "I have been thinking a good deal of late--more +than ever before, positively, in fact--that whatever my prospects may +be," (he did not see the momentary contraction of his father's brow) "I +ought to begin some sort of a career in earnest. I'm afraid," he +continued, "that I have been rather unmindful, and that I might have +been of some use to you as well as myself if I had stayed at home +instead of spending the last two years in Europe." + +"I trust," said his father, "that they have not been entirely without +profit." + +"No," said John, "perhaps not wholly, but their cash value would not be +large, I'm afraid." + +"All value is not to be measured in dollars and cents," remarked Mr. +Lenox. "If I could have acquired as much German and French as I presume +you have, to say nothing of other things, I should look back upon the +time as well spent at almost any cost. At your age a year or two more or +less--you don't realize it now, but you will if you come to my +age--doesn't count for so very much, and you are not too old," he +smiled, "to begin at a beginning." + +"I want to begin," said John. + +"Yes," said his father, "I want to have you, and I have had the matter a +good deal in my mind. Have you any idea as to what you wish to do?" + +"I thought," said John, "that the most obvious thing would be to go into +your office." Mr. Lenox reached over for the cigar-lamp. His cigar had +gone out, and his hand shook as he applied the flame to it. He did not +reply for a moment. + +"I understand," he said at last. "It would seem the obvious thing to do, +as you say, but," he clicked his teeth together doubtfully, "I don't see +how it can be managed at present, and I don't think it is what I should +desire for you in any case. The fact is," he went on, "my business has +always been a sort of specialty, and, though it is still worth doing +perhaps, it is not what it used to be. Conditions and methods have +changed--and," he added, "I am too old to change with them." + +"I am not," said John. + +"In fact," resumed his father, ignoring John's assertion, "as things are +going now, I couldn't make a place for you in my office unless I +displaced Melig and made you my manager, and for many reasons I couldn't +do that. I am too dependent on Melig. Of course, if you came with me it +would be as a partner, but--" + +"No," said John, "I should be a poor substitute for old Melig for a good +while, I fancy." + +"My idea would be," said Mr. Lenox, "that you should undertake a +profession--say the law. It is a fact that the great majority of men +fail in business, and then most of them, for lack of training or special +aptitude, fall into the ranks of clerks and subordinates. On the other +hand, a man who has a profession--law, medicine, what not--even if he +does not attain high rank, has something on which he can generally get +along, at least after a fashion, and he has the standing. That is my +view of the matter, and though I confess I often wonder at it in +individual cases, it is my advice to you." + +"It would take three or four years to put me where I could earn anything +to speak of," said John, "even providing that I could get any business +at the end of the time." + +"Yes," said his father, "but the time of itself isn't of so much +consequence. You would be living at home, and would have your +allowance--perhaps," he suggested, "somewhat diminished, seeing that you +would be here--" + +"I can get on with half of it," said John confidently. + +"We will settle that matter afterward," said Mr. Lenox. + +They sat in silence for some minutes, John staring thoughtfully at the +table, unconscious of the occasional scrutiny of his father's glance. At +last he said, "Well, sir, I will do anything that you advise." + +"Have you anything to urge against it?" asked Mr. Lenox. + +"Not exactly on my own account," replied John, "though I admit that the +three years or more seems a long time to me, but I have been drawing on +you exclusively all my life, except for the little money I earned in +Rush & Company's office, and--" + +"You have done so, my dear boy," said his father gently, "with my +acquiescence. I may have been wrong, but that is a fact. If in my +judgment the arrangement may be continued for a while longer, and in the +mean time you are making progress toward a definite end, I think you +need have no misgivings. It gratifies me to have you feel as you do, +though it is no more than I should have expected of you, for you have +never caused me any serious anxiety or disappointment, my son." + +Often in the after time did John thank God for that assurance. + +"Thank you, sir," he said, putting down his hand, palm upward, on the +table, and his eyes filled as the elder man laid his hand in his, and +they gave each other a lingering pressure. + +Mr. Lenox divided the last of the wine in the bottle between the two +glasses, and they drank it in silence, as if in pledge. + +"I will go in to see Carey & Carey in the morning, and if they are +agreeable you can see them afterward," said Mr. Lenox. "They are not one +of the great firms, but they have a large and good practice, and they +are friends of mine. Shall I do so?" he asked, looking at his son. + +"If you will be so kind," John replied, returning his look. And so the +matter was concluded. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +This history will not concern itself to any extent with our friend's +career as a law clerk, though, as he promised himself, he took it +seriously and laboriously while it lasted, notwithstanding that after +two years of being his own master, and the rather desultory and +altogether congenial life he had led, he found it at first even more +irksome than he had fancied. The novice penetrates but slowly the +mysteries of the law, and, unless he be of unusual aptitude and +imagination, the interesting and remunerative part seems for a long time +very far off. But John stuck manfully to the reading, and was diligent +in all that was put upon him to do; and after a while the days spent in +the office and in the work appointed to him began to pass more quickly. + +He restrained his impulse to call at Sixty-ninth Street until what +seemed to him a fitting interval had elapsed; one which was longer than +it would otherwise have been, from an instinct of shyness not habitual +to him, and a distrustful apprehension that perhaps his advent was not +of so much moment to the people there as to him. But their greeting was +so cordial on every hand that Mrs. Carling's remark that they had been +almost afraid he had forgotten them embarrassed while it pleased him, +and his explanations were somewhat lame. Miss Blake, as usual, came to +the rescue, though John's disconcert was not lessened by the suspicion +that she saw through his inventions. He had conceived a great opinion of +that young person's penetration. + +His talk for a while was mostly with Mr. Carling, who was in a pleasant +mood, being, like most nervous people, at his best in the evening. Mary +made an occasional contributory remark, and Mrs. Carling, as was her +wont, was silent except when appealed to. Finally, Mr. Carling rose and, +putting out his hand, said: "I think I will excuse myself, if you will +permit me. I have had to be down town to-day, and am rather tired." Mrs. +Carling followed him, saying to John as she bade him good night: "Do +come, Mr. Lenox, whenever you feel like it. We are very quiet people, +and are almost always at home." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Carling," responded John, with much sincerity. "I shall +be most glad to. I am so quiet myself as to be practically noiseless." + +The hall of the Carlings' house was their favorite sitting place in the +evening. It ran nearly the whole depth of the house, and had a wide +fireplace at the end. The further right hand portion was recessed by the +stairway, which rose from about the middle of its length. + +Miss Blake sat in a low chair, and John took its fellow at the other +angle of the fireplace, which contained the smoldering remnant of a wood +fire. She had a bit of embroidery stretched over a circular frame like a +drum-head. Needlework was not a passion with her, but it was understood +in the Carling household that in course of time a set of table doilies +of elaborate devices in colored silks would be forthcoming. It has been +deplored by some philosopher that custom does not sanction such little +occupations for masculine hands. It would be interesting to speculate +how many embarrassing or disastrous consequences might have been averted +if at a critical point in a negotiation or controversy a needle had had +to be threaded or a dropped stitch taken up before a reply was made, to +say nothing of an excuse for averting features at times without +confession of confusion. + +The great and wise Charles Reade tells how his hero, who had an island, +a treasure ship, and a few other trifles of the sort to dispose of, +insisted upon Captain Fullalove's throwing away the stick he was +whittling, as giving the captain an unfair advantage. The value of the +embroidered doily as an article of table napery may be open to question, +but its value, in an unfinished state, as an adjunct to discreet +conversation, is beyond all dispute. + +"Ought I to say good night?" asked John with a smile, as he seated +himself on the disappearance of Mr. and Mrs. Carling. + +"I don't see any reason," she replied. "It isn't late. Julius is in one +of his periods of retiring early just now. By and by he will be sure to +take up the idea again that his best sleep is after midnight. At present +he is on the theory that it is before twelve o'clock." + +"How has he been since your return?" John asked. + +"Better in some ways, I think," she replied. "He seems to enjoy the home +life in contrast with the traveling about and living in hotels; and +then, in a moderate way, he is obliged to give some attention to +business matters, and to come in contact with men and affairs +generally." + +"And you?" said John. "You find it pleasant to be back?" + +"Yes," she said, "I do. As my sister said, we are quiet people. She goes +out so little that it is almost not at all, and when I go it has nearly +always to be with some one else. And then, you know that while Alice and +I are originally New Yorkers, we have only been back here for two or +three years. Most of the people, really, to whose houses we go are those +who knew my father. But," she added, "it is a comfort not to be carrying +about a traveling bag in one hand and a weight of responsibility in the +other." + +"I should think," said John, laughing, "that your maid might have taken +the bag, even if she couldn't carry your responsibilities." + +"No," she said, joining in his laugh, "that particular bag was too +precious, and Eliza was one of my most serious responsibilities. She had +to be looked after like the luggage, and I used to wish at times that +she could be labeled and go in the van. How has it been with you since +your return? and," as she separated a needleful of silk from what seemed +an inextricable tangle, "if I may ask, what have you been doing? I was +recalling," she added, putting the silk into the needle, "some things +you said to me on the Altruria. Do you remember?" + +"Perfectly," said John. "I think I remember every word said on both +sides, and I have thought very often of some things you said to me. In +fact, they had more influence upon my mind than you imagined." + +She turned her work so that the light would fall a little more directly +upon it. + +"Really?" she asked. "In what way?" + +"You put in a drop or two that crystallized the whole solution," he +answered. She looked up at him inquiringly. + +"Yes," he said, "I always knew that I should have to stop drifting some +time, but there never seemed to be any particular time. Some things you +said to me set the time. I am under 'full steam a-head' at present. +Behold in me," he exclaimed, touching his breast, "the future chief of +the Supreme Court of the United States, of whom you shall say some time +in the next brief interval of forty years or so, 'I knew him as a young +man, and one for whom no one would have predicted such eminence!' and +perhaps you will add, 'It was largely owing to me.'" + +She looked at him with an expression in which amusement and curiosity +were blended. + +"I congratulate you," she said, laughing, "upon the career in which it +appears I had the honor to start you. Am I being told that you have +taken up the law?" + +"Not quite the whole of it as yet," he said; "but when I am not doing +errands for the office I am to some extent taken up with it," and then +he told her of his talk with his father and what had followed. She +overcame a refractory kink in her silk before speaking. + +"It takes a long time, doesn't it, and do you like it?" she asked. + +"Well," said John, laughing a little, "a weaker word than 'fascinating' +would describe the pursuit, but I hope with diligence to reach some of +the interesting features in the course of ten or twelve years." + +"It is delightful," she remarked, scrutinizing the pattern of her work, +"to encounter such enthusiasm." + +"Isn't it?" said John, not in the least wounded by her sarcasm. + +"Very much so," she replied, "but I have always understood that it is a +mistake to be too sanguine." + +"Perhaps I'd better make it fifteen years, then," he said, laughing. "I +should have a choice of professions by that time at any rate. You know +the proverb that 'At forty every man is either a fool or a physician.'" +She looked at him with a smile. "Yes," he said, "I realize the +alternative." She laughed a little, but did not reply. + +"Seriously," he continued, "I know that in everything worth +accomplishing there is a lot of drudgery to be gone through with at the +first, and perhaps it seems the more irksome to me because I have been +so long idly my own master. However," he added, "I shall get down to it, +or up to it, after a while, I dare say. That is my intention, at any +rate." + +"I don't think I have ever wished that I were a man," she said after a +moment, "but I often find myself envying a man's opportunities." + +"Do not women have opportunities, too?" he said. "Certainly they have +greatly to do with the determination of affairs." + +"Oh, yes," she replied, "it is the usual answer that woman's part is to +influence somebody. As for her own life, it is largely made for her. +She has, for the most part, to take what comes to her by the will of +others." + +"And yet," said John, "I fancy that there has seldom been a great career +in which some woman's help or influence was not a factor." + +"Even granting that," she replied, "the career was the man's, after all, +and the fame and visible reward. A man will sometimes say, 'I owe all my +success to my wife, or my mother, or sister,' but he never really +believes it, nor, in fact, does any one else. It is _his_ success, after +all, and the influence of the woman is but a circumstance, real and +powerful though it may be. I am not sure," she added, "that woman's +influence, so called, isn't rather an overrated thing. Women like to +feel that they have it, and men, in matters which they hold lightly, +flatter them by yielding, but I am doubtful if a man ever arrives at or +abandons a settled course or conviction through the influence of a +woman, however exerted." + +"I think you are wrong," said John, "and I feel sure of so much as this: +that a man might often be or do for a woman's sake that which he would +not for its sake or his own." + +"That is quite another thing," she said. "There is in it no question of +influence; it is one of impulse and motive." + +"I have told you to-night," said John, "that what you said to me had +influenced me greatly." + +"Pardon me," she replied, "you employed a figure which exactly defined +your condition. You said I supplied the drop which caused the solution +to crystallize--that is, to elaborate your illustration, that it was +already at the point of saturation with your own convictions and +intentions." + +"I said also," he urged, "that you had set the time for me. Is the idea +unpleasant to you?" he asked after a moment, while he watched her face. +She did not at once reply, but presently she turned to him with slightly +heightened color and said, ignoring his question: + +"Would you rather think that you had done what you thought right because +you so thought, or because some one else wished to have you? Or, I +should say, would you rather think that the right suggestion was +another's than your own?" + +He laughed a little, and said evasively: "You ought to be a lawyer, Miss +Blake. I should hate to have you cross-examine me unless I were very +sure of my evidence." + +She gave a little shrug of her shoulders in reply as she turned and +resumed her embroidery. They talked for a while longer, but of other +things, the discussion of woman's influence having been dropped by +mutual consent. + +After John's departure she suspended operations on the doily, and sat +for a while gazing reflectively into the fire. She was a person as frank +with herself as with others, and with as little vanity as was compatible +with being human, which is to say that, though she was not without it, +it was of the sort which could be gratified but not flattered--in fact, +the sort which flattery wounds rather than pleases. But despite her +apparent skepticism she had not been displeased by John's assertion that +she had influenced him in his course. She had expressed herself truly, +believing that he would have done as he had without her intervention; +but she thought that he was sincere, and it was pleasant to her to have +him think as he did. + +Considering the surroundings and conditions under which she had lived, +she had had her share of the acquaintance and attentions of agreeable +men, but none of them had ever got with her beyond the stage of mere +friendliness. There had never been one whose coming she had particularly +looked forward to, or whose going she had deplored. She had thought of +marriage as something she might come to, but she had promised herself +that it should be on such conditions as were, she was aware, quite +improbable of ever being fulfilled. She would not care for a man because +he was clever and distinguished, but she felt that he must be those +things, and to have, besides, those qualities of character and person +which should attract her. She had known a good many men who were clever +and to some extent distinguished, but none who had attracted her +personally. John Lenox did not strike her as being particularly clever, +and he certainly was not distinguished, nor, she thought, ever very +likely to be; but she had had a pleasure in being with him which she had +never experienced in the society of any other man, and underneath some +boyish ways she divined a strength and steadfastness which could be +relied upon at need. And she admitted to herself that during the ten +days since her return, though she had unsparingly snubbed her sister's +wonderings why he did not call, she had speculated a good deal upon the +subject herself, with a sort of resentful feeling against both herself +and him that she should care-- + +Her face flushed as she recalled the momentary pressure of his hand upon +hers on that last night on deck. She rang for the servant, and went up +to her room. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +It is not the purpose of this narrative to dwell minutely upon the +events of the next few months. Truth to say, they were devoid of +incidents of sufficient moment in themselves to warrant chronicle. What +they led up to was memorable enough. + +As time went on John found himself on terms of growing intimacy with the +Carling household, and eventually it came about that if there passed a +day when their door did not open to him it was _dies non_. + +Mr. Carling was ostensibly more responsible than the ladies for the +frequency of our friend's visits, and grew to look forward to them. In +fact, he seemed to regard them as paid primarily to himself, and ignored +an occasional suggestion on his wife's part that it might not be wholly +the pleasure of a chat and a game at cards with him that brought the +young man so often to the house. And when once she ventured to concern +him with some stirrings of her mind on the subject, he rather testily +(for him) pooh-poohed her misgivings, remarking that Mary was her own +mistress, and, so far as he had ever seen, remarkably well qualified to +regulate her own affairs. Had she ever seen anything to lead her to +suppose that there was any particular sentiment existing between Lenox +and her sister? + +"No," said Mrs. Carling, "perhaps not exactly, but you know how those +things go, and he always stays after we come up when she is at home." To +which her husband vouchsafed no reply, but began a protracted wavering +as to the advisability of leaving the steam on or turning it off for the +night, which was a cold one--a dilemma which, involving his personal +welfare or comfort at the moment, permitted no consideration of other +matters to share his mind. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Carling had not spoken to her sister upon the subject. She thought +that that young woman, if she were not, as Mr. Carling said, "remarkably +well qualified to regulate her own affairs," at least held the opinion +that she was, very strongly. + +The two were devotedly fond of each other, but Mrs. Carling was the +elder by twenty years, and in her love was an element of maternal +solicitude to which her sister, while giving love for love in fullest +measure, did not fully respond. The elder would have liked to share +every thought, but she was neither so strong nor so clever as the girl +to whom she had been almost as a mother, and who, though perfectly +truthful and frank when she was minded to express herself, gave, as a +rule, little satisfaction to attempts to explore her mind, and on some +subjects was capable of meeting such attempts with impatience, not to +say resentment--a fact of which her sister was quite aware. But as time +went on, and the frequency of John's visits and attentions grew into a +settled habit, Mrs. Carling's uneasiness, with which perhaps was mingled +a bit of curiosity, got the better of her reserve, and she determined +to get what satisfaction could be obtained for it. + +They were sitting in Mrs. Carling's room, which was over the +drawing-room in the front of the house. A fire of cannel blazed in the +grate. + +A furious storm was whirling outside. Mrs. Carling was occupied with +some sort of needlework, and her sister, with a writing pad on her lap, +was composing a letter to a friend with whom she carried on a desultory +and rather one-sided correspondence. Presently she yawned slightly, and, +putting down her pad, went over to the window and looked out. + +"What a day!" she exclaimed. "It seems to get worse and worse. +Positively you can't see across the street. It's like a western +blizzard." + +"It is, really," said Mrs. Carling; and then, moved by the current of +thought which had been passing in her mind of late, "I fancy we shall +spend the evening by ourselves to-night." + +"That would not be so unusual as to be extraordinary, would it?" said +Mary. + +"Wouldn't it?" suggested Mrs. Carling in a tone that was meant to be +slightly quizzical. + +"We are by ourselves most evenings, are we not?" responded her sister, +without turning around. "Why do you particularize to-night?" + +"I was thinking," answered Mrs. Carling, bending a little closer over +her work, "that even Mr. Lenox would hardly venture out in such a storm +unless it were absolutely necessary." + +"Oh, yes, to be sure, Mr. Lenox; very likely not," was Miss Blake's +comment, in a tone of indifferent recollection. + +"He comes here very often, almost every night, in fact," remarked Mrs. +Carling, looking up sideways at her sister's back. + +"Now that you mention it," said Mary dryly, "I have noticed something of +the sort myself." + +"Do you think he ought to?" asked her sister, after a moment of silence. + +"Why not?" said the girl, turning to her questioner for the first time. +"And why should I think he should or should not? Doesn't he come to see +Julius, and on Julius's invitation? I have never asked him--but once," +she said, flushing a little as she recalled the occasion and the wording +of the invitation. + +"Do you think," returned Mrs. Carling, "that his visits are wholly on +Julius's account, and that he would come so often if there were no other +inducement? You know," she continued, pressing her point timidly but +persistently, "he always stays after we go upstairs if you are at home, +and I have noticed that when you are out he always goes before our time +for retiring." + +"I should say," was the rejoinder, "that that was very much the proper +thing. Whether or not he comes here too often is not for me to say--I +have no opinion on the subject. But, to do him justice, he is about the +last man to wait for a tacit dismissal, or to cause you and Julius to +depart from what he knows to be your regular habit out of politeness to +him. He is a person of too much delicacy and good breeding to stay +when--if--that is to say--" She turned again to the window without +completing her sentence, and, though Mrs. Carling thought she could +complete it for her, she wisely forbore. After a moment of silence, Mary +said in a voice devoid of any traces of confusion: + +"You asked me if I thought Mr. Lenox would come so often if there were +no object in his coming except to see Julius. I can only say that if +Julius were out of the question I think he would come here but seldom; +but," she added, as she left the window and resumed her seat, "I do not +quite see the object of this discussion, and, indeed, I am not quite +sure of what we are discussing. Do you object," she asked, looking +curiously at her sister and smiling slightly, "to Mr. Lenox's coming +here as he does, and if so, why?" This was apparently more direct than +Mrs. Carling was quite prepared for. "And if you do," Mary proceeded, +"what is to be done about it? Am I to make him understand that it is not +considered the proper thing? or will you? or shall we leave it to +Julius?" + +Mrs. Carling looked up into her sister's face, in which was a smile of +amused penetration, and looked down again in visible embarrassment. + +The young woman laughed as she shook her finger at her. + +"Oh, you transparent goose!" she cried. "What did he say?" + +"What did who say?" was the evasive response. + +"Julius," said Mary, putting her finger under her sister's chin and +raising her face. "Tell me now. You've been talking with him, and I +insist upon knowing the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the +truth. So there!" + +"Well," she admitted hesitatingly, "I said to him something like what I +have to you, that it seemed to me that Mr. Lenox came very often, and +that I did not believe it was all on his account, and that he" (won't +somebody please invent another pronoun?) "always stayed when you were +at home--" + +"--and," broke in her sister, "that you were afraid my young affections +were being engaged, and that, after all, we didn't know much if anything +about the young man, or, perhaps, that he was forming a hopeless +attachment, and so on." + +"No," said Mrs. Carling, "I didn't say that exactly. I--" + +"Didn't you, really?" said Mary teasingly. "One ought to be explicit in +such cases, don't you think? Well, what did Julius say? Was he very much +concerned?" Mrs. Carling's face colored faintly under her sister's +raillery, and she gave a little embarrassed laugh. + +"Come, now," said the girl relentlessly, "what did he say?" + +"Well," answered Mrs. Carling, "I must admit that he said 'Pooh!' for +one thing, and that you were your own mistress, and, so far as he had +seen, you were very well qualified to manage your own affairs." + +Her sister clapped her hands. "Such discrimination have I not seen," she +exclaimed, "no, not in Israel! What else did he say?" she demanded, with +a dramatic gesture. "Let us know the worst." + +Mrs. Carling laughed a little. "I don't remember," she admitted, "that +he said anything more on the subject. He got into some perplexity about +whether the steam should be off or on, and after that question was +settled we went to bed." Mary laughed outright. + +"So Julius doesn't think I need watching," she said. + +"Mary," protested her sister in a hurt tone, "you don't think I ever +did or could watch you? I don't want to pry into your secrets, dear," +and she looked up with tears in her eyes. The girl dropped on her knees +beside her sister and put her arms about her neck. + +"You precious old lamb!" she cried, "I know you don't. You couldn't pry +into anybody's secrets if you tried. You couldn't even try. But I +haven't any, dear, and I'll tell you every one of them, and, rather than +see a tear in your dear eyes, I would tell John Lenox that I never +wanted to see him again; and I don't know what you have been thinking, +but I haven't thought so at all" (which last assertion made even Mrs. +Carling laugh), "and I know that I have been teasing and horrid, and if +you won't put me in the closet I will be good and answer every question +like a nice little girl." Whereupon she gave her sister a kiss and +resumed her seat with an air of abject penitence which lasted for a +minute. Then she laughed again, though there was a watery gleam in her +own eyes. Mrs. Carling gave her a look of great love and admiration. + +"I ought not to have brought up the subject," she said, "knowing as I do +how you feel about such discussions, but I love you so much that +sometimes I can't help--" + +"Alice," exclaimed the girl, "please have the kindness to call me a +selfish P--I--G. It will relieve my feelings." + +"But I do not think you are," said Mrs. Carling literally. + +"But I am at times," declared Mary, "and you deserve not only to have, +but to be shown, all the love and confidence that I can give you. It's +only this, that sometimes your solicitude makes you imagine things that +do not exist, and you think I am withholding my confidence; and then, +again, I am enough like other people that I don't always know exactly +what I do think. Now, about this matter--" + +"Don't say a word about it, dear," her sister interrupted, "unless you +would rather than not." + +"I wish to," said Mary. "Of course I am not oblivious of the fact that +Mr. Lenox comes here very often, nor that he seems to like to stay and +talk with me, because, don't you know, if he didn't he could go when you +do, and I don't mind admitting that, as a general thing, I like to have +him stay; but, as I said to you, if it weren't for Julius he would not +come here very often." + +"Don't you think," said Mrs. Carling, now on an assured footing, "that +if it were not for you he would not come so often?" + +Perhaps Mary overestimated the attraction which her brother-in-law had +for Mr. Lenox, and she smiled slightly as she thought that it was quite +possible. "I suppose," she went on, with a little shrug of the +shoulders, "that the proceeding is not strictly conventional, and that +the absolutely correct thing would be for him to say good night when you +and Julius do, and that there are those who would regard my permitting a +young man in no way related to me to see me very often in the evening +without the protection of a duenna as a very unbecoming thing." + +"I never have had such a thought about it," declared Mrs. Carling. + +"I never for a moment supposed you had, dear," said Mary, "nor have I. +We are rather unconventional people, making very few claims upon +society, and upon whom 'society' makes very few." + +"I am rather sorry for that on your account," said her sister. + +"You needn't be," was the rejoinder. "I have no yearnings in that +direction which are not satisfied with what I have." She sat for a +minute or two with her hands clasped upon her knee, gazing reflectively +into the fire, which, in the growing darkness of the winter afternoon, +afforded almost the only light in the room. Presently she became +conscious that her sister was regarding her with an air of expectation, +and resumed: "Leaving the question of the conventions out of the +discussion as settled," she said, "there is nothing, Alice, that you +need have any concern about, either on Mr. Lenox's account or mine." + +"You like him, don't you?" asked Mrs. Carling. + +"Yes," said Mary frankly, "I like him very much. We have enough in +common to be rather sympathetic, and we differ enough not to be dull, +and so we get on very well. I never had a brother," she continued, after +a momentary pause, "but I feel toward him as I fancy I should feel +toward a brother of about my own age, though he is five or six years +older than I am." + +"You don't think, then," said Mrs. Carling timidly, "that you are +getting to care for him at all?" + +"In the sense that you use the word," was the reply, "not the least in +the world. If there were to come a time when I really believed I should +never see him again, I should be sorry; but if at any time it were a +question of six months or a year, I do not think my equanimity would be +particularly disturbed." + +"And how about him?" suggested Mrs. Carling. There was no reply. + +"Don't you think he may care for you, or be getting to?" + +Mary frowned slightly, half closing her eyes and stirring a little +uneasily in her chair. + +"He hasn't said anything to me on the subject," she replied evasively. + +"Would that be necessary?" asked her sister. + +"Perhaps not," was the reply, "if the fact were very obvious." + +"Isn't it?" persisted Mrs. Carling, with unusual tenacity. + +"Well," said the girl, "to be quite frank with you, I have thought once +or twice that he entertained some such idea--that is--no, I don't mean +to put it just that way. I mean that once or twice something has +occurred to give me that idea. That isn't very coherent, is it? But even +if it be so," she went on after a moment, with a wave of her hands, +"what of it? What does it signify? And if it does signify, what can I do +about it?" + +"You have thought about it, then?" said her sister. + +"As much as I have told you," she answered. "I am not a very sentimental +person, I think, and not very much on the lookout for such things, but I +know there is such a thing as a man's taking a fancy to a young woman +under circumstances which bring them often together, and I have been led +to believe that it isn't necessarily fatal to the man even if nothing +comes of it. But be that as it may," she said with a shrug of her +shoulders, "what can I do about it? I can't say to Mr. Lenox, 'I think +you ought not to come here so much,' unless I give a reason for it, and +I think we have come to the conclusion that there is no reason except +the danger--to put it in so many words--of his falling in love with me. +I couldn't quite say that to him, could I?" + +"No, I suppose not," acquiesced Mrs. Carling faintly. + +"No, I should say not," remarked the girl. "If he were to say anything +to me in the way of--declaration is the word, isn't it?--it would be +another matter. But there is no danger of that." + +"Why not, if he is fond of you?" asked her sister. + +"Because," said Mary, with an emphatic nod, "I won't let him," which +assertion was rather weakened by her adding, "and he wouldn't, if I +would." + +"I don't understand," said her sister. + +"Well," said Mary, "I don't pretend to know all that goes on in his +mind; but allowing, or rather conjecturing, that he does care for me in +the way you mean, I haven't the least fear of his telling me so, and one +of the reasons is this, that he is wholly dependent upon his father, +with no other prospect for years to come." + +"I had the idea somehow," said Mrs. Carling, "that his father was very +well-to-do. The young man gives one the impression of a person who has +always had everything that he wanted." + +"I think that is so," said Mary, "but he told me one day, coming over on +the steamer, that he knew nothing whatever of his own prospects or his +father's affairs. I don't remember--at least, it doesn't matter--how he +came to say as much, but he did, and afterward gave me a whimsical +catalogue of his acquirements and accomplishments, remarking, I +remember, that 'there was not a dollar in the whole list'; and lately, +though you must not fancy that he discusses his own affairs with me, he +has now and then said something to make me guess that he was somewhat +troubled about them." + +"Is he doing anything?" asked Mrs. Carling. + +"He told me the first evening he called here," said Mary, "that he was +studying law, at his father's suggestion; but I don't remember the name +of the firm in whose office he is." + +"Why doesn't he ask his father about his prospects?" said Mrs. Carling. + +Mary laughed. "You seem to be so much more interested in the matter than +I am," she said, "why don't you ask him yourself?" To which +unjustifiable rejoinder her sister made no reply. + +"I don't see why he shouldn't," she remarked. + +"I think I understand," said Mary. "I fancy from what he has told me +that his father is a singularly reticent man, but one in whom his son +has always had the most implicit confidence. I imagine, too, that until +recently, at any rate, he has taken it for granted that his father was +wealthy. He has not confided any misgivings to me, but if he has any he +is just the sort of person not to ask, and certainly not to press a +question with his father." + +"It would seem like carrying delicacy almost too far," remarked Mrs. +Carling. + +"Perhaps it would," said her sister, "but I think I can understand and +sympathize with it." + +Mrs. Carling broke the silence which followed for a moment or two as if +she were thinking aloud. "You have plenty of money," she said, and +colored at her inadvertence. Her sister looked at her for an instant +with a humorous smile, and then, as she rose and touched the bell +button, said, "That's another reason." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +I think it should hardly be imputed to John as a fault or a shortcoming +that he did not for a long time realize his father's failing powers. +True, as has been stated, he had noted some changes in appearance on his +return, but they were not great enough to be startling, and, though he +thought at times that his father's manner was more subdued than he had +ever known it to be, nothing really occurred to arouse his suspicion or +anxiety. After a few days the two men appeared to drop into their +accustomed relation and routine, meeting in the morning and at dinner; +but as John picked up the threads of his acquaintance he usually went +out after dinner, and even when he did not his father went early to his +own apartment. + +From John's childhood he had been much of the time away from home, and +there had never, partly from that circumstance and partly from the older +man's natural and habitual reserve, been very much intimacy between +them. The father did not give his own confidence, and, while always kind +and sympathetic when appealed to, did not ask his son's; and, loving his +father well and loyally, and trusting him implicitly, it did not occur +to John to feel that there was anything wanting in the relation. It was +as it had always been. He was accustomed to accept what his father did +or said without question, and, as is very often the case, had always +regarded him as an old man. He had never felt that they could be in the +same equation. In truth, save for their mutual affection, they had +little in common; and if, as may have been the case, his father had any +cravings for a closer and more intimate relation, he made no sign, +acquiescing in his son's actions as the son did in his, without question +or suggestion. They did not know each other, and such cases are not +rare, more is the pity. + +But as time went on even John's unwatchful eye could not fail to notice +that all was not well with his father. Haggard lines were multiplying in +the quiet face, and the silence at the dinner table was often unbroken +except by John's unfruitful efforts to keep some sort of a conversation +in motion. More and more frequently it occurred that his father would +retire to his own room immediately after dinner was over, and the food +on his plate would be almost untouched, while he took more wine than had +ever been his habit. John, retiring late, would often hear him stirring +uneasily in his room, and it would be plain in the morning that he had +spent a wakeful, if not a sleepless, night. Once or twice on such a +morning John had suggested to his father that he should not go down to +the office, and the suggestion had been met with so irritable a negative +as to excite his wonder. + + * * * * * + +It was a day in the latter part of March. The winter had been unusually +severe, and lingered into spring with a heart-sickening tenacity, +occasional hints of clemency and promise being followed by recurrences +which were as irritating as a personal affront. + +John had held to his work in the office, if not with positive +enthusiasm, at least with industry, and thought that he had made some +progress. On the day in question the managing clerk commented briefly +but favorably on something of his which was satisfactory, and, such +experiences being rare, he was conscious of a feeling of mild elation. +He was also cherishing the anticipation of a call at Sixty-ninth Street, +where, for reasons unnecessary to recount, he had not been for a week. +At dinner that night his father seemed more inclined than for a long +time to keep up a conversation which, though of no special import, was +cheerful in comparison with the silence which had grown to be almost the +rule, and the two men sat for a while over the coffee and cigars. +Presently, however, the elder rose from the table, saying pleasantly, "I +suppose you are going out to-night." + +"Not if you'd like me to stay in," was the reply. "I have no definite +engagement." + +"Oh, no," said Mr. Lenox, "not at all, not at all," and as he passed his +son on the way out of the room he put out his hand and taking John's, +said, "Good night." + +As John stood for a moment rather taken aback, he heard his father mount +the stairs to his room. He was puzzled by the unexpected and unusual +occurrence, but finally concluded that his father, realizing how +taciturn they had become of late, wished to resume their former status, +and this view was confirmed to his mind by the fact that they had been +more companionable than usual that evening, albeit that nothing of any +special significance had been said. + +As has been stated, a longer interval than usual had elapsed since +John's last visit to Sixty-ninth Street, a fact which had been commented +on by Mr. Carling, but not mentioned between the ladies. When he found +himself at that hospitable house on that evening, he was greeted by Miss +Blake alone. + +"Julius did not come down to-night, and my sister is with him," she +said, "so you will have to put up with my society--unless you'd like me +to send up for Alice. Julius is strictly _en retraite_, I should say." + +"Don't disturb her, I beg," protested John, laughing, and wondering a +bit at the touch of coquetry in her speech, something unprecedented in +his experience of her, "if you are willing to put up with my society. I +hope Mr. Carling is not ill?" + +They seated themselves as she replied: "No, nothing serious, I should +say. A bit of a cold, I fancy; and for a fortnight he has been more +nervous than usual. The changes in the weather have been so great and so +abrupt that they have worn upon his nerves. He is getting very uneasy +again. Now, after spending the winter, and when spring is almost at +hand, I believe that if he could make up his mind where to go he would +be for setting off to-morrow." + +"Really?" said John, in a tone of dismay. + +"Quite so," she replied with a nod. + +"But," he objected, "it seems too late or too early. Spring may drop in +upon us any day. Isn't this something very recent?" + +"It has been developing for a week or ten days," she answered, "and +symptoms have indicated a crisis for some time. In fact," she added, +with a little vexed laugh, "we have talked of nothing for a week but the +advantages and disadvantages of Florida, California, North Carolina, +South Carolina, and Virginia at large; besides St. Augustine, Monterey, +Santa Barbara, Aiken, Asheville, Hot Springs, Old Point Comfort, +Bermuda, and I don't know how many other places, not forgetting Atlantic +City and Lakewood, and only not Barbadoes and the Sandwich Islands +because nobody happened to think of them. Julius," remarked Miss Blake, +"would have given a forenoon to the discussion of the two latter places +as readily as to any of the others." + +"Can't you talk him along into warm weather?" suggested John, with +rather a mirthless laugh. "Don't you think that if the weather were to +change for good, as it's likely to do almost any time now, he might put +off going till the usual summer flitting?" + +"The change in his mind will have to come pretty soon if I am to retain +my mental faculties," she declared. "He might possibly, but I am afraid +not," she said, shaking her head. "He has the idea fixed in his mind, +and considerations of the weather here, while they got him started, are +not now so much the question. He has the moving fever, and I am afraid +it will have to run its course. I think," she said, after a moment, +"that if I were to formulate a special anathema, it would be, 'May +traveling seize you!'" + +"Or restlessness," suggested John. + +"Yes," she said, "that's more accurate, perhaps, but it doesn't sound +quite so smart. Julius is in that state of mind when the only place that +seems desirable is somewhere else." + +"Of course you will have to go," said John mournfully. + +"Oh, yes," she replied, with an air of compulsory resignation. "I shall +not only have to go, of course, but I shall probably have to decide +where in order to save my mind. But it will certainly be somewhere, so I +might as well be packing my trunks." + +"And you will be away indefinitely, I suppose?" + +"Yes, I imagine so." + +"Dear me!" John ejaculated in a dismal tone. + +They were sitting as described on a former occasion, and the young woman +was engaged upon the second (perhaps the third, or even the fourth) of +the set of doilies to which she had committed herself. She took some +stitches with a composed air, without responding to her companion's +exclamation. + +"I'm awfully sorry," he said presently, leaning forward with his elbows +on his knees, his hands hanging in an attitude of unmistakable +dejection, and staring fixedly into the fire. + +"I am very sorry myself," she said, bending her head a little closer +over her work. "I think I like being in New York in the spring better +than at any other time; and I don't at all fancy the idea of living in +my trunks again for an indefinite period." + +"I shall miss you horribly," he said, turning his face toward her. + +Her eyes opened with a lift of the brows, but whether the surprise so +indicated was quite genuine is a matter for conjecture. + +"Yes," he declared desperately, "I shall, indeed." + +"I should fancy you must have plenty of other friends," she said, +flushing a little, "and I have wondered sometimes whether Julius's +demands upon you were not more confident than warrantable, and whether +you wouldn't often rather have gone elsewhere than to come here to play +cards with him." She actually said this as if she meant it. + +"Do you suppose--" he exclaimed, and checked himself. "No," he said, "I +have come because--well, I've been only too glad to come, and--I suppose +it has got to be a habit," he added, rather lamely. "You see, I've never +known any people in the way I have known you. It has seemed to me more +like home life than anything I've ever known. There has never been any +one but my father and I, and you can have no idea what it has been to me +to be allowed to come here as I have, and--oh, you must know--" He +hesitated, and instantly she advanced her point. + +Her face was rather white, and the hand which lay upon the work in her +lap trembled a little, while she clasped the arm of the chair with the +other; but she broke in upon his hesitation with an even voice: + +"It has been very pleasant for us all, I'm sure," she said, "and, +frankly, I'm sorry that it must be interrupted for a while, but that is +about all there is of it, isn't it? We shall probably be back not later +than October, I should say, and then you can renew your contests with +Julius and your controversies with me." + +Her tone and what she said recalled to him their last night on board the +ship, but there was no relenting on this occasion. He realized that for +a moment he had been on the verge of telling the girl that he loved her, +and he realized, too, that she had divined his impulse and prevented the +disclosure; but he registered a vow that he would know before he saw her +again whether he might consistently tell her his love, and win or lose +upon the touch. + +Miss Blake made several inaccurate efforts to introduce her needle at +the exact point desired, and when that endeavor was accomplished broke +the silence by saying, "Speaking of 'October,' have you read the novel? +I think it is charming." + +"Yes," said John, with his vow in his mind, but not sorry for the +diversion, "and I enjoyed it very much. I thought it was immensely +clever, but I confess that I didn't quite sympathize with the love +affairs of a hero who was past forty, and I must also confess that I +thought the girl was, well--to put it in plain English--a fool." + +Mary laughed, with a little quaver in her voice. "Do you know," she +said, "that sometimes it seems to me that I am older than you are?" + +"I know you're awfully wise," said John with a laugh, and from that +their talk drifted off into the safer channels of their usual +intercourse until he rose to say good night. + +"Of course, we shall see you again before we go," she said as she gave +him her hand. + +"Oh," he declared, "I intend regularly to haunt the place." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +When John came down the next morning his father, who was, as a rule, the +most punctual of men, had not appeared. He opened the paper and sat down +to wait. Ten minutes passed, fifteen, twenty. He rang the bell. "Have +you heard my father this morning?" he said to Jeffrey, remembering for +the first time that he himself had not. + +"No, sir," said the man. "He most generally coughs a little in the +morning, but I don't think I heard him this morning, sir." + +"Go up and see why he doesn't come down," said John, and a moment later +he followed the servant upstairs, to find him standing at the chamber +door with a frightened face. + +"He must be very sound asleep, sir," said Jeffrey. "He hasn't answered +to my knockin' or callin', sir." John tried the door. He found the chain +bolt on, and it opened but a few inches. "Father!" he called, and then +again, louder. He turned almost unconsciously to Jeffrey, and found his +own apprehensions reflected in the man's face. "We must break in the +door," he said. "Now, together!" and the bolt gave way. + +His father lay as if asleep. "Go for the doctor at once! Bring him back +with you. Run!" he cried to the servant. Custom and instinct said, +"Send for the doctor," but he knew in his heart that no ministrations +would ever reach the still figure on the bed, upon which, for the +moment, he could not look. It was but a few minutes (how long such +minutes are!) before the doctor came--Doctor Willis, who had brought +John into the world, and had been a lifelong friend of both father and +son. He went swiftly to the bed without speaking, and made a brief +examination, while John watched him with fascinated eyes; and as the +doctor finished, the son dropped on his knees by the bed, and buried his +face in it. The doctor crossed the room to Jeffrey, who was standing in +the door with an awe-stricken face, and in a low voice gave him some +directions. Then, as the man departed, he first glanced at the kneeling +figure and then looked searchingly about the room. Presently he went +over to the grate in which were the ashes of an extinct fire, and, +taking the poker, pressed down among them and covered over a three or +four ounce vial. He had found what he was looking for. + + * * * * * + +There is no need to speak of the happenings of the next few days, nor is +it necessary to touch at any length upon the history of some of the +weeks and months which ensued upon this crisis in John Lenox's life, a +time when it seemed to him that everything he had ever cared for had +been taken. And yet, with that unreason which may perhaps be more easily +understood than accounted for, the one thing upon which his mind most +often dwelt was that he had had no answer to his note to Mary Blake. We +know what happened to her missive. It turned up long afterward in the +pocket of Master Jacky Carling's overcoat; so long afterward that John, +so far as Mary was concerned, had disappeared altogether. The discovery +of Jacky's dereliction explained to her, in part at least, why she had +never seen him or heard from him after that last evening at Sixty-ninth +Street. The Carlings went away some ten days later, and she did, in +fact, send another note to his house address, asking him to see them +before their departure; but John had considered himself fortunate in +getting the house off his hands to a tenant who would assume the lease +if given possession at once, and had gone into the modest apartment +which he occupied during the rest of his life in the city, and so the +second communication failed to reach him. Perhaps it was as well. Some +weeks later he walked up to the Carlings' house one Sunday afternoon, +and saw that it was closed, as he had expected. By an impulse which was +not part of his original intention--which was, indeed, pretty nearly +aimless--he was moved to ring the doorbell; but the maid, a stranger to +him, who opened the door could tell him nothing of the family's +whereabouts, and Mr. Betts (the house man in charge) was "hout." So John +retraced his steps with a feeling of disappointment wholly +disproportionate to his hopes or expectations so far as he had defined +them to himself, and never went back again. + + * * * * * + +He has never had much to say of the months that followed. + +It came to be the last of October. An errand from the office had sent +him to General Wolsey, of the Mutual Trust Company, of whom mention has +been made by David Harum. The general was an old friend of the elder +Lenox, and knew John well and kindly. When the latter had discharged his +errand and was about to go, the general said: "Wait a minute. Are you in +a hurry? If not, I want to have a little talk with you." + +"Not specially," said John. + +"Sit down," said the general, pointing to a chair. "What are your plans? +I see you are still in the Careys' office, but from what you told me +last summer I conclude that you are there because you have not found +anything more satisfactory." + +"That is the case, sir," John replied. "I can't be idle, but I don't see +how I can keep on as I am going now, and I have been trying for months +to find something by which I can earn a living. I am afraid," he added, +"that it will be a longer time than I can afford to wait before I shall +be able to do that out of the law." + +"If you don't mind my asking," said the general, "what are your +resources? I don't think you told me more than to give me to understand +that your father's affairs were at a pretty low ebb. Of course, I do not +wish to pry into your affairs--" + +"Not at all," John interposed; "I am glad to tell you, and thank you for +your interest. I have about two thousand dollars, and there is some +silver and odds and ends of things stored. I don't know what their value +might be--not very much, I fancy--and there were a lot of mining stocks +and that sort of thing which have no value so far as I can find out--no +available value, at any rate. There is also a tract of half-wild land +somewhere in Pennsylvania. There is coal on it, I believe, and some +timber; but Melig, my father's manager, told me that all the large +timber had been cut. So far as available value is concerned, the +property is about as much of an asset as the mining stock, with the +disadvantage that I have to pay taxes on it." + +"H'm," said the general, tapping the desk with his eyeglasses. +"H'm--well, I should think if you lived very economically you would have +about enough to carry you through till you can be admitted, provided you +feel that the law is your vocation," he added, looking up. + +"It was my father's idea," said John, "and if I were so situated that I +could go on with it, I would. But I am so doubtful with regard to my +aptitude that I don't feel as if I ought to use up what little capital I +have, and some years of time, on a doubtful experiment, and so I have +been looking for something else to do." + +"Well," said the general, "if you were very much interested--that is, if +you were anxious to proceed with your studies--I should advise you to go +on, and at a pinch I should be willing to help you out; but, feeling as +you do, I hardly know what to advise. I was thinking of you," he went +on, "before you came in, and was intending to send for you to come in to +see me." He took a letter from his desk. + +"I got this yesterday," he said. "It is from an old acquaintance of mine +by the name of Harum, who lives in Homeville, Freeland County. He is a +sort of a banker there, and has written me to recommend some one to take +the place of his manager or cashier whom he is sending away. It's rather +a queer move, I think, but then," said the general with a smile, "Harum +is a queer customer in some ways of his own. There is his letter. Read +it for yourself." + +The letter stated that Mr. Harum had had some trouble with his cashier +and wished to replace him, and that he would prefer some one from out of +the village who wouldn't know every man, woman, and child in the whole +region, and "blab everything right and left." "I should want," wrote Mr. +Harum, "to have the young man know something about bookkeeping and so +on, but I should not insist upon his having been through a trainer's +hands. In fact, I would rather break him in myself, and if he's willing +and sound and no vice, I can get him into shape. I will pay a thousand +to start on, and if he draws and travels all right, may be better in the +long run," etc. John handed back the letter with a slight smile, which +was reflected in the face of the general. "What do you think of it?" +asked the latter. + +"I should think it might be very characteristic," remarked John. + +"Yes," said the general, "it is, to an extent. You see he writes pretty +fair English, and he can, on occasion, talk as he writes, but usually, +either from habit or choice, he uses the most unmitigated dialect. But +what I meant to ask you was, what do you think of the proposal?" + +"You mean as an opportunity for _me_?" asked John. + +"Yes," said General Wolsey, "I thought of you at once." + +"Thank you very much," said John. "What would be your idea?" + +"Well," was the reply, "I am inclined to think I should write to him if +I were you, and I will write to him about you if you so decide. You have +had some office experience, you told me--enough, I should say, for a +foundation, and I don't believe that Harum's books and accounts are very +complicated." + +John did not speak, and the general went on: "Of course, it will be a +great change from almost everything you have been used to, and I dare +say that you may find the life, at first at least, pretty dull and +irksome. The stipend is not very large, but it is large for the country, +where your expenses will be light. In fact, I'm rather surprised at his +offering so much. At any rate, it is a living for the present, and may +lead to something better. The place is a growing one, and, more than +that, Harum is well off, and keeps more irons in the fire than one, and +if you get on with him you may do well." + +"I don't think I should mind the change so much," said John, rather +sadly. "My present life is so different in almost every way from what it +used to be, and I think I feel it in New York more even than I might in +a country village; but the venture seems a little like burning my +bridges." + +"Well," replied the general, "if the experiment should turn out a +failure for any reason, you won't be very much more at a loss than at +present, it seems to me, and, of course, I will do anything I can should +you wish me to be still on the lookout for you here." + +"You are exceedingly kind, sir," said John earnestly, and then was +silent for a moment or two. "I will make the venture," he said at +length, "and thank you very much." + +"You are under no special obligations to the Careys, are you?" asked the +general. + +"No, I think not," said John with a laugh. "I fancy that their business +will go on without me, after a fashion," and he took his leave. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +And so it came about that certain letters were written as mentioned in a +previous chapter, and in the evening of a dripping day early in November +John Lenox found himself, after a nine hours' journey, the only traveler +who alighted upon the platform of the Homeville station, which was near +the end of a small lake and about a mile from the village. As he stood +with his bag and umbrella, at a loss what to do, he was accosted by a +short and stubby individual with very black eyes and hair and a round +face, which would have been smooth except that it had not been shaved +for a day or two. "Goin' t' the village?" he said. + +"Yes," said John, "that is my intention, but I don't see any way of +getting there." + +"Carry ye over fer ten cents," said the man. "Carryall's right back the +deepo. Got 'ny baggidge?" + +"Two trunks," said John. + +"That'll make it thirty cents," said the native. "Where's your checks? +All right; you c'n jest step 'round an' git in. Mine's the only rig that +drew over to-night." + +It was a long clumsy affair, with windows at each end and a door in the +rear, but open at the sides except for enamel cloth curtains, which +were buttoned to the supports that carried a railed roof extending as +far forward as the dashboard. The driver's seat was on a level with +those inside. John took a seat by one of the front windows, which was +open but protected by the roof. + +His luggage having been put on board, they began the journey at a walk, +the first part of the road being rough and swampy in places, and +undergoing at intervals the sort of repairs which often prevails in +rural regions--namely, the deposit of a quantity of broken stone, which +is left to be worn smooth by passing vehicles, and is for the most part +carefully avoided by such whenever the roadway is broad enough to drive +round the improvement. But the worst of the way having been +accomplished, the driver took opportunity, speaking sideways over his +shoulder, to allay the curiosity which burned within him, "Guess I never +seen you before." John was tired and hungry, and generally low in his +mind. + +"Very likely not," was his answer. Mr. Robinson instantly arrived at the +determination that the stranger was "stuck up," but was in no degree +cast down thereby. + +"I heard Chet Timson tellin' that the' was a feller comin' f'm N'York to +work in Dave Harum's bank. Guess you're him, ain't ye?" + +No answer this time: theory confirmed. + +"My name's Robinson," imparted that individual. "I run the prince'ple +liv'ry to Homeville." + +"Ah!" responded the passenger. + +"What d'you say your name was?" asked Mr. Robinson, after he had steered +his team around one of the monuments to public spirit. + +"It's Lenox," said John, thinking he might concede something to such +deserving perseverance, "but I don't remember mentioning it." + +"Now I think on't, I guess you didn't," admitted Mr. Robinson. "Don't +think I ever knowed anybody of the name," he remarked. "Used to know +some folks name o' Lynch, but they couldn't 'a' ben no relations o' +your'n, I guess." This conjecture elicited no reply. + +"Git up, goll darn ye!" he exclaimed, as one of the horses stumbled, and +he gave it a jerk and a cut of the whip. "Bought that hoss of Dave +Harum," he confided to his passenger. "Fact, I bought both on 'em of +him, an' dum well stuck I was, too," he added. + +"You know Mr. Harum, then," said John, with a glimmer of interest. "Does +he deal in horses?" + +"Wa'al, I guess I make eout to know him," asserted the "prince'ple +liv'ryman," "an' he'll git up 'n the middle o' the night any time to git +the best of a hoss trade. Be you goin' to work fer him?" he asked, +encouraged to press the question. "Goin' to take Timson's place?" + +"Really," said John, in a tone which advanced Mr. Robinson's opinion to +a rooted conviction, "I have never heard of Mr. Timson." + +"He's the feller that Dave's lettin' go," explained Mr. Robinson. "He's +ben in the bank a matter o' five or six year, but Dave got down on him +fer some little thing or other, an' he's got his walkin' papers. He says +to me, says he, 'If any feller thinks he c'n come up here f'm N'York or +anywheres else, he says, 'an' do Dave Harum's work to suit him, he'll +find he's bit off a dum sight more'n he c'n chaw. He'd better keep his +gripsack packed the hull time,' Chet says." + +"I thought I'd sock it to the cuss a little," remarked Mr. Robinson in +recounting the conversation subsequently; and, in truth, it was not +elevating to the spirits of our friend, who found himself speculating +whether or no Timson might not be right. + +"Where you goin' to put up?" asked Mr. Robinson after an interval, +having failed to draw out any response to his last effort. + +"Is there more than one hotel?" inquired the passenger. + +"The's the Eagle, an' the Lake House, an' Smith's Hotel," replied Jehu. + +"Which would you recommend?" asked John. + +"Wa'al," said Robinson, "I don't gen'ally praise up one more'n another. +You see, I have more or less dealin' with all on 'em." + +"That's very diplomatic of you, I'm sure," remarked John, not at all +diplomatically. "I think I will try the Eagle." + +Mr. Robinson, in his account of the conversation, said in +confidence--not wishing to be openly invidious--that "he was dum'd if he +wa'n't almost sorry he hadn't recommended the Lake House." + +It may be inferred from the foregoing that the first impression which +our friend made on his arrival was not wholly in his favor, and Mr. +Robinson's conviction that he was "stuck up," and a person bound to get +himself "gen'ally disliked," was elevated to an article of faith by his +retiring to the rear of the vehicle, and quite out of ordinary range. +But they were nearly at their journey's end, and presently the carryall +drew up at the Eagle Hotel. + +It was a frame building of three stories, with a covered veranda running +the length of the front, from which two doors gave entrance--one to the +main hall, the other to the office and bar combined. This was rather a +large room, and was also to be entered from the main hall. + +John's luggage was deposited, Mr. Robinson was settled with, and took +his departure without the amenities which might have prevailed under +different conditions, and the new arrival made his way into the office. + +Behind the bar counter, which faced the street, at one end of which was +a small high desk and at the other a glazed case containing three or +four partly full boxes of forlorn-looking cigars, but with most +ambitious labels, stood the proprietor, manager, clerk, and what not of +the hostelry, embodied in the single person of Mr. Amos Elright, who was +leaning over the counter in conversation with three or four loungers who +sat about the room with their chairs tipped back against the wall. + +A sketch of Mr. Elright would have depicted a dull "complected" person +of a tousled baldness, whose dispirited expression of countenance was +enhanced by a chin whisker. His shirt and collar gave unmistakable +evidence that pajamas or other night-gear were regarded as +superfluities, and his most conspicuous garment as he appeared behind +the counter was a cardigan jacket of a frowsiness beyond compare. A +greasy neck scarf was embellished with a gem whose truthfulness was +without pretence. The atmosphere of the room was accounted for by a +remark which was made by one of the loungers as John came in. "Say, +Ame," the fellow drawled, "I guess the' was more skunk cabbidge 'n pie +plant 'n usual 'n that last lot o' cigars o' your'n, wa'n't the'?" to +which insinuation "Ame" was spared the necessity of a rejoinder by our +friend's advent. + +"Wa'al, guess we c'n give ye a room. Oh, yes, you c'n register if you +want to. Where is the dum thing? I seen it last week somewhere. Oh, +yes," producing a thin book ruled for accounts from under the counter, +"we don't alwus use it," he remarked--which was obvious, seeing that the +last entry was a month old. + +John concluded that it was a useless formality. "I should like something +to eat," he said, "and desire to go to my room while it is being +prepared; and can you send my luggage up now?" + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Elright, looking at the clock, which showed the hour +of half-past nine, and rubbing his chin perplexedly, "supper's ben +cleared off some time ago." + +"I don't want very much," said John; "just a bit of steak, and some +stewed potatoes, and a couple of boiled eggs, and some coffee." He might +have heard the sound of a slap in the direction of one of the sitters. + +"I'm 'fraid I can't 'commodate ye fur's the steak an' things goes," +confessed the landlord. "We don't do much cookin' after dinner, an' I +reckon the fire's out anyway. P'r'aps," he added doubtfully, "I c'd hunt +ye up a piece o' pie 'n some doughnuts, or somethin' like that." + +He took a key, to which was attached a huge brass tag with serrated +edges, from a hook on a board behind the bar--on which were suspended a +number of the like--lighted a small kerosene lamp, carrying a single +wick, and, shuffling out from behind the counter, said, "Say, Bill, +can't you an' Dick carry the gentleman's trunks up to 'thirteen?'" and, +as they assented, he gave the lamp and key to one of them and left the +room. The two men took a trunk at either end and mounted the stairs, +John following, and when the second one came up he put his fingers into +his waistcoat pocket suggestively. + +"No," said the one addressed as Dick, "that's all right. We done it to +oblige Ame." + +"I'm very much obliged to you, though," said John. + +"Oh, that's all right," remarked Dick as they turned away. + +John surveyed the apartment. There were two small-paned windows +overlooking the street, curtained with bright "Turkey-red" cotton; near +to one of them a small wood stove and a wood box, containing some odds +and ends of sticks and bits of bark; a small chest of drawers, serving +as a washstand; a malicious little looking-glass; a basin and ewer, +holding about two quarts; an earthenware mug and soap-dish, the latter +containing a thin bit of red translucent soap scented with sassafras; an +ordinary wooden chair and a rocking-chair with rockers of divergent +aims; a yellow wooden bedstead furnished with a mattress of "excelsior" +(calculated to induce early rising), a dingy white spread, a gray +blanket of coarse wool, a pair of cotton sheets which had too obviously +done duty since passing through the hands of the laundress, and a pair +of flabby little pillows in the same state, in respect to their cases, +as the sheets. On the floor was a much used and faded ingrain carpet, in +one place worn through by the edge of a loose board. A narrow strip of +unpainted pine nailed to the wall carried six or seven wooden pegs to +serve as wardrobe. Two diminutive towels with red borders hung on the +rail of the washstand, and a battered tin slop jar, minus a cover, +completed the inventory. + +"Heavens, what a hole!" exclaimed John, and as he performed his +ablutions (not with the sassafras soap) he promised himself a speedy +flitting. There came a knock at the door, and his host appeared to +announce that his "tea" was ready, and to conduct him to the +dining-room--a good-sized apartment, but narrow, with a long table +running near the center lengthwise, covered with a cloth which bore the +marks of many a fray. Another table of like dimensions, but bare, was +shoved up against the wall. Mr. Elright's ravagement of the larder had +resulted in a triangle of cadaverous apple pie, three doughnuts, some +chunks of soft white cheese, and a plate of what are known as oyster +crackers. + +"I couldn't git ye no tea," he said. "The hired girls both gone out, an' +my wife's gone to bed, an' the' wa'n't no fire anyway." + +"I suppose I could have some beer," suggested John, looking dubiously at +the banquet. + +"We don't keep no ale," said the proprietor of the Eagle, "an' I guess +we're out o' lawger. I ben intendin' to git some more," he added. + +"A glass of milk?" proposed the guest, but without confidence. + +"Milkman didn't come to-night," said Mr. Elright, shuffling off in his +carpet slippers, worn out in spirit with the importunities of the +stranger. There was water on the table, for it had been left there from +supper time. John managed to consume a doughnut and some crackers and +cheese, and then went to his room, carrying the water pitcher with him, +and, after a cigarette or two and a small potation from his flask, to +bed. Before retiring, however, he stripped the bed with the intention of +turning the sheets, but upon inspection thought better of it, and +concluded to leave them as they were. So passed his first night in +Homeville, and, as he fondly promised himself, his last at the Eagle +Hotel. + +When Bill and Dick returned to the office after "obligin' Ame," they +stepped with one accord to the counter and looked at the register. "Why, +darn it," exclaimed Bill, "he didn't sign his name, after all." + +"No," said Dick, "but I c'n give a putty near guess who he is, all the +same." + +"Some drummer?" suggested Bill. + +"Naw," said Richard scornfully. "What 'd a drummer be doin' here this +time o' year? That's the feller that's ousted Chet Timson, an' I'll bet +ye the drinks on't. Name's Linx or Lenx, or somethin' like that. Dave +told me." + +"So that's the feller, is it?" said Bill. "I guess he won't stay 'round +here long. I guess you'll find he's a little too toney fer these parts, +an' in pertic'ler fer Dave Harum. Dave'll make him feel 'bout as +comf'table as a rooster in a pond. Lord," he exclaimed, slapping his leg +with a guffaw, "'d you notice Ame's face when he said he didn't want +much fer supper, only beefsteak, an' eggs, an' tea, an' coffee, an' a +few little things like that? I thought I'd split." + +"Yes," said Dick, laughing, "I guess the' ain't nothin' the matter with +Ame's heart, or he'd 'a' fell down dead.--Hullo, Ame!" he said when the +gentleman in question came back after ministering to his guest, "got the +Prince o' Wales fixed up all right? Did ye cut that pickled el'phant +that come last week?" + +"Huh!" grunted Amos, whose sensibilities had been wounded by the events +of the evening, "I didn't cut no el'phant ner no cow, ner rob no hen +roost neither, but I guess he won't starve 'fore mornin'," and with that +he proceeded to fill up the stove and shut the dampers. + +"That means 'git,' I reckon," remarked Bill as he watched the operation. + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Elright, "if you fellers think you've spent enough +time droolin' 'round here swapping lies, I think _I'll_ go to bed," +which inhospitable and injurious remark was by no means taken in bad +part, for Dick said, with a laugh: + +"Well, Ame, if you'll let me run my face for 'em, Bill 'n I'll take a +little somethin' for the good o' the house before we shed the partin' +tear." This proposition was not declined by Mr. Elright, but he felt +bound on business principles not to yield with too great a show of +readiness. + +"Wa'al, I don't mind for this once," he said, going behind the bar and +setting out a bottle and glasses, "but I've gen'ally noticed that it's a +damn sight easier to git somethin' _into_ you fellers 'n 't is to git +anythin' _out_ of ye." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +The next morning at nine o'clock John presented himself at Mr. Harum's +banking office, which occupied the first floor of a brick building some +twenty or twenty-five feet in width. Besides the entrance to the bank, +there was a door at the south corner opening upon a stairway leading to +a suite of two rooms on the second floor. + +The banking office consisted of two rooms--one in front, containing the +desks and counters, and what may be designated as the "parlor" (as used +to be the case in the provincial towns) in the rear, in which were Mr. +Harum's private desk, a safe of medium size, the necessary assortment of +chairs, and a lounge. There was also a large Franklin stove. + +The parlor was separated from the front room by a partition, in which +were two doors, one leading into the inclosed space behind the desks and +counters, and the other into the passageway formed by the north wall and +a length of high desk, topped by a railing. The teller's or cashier's +counter faced the street opposite the entrance door. At the left of this +counter (viewed from the front) was a high-standing desk, with a rail. +At the right was a glass-inclosed space of counter of the same height as +that portion which was open, across which latter the business of paying +and receiving was conducted. + +As John entered he saw standing behind this open counter, framed, as it +were, between the desk on the one hand, and the glass inclosure on the +other, a person whom he conjectured to be the "Chet" (short for Chester) +Timson of whom he had heard. This person nodded in response to our +friend's "Good morning," and anticipated his inquiry by saying: + +"You lookin' for Dave?" + +"I am looking for Mr. Harum," said John. "Is he in the office?" + +"He hain't come in yet," was the reply. "Up to the barn, I reckon, but +he's liable to come in any minute, an' you c'n step into the back room +an' wait fer him," indicating the direction with a wave of his hand. + +Business had not begun to be engrossing, though the bank was open, and +John had hardly seated himself when Timson came into the back room and, +taking a chair where he could see the counter in the front office, +proceeded to investigate the stranger, of whose identity he had not the +smallest doubt. But it was not Mr. Timson's way to take things for +granted in silence, and it must be admitted that his curiosity in this +particular case was not without warrant. After a scrutiny of John's face +and person, which was not brief enough to be unnoticeable, he said, with +a directness which left nothing in that line to be desired, "I reckon +you're the new man Dave's ben gettin' up from the city." + +"I came up yesterday," admitted John. + +"My name's Timson," said Chet. + +"Happy to meet you," said John, rising and putting out his hand. "My +name is Lenox," and they shook hands--that is, John grasped the ends of +four limp fingers. After they had subsided into their seats, Chet's +opaquely bluish eyes made another tour of inspection, in curiosity and +wonder. + +"You alwus lived in the city?" he said at last. + +"It has always been my home," was the reply. + +"What put it in your head to come up here?" with another stare. + +"It was at Mr. Harum's suggestion," replied John, not with perfect +candor; but he was not minded to be drawn out too far. + +"D'ye know Dave?" + +"I have never met him." Mr. Timson looked more puzzled than ever. + +"Ever ben in the bankin' bus'nis?" + +"I have had some experience of such accounts in a general way." + +"Ever keep books?" + +"Only as I have told you," said John, smiling at the little man. + +"Got any idee what you'll have to do up here?" asked Chet. + +"Only in a general way." + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Timson, "I c'n tell ye; an', what's _more_, I c'n tell +ye, young man, 't you hain't no idee of what you're undertakin', an' ef +you don't wish you was back in New York 'fore you git through I ain't no +guesser." + +"That is possible," said John readily, recalling his night and his +breakfast that morning. + +"Yes, sir," said the other. "Yes, _sir_; if you do what I've had to do, +you'll do the hull darned thing, an' nobody to help you but Pele +Hopkins, who don't count fer a row o' crooked pins. As fer's Dave's +concerned," asserted the speaker with a wave of his hands, "he don't +know no more about bankin' 'n a cat. He couldn't count a thousan' +dollars in an hour, an', as for addin' up a row o' figures, he couldn't +git it twice alike, I don't believe, if he was to be hung for't." + +"He must understand the meaning of his own books and accounts, I should +think," remarked John. + +"Oh," said Chet scornfully, "anybody c'd do that. That's easy 'nough; +but as fur 's the real bus'nis is concerned, he don't have nothin' to do +with it. It's all ben left to me: chargin' an' creditin', postin', +individule ledger, gen'ral ledger, bill-book, discount register, +tickler, for'n register, checkin' off the N'York accounts, drawin' off +statemunts f'm the ledgers an' bill-book, writin' letters--why, the' +ain't an hour 'n the day in bus'nis hours some days that the's an hour +'t I ain't busy 'bout somethin'. No, sir," continued Chet, "Dave don't +give himself no trouble about the bus'nis. All he does is to look after +lendin' the money, an' seein' that it gits paid when the time comes, an' +keep track of how much money the' is here an' in N'York, an' what notes +is comin' due--an' a few things like that, that don't put pen to paper, +ner take an hour of his time. Why, a man'll come in an' want to git a +note done, an' it'll be 'All right,' or, 'Can't spare the money to-day,' +all in a minute. He don't give it no thought at all, an' he ain't 'round +here half the time. Now," said Chet, "when I work fer a man I like to +have him 'round so 't I c'n say to him: 'Shall I do it so? or shall I do +it _so_? shall I? or sha'n't I?' an' then when I make a mistake--'s +anybody's liable to--he's as much to blame 's I be." + +"I suppose, then," said John, "that you must have to keep Mr. Harum's +private accounts also, seeing that he knows so little of details. I have +been told that he is interested in a good many matters besides this +business." + +"Wa'al," replied Timson, somewhat disconcerted, "I suppose he must keep +'em himself in _some_ kind of a fashion, an' I don't know a thing about +any outside matters of his'n, though I suspicion he has got quite a few. +He's got some books in that safe" (pointing with his finger) "an' he's +got a safe in the vault, but if you'll believe _me_"--and the speaker +looked as if he hardly expected it--"I hain't never so much as seen the +inside of either one on 'em. No, sir," he declared, "I hain't no more +idee of what's in them safes 'n you have. He's close, Dave Harum is," +said Chet with a convincing motion of the head; "on the hull, the +clostest man I ever see. I believe," he averred, "that if he was to lay +out to keep it shut that lightnin' might strike him square in the mouth +an' it wouldn't go in an eighth of an inch. An' yet," he added, "he c'n +talk by the rod when he takes a notion." + +"Must be a difficult person to get on with," commented John dryly. + +"I couldn't stan' it no longer," declared Mr. Timson with the air of one +who had endured to the end of virtue, "an' I says to him the other day, +'Wa'al,' I says, 'if I can't suit ye, mebbe you'd better suit +yourself.'" + +"Ah!" said John politely, seeing that some response was expected of him; +"and what did he say to that?" + +"He ast me," replied Chet, "if I meant by that to throw up the +situation. 'Wa'al,' I says 'I'm sick enough to throw up most anythin',' +I says, 'along with bein' found fault with fer nothin'.'" + +"And then?" queried John, who had received the impression that the +motion to adjourn had come from the other side of the house. + +"Wa'al," replied Chet, not quite so confidently, "he said somethin' +about my requirin' a larger spear of action, an' that he thought I'd do +better on a mile track--some o' his hoss talk. That's another thing," +said Timson, changing the subject. "He's all fer hosses. He'd sooner +make a ten-dollar note on a hoss trade than a hunderd right here 'n this +office. Many's the time right in bus'nis hours, when I've wanted to ask +him how he wanted somethin' done, he'd be busy talkin' hoss, an' +wouldn't pay no attention to me more'n 's if I wa'n't there." + +"I am glad to feel," said John, "that you can not possibly have any +unpleasant feeling toward me, seeing that you resigned as you did." + +"Cert'nly not, cert'nly not," declared Timson, a little uneasily. "If it +hadn't 'a' ben you, it would 'a' had to ben somebody else, an' now I +seen you an' had a talk with you--Wa'al, I guess I better git back into +the other room. Dave's liable to come in any minute. But," he said in +parting, "I will give ye piece of advice: You keep enough laid by to pay +your gettin' back to N'York. You may want it in a hurry," and with this +parting shot the rejected one took his leave. + + * * * * * + +The bank parlor was lighted by a window and a glazed door in the rear +wall, and another window on the south side. Mr. Harum's desk was by the +rear, or west, window, which gave view of his house, standing some +hundred feet back from the street. The south, or side, window afforded a +view of his front yard and that of an adjoining dwelling, beyond which +rose the wall of a mercantile block. Business was encroaching upon +David's domain. Our friend stood looking out of the south window. To the +left a bit of Main Street was visible, and the naked branches of the +elms and maples with which it was bordered were waving defiantly at +their rivals over the way, incited thereto by a northwest wind. + +We invariably form a mental picture of every unknown person of whom we +think at all. It may be so faint that we are unconscious of it at the +time, or so vivid that it is always recalled until dissipated by seeing +the person himself, or his likeness. But that we do so make a picture is +proved by the fact that upon being confronted by the real features of +the person in question we always experience a certain amount of +surprise, even when we have not been conscious of a different conception +of him. + +Be that as it may, however, there was no question in John Lenox's mind +as to the identity of the person who at last came briskly into the back +office and interrupted his meditations. Rather under the middle height, +he was broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with a clean-shaven, red face, +with--not a mole--but a slight protuberance the size of half a large pea +on the line from the nostril to the corner of the mouth; bald over the +crown and to a line a couple of inches above the ear, below that thick +and somewhat bushy hair of yellowish red, showing a mingling of gray; +small but very blue eyes; a thick nose, of no classifiable shape, and a +large mouth with the lips so pressed together as to produce a slightly +downward and yet rather humorous curve at the corners. He was dressed in +a sack coat of dark "pepper-and-salt," with waistcoat and trousers to +match. A somewhat old-fashioned standing collar, flaring away from the +throat, was encircled by a red cravat, tied in a bow under his chin. A +diamond stud of perhaps two carats showed in the triangle of spotless +shirt front, and on his head was a cloth cap with ear lappets. He +accosted our friend with, "I reckon you must be Mr. Lenox. How are you? +I'm glad to see you," tugging off a thick buckskin glove, and putting +out a plump but muscular hand. + +John thanked him as they shook hands, and "hoped he was well." + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, "I'm improvin' slowly. I've got so 'st I c'n +set up long enough to have my bed made. Come last night, I s'pose? +Anybody to the deepo to bring ye over? This time o' year once 'n a while +the' don't nobody go over for passengers." + +John said that he had had no trouble. A man by the name of Robinson had +brought him and his luggage. + +"E-up!" said David with a nod, backing up to the fire which was burning +in the grate of the Franklin stove, "'Dug' Robinson. 'D he do the p'lite +thing in the matter of questions an' gen'ral conversation?" he asked +with a grin. John laughed in reply to this question. + +"Where'd you put up?" asked David, John said that he passed the night +at the Eagle Hotel. Mr. Harum had seen Dick Larrabee that morning and +heard what he had to say of our friend's reception, but he liked to get +his information from original sources. + +"Make ye putty comf'table?" he asked, turning to eject a mouthful into +the fire. + +"I got along pretty well under the circumstances," said John. + +Mr. Harum did not press the inquiry. "How'd you leave the gen'ral?" he +inquired. + +"He seemed to be well," replied John, "and he wished to be kindly +remembered to you." + +"Fine man, the gen'ral," declared David, well pleased. "Fine man all +'round. Word's as good as his bond. Yes, sir, when the gen'ral gives his +warrant, I don't care whether I see the critter or not. Know him much?" + +"He and my father were old friends, and I have known him a good many +years," replied John, adding, "he has been very kind and friendly to +me." + +"Set down, set down," said Mr. Harum, pointing to a chair. Seating +himself, he took off his cap and dropped it with his gloves on the +floor. "How long you ben here in the office?" he asked. + +"Perhaps half an hour," was the reply. + +"I meant to have ben here when you come," said the banker, "but I got +hendered about a matter of a hoss I'm looking at. I guess I'll shut that +door," making a move toward the one into the front office. + +"Allow me," said John, getting up and closing it. + +"May's well shut the other one while you're about it. Thank you," as +John resumed his seat. "I hain't got nothin' very private, but I'm +'fraid of distractin' Timson's mind. Did he int'duce himself?" + +"Yes," said John, "we introduced ourselves and had a few minutes +conversation." + +"Gin ye his hull hist'ry an' a few relations throwed in?" + +"There was hardly time for that," said John, smiling. + +"Rubbed a little furn'ture polish into my char'cter an' repitation?" +insinuated Mr. Harum. + +"Most of our talk was on the subject of his duties and +responsibilities," was John's reply. ("Don't cal'late to let on any +more'n he cal'lates to," thought David to himself.) + +"Allowed he run the hull shebang, didn't he?" + +"He seemed to have a pretty large idea of what was required of one in +his place," admitted the witness. + +"Kind o' friendly, was he?" asked David. + +"Well," said John, "after we had talked for a while I said to him that I +was glad to think that he could have no unpleasant feeling toward me, +seeing that he had given up the place of his own preference, and he +assured me that he had none." + +David turned and looked at John for an instant, with a twinkle in his +eye. The younger man returned the look and smiled slightly. David +laughed outright. + +"I guess you've seen folks before," he remarked. + +"I have never met any one exactly like Mr. Timson, I think," said our +friend with a slight laugh. + +"Fortunitly them kind is rare," observed Mr. Harum dryly, rising and +going to his desk, from a drawer of which he produced a couple of +cigars, one of which he proffered to John, who, for the first time in +his life, during the next half hour regretted that he was a smoker. +David sat for two or three minutes puffing diligently, and then took the +weed out of his mouth and looked contemplatively at it. + +"How do you like that cigar?" he inquired. + +"It burns very nicely," said the victim. Mr. Harum emitted a cough which +was like a chuckle, or a chuckle which was like a cough, and relapsed +into silence again. Presently he turned his head, looked curiously at +the young man for a moment, and then turned his glance again to the +fire. + +"I've ben wonderin' some," he said, "pertic'lerly since I see you, how +'t was 't you wanted to come up here to Homeville. Gen'l Wolsey gin his +warrant, an' so I reckon you hadn't ben gettin' into no scrape nor +nothin'," and again he looked sharply at the young man at his side. + +"Did the general say nothing of my affairs?" the latter asked. + +"No," replied David, "all 't he said was in a gen'ral way that he'd +knowed you an' your folks a good while, an' he thought you'd be jest the +feller I was lookin' fer. Mebbe he reckoned that if you wanted your +story told, you'd ruther tell it yourself." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +Whatever might have been John's repugnance to making a confidant of the +man whom he had known but for half an hour, he acknowledged to himself +that the other's curiosity was not only natural but proper. He could not +but know that in appearance and manner he was in marked contrast with +those whom the man had so far seen. He divined the fact that his coming +from a great city to settle down in a village town would furnish matter +for surprise and conjecture, and felt that it would be to his advantage +with the man who was to be his employer that he should be perfectly and +obviously frank upon all matters of his own which might be properly +mentioned. He had an instinctive feeling that Harum combined acuteness +and suspiciousness to a very large degree, and he had also a feeling +that the old man's confidence, once gained, would not be easily shaken. +So he told his hearer so much of his history as he thought pertinent, +and David listened without interruption or comment, save an occasional +"E-um'm." + +"And here I am," John remarked in conclusion. + +"Here you _be_, fer a fact," said David. "Wa'al, the's worse places 'n +Homeville--after you git used to it," he added in qualification. "I ben +back here a matter o' thirteen or fourteen year now, an' am gettin' to +feel my way 'round putty well; but not havin' ben in these parts fer +putty nigh thirty year, I found it ruther lonesome to start with, an' I +guess if it hadn't 'a' ben fer Polly I wouldn't 'a' stood it. But up to +the time I come back she hadn't never ben ten mile away f'm here in her +hull life, an' I couldn't budge her. But then," he remarked, "while +Homeville aint a metrop'lis, it's some a diff'rent place f'm what it +used to be--in some _ways_. Polly's my sister," he added by way of +explanation. + +"Well," said John, with rather a rueful laugh, "if it has taken you all +that time to get used to it the outlook for me is not very encouraging, +I'm afraid." + +"Wa'al," remarked Mr. Harum, "I'm apt to speak in par'bles sometimes. I +guess you'll git along after a spell, though it mayn't set fust rate on +your stomech till you git used to the diet. Say," he said after a +moment, "if you'd had a couple o' thousan' more, do you think you'd 'a' +stuck to the law bus'nis?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," replied John, "but I am inclined to think not. +General Wolsey told me that if I were very anxious to go on with it he +would help me, but after what I told him he advised me to write to you." + +"He did, did he?" + +"Yes," said John, "and after what I had gone through I was not +altogether sorry to come away." + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum thoughtfully, "if I was to lose what little I've +got, an' had to give up livin' in the way I was used to, an' couldn't +even keep a hoss, I c'n allow 't I might be willin' fer a change of +scene to make a fresh start in. Yes, sir, I guess I would. Wa'al," +looking at his watch, "I've got to go now, an' I'll see ye later, mebbe. +You feel like takin' holt to-day?" + +"Oh, yes," said John with alacrity. + +"All right," said Mr. Harum. "You tell Timson what you want, an' make +him show you everythin'. He understands, an' I've paid him for't. He's +agreed to stay any time in reason 't you want him, but I guess," he +added with a laugh, "'t you c'n pump him dry 'n a day or two. It haint +rained wisdom an' knowlidge in his part o' the country fer a consid'able +spell." + +David stood for a moment drawing on his gloves, and then, looking at +John with his characteristic chuckle, continued: + +"Allowed he'd ben drawin' the hull load, did he? Wa'al, sir, the truth +on't is 't he never come to a hill yet, 'f 't wa'n't more 'n a foot +high, but what I had to git out an' push; nor never struck a turn in the +road but what I had to take him by the head an' lead him into it." With +which Mr. Harum put on his overcoat and cap and departed. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Timson was leaning over the counter in animated controversy with a +man on the outside who had evidently asserted or quoted (the quotation +is the usual weapon: it has a double barb and can be wielded with +comparative safety) something of a wounding effect. + +"No, sir," exclaimed Chet, with a sounding slap on the counter, "no, +sir! The' ain't one word o' truth in't. I said myself, 'I won't stan' +it,' I says, 'not f'm you ner nobody else,' I says, 'an' what's more,' +says I--" The expression in the face of Mr. Timson's tormentor caused +that gentleman to break off and look around. The man on the outside +grinned, stared at John a moment, and went out, and Timson turned and +said, as John came forward, "Hello! The old man picked ye to pieces all +he wanted to?" + +"We are through for the day, I fancy," said our friend, smiling, "and if +you are ready to begin my lessons I am ready to take them. Mr. Harum +told me that you would be good enough to show me what was necessary." + +"All right," said Mr. Timson readily enough, and so John began his first +day's work in David's office. He was surprised and encouraged to find +how much his experience in Rush & Company's office stood him in hand, +and managed to acquire in a comparatively short time a pretty fair +comprehension of the system which prevailed in "Harum's bank," +notwithstanding the incessant divagations of his instructor. + +It was decided between Timson and our friend that on the following day +the latter should undertake the office work under supervision, and the +next morning John was engaged upon the preliminaries of the day's +business when his employer came in and seated himself at his desk in the +back room. After a few minutes, in which he was busy with his letters, +he appeared in the doorway of the front room. He did not speak, for John +saw him, and, responding to a backward toss of the head, followed him +into the "parlor," and at an intimation of the same silent character +shut the doors. Mr. Harum sat down at his desk, and John stood awaiting +his pleasure. + +"How 'd ye make out yestidy?" he asked. "Git anythin' out of old +tongue-tied?" pointing with his thumb toward the front room. + +"Oh, yes," said John, smiling, as he recalled the unceasing flow of +words which had enveloped Timson's explanations. + +"How much longer do you think you'll have to have him 'round?" asked Mr. +Harum. + +"Well," said John, "of course your customers are strangers to me, but so +far as the routine of the office is concerned I think I can manage after +to-day. But I shall have to appeal to you rather often for a while until +I get thoroughly acquainted with my work." + +"Good fer you," said David. "You've took holt a good sight quicker 'n I +thought ye would, an' I'll spend more or less time 'round here fer a +while, or be where you c'n reach me. It's like this," he continued; +"Chet's a helpless kind of critter, fer all his braggin' an' talk, an' I +ben feelin' kind o' wambly about turnin' him loose--though the Lord +knows," he said with feeling, "'t I've had bother enough with him to +kill a tree. But anyway I wrote to some folks I know up to Syrchester to +git something fer him to do, an' I got a letter to send him along, an' +mebbe they'd give him a show. See?" + +"Yes, sir," said John, "and if you are willing to take the chances of my +mistakes I will undertake to get on without him." + +"All right," said the banker, "we'll call it a heat--and, say, don't let +on what I've told you. I want to see how long it'll take to git all over +the village that he didn't ask no odds o' nobody. Hadn't ben out o' a +job three days 'fore the' was a lot o' chances, an' all 't he had to do +was to take his pick out o' the lot on 'em." + +"Really?" said John. + +"Yes, sir," said David. "Some folks is gaited that way. Amusin', ain't +it?--Hullo, Dick! Wa'al?" + +"Willis'll give two hunderd fer the sorr'l colt," said the incomer, whom +John recognized as one of the loungers in the Eagle bar the night of his +arrival. + +"E-um'm!" said David. "Was he speakin' of any pertic'ler colt, or sorril +colts in gen'ral? I hain't got the only one the' is, I s'pose." + +Dick merely laughed. "Because," continued the owner of the "sorril +colt," "if Steve Willis wants to lay in sorril colts at two hunderd a +piece, I ain't goin' to gainsay him, but you tell him that +two-forty-nine ninety-nine won't buy the one in my barn." Dick laughed +again. + +John made a move in the direction of the front room. + +"Hold on a minute," said David. "Shake hands with Mr. Larrabee." + +"Seen ye before," said Dick, as they shook hands. "I was in the barroom +when you come in the other night," and then he laughed as at the +recollection of something very amusing. + +John flushed a little and said, a bit stiffly, "I remember you were kind +enough to help about my luggage." + +"Excuse me," said Dick, conscious of the other's manner. "I wa'n't +laughin' at you, that is, not in pertic'ler. I couldn't see your face +when Ame offered ye pie an' doughnuts instid of beefsteak an' fixins. I +c'd only guess at that; but Ame's face was enough fer me," and Dick +went off into another cachinnation. + +David's face indicated some annoyance. "Oh, shet up," he exclaimed. +"You'd keep that yawp o' your'n goin', I believe, if it was the judgment +day." + +"Wa'al," said Dick with a grin, "I expect the' might be some fun to be +got out o' _that_, if a feller wa'n't worryin' too much about his own +skin; an' as fur's I'm concerned----" Dick's further views on the +subject of that momentous occasion were left unexplained. A significant +look in David's face caused the speaker to break off and turn toward the +door, through which came two men, the foremost a hulking, shambling +fellow, with an expression of repellent sullenness. He came forward to +within about ten feet of David's desk, while his companion halted near +the door. David eyed him in silence. + +"I got this here notice this mornin'," said the man, "sayin' 't my note +'d be due to-morrer, an' 'd have to be paid." + +"Wa'al," said David, with his arm over the back of his chair and his +left hand resting on his desk, "that's so, ain't it?" + +"Mebbe so," was the fellow's reply, "fur 's the comin' due 's concerned, +but the payin' part 's another matter." + +"Was you cal'latin' to have it renewed?" asked David, leaning a little +forward. + +"No," said the man coolly, "I don't know 's I want to renew it fer any +pertic'ler time, an' I guess it c'n run along fer a while jest as 't +is." John looked at Dick Larrabee. He was watching David's face with an +expression of the utmost enjoyment. David twisted his chair a little +more to the right and out from the desk. + +"You think it c'n run along, do ye?" he asked suavely. "I'm glad to have +your views on the subject. Wa'al, I guess it kin, too, until _to-morro'_ +at four o'clock, an' after that you c'n settle with lawyer Johnson or +the sheriff." The man uttered a disdainful laugh. + +"I guess it'll puzzle ye some to c'lect it," he said. Mr. Harum's bushy +red eyebrows met above his nose. + +"Look here, Bill Montaig," he said, "I know more 'bout this matter 'n +you think for. I know 't you ben makin' your brags that you'd fix me in +this deal. You allowed that you'd set up usury in the fust place, an' if +that didn't work I'd find you was execution proof anyways. That's so, +ain't it?" + +"That's about the size on't," said Montaig, putting his feet a little +farther apart. David had risen from his chair. + +"You didn't talk that way," proceeded the latter, "when you come whinin' +'round here to git that money in the fust place, an' as I reckon some o' +the facts in the case has slipped out o' your mind since that time, I +guess I'd better jog your mem'ry a little." + +It was plain from the expression of Mr. Montaig's countenance that his +confidence in the strength of his position was not quite so assured as +at first, but he maintained his attitude as well as in him lay. + +"In the fust place," David began his assault, "_I_ didn't _lend_ ye the +money. I borr'ed it for ye on my indorsement, an' charged ye fer doin' +it, as I told ye at the time; an' another thing that you appear to +forgit is that you signed a paper statin' that you was wuth, in good and +available pusson'ls, free an' clear, over five hunderd dollars, an' that +the statement was made to me with the view of havin' me indorse your +note fer one-fifty. Rec'lect that?" David smiled grimly at the look of +disconcert which, in spite of himself, appeared in Bill's face. + +"I don't remember signin' no paper," he said doggedly. + +"Jest as like as not," remarked Mr. Harum. "What _you_ was thinkin' of +about that time was gittin' that _money_." + +"I'd like to see that paper," said Bill, with a pretence of incredulity. + +"You'll see it when the time comes," asserted David, with an emphatic +nod. He squared himself, planting his feet apart, and, thrusting his +hands deep in his coat pockets, faced the discomfited yokel. + +"Do you think, Bill Montaig," he said, with measureless contempt, "that +I didn't know who I was dealin' with? that I didn't know what a +low-lived, roost-robbin' skunk you was? an' didn't know how to protect +myself agin such an'muls as you be? Wa'al, I did, an' don't you stop +thinkin' 'bout it--an'," he added, shaking his finger at the object of +his scorn, "_you'll pay that note_ or I'll put ye where the dogs won't +bite ye," and with that he turned on his heel and resumed his seat. Bill +stood for a minute with a scowl of rage and defeat in his lowering face. + +"Got any further bus'nis with me?" inquired Mr. Harum. "Anythin' more 't +I c'n oblige ye about?" There was no answer. + +"I asked you," said David, raising his voice and rising to his feet, +"if you had any further bus'nis with me." + +"I dunno's I have," was the sullen response. + +"All right," said David. "That bein' the case, an' as I've got somethin' +to do beside wastin' my time on such wuthless pups as you be, I'll thank +you to git out. There's the door," he added, pointing to it. + +"He, he, he, he, ho, ho, ha, h-o-o-o-o-o!" came from the throat of Dick +Larrabee. This was too much for the exasperated Bill, and he erred (to +put it mildly) in raising his arm and advancing a step toward his +creditor. He was not swift enough to take the second, however, for +David, with amazing quickness, sprang upon him, and twisting him around, +rushed him out of the door, down the passage, and out of the front door, +which was obligingly held open by an outgoing client, who took in the +situation and gave precedence to Mr. Montaig. His companion, who so far +had taken no part, made a motion to interfere, but John, who stood +nearest to him, caught him by the collar and jerked him back, with the +suggestion that it would be better to let the two have it out by +themselves. David came back rather breathless and very red in the face, +but evidently in exceeding good humor. + +"Scat my ----!" he exclaimed. "Hain't had such a good tussle I dunno +when." + +"Bill's considered ruther an awk'ard customer," remarked Dick. "I guess +he hain't had no such handlin' fer quite a while." + +"Sho!" exclaimed Mr. Harum. "The' ain't nothin' to him but wind an' +meanness. Who was that feller with him?" + +"Name 's Smith, I believe," replied Dick. "Guess Bill brought him along +fer a witness, an' I reckon he seen all he wanted to. I'll bet _his_ +neck's achin' some," added Mr. Larrabee with a laugh. + +"How's that?" asked David. + +"Well, he made a move to tackle you as you was escortin' Bill out, an' +Mr. Lenox there caught him in the collar an' gin him a jerk that'd 'a' +landed him on his back," said Dick, "if," turning to John, "you hadn't +helt holt of him. You putty nigh broke his neck. He went off--he, he, +he, he, ho!--wrigglin' it to make sure." + +"I used more force than was necessary, I'm afraid," said Billy +Williams's pupil, "but there wasn't much time to calculate." + +"Much obliged," said David with a nod. + +"Not at all," protested John, laughing. "I have enjoyed a great deal +this morning." + +"It _has_ ben ruther pleasant," remarked David with a chuckle, "but you +mustn't cal'late on havin' such fun ev'ry mornin'." + +John went into the business office, leaving the banker and Dick. + +"Say," said the latter when they were alone, "that young man o' your'n +'s quite a feller. He took care o' that big Smith chap with one hand; +an' say, _you_ c'n git round on your pins 'bout 's lively 's they make +'em, I guess. I swan!" he exclaimed, slapping his thigh and shaking with +laughter, "the hull thing head-an'-shouldered any show I seen lately." +And then for a while they fell to talking of the "sorril colt" and other +things. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +When John went back to the office after the noonday intermission it was +manifest that something had happened to Mr. Timson, and that the +something was of a nature extremely gratifying to that worthy gentleman. +He was beaming with satisfaction and rustling with importance. Several +times during the afternoon he appeared to be on the point of confiding +his news, but in the face of the interruptions which occurred, or which +he feared might check the flow of his communication, he managed to +restrain himself till after the closing of the office. But scarcely were +the shutters up (at the willing hands of Peleg Hopkins) when he turned +to John and, looking at him sharply, said, "Has Dave said anythin' 'bout +my leavin'?" + +"He told me he expected you would stay as long as might be necessary to +get me well started," said John non-committally, mindful of Mr. Harum's +injunction. + +"Jest like him," declared Chet. "Jest like him for all the world; but +the fact o' the matter is 't I'm goin' to-morro'. I s'pose he thought," +reflected Mr. Timson, "thet he'd ruther you'd find it out yourself than +to have to break it to ye, 'cause then, don't ye see, after I was gone +he c'd lay the hull thing at my door." + +"Really," said John, "I should have said that he ought to have told me." + +"Wa'al," said Chet encouragingly, "mebbe you'll git along somehow, +though I'm 'fraid you'll have more or less trouble; but I told Dave that +as fur 's I c'd see, mebbe you'd do 's well 's most anybody he c'd git +that didn't know any o' the customers, an' hadn't never done any o' this +kind o' work before." + +"Thank you very much," said John. "And so you are off to-morrow, are +you?" + +"Got to be," declared Mr. Timson. "I'd 'a' liked to stay with you a +spell longer, but the's a big concern f'm out of town that as soon as +they heard I was at libe'ty wrote for me to come right along up, an' I +s'pose I hadn't ought to keep 'em waitin'." + +"No, I should think not," said John, "and I congratulate you upon having +located yourself so quickly." + +"Oh!" said Mr. Timson, with ineffable complacency, "I hain't give myself +no worry; I hain't lost no sleep. I've allowed all along that Dave +Harum'd find out that he wa'n't the unly man that needed my kind o' +work, an' I ain't meanin' any disrispect to you when I say 't--" + +"Just so," said John. "I quite understand. Nobody could expect to take +just the place with him that you have filled. And, by the way," he +added, "as you are going in the morning, and I may not see you again, +would you kindly give me the last balance sheets of the two ledgers and +the bill-book. I suppose, of course, that they are brought down to the +first of the month, and I shall want to have them." + +"Oh, yes, cert'nly, of course--wa'al I guess Dave's got 'em," replied +Chet, looking considerably disconcerted, "but I'll look 'em up in the +mornin'. My train don't go till ten o'clock, an' I'll see you 'bout any +little last thing in the mornin'--but I guess I've got to go now on +account of a lot of things. You c'n shut up, can't ye?" + +Whereupon Mr. Timson made his exit, and not long afterward David came +in. By that time everything had been put away, the safe and vault +closed, and Peleg had departed with the mail and his freedom for the +rest of the day. + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, lifting himself to a seat on the counter, +"how've you made out? All O.K.?" + +"Yes," replied John, "I think so." + +"Where's Chet?" + +"He went away some few minutes ago. He said he had a good many things to +attend to as he was leaving in the morning." + +"E-um'm!" said David incredulously. "I guess 't won't take him long to +close up his matters. Did he leave ev'rything in good shape? Cash all +right, an' so on?" + +"I think so," said John. "The cash is right I am sure." + +"How 'bout the books?" + +"I asked him to let me have the balance sheets, and he said that you +must have them, but that he would come in in the morning and--well, what +he said was that he would see me in the morning, and, as he put it, look +after any little last thing." + +"E-um'm!" David grunted. "He won't do no such a thing. We've seen the +last of him, you bet, an' a good riddance. He'll take the nine o'clock +to-night, that's what he'll do. Drawed his pay, I guess, didn't he?" + +"He said he was to be paid for this month," answered John, "and took +sixty dollars. Was that right?" + +"Yes," said David, nodding his head absently. "What was it he said about +them statements?" he inquired after a moment. + +"He said he guessed you must have them." + +"E-um'm!" was David's comment. "What'd he say about leavin'?" + +John laughed and related the conversation as exactly as he could. + +"What'd I tell ye," said Mr. Harum, with a short laugh. "Mebbe he won't +go till to-morro', after all," he remarked. "He'll want to put in a +leetle more time tellin' how he was sent for in a hurry by that big +concern f'm out of town 't he's goin' to." + +"Upon my word, I can't understand it," said John, "knowing that you can +contradict him." + +"Wa'al," said David, "he'll allow that if he gits in the fust word, +he'll take the pole. It don't matter anyway, long 's he's gone. I guess +you an' me c'n pull the load, can't we?" and he dropped down off the +counter and started to go out. "By the way," he said, halting a moment, +"can't you come in to tea at six o'clock? I want to make ye acquainted +with Polly, an' she's itchin' to see ye." + +"I shall be delighted," said John. + + * * * * * + +"Polly," said David, "I've ast the young feller to come to tea, but +don't you say the word 'Eagle,' to him. You c'n show your ign'rance +'bout all the other kinds of birds an' animals you ain't familiar +with," said the unfeeling brother, "but leave eagles alone." + +"What you up to now?" she asked, but she got no answer but a laugh. + +From a social point of view the entertainment could not be described as +a very brilliant success. Our friend was tired and hungry. Mr. Harum was +unusually taciturn, and Mrs. Bixbee, being under her brother's interdict +as regarded the subject which, had it been allowed discussion, might +have opened the way, was at a loss for generalities. But John afterward +got upon terms of the friendliest nature with that kindly soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Some weeks after John's assumption of his duties in the office of David +Harum, Banker, that gentleman sat reading his New York paper in the +"wing settin'-room," after tea, and Aunt Polly was occupied with the +hemming of a towel. The able editorial which David was perusing was +strengthening his conviction that all the intelligence and virtue of the +country were monopolized by the Republican party, when his meditations +were broken in upon by Mrs. Bixbee, who knew nothing and cared less +about the Force Bill or the doctrine of protection to American +industries. + +"You hain't said nothin' fer quite a while about the bank," she +remarked. "Is Mr. Lenox gittin' along all right?" + +"Guess he's gittin' into condition as fast as c'd be expected," said +David, between two lines of his editorial. + +"It must be awful lonesome fer him," she observed, to which there was no +reply. + +"Ain't it?" she asked, after an interval. + +"Ain't what?" said David, looking up at her. + +"Awful lonesome," she reiterated. + +"Guess nobody ain't ever very lonesome when you're 'round an' got your +breath," was the reply. "What you talkin' about?" + +"I ain't talkin' about you, 't any rate," said Mrs. Bixbee. "I was +sayin' it must be awful lonesome fer Mr. Lenox up here where he don't +know a soul hardly, an' livin' at that hole of a tavern." + +"I don't see 't you've any cause to complain long's he don't," said +David, hoping that it would not come to his sister's ears that he had, +for reasons of his own, discouraged any attempt on John's part to better +his quarters, "an' he hain't ben very lonesome daytimes, I guess, so +fur, 'thout he's ben makin' work fer himself to kill time." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "we found that Chet hadn't done more 'n to give +matters a lick an' a promise in most a year. He done just enough to keep +up the day's work an' no more an' the upshot on't is that John's had to +put in consid'able time to git things straightened out." + +"What a shame!" exclaimed Aunt Polly. + +"Keeps him f'm bein' lonesome," remarked her brother with a grin. + +"An' he hain't had no time to himself!" she protested. "I don't believe +you've made up your mind yet whether you're goin' to like him, an' I +don't believe he'll _stay_ anyway." + +"I've told more 'n forty-leven times," said Mr. Harum, looking up over +his paper, "that I thought we was goin' to make a hitch of it, an' he +cert'nly hain't said nuthin' 'bout leavin', an' I guess he won't fer a +while, tavern or no tavern. He's got a putty stiff upper lip of his own, +I reckon," David further remarked, with a short laugh, causing Mrs. +Bixbee to look up at him inquiringly, which look the speaker answered +with a nod, saying, "Me an' him had a little go-round to-day." + +"You hain't had no _words_, hev ye?" she asked anxiously. + +"Wa'al, we didn't have what ye might call _words_. I was jest tryin' a +little experiment with him." + +"Humph," she remarked, "you're alwus tryin' exper'ments on somebody, an' +you'll be liable to git ketched at it some day." + +"Exceptin' on you," said David. "You don't think I'd try any experiments +on you, do ye?" + +"Me!" she cried. "You're at me the hull endurin' time, an' you know it." + +"Wa'al, but Polly," said David insinuatingly, "you don't know how +int'restin' you _be_." + +"Glad you think so," she declared, with a sniff and a toss of the head. +"What you ben up to with Mr. Lenox?" + +"Oh, nuthin' much," replied Mr. Harum, making a feint of resuming his +reading. + +"Be ye goin' to tell me, or--air ye too _'shamed_ on't?" she added with +a little laugh, which somewhat turned the tables on her teasing brother. + +"Wa'al, I laid out to try an' read this paper," he said, spreading it +out on his lap, "but," resignedly, "I guess 't ain't no use. Do you know +what a count'fit bill is?" he asked. + +"I dunno 's I ever see one," she said, "but I s'pose I do. They're agin +the law, ain't they?" + +"The's a number o' things that's agin the law," remarked David dryly. + +"Wa'al?" ejaculated Mrs. Bixbee after a moment of waiting. + +"Wa'al," said David, "the' ain't much to tell, but it's plain I don't +git no peace till you git it out of me. It was like this: The young +feller's took holt everywhere else right off, but handlin' the money +bothered him consid'able at fust. It was slow work, an' I c'd see it +myself; but he's gettin' the hang on't now. Another thing I expected +he'd run up agin was count'fits. The' ain't so very many on 'em round +now-a-days, but the' is now an' then one. He allowed to me that he was +liable to get stuck at fust, an' I reckoned he would. But I never said +nuthin' about it, nor ast no questions until to-day; an' this afternoon +I come in to look 'round, an' I says to him, 'What luck have you had +with your money? Git any bad?' I says. 'Wa'al,' he says, colorin' up a +little, 'I don't know how many I may have took in an' paid out agin +without knowin' it,' he says, 'but the' was a couple sent back from New +York out o' that package that went down last Friday.'" + +"'What was they?' I says. + +"'A five an' a ten,' he says. + +"'Where be they?' I says. + +"'They're in the draw there--they're ruther int'restin' objects of +study,' he says, kind o' laughin' on the wrong side of his mouth. + +"'Countin' 'em in the cash?' I says, an' with that he kind o' reddened +up agin. 'No, sir,' he says, 'I charged 'em up to my own account, an' +I've kept 'em to compare with.' + +"'You hadn't ought to done that,' I says. + +"'You think I ought to 'a' put 'em in the fire at once?' says he. + +"'No,' I says, 'that wa'n't what I meant. Why didn't you mix 'em up with +the other money, an' let 'em go when you was payin' out? Anyways,' I +says, 'you charge 'em up to profit an' loss if you're goin' to charge +'em to anythin', an' let me have 'em,' I says. + +"'What'll you do with 'em?' he says to me, kind o' shuttin' his jaws +together. + +"'I'll take care on 'em,' I says. 'They mayn't be good enough to send +down to New York,' I says, 'but they'll go around here all right--jest +as good as any other,' I says, 'long 's you keep 'em movin'.'" + +"David Harum!" cried Polly, who, though not quite comprehending some of +the technicalities of detail, was fully alive to the turpitude of the +suggestion. "I hope to gracious he didn't think you was in earnest. Why, +s'pose they was passed around, wouldn't somebody git stuck with 'em in +the long run? You know they would." Mrs. Bixbee occasionally surprised +her brother with unexpected penetration, but she seldom got much +recognition of it. + +"I see by the paper," he remarked, "that the' was a man died in +Pheladelphy one day last week," which piece of barefaced irrelevancy +elicited no notice from Mrs. Bixbee. + +"What more did he say?" she demanded. + +"Wa'al," responded Mr. Harum with a laugh, "he said that he didn't see +why I should be a loser by his mistakes, an' that as fur as the bills +was concerned they belonged to him, an' with that," said the narrator, +"Mister Man gits 'em out of the draw an' jest marches into the back room +an' puts the dum things int' the fire." + +"He done jest right," declared Aunt Polly, "an' you know it, don't ye +now?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "f'm his standpoint--f'm his standpoint, I guess he +did, an'," rubbing his chin with two fingers of his left hand, "it's a +putty dum good standpoint too. I've ben lookin'," he added reflectively, +"fer an honest man fer quite a number o' years, an' I guess I've found +him; yes'm, I guess I've found him." + +"An' be you goin' to let him lose that fifteen dollars?" asked the +practical Polly, fixing her brother with her eyes. + +"Wa'al," said David, with a short laugh, "what c'n I do with such an +obst'nit critter 's he is? He jest backed into the britchin', an' I +couldn't do nothin' with him." Aunt Polly sat over her sewing for a +minute or two without taking a stitch. + +"I'm sorry you done it," she said at last. + +"I dunno but I did make ruther a mess of it," admitted Mr. Harum. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +It was the 23d of December, and shortly after the closing hour. Peleg +had departed and our friend had just locked the vault when David came +into the office and around behind the counter. + +"Be you in any hurry?" he asked. + +John said he was not, whereupon Mr. Harum hitched himself up onto a high +office stool, with his heels on the spindle, and leaned sideways upon +the desk, while John stood facing him with his left arm upon the desk. + +"John," said David, "do ye know the Widdo' Cullom?" + +"No" said John, "but I know who she is--a tall, thin woman, who walks +with a slight stoop and limp. I noticed her and asked her name because +there was something about her looks that attracted my attention--as +though at some time she might have seen better days." + +"That's the party," said David. "She has seen better days, but she's eat +an' drunk sorro' mostly fer goin' on thirty year, an' darned little else +good share o' the time, I reckon." + +"She has that appearance certainly," said John. + +"Yes sir," said David, "she's had a putty tough time, the widdo' has, +an' yet," he proceeded after a momentary pause, "the' was a time when +the Culloms was some o' the king-pins o' this hull region. They used to +own quarter o' the county, an' they lived in the big house up on the +hill where Doc Hays lives now. That was considered to be the finest +place anywheres 'round here in them days. I used to think the Capitol to +Washington must be somethin' like the Cullom house, an' that Billy P. +(folks used to call him Billy P. 'cause his father's name was William +an' his was William Parker), an' that Billy P. 'd jest 's like 's not be +president. I've changed my mind some on the subject of presidents since +I was a boy." + +Here Mr. Harum turned on his stool, put his right hand into his +sack-coat pocket, extracted therefrom part of a paper of "Maple Dew," +and replenished his left cheek with an ample wad of "fine-cut." John +took advantage of the break to head off what he had reason to fear might +turn into a lengthy digression from the matter in hand by saying, "I beg +pardon, but how does it happen that Mrs. Cullom is in such +circumstances? Has the family all died out?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "they're most on 'em dead, all on 'em, in fact, +except the widdo's son Charley, but as fur 's the family 's concerned, +it more 'n _died_ out--it _gin_ out! 'D ye ever hear of Jim Wheton's +calf? Wa'al, Jim brought three or four veals into town one spring to +sell. Dick Larrabee used to peddle meat them days. Dick looked 'em over +an' says, 'Look here, Jim,' he says, 'I guess you got a "deakin" in that +lot,' he says. 'I dunno what you mean,' says Jim. 'Yes, ye do, goll darn +ye!' says Dick, 'yes, ye do. You didn't never kill that calf, an' you +know it. That calf died, that's what that calf done. Come, now, own +up,' he says. 'Wa'al,' says Jim, 'I didn't _kill_ it, an' it didn't +_die_ nuther--it jest kind o' _gin out_.'" + +John joined in the laugh with which the narrator rewarded his own +effort, and David went on: "Yes, sir, they jest petered out. Old Billy, +Billy P.'s father, inheritid all the prop'ty--never done a stroke of +work in his life. He had a collidge education, went to Europe, an' all +that', an' before he was fifty year old he hardly ever come near the old +place after he was growed up. The land was all farmed out on shares, an' +his farmers mostly bamboozled him the hull time. He got consid'able +income, of course, but as things went along and they found out how slack +he was they kept bitin' off bigger chunks all the time, an' sometimes he +didn't git even the core. But all the time when he wanted money--an' he +wanted it putty often I tell ye--the easiest way was to stick on a +morgidge; an' after a spell it got so 't he'd have to give a morgidge to +pay the int'rist on the other morgidges." + +"But," said John, "was there nothing to the estate but land?" + +"Oh, yes," said David, "old Billy's father left him some consid'able +pers'nal, but after that was gone he went into the morgidge bus'nis as I +tell ye. He lived mostly up to Syrchester and around, an' when he got +married he bought a place in Syrchester and lived there till Billy P. +was about twelve or thirteen year old, an' he was about fifty. By that +time he'd got 'bout to the end of his rope, an' the' wa'n't nothin' for +it but to come back here to Homeville an' make the most o' what the' was +left--an' that's what he done, let alone that he didn't make the most +on't to any pertic'ler extent. Mis' Cullom, his wife, wa'n't no help to +him. She was a city woman an' didn't take to the country no way, but +when she died it broke old Billy up wus 'n ever. She peaked an' pined, +an' died when Billy P. was about fifteen or so. Wa'al, Billy P. an' the +old man wrastled along somehow, an' the boy went to collidge fer a year +or so. How they ever got along 's they did I dunno. The' was a story +that some far-off relation left old Billy some money, an' I guess that +an' what they got off'm what farms was left carried 'em along till Billy +P. was twenty-five or so, an' then he up an' got married. That was the +crownin' stroke," remarked David. "She was one o' the village +girls--respectable folks, more 'n ordinary good lookin' an' high +steppin', an' had had some schoolin'. But the old man was prouder 'n a +cock-turkey, an' thought nobody wa'n't quite good enough fer Billy P., +an' all along kind o' reckoned that he'd marry some money an' git a new +start. But when he got married--on the quiet, you know, cause he knowed +the old man would kick--wa'al, that killed the trick, an' the old man +into the bargain. It took the gumption all out of him, an' he didn't +live a year. Wa'al, sir, it was curious, but, 's I was told, putty much +the hull village sided with the old man. The Culloms was kind o' kings +in them days, an' folks wa'n't so one-man's-good's-anotherish as they be +now. They thought Billy P. done wrong, though they didn't have nothin' +to say 'gainst the girl neither--an' she's very much respected, Mis' +Cullom is, an' as fur's I'm concerned, I've alwus guessed she kept Billy +P. goin' full as long 's any one could. But 't wa'n't no use--that is +to say, the sure thing come to pass. He had a nom'nal title to a good +deal o' prop'ty, but the equity in most on't if it had ben to be put up +wa'n't enough to pay fer the papers. You see, the' ain't never ben no +real cash value in farm prop'ty in these parts. The' ain't ben hardly a +dozen changes in farm titles, 'cept by inher'tance or foreclosure, in +thirty years. So Billy P. didn't make no effort. Int'rist's one o' them +things that keeps right on nights an' Sundays. He jest had the deeds +made out and handed 'em over when the time came to settle. The' was some +village lots though that was clear, that fetched him in some money from +time to time until they was all gone but one, an' that's the one Mis' +Cullom lives on now. It was consid'able more'n a lot--in fact, a putty +sizable place. She thought the sun rose an' set where Billy P. was, but +she took a crotchit in her head, and wouldn't ever sign no papers fer +that, an' lucky fer him too. The' was a house on to it, an' he had a +roof over his head anyway when he died six or seven years after he +married, an' left her with a boy to raise. How she got along all them +years till Charley got big enough to help, I swan! I don't know. She +took in sewin' an' washin', an' went out to cook an' nurse, an' all +that, but I reckon the' was now an' then times when they didn't overload +their stomechs much, nor have to open the winders to cool off. But she +held onto that prop'ty of her'n like a pup to a root. It was putty well +out when Billy P. died, but the village has growed up to it. The's some +good lots could be cut out on't, an' it backs up to the river where the +current's enough to make a mighty good power fer a 'lectric light. I +know some fellers that are talkin' of startin' a plant here, an' it +ain't out o' sight that they'd pay a good price fer the river front, an' +enough land to build on. Fact on't is, it's got to be a putty valu'ble +piece o' prop'ty, more 'n she cal'lates on, I reckon." + +Here Mr. Harum paused, pinching his chin with thumb and index finger, +and mumbling his tobacco. John, who had listened with more attention +than interest--wondering the while as to what the narrative was leading +up to--thought something might properly be expected of him to show that +he had followed it, and said, "So Mrs. Cullom has kept this last piece +clear, has she?" + +"No," said David, bringing down his right hand upon the desk with +emphasis, "that's jest what she hain't done, an' that's how I come to +tell ye somethin' of the story, an' more on't 'n you've cared about +hearin', mebbe." + +"Not at all," John protested. "I have been very much interested." + +"You have, have you?" said Mr. Harum. "Wa'al, I got somethin' I want ye +to do. Day after to-morro' 's Chris'mus, an' I want ye to drop Mis' +Cullom a line, somethin' like this, 'That Mr. Harum told ye to say that +that morgidge he holds, havin' ben past due fer some time, an' no +int'rist havin' ben paid fer, let me see, more'n a year, he wants to +close the matter up, an' he'll see her Chris'mus mornin' at the bank at +nine o'clock, he havin' more time on that day; but that, as fur as he +can see, the bus'nis won't take very long'--somethin' like that, you +understand?" + +"Very well, sir," said John, hoping that his employer would not see in +his face the disgust and repugnance he felt as he surmised what a +scheme was on foot, and recalled what he had heard of Harum's hard and +unscrupulous ways, though he had to admit that this, excepting perhaps +the episode of the counterfeit money, was the first revelation to him +personally. But this seemed very bad to him. + +"All right," said David cheerfully, "I s'pose it won't take you long to +find out what's in your stockin', an' if you hain't nothin' else to do +Chris'mus mornin' I'd like to have you open the office and stay 'round a +spell till I git through with Mis' Cullom. Mebbe the' 'll be some papers +to fill out or witniss or somethin'; an' have that skeezicks of a boy +make up the fires so'st the place'll be warm." + +"Very good, sir," said John, hoping that the interview was at an end. + +But the elder man sat for some minutes apparently in a brown study, and +occasionally a smile of sardonic cunning wrinkled his face. At last he +said: "I've told ye so much that I may as well tell ye how I come by +that morgidge. 'Twont take but a minute, an' then you can run an' play," +he added with a chuckle. + +"I trust I have not betrayed any impatience," said John, and instantly +conscious of his infelicitous expression, added hastily, "I have really +been very much interested." + +"Oh, no," was the reply, "you hain't _betrayed_ none, but I know old +fellers like me gen'rally tell a thing twice over while they're at it. +Wa'al," he went on, "it was like this. After Charley Cullom got to be +some grown he helped to keep the pot a-bilin', 'n they got on some +better. 'Bout seven year ago, though, he up an' got married, an' then +the fat ketched fire. Finally he allowed that if he had some money he'd +go West 'n take up some land, 'n git along like pussly 'n a flower +gard'n. He ambitioned that if his mother 'd raise a thousan' dollars on +her place he'd be sure to take care of the int'rist, an' prob'ly pay off +the princ'ple in almost no time. Wa'al, she done it, an' off he went. +She didn't come to me fer the money, because--I dunno--at any rate she +didn't, but got it of 'Zeke Swinney. + +"Wa'al, it turned out jest 's any fool might 've predilictid, fer after +the first year, when I reckon he paid it out of the thousan', Charley +never paid no int'rist. The second year he was jest gettin' goin', an' +the next year he lost a hoss jest as he was cal'latin' to pay, an' the +next year the grasshoppers smote him, 'n so on; an' the outcome was that +at the end of five years, when the morgidge had one year to run, +Charley'd paid one year, an' she'd paid one, an' she stood to owe three +years' int'rist. How old Swinney come to hold off so was that she used +to pay the cuss ten dollars or so ev'ry six months 'n git no credit fer +it, an' no receipt an' no witniss, 'n he knowed the prop'ty was +improving all the time. He may have had another reason, but at any rate +he let her run, and got the shave reg'lar. But at the time I'm tellin' +you about he'd begun to cut up, an' allowed that if she didn't settle up +the int'rist he'd foreclose, an' I got wind on't an' I run across her +one day an' got to talkin' with her, an' she gin me the hull narration. +'How much do you owe the old critter?' I says. 'A hunderd an' eighty +dollars,' she says, 'an' where I'm goin' to git it,' she says, 'the Lord +only knows.' 'An' He won't tell ye, I reckon,' I says. Wa'al, of course +I'd known that Swinney had a morgidge because it was a matter of record, +an' I knowed him well enough to give a guess what his game was goin' to +be, an' more'n that I'd had my eye on that piece an' parcel an' I +figured that he wa'n't any likelier a citizen 'n I was." ("Yes," said +John to himself, "where the carcase is the vultures are gathered +together.") + +"'Wa'al,' I says to her, after we'd had a little more talk, 's'posen you +come 'round to my place to-morro' 'bout 'leven o'clock, an' mebbe we c'n +cipher this thing out. I don't say positive that we kin,' I says, 'but +mebbe, mebbe.' So that afternoon I sent over to the county seat an' got +a description an' had a second morgidge drawed up fer two hundred +dollars, an' Mis' Cullom signed it mighty quick. I had the morgidge made +one day after date, 'cause, as I said to her, it was in the nature of a +temp'rary loan, but she was so tickled she'd have signed most anythin' +at that pertic'ler time. 'Now,' I says to her, 'you go an' settle with +old Step-an'-fetch-it, but don't you say a word where you got the +money,' I says. 'Don't ye let on nothin'--stretch that conscience o' +your'n if nes'sary,' I says, 'an' be pertic'ler if he asks you if Dave +Harum give ye the money you jest say, "No, he didn't." That wont be no +lie,' I says, 'because I aint _givin'_ it to ye,' I says. Wa'al, she +done as I told her. Of course Swinney suspicioned fust off that I was +mixed up in it, but she stood him off so fair an' square that he didn't +know jest what _to_ think, but his claws was cut fer a spell, anyway. + +"Wa'al, things went on fer a while, till I made up my mind that I ought +to relieve Swinney of some of his anxieties about worldly bus'nis, an' +I dropped in on him one mornin' an' passed the time o' day, an' after +we'd eased up our minds on the subjects of each other's health an' such +like I says, 'You hold a morgidge on the Widder Cullom's place, don't +ye?' Of course he couldn't say nothin' but 'yes.' 'Does she keep up the +int'rist all right?' I says. 'I don't want to be pokin' my nose into +your bus'nis,' I says, 'an' don't tell me nothin' you don't want to.' +Wa'al, he knowed Dave Harum was Dave Harum, an' that he might 's well +spit it out, an' he says, 'Wa'al, she didn't pay nothin' fer a good +while, but last time she forked over the hull amount. 'But I hain't no +notion,' he says, 'that she'll come to time agin.' 'An' s'posin' she +don't,' I says, 'you'll take the prop'ty, won't ye?' 'Don't see no other +way,' he says, an' lookin' up quick, 'unless you over-bid me,' he says. +'No,' I says, 'I ain't buyin' no real estate jest now, but the thing I +come in fer,' I says, 'leavin' out the pleasure of havin' a talk with +you, was to say that I'd take that morgidge off'm your hands.' + +"Wa'al, sir, he, he, he, he! Scat my ----! At that he looked at me fer a +minute with his jaw on his neck, an' then he hunched himself, 'n drawed +in his neck like a mud turtle. 'No,' he says, 'I ain't sufferin' fer the +money, an' I guess I'll keep the morgidge. It's putty near due now, but +mebbe I'll let it run a spell. I guess the secur'ty's good fer it.' +'Yes,' I says, 'I reckon you'll let it run long enough fer the widder to +pay the taxes on't once more anyhow; I guess the secur'ty's good enough +to take that resk; but how 'bout _my_ secur'ty?' I says. 'What d'you +mean?' he says. 'I mean,' says I, 'that I've got a second morgidge on +that prop'ty, an' I begin to tremble fer my secur'ty. You've jest told +me,' I says, 'that you're goin' to foreclose an' I cal'late to protect +myself, an' I _don't_ cal'late,' I says, 'to have to go an' bid on that +prop'ty, an' put in a lot more money to save my investment, unless I'm +'bleeged to--not _much_! an' you can jest sign that morgidge over to me, +an' the sooner the quicker,' I says." + +David brought his hand down on his thigh with a vigorous slap, the +fellow of the one which, John could imagine, had emphasized his demand +upon Swinney. The story, to which he had at first listened with polite +patience merely, he had found more interesting as it went on, and, +excusing himself, he brought up a stool, and mounting it, said, "And +what did Swinney say to that?" Mr. Harum emitted a gurgling chuckle, +yawned his quid out of his mouth, tossing it over his shoulder in the +general direction of the waste basket, and bit off the end of a cigar +which he found by slapping his waistcoat pockets. John got down and +fetched him a match, which he scratched in the vicinity of his hip +pocket, lighted his cigar (John declining to join him on some plausible +pretext, having on a previous occasion accepted one of the brand), and +after rolling it around with his lips and tongue to the effect that the +lighted end described sundry eccentric curves, located it firmly with an +upward angle in the left-hand corner of his mouth, gave it a couple of +vigorous puffs, and replied to John's question. + +"Wa'al, 'Zeke Swinney was a perfesser of religion some years ago, an' +mebbe he is now, but what he said to me on this pertic'ler occasion was +that he'd see me in hell fust, an' _then_ he wouldn't. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'mebbe you won't, mebbe you will, it's alwus a +pleasure to meet ye,' I says, 'but in that case this morgidge bus'nis +'ll be a question fer our executors,' I says, 'fer _you_ don't never +foreclose that morgidge, an' don't you fergit it,' I says. + +"'Oh, you'd like to git holt o' that prop'ty yourself. I see what you're +up to,' he says. + +"'Look a-here, 'Zeke Swinney,' I says, 'I've got an int'rist in that +prop'ty, an' I propose to p'tect it. You're goin' to sign that morgidge +over to me, or I'll foreclose and surrygate ye,' I says, 'unless you +allow to bid in the prop'ty, in which case we'll see whose weasel-skin's +the longest. But I guess it won't come to that,' I says. 'You kin take +your choice,' I says. 'Whether I want to git holt o' that prop'ty myself +ain't neither here nor there. Mebbe I do, an' mebbe I don't, but +anyways,' I says, '_you_ don't git it, nor wouldn't ever, for if I can't +make you sign over, I'll either do what I said or I'll back the widder +in a defence fer usury. Put that in your pipe an' smoke it,' I says. + +"'What do you mean?' he says, gittin' half out his chair. + +"'I mean this,' I says, 'that the fust six months the widder couldn't +pay she gin you ten dollars to hold off, an' the next time she gin you +fifteen, an' that you've bled her fer shaves to the tune of sixty odd +dollars in three years, an' then got your int'rist in full.' + +"That riz him clean out of his chair," said David. "'She can't prove +it,' he says, shakin' his fist in the air. + +"'Oh, ho! ho!' I says, tippin' my chair back agin the wall. 'If Mis' +Cullom was to swear how an' where she paid you the money, givin' +chapter an' verse, and showin' her own mem'randums even, an' I was to +swear that when I twitted you with gittin' it you didn't deny it, but +only said that she couldn't _prove_ it, how long do you think it 'ould +take a Freeland County jury to find agin ye? I allow, 'Zeke Swinney,' I +says, 'that you wa'n't born yestyd'y, but you ain't so old as you look, +not by a dum sight!' an' then how I did laugh! + +"Wa'al," said David, as he got down off the stool and stretched himself, +yawning, "I guess I've yarned it enough fer one day. Don't fergit to +send Mis' Cullom that notice, an' make it up an' up. I'm goin' to git +the thing off my mind this trip." + +"Very well, sir," said John, "but let me ask, did Swinney assign the +mortgage without any trouble?" + +"O Lord! yes," was the reply. "The' wa'n't nothin' else fer him to do. I +had another twist on him that I hain't mentioned. But he put up a great +show of doin' it to obleege me. Wa'al, I thanked him an' so on, an' when +we'd got through I ast him if he wouldn't step over to the 'Eagil' an' +take somethin', an' he looked kind o' shocked an' said he never drinked +nothin'. It was 'gin his princ'ples, he said. Ho, ho, ho, ho! Scat my +----! Princ'ples!" and John heard him chuckling to himself all the way +out of the office. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Considering John's relations with David Harum, it was natural that he +should wish to think as well of him as possible, and he had not (or +thought he had not) allowed his mind to be influenced by the disparaging +remarks and insinuations which had been made to him, or in his presence, +concerning his employer. He had made up his mind to form his opinion +upon his own experience with the man, and so far it had not only been +pleasant but favorable, and far from justifying the half-jeering, +half-malicious talk that had come to his ears. It had been made manifest +to him, it was true, that David was capable of a sharp bargain in +certain lines, but it seemed to him that it was more for the pleasure of +matching his wits against another's than for any gain involved. Mr. +Harum was an experienced and expert horseman, who delighted above all +things in dealing in and trading horses, and John soon discovered that, +in that community at least, to get the best of a "hoss-trade" by almost +any means was considered a venial sin, if a sin at all, and the +standards of ordinary business probity were not expected to govern those +transactions. + +David had said to him once when he suspected that John's ideas might +have sustained something of a shock, "A hoss-trade ain't like anythin' +else. A feller may be straighter 'n a string in ev'rythin' else, an' +never tell the truth--that is, the hull truth--about a hoss. I trade +hosses with hoss-traders. They all think they know as much as I do, an' +I dunno but what they do. They hain't learnt no diff'rent anyway, an' +they've had chances enough. If a feller come to me that didn't think he +knowed anythin' about a hoss, an' wanted to buy on the square, he'd git, +fur's I knew, square treatment. At any rate I'd tell him all 't I knew. +But when one o' them smart Alecks comes along and cal'lates to do up old +Dave, why he's got to take his chances, that's all. An' mind ye," +asserted David, shaking his forefinger impressively, "it ain't only them +fellers. I've ben wuss stuck two three time by church members in good +standin' than anybody I ever dealed with. Take old Deakin Perkins. He's +a terrible feller fer church bus'nis; c'n pray an' psalm-sing to beat +the Jews, an' in spiritual matters c'n read his title clear the hull +time, but when it comes to hoss-tradin' you got to git up very early in +the mornin' or he'll skin the eyeteeth out of ye. Yes, sir! Scat my +----! I believe the old critter _makes_ hosses! But the deakin," added +David, "he, he, he, he! the deakin hain't hardly spoke to me fer some +consid'able time, the deakin hain't. He, he, he! + +"Another thing," he went on, "the' ain't no gamble like a hoss. You may +think you know him through an' through, an' fust thing you know he'll be +cuttin' up a lot o' didos right out o' nothin'. It stands to reason that +sometimes you let a hoss go all on the square--as you know him--an' the +feller that gits him don't know how to hitch him or treat him, an' he +acts like a diff'rent hoss, an' the feller allows you swindled him. You +see, hosses gits used to places an' ways to a certain extent, an' when +they're changed, why they're apt to act diff'rent. Hosses don't know but +dreadful little, really. Talk about hoss sense--wa'al, the' ain't no +such thing." + +Thus spoke David on the subject of his favorite pursuit and pastime, and +John thought then that he could understand and condone some things he +had seen and heard, at which at first he was inclined to look askance. +But this matter of the Widow Cullom's was a different thing, and as he +realized that he was expected to play a part, though a small one, in it, +his heart sank within him that he had so far cast his fortunes upon the +good will of a man who could plan and carry out so heartless and cruel +an undertaking as that which had been revealed to him that afternoon. He +spent the evening in his room trying to read, but the widow's affairs +persistently thrust themselves upon his thoughts. All the unpleasant +stories he had heard of David came to his mind, and he remembered with +misgiving some things which at the time had seemed regular and right +enough, but which took on a different color in the light in which he +found himself recalling them. He debated with himself whether he should +not decline to send Mrs. Cullom the notice as he had been instructed, +and left it an open question when he went to bed. + +He wakened somewhat earlier than usual to find that the thermometer had +gone up, and the barometer down. The air was full of a steady downpour, +half snow, half rain, about the most disheartening combination which the +worst climate in the world--that of central New York--can furnish. He +passed rather a busy day in the office in an atmosphere redolent of the +unsavory odors raised by the proximity of wet boots and garments to the +big cylinder stove outside the counter, a compound of stale smells from +kitchen and stable. + +After the bank closed he dispatched Peleg Hopkins, the office boy, with +the note for Mrs. Cullom. He had abandoned his half-formed intention to +revolt, but had made the note not only as little peremptory as was +compatible with a clear intimation of its purport as he understood it, +but had yielded to a natural impulse in beginning it with an expression +of personal regret--a blunder which cost him no little chagrin in the +outcome. + +Peleg Hopkins grumbled audibly when he was requested to build the fires +on Christmas day, and expressed his opinion that "if there warn't Bible +agin workin' on Chris'mus, the' 'd ort ter be"; but when John opened the +door of the bank that morning he found the temperature in comfortable +contrast to the outside air. The weather had changed again, and a +blinding snowstorm, accompanied by a buffeting gale from the northwest, +made it almost impossible to see a path and to keep it. In the central +part of the town some tentative efforts had been made to open walks, but +these were apparent only as slight and tortuous depressions in the +depths of snow. In the outskirts, the unfortunate pedestrian had to wade +to the knees. + +As John went behind the counter his eye was at once caught by a small +parcel lying on his desk, of white note paper, tied with a cotton +string, which he found to be addressed, "Mr. John Lenox, Esq., Present," +and as he took it up it seemed heavy for its size. + +Opening it, he found a tiny stocking, knit of white wool, to which was +pinned a piece of paper with the legend, "A Merry Christmas from Aunt +Polly." Out of the stocking fell a packet fastened with a rubber strap. +Inside were five ten-dollar gold pieces and a slip of paper on which was +written, "A Merry Christmas from Your Friend David Harum." For a moment +John's face burned, and there was a curious smarting of the eyelids as +he held the little stocking and its contents in his hand. Surely the +hand that had written "Your Friend" on that scrap of paper could not be +the hand of an oppressor of widows and orphans. "This," said John to +himself, "is what he meant when 'he supposed it wouldn't take me long to +find out what was in my stocking.'" + + * * * * * + +The door opened and a blast and whirl of wind and snow rushed in, +ushering the tall, bent form of the Widow Cullom. The drive of the wind +was so strong that John vaulted over the low cash counter to push the +door shut again. The poor woman was white with snow from the front of +her old worsted hood to the bottom of her ragged skirt. + +"You are Mrs. Cullom?" said John. "Wait a moment till I brush off the +snow, and then come to the fire in the back room. Mr. Harum will be in +directly, I expect." + +"Be I much late?" she asked. "I made 's much haste 's I could. It don't +appear to me 's if I ever see a blusteriner day, 'n I ain't as strong +as I used to be. Seemed as if I never would git here." + +"Oh, no," said John, as he established her before the glowing grate of +the Franklin stove in the bank parlor, "not at all. Mr. Harum has not +come in himself yet. Shall you mind if I excuse myself a moment while +you make yourself as comfortable as possible?" She did not apparently +hear him. She was trembling from head to foot with cold and fatigue and +nervous excitement. Her dress was soaked to the knees, and as she sat +down and put up her feet to the fire John saw a bit of a thin cotton +stocking and her deplorable shoes, almost in a state of pulp. A +snow-obliterated path led from the back door of the office to David's +house, and John snatched his hat and started for it on a run. As he +stamped off some of the snow on the veranda the door was opened for him +by Mrs. Bixbee. "Lord sakes!" she exclaimed. "What on earth be you +cavortin' 'round for such a mornin' 's this without no overcoat, an' on +a dead run? What's the matter?" + +"Nothing serious," he answered, "but I'm in a great hurry. Old Mrs. +Cullom has walked up from her house to the office, and she is wet +through and almost perished. I thought you'd send her some dry shoes and +stockings, and an old shawl or blanket to keep her wet skirt off her +knees, and a drop of whisky or something. She's all of a tremble, and +I'm afraid she will have a chill." + +"Certain! certain!" said the kind creature, and she bustled out of the +room, returning in a minute or two with an armful of comforts. "There's +a pair of bedroom slips lined with lamb's wool, an' a pair of woolen +stockin's, an' a blanket shawl. This here petticut, 't ain't what ye'd +call bran' new, but it's warm and comf'table, an' I don't believe she's +got much of anythin' on 'ceptin' her dress, an' I'll git ye the whisky, +but"--here she looked deprecatingly at John--"it ain't gen'ally known 't +we keep the stuff in the house. I don't know as it's right, but though +David don't hardly ever touch it he will have it in the house." + +"Oh," said John, laughing, "you may trust my discretion, and we'll swear +Mrs. Cullom to secrecy." + +"Wa'al, all right," said Mrs. Bixbee, joining in the laugh as she +brought the bottle; "jest a minute till I make a passel of the things to +keep the snow out. There, now, I guess you're fixed, an' you kin hurry +back 'fore she ketches a chill." + +"Thanks very much," said John as he started away. "I have something to +say to you besides 'Merry Christmas,' but I must wait till another +time." + +When John got back to the office David had just preceded him. + +"Wa'al, wa'al," he was saying, "but you be in a putty consid'able state. +Hullo, John! what you got there? Wa'al, you air the stuff! Slips, +blanket-shawl, petticut, stockin's--wa'al, you an' Polly ben puttin' +your heads together, I guess. What's that? Whisky! Wa'al, scat my ----! +I didn't s'pose wild hosses would have drawed it out o' Polly to let on +the' was any in the house, much less to fetch it out. Jest the thing! +Oh, yes ye are, Mis' Cullom--jest a mouthful with water," taking the +glass from John, "jest a spoonful to git your blood a-goin', an' then +Mr. Lenox an' me 'll go into the front room while you make yourself +comf'table." + +"Consarn it all!" exclaimed Mr. Harum as they stood leaning against the +teller's counter, facing the street, "I didn't cal'late to have Mis' +Cullom hoof it up here the way she done. When I see what kind of a day +it was I went out to the barn to have the cutter hitched an' send for +her, an' I found ev'rythin' topsy-turvy. That dum'd uneasy sorril colt +had got cast in the stall, an' I ben fussin' with him ever since. I +clean forgot all 'bout Mis' Cullom till jest now." + +"Is the colt much injured?" John asked. + +"Wa'al, he won't trot a twenty gait in some time, I reckon," replied +David. "He's wrenched his shoulder some, an' mebbe strained his inside. +Don't seem to take no int'rist in his feed, an' that's a bad sign. +Consarn a hoss, anyhow! If they're wuth anythin' they're more bother 'n +a teethin' baby. Alwus some dum thing ailin' 'em, an' I took consid'able +stock in that colt too," he added regretfully, "an' I could 'a' got +putty near what I was askin' fer him last week, an' putty near what he +was wuth, an' I've noticed that most gen'ally alwus when I let a good +offer go like that, some cussed thing happens to the hoss. It ain't a +bad idee, in the hoss bus'nis anyway, to be willin' to let the other +feller make a dollar once 'n a while." + +After that aphorism they waited in silence for a few minutes, and then +David called out over his shoulder, "How be you gettin' along, Mis' +Cullom?" + +"I guess I'm fixed," she answered, and David walked slowly back into the +parlor, leaving John in the front office. He was annoyed to realize +that in the bustle over Mrs. Cullom and what followed, he had forgotten +to acknowledge the Christmas gift; but, hoping that Mr. Harum had been +equally oblivious, promised himself to repair the omission later on. He +would have preferred to go out and leave the two to settle their affair +without witness or hearer, but his employer, who, as he had found, +usually had a reason for his actions, had explicitly requested him to +remain, and he had no choice. He perched himself upon one of the office +stools and composed himself to await the conclusion of the affair. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Mrs. Cullom was sitting at one corner of the fire, and David drew a +chair opposite to her. + +"Feelin' all right now? whisky hain't made ye liable to no disorderly +conduct, has it?" he asked with a laugh. + +"Yes, thank you," was the reply, "the warm things are real comfortin', +'n' I guess I hain't had licker enough to make me want to throw things. +You got a kind streak in ye, Dave Harum, if you did send me this here +note--but I s'pose ye know your own bus'nis," she added with a sigh of +resignation. "I ben fearin' fer a good while 't I couldn't hold on t' +that prop'ty, an' I don't know but what you might's well git it as 'Zeke +Swinney, though I ben hopin' 'gainst hope that Charley 'd be able to do +more 'n he has." + +"Let's see the note," said David curtly. "H'm, humph, 'regret to say +that I have been instructed by Mr. Harum'--wa'al, h'm'm, cal'lated to +clear his own skirts anyway--h'm'm--'must be closed up without further +delay' (John's eye caught the little white stocking which still lay on +his desk)--wa'al, yes, that's about what I told Mr. Lenox to say fur's +the bus'nis part's concerned--I might 'a' done my own regrettin' if I'd +wrote the note myself." (John said something to himself.) "'T ain't the +pleasantest thing in the world fer ye, I allow, but then you see, +bus'nis is bus'nis." + +John heard David clear his throat, and there was a hiss in the open +fire. Mrs. Cullom was silent, and David resumed: + +"You see, Mis' Cullom, it's like this. I ben thinkin' of this matter fer +a good while. That place ain't ben no real good to ye sence the first +year you signed that morgidge. You hain't scurcely more'n made ends +meet, let alone the int'rist, an' it's ben simply a question o' time, +an' who'd git the prop'ty in the long run fer some years. I reckoned, +same as you did, that Charley 'd mebbe come to the front--but he hain't +done it, an' 't ain't likely he ever will. Charley's a likely 'nough boy +some ways, but he hain't got much 'git there' in his make-up, not more'n +enough fer one anyhow, I reckon. That's about the size on't, ain't it?" + +Mrs. Cullom murmured a feeble admission that she was "'fraid it was." + +"Wa'al," resumed Mr. Harum, "I see how things was goin', an' I see that +unless I played euchre, 'Zeke Swinney 'd git that prop'ty, an' whether I +wanted it myself or not, I didn't cal'late he sh'd git it anyway. He put +a spoke in my wheel once, an' I hain't forgot it. But that hain't +neither here nor there. Wa'al," after a short pause, "you know I helped +ye pull the thing along on the chance, as ye may say, that you an' your +son 'd somehow make a go on't." + +"You ben very kind, so fur," said the widow faintly. + +"Don't ye say that, don't ye say that," protested David. "'T wa'n't no +kindness. It was jest bus'nis: I wa'n't takin' no chances, an' I s'pose +I might let the thing run a spell longer if I c'd see any use in't. But +the' ain't, an' so I ast ye to come up this mornin' so 't we c'd settle +the thing up without no fuss, nor trouble, nor lawyer's fees, nor +nothin'. I've got the papers all drawed, an' John--Mr. Lenox--here to +take the acknowlidgments. You hain't no objection to windin' the thing +up this mornin', have ye?" + +"I s'pose I'll have to do whatever you say," replied the poor woman in a +tone of hopeless discouragement, "an' I might as well be killed to once, +as to die by inch pieces." + +"All right then," said David cheerfully, ignoring her lethal suggestion, +"but before we git down to bus'nis an' signin' papers, an' in order to +set myself in as fair a light 's I can in the matter, I want to tell ye +a little story." + +"I hain't no objection 's I know of," acquiesced the widow graciously. + +"All right," said David, "I won't preach more 'n about up to the +sixthly--How'd you feel if I was to light up a cigar? I hain't much of a +hand at a yarn, an' if I git stuck, I c'n puff a spell. Thank ye. Wa'al, +Mis' Cullom, you used to know somethin' about my folks. I was raised on +Buxton Hill. The' was nine on us, an' I was the youngest o' the lot. My +father farmed a piece of about forty to fifty acres, an' had a small +shop where he done odd times small jobs of tinkerin' fer the neighbors +when the' was anythin' to do. My mother was his second, an' I was the +only child of that marriage. He married agin when I was about two year +old, an' how I ever got raised 's more 'n I c'n tell ye. My sister Polly +was 'sponsible more 'n any one, I guess, an' the only one o' the whole +lot that ever gin me a decent word. Small farmin' ain't cal'lated to +fetch out the best traits of human nature--an' keep 'em out--an' it +seems to me sometimes that when the old man wa'n't cuffin' my ears he +was lickin' me with a rawhide or a strap. Fur 's that was concerned, all +his boys used to ketch it putty reg'lar till they got too big. One on +'em up an' licked him one night, an' lit out next day. I s'pose the old +man's disposition was sp'iled by what some feller said farmin' was, +'workin' all day, an' doin' chores all night,' an' larrupin' me an' all +the rest on us was about all the enjoyment he got. My brothers an' +sisters--'ceptin' of Polly--was putty nigh as bad in respect of cuffs +an' such like; an' my step-marm was, on the hull, the wust of all. She +hadn't no childern o' her own, an' it appeared 's if I was jest pizen to +her. 'T wa'n't so much slappin' an' cuffin' with her as 't was tongue. +She c'd say things that 'd jest raise a blister like pizen ivy. I s'pose +I _was_ about as ord'nary, no-account-lookin', red-headed, freckled +little cuss as you ever see, an' slinkin' in my manners. The air of our +home circle wa'n't cal'lated to raise heroes in. + +"I got three four years' schoolin', an' made out to read an' write an' +cipher up to long division 'fore I got through, but after I got to be +six year old, school or no school, I had to work reg'lar at anything I +had strength fer, an' more too. Chores before school an' after school, +an' a two-mile walk to git there. As fur 's clo'es was concerned, any +old thing that 'd hang together was good enough fer me; but by the time +the older boys had outgrowed their duds, an' they was passed on to me, +the' wa'n't much left on 'em. A pair of old cowhide boots that leaked +in more snow an' water 'n they kept out, an' a couple pairs of woolen +socks that was putty much all darns, was expected to see me through the +winter, an' I went barefoot f'm the time the snow was off the ground +till it flew agin in the fall. The' wa'n't but two seasons o' the year +with me--them of chilblains an' stun-bruises." + +The speaker paused and stared for a moment into the comfortable glow of +the fire, and then discovering to his apparent surprise that his cigar +had gone out, lighted it from a coal picked out with the tongs. + +"Farmin' 's a hard life," remarked Mrs. Cullom with an air of being +expected to make some contribution to the conversation. + +"An' yit, as it seems to me as I look back on't," David resumed +pensively, "the wust on't was that nobody ever gin me a kind word, 'cept +Polly. I s'pose I got kind o' used to bein' cold an' tired; dressin' in +a snowdrift where it blowed into the attic, an' goin' out to fodder +cattle 'fore sun-up; pickin' up stun in the blazin' sun, an' doin' all +the odd jobs my father set me to, an' the older ones shirked onto me. +That was the reg'lar order o' things; but I remember I never _did_ git +used to never pleasin' nobody. 'Course I didn't expect nothin' f'm my +step-marm, an' the only way I ever knowed I'd done my stent fur 's +father was concerned, was that he didn't say nothin'. But sometimes the +older ones 'd git settin' 'round, talkin' an' laughin', havin' pop corn +an' apples, an' that, an' I'd kind o' sidle up, wantin' to join 'em, an' +some on 'em 'd say, 'What _you_ doin' here? time you was in bed,' an' +give me a shove or a cuff. Yes, ma'am," looking up at Mrs. Cullom, "the +wust on't was that I was kind o' scairt the hull time. Once in a while +Polly 'd give me a mossel o' comfort, but Polly wa'n't but little older +'n me, an' bein' the youngest girl, was chored most to death herself." + +It had stopped snowing, and though the wind still came in gusty blasts, +whirling the drift against the windows, a wintry gleam of sunshine came +in and touched the widow's wrinkled face. + +"It's amazin' how much trouble an' sorrer the' is in the world, an' how +soon it begins," she remarked, moving a little to avoid the sunlight. "I +hain't never ben able to reconcile how many good things the' be, an' how +little most on us gits o' them. I hain't ben to meetin' fer a long spell +'cause I hain't had no fit clo'es, but I remember most of the preachin' +I've set under either dwelt on the wrath to come, or else on the Lord's +doin' all things well, an' providin'. I hope I ain't no wickeder 'n than +the gen'ral run, but it's putty hard to hev faith in the Lord's +providin' when you hain't got nothin' in the house but corn meal, an' +none too much o' that." + +"That's so, Mis' Cullom, that's so," affirmed David. "I don't blame ye a +mite. 'Doubts assail, an' oft prevail,' as the hymn-book says, an' I +reckon it's a sight easier to have faith on meat an' potatoes 'n it is +on corn meal mush. Wa'al, as I was sayin'--I hope I ain't tirin' ye with +my goin's on?" + +"No," said Mrs. Cullom, "I'm engaged to hear ye, but nobody 'd suppose +to see ye now that ye was such a f'lorn little critter as you make out." + +"It's jest as I'm tellin' ye, an' more also, as the Bible says," +returned David, and then, rather more impressively, as if he were +leading up to his conclusion, "it come along to a time when I was 'twixt +thirteen an' fourteen. The' was a cirkis billed to show down here in +Homeville, an' ev'ry barn an' shed fer miles around had pictures stuck +onto 'em of el'phants, an' rhinoceroses, an' ev'ry animul that went into +the ark; an' girls ridin' bareback an' jumpin' through hoops, an' +fellers ridin' bareback an' turnin' summersets, an' doin' turnovers on +swings; an' clowns gettin' hoss-whipped, an' ev'ry kind of a thing that +could be pictered out; an' how the' was to be a grand percession at ten +o'clock, 'ith golden chariots, an' scripteral allegories, an' the hull +bus'nis; an' the gran' performance at two o'clock; admission twenty-five +cents, children under twelve, at cetery, an' so forth. Wa'al, I hadn't +no more idee o' goin' to that cirkis 'n I had o' flyin' to the moon, but +the night before the show somethin' waked me 'bout twelve o'clock. I +don't know how 't was. I'd ben helpin' mend fence all day, an' gen'ally +I never knowed nothin' after my head struck the bed till mornin'. But +that night, anyhow, somethin' waked me, an' I went an' looked out the +windo', an' there was the hull thing goin' by the house. The' was more +or less moon, an' I see the el'phant, an' the big wagins--the drivers +kind o' noddin' over the dashboards--an' the chariots with canvas +covers--I don't know how many of 'em--an' the cages of the tigers an' +lions, an' all. Wa'al, I got up the next mornin' at sun-up an' done my +chores; an' after breakfust I set off fer the ten-acre lot where I was +mendin' fence. The ten-acre was the farthest off of any, Homeville way, +an' I had my dinner in a tin pail so't I needn't lose no time goin' +home at noon, an', as luck would have it, the' wa'n't nobody with me +that mornin'. Wa'al, I got down to the lot an' set to work; but somehow +I couldn't git that show out o' my head nohow. As I said, I hadn't no +more notion of goin' to that cirkis 'n I had of kingdom come. I'd never +had two shillin' of my own in my hull life. But the more I thought on't +the uneasier I got. Somethin' seemed pullin' an' haulin' at me, an' +fin'ly I gin in. I allowed I'd see that percession anyway if it took a +leg, an' mebbe I c'd git back 'ithout nobody missin' me. 'T any rate, +I'd take the chances of a lickin' jest once--fer that's what it +meant--an' I up an' put fer the village lickity-cut. I done them four +mile lively, I c'n tell ye, an' the stun-bruises never hurt me once. + +"When I got down to the village it seemed to me as if the hull +population of Freeland County was there. I'd never seen so many folks +together in my life, an' fer a spell it seemed to me as if ev'rybody was +a-lookin' at me an' sayin', 'That's old Harum's boy Dave, playin' +hookey,' an' I sneaked 'round dreadin' somebody 'd give me away; but I +fin'ly found that nobody wa'n't payin' any attention to me--they was +there to see the show, an' one red-headed boy more or less wa'n't no +pertic'ler account. Wa'al, putty soon the percession hove in sight, an' +the' was a reg'lar stampede among the boys, an' when it got by, I run +an' ketched up with it agin, an' walked alongside the el'phant, tin pail +an' all, till they fetched up inside the tent. Then I went off to one +side--it must 'a' ben about 'leven or half-past, an' eat my dinner--I +had a devourin' appetite--an' thought I'd jest walk round a spell, an' +then light out fer home. But the' was so many things to see an' +hear--all the side-show pictures of Fat Women, an' Livin' Skelitons; an' +Wild Women of Madygasker, an' Wild Men of Borneo; an' snakes windin' +round women's necks; hand-orgins; fellers that played the 'cordion, an' +mouth-pipes, an' drum an' cymbals all to once, an' such like--that I +fergot all about the time an' the ten-acre lot, an' the stun fence, an' +fust I knowed the folks was makin' fer the ticket wagin, an' the band +begun to play inside the tent. Be I taxin' your patience over the +limit?" said David, breaking off in his story and addressing Mrs. Cullom +more directly. + +"No, I guess not," she replied; "I was jest thinkin' of a circus I went +to once," she added with an audible sigh. + +"Wa'al," said David, taking a last farewell of the end of his cigar, +which he threw into the grate, "mebbe what's comin' 'll int'rest ye more +'n the rest on't has. I was standin' gawpin' 'round, list'nin' to the +band an' watchin' the folks git their tickets, when all of a suddin I +felt a twitch at my hair--it had a way of workin' out of the holes in my +old chip straw hat--an' somebody says to me, 'Wa'al, sonny, what you +thinkin' of?' he says. I looked up, an' who do you s'pose it was? It was +Billy P. Cullom! I knowed who he was, fer I'd seen him before, but of +course he didn't know me. Yes, ma'am, it was Billy P., an' wa'n't he +rigged out to kill!" + +The speaker paused and looked into the fire, smiling. The woman started +forward facing him, and clasping her hands, cried, "My husband! What'd +he have on?" + +"Wa'al," said David slowly and reminiscently, "near's I c'n remember, he +had on a blue broad-cloth claw-hammer coat with flat gilt buttons, an' +a double-breasted plaid velvet vest, an' pearl-gray pants, strapped down +over his boots, which was of shiny leather, an' a high pointed collar +an' blue stock with a pin in it (I remember wonderin' if it c'd be real +gold), an' a yeller-white plug beaver hat." + +At the description of each article of attire Mrs. Cullom nodded her +head, with her eyes fixed on David's face, and as he concluded she broke +out breathlessly, "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! David, he wore them very same +clo'es, an' he took me to that very same show that very same night!" +There was in her face a look almost of awe, as if a sight of her +long-buried past youth had been shown to her from a coffin. + +Neither spoke for a moment or two, and it was the widow who broke the +silence. As David had conjectured, she was interested at last, and sat +leaning forward with her hands clasped in her lap. + +"Well," she exclaimed, "ain't ye goin' on? What did he say to ye?" + +"Cert'nly, cert'nly," responded David, "I'll tell ye near 's I c'n +remember, an' I c'n remember putty near. As I told ye, I felt a twitch +at my hair, an' he said, 'What be you thinkin' about, sonny?' I looked +up at him, an' looked away quick. 'I dunno,' I says, diggin' my big toe +into the dust; an' then, I dunno how I got the spunk to, for I was shyer +'n a rat, 'Guess I was thinkin' 'bout mendin' that fence up in the +ten-acre lot's much's anythin',' I says. + +"'Ain't you goin' to the cirkis?' he says. + +"'I hain't got no money to go to cirkises,' I says, rubbin' the dusty +toes o' one foot over t' other, 'nor nothin' else,' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'why don't you crawl under the canvas?' + +"That kind o' riled me, shy 's I was. 'I don't crawl under no canvases,' +I says. 'If I can't go in same 's other folks, I'll stay out,' I says, +lookin' square at him fer the fust time. He wa'n't exac'ly smilin', but +the' was a look in his eyes that was the next thing to it." + +"Lordy me!" sighed Mrs. Cullom, as if to herself. "How well I can +remember that look; jest as if he was laughin' at ye, an' wa'n't +laughin' at ye, an' his arm around your neck!" + +David nodded in reminiscent sympathy, and rubbed his bald poll with the +back of his hand. + +"Wa'al," interjected the widow. + +"Wa'al," said David, resuming, "he says to me, 'Would you like to go to +the cirkis?' an' with that it occurred to me that I did want to go to +that cirkis more'n anythin' I ever wanted to before--nor since, it seems +to me. But I tell ye the truth, I was so far f'm expectin' to go't I +really hadn't knowed I wanted to. I looked at him, an' then down agin, +an' began tenderin' up a stun-bruise on one heel agin the other instep, +an' all I says was, bein' so dum'd shy, 'I dunno,' I says. But I guess +he seen in my face what my feelin's was, fer he kind o' laughed an' +pulled out half-a-dollar an' says: 'D' you think you could git a couple +o' tickits in that crowd? If you kin, I think I'll go myself, but I +don't want to git my boots all dust,' he says. I allowed I c'd try; an' +I guess them bare feet o' mine tore up the dust some gettin' over to the +wagin. Wa'al, I had another scare gettin' the tickits, fer fear some one +that knowed me 'd see me with a half-a-dollar, an' think I must 'a' +stole the money. But I got 'em an' carried 'em back to him, an' he took +'em an' put 'em in his vest pocket, an' handed me a ten-cent piece, an' +says, 'Mebbe you'll want somethin' in the way of refreshments fer +yourself an' mebbe the el'phant,' he says, an' walked off toward the +tent; an' I stood stun still, lookin' after him. He got off about a rod +or so an' stopped an' looked back. 'Ain't you comin'?' he says. + +"'Be I goin' with _you_?" I says. + +"'Why not?' he says, ''nless you'd ruther go alone,' an' he put his +finger an' thumb into his vest pocket. Wa'al, ma'am, I looked at him a +minute, with his shiny hat an' boots, an' fine clo'es, an' gold pin, an' +thought of my ragged ole shirt, an' cotton pants, an' ole chip hat with +the brim most gone, an' my tin pail an' all. 'I ain't fit to,' I says, +ready to cry--an'--wa'al, he jest laughed, an' says, 'Nonsense,' he +says, 'come along. A man needn't be ashamed of his workin' clo'es,' he +says, an' I'm dum'd if he didn't take holt of my hand, an' in we went +that way together." + +"How like him that was!" said the widow softly. + +"Yes, ma'am, yes, ma'am, I reckon it was," said David, nodding. + +"Wa'al," he went on after a little pause, "I was ready to sink into the +ground with shyniss at fust, but that wore off some after a little, an' +we two seen the hull show, I _tell_ ye. We walked 'round the cages, an' +we fed the el'phant--that is, he bought the stuff an' I fed him. I +'member--he, he, he!--'t he says, 'mind you git the right end,' he says, +an' then we got a couple o' seats, an' the doin's begun." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +The widow was looking at David with shining eyes and devouring his +words. All the years of trouble and sorrow and privation were wiped out, +and she was back in the days of her girlhood. Ah, yes! how well she +remembered him as he looked that very day--so handsome, so splendidly +dressed, so debonair; and how proud she had been to sit by his side that +night, observed and envied of all the village girls. + +"I ain't goin' to go over the hull show," proceeded David, "well 's I +remember it. The' didn't nothin' git away from me that afternoon, an' +once I come near to stickin' a piece o' gingerbread into my ear 'stid o' +my mouth. I had my ten-cent piece that Billy P. give me, but he wouldn't +let me buy nothin'; an' when the gingerbread man come along he says, +'Air ye hungry, Dave? (I'd told him my name), air ye hungry?' Wa'al, I +was a growin' boy, an' I was hungry putty much all the time. He bought +two big squares an' gin me one, an' when I'd swallered it, he says, +'Guess you better tackle this one too,' he says, 'I've dined.' I didn't +exac'ly know what 'dined' meant, but--he, he, he, he!--I tackled it," +and David smacked his lips in memory. + +"Wa'al," he went on, "we done the hull programmy--gingerbread, +lemonade--_pink_ lemonade, an' he took some o' that--pop corn, peanuts, +pep'mint candy, cin'mun candy--scat my ----! an' he payin' fer +ev'rythin'--I thought he was jest made o' money! An' I remember how we +talked about all the doin's; the ridin', an' jumpin', an' summersettin', +an' all--fer he'd got all the shyniss out of me for the time--an' once I +looked up at him, an' he looked down at me with that curious look in his +eyes an' put his hand on my shoulder. Wa'al, now, I tell ye, I had a +queer, crinkly feelin' go up an' down my back, an' I like to up an' +cried." + +"Dave," said the widow, "I kin see you two as if you was settin' there +front of me. He was alwus like that. Oh, my! Oh, my! David," she added +solemnly, while two tears rolled slowly down her wrinkled face, "we +lived together, husban' an' wife, fer seven year, an' he never give me a +cross word." + +"I don't doubt it a mossel," said David simply, leaning over and poking +the fire, which operation kept his face out of her sight and was +prolonged rather unduly. Finally he straightened up and, blowing his +nose as it were a trumpet, said: + +"Wa'al, the cirkis fin'ly come to an end, an' the crowd hustled to git +out 's if they was afraid the tent 'd come down on 'em. I got kind o' +mixed up in 'em, an' somebody tried to git my tin pail, or I thought he +did, an' the upshot was that I lost sight o' Billy P., an' couldn't make +out to ketch a glimpse of him nowhere. An' _then_ I kind o' come down to +earth, kerchug! It was five o'clock, an' I had better 'n four mile to +walk--mostly up hill--an' if I knowed anything 'bout the old man, an' I +thought I _did_, I had the all-firedist lickin' ahead of me 't I'd ever +got, an' that was sayin' a good deal. But, boy 's I was, I had grit +enough to allow 't was wuth it, an' off I put." + +"Did he lick ye much?" inqured Mrs. Cullom anxiously. + +"Wa'al," replied David, "he done his best. He was layin' fer me when I +struck the front gate--I knowed it wa'n't no use to try the back door, +an' he took me by the ear--most pulled it off--an' marched me off to the +barn shed without a word. I never see him so mad. Seemed like he +couldn't speak fer a while, but fin'ly he says, 'Where you ben all day?' + +"'Down t' the village,' I says. + +"'What you ben up to down there?' he says. + +"'Went to the cirkis,' I says, thinkin' I might 's well make a clean +breast on't. + +"'Where 'd you git the money?' he says. + +"'Mr. Cullom took me,' I says. + +"'You lie,' he says. 'You stole the money somewheres, an' I'll trounce +it out of ye, if I kill ye,' he says. + +"Wa'al," said David, twisting his shoulders in recollection, "I won't +harrer up your feelin's. 'S I told you, he done his best. I was willin' +to quit long 'fore he was. Fact was, he overdone it a little, an' he had +to throw water in my face 'fore he got through; an' he done that as +thorough as the other thing. I was somethin' like a chickin jest out o' +the cistern. I crawled off to bed the best I could, but I didn't lay on +my back fer a good spell, I c'n tell ye." + +"You poor little critter," exclaimed Mrs. Cullom sympathetically. "You +poor little critter!" + +"'T was more'n wuth it, Mis' Cullom," said David emphatically. "I'd had +the most enjoy'ble day, I might say the only enjoy'ble day, 't I'd ever +had in my hull life, an' I hain't never fergot it. I got over the +lickin' in course of time, but I've ben enjoyin' that cirkis fer forty +year. The' wa'n't but one thing to hender, an' that's this, that I +hain't never ben able to remember--an' to this day I lay awake nights +tryin' to--that I said 'Thank ye' to Billy P., an' I never seen him +after that day." + +"How's that?" asked Mrs. Cullom. + +"Wa'al," was the reply, "that day was the turnin' point with me. The +next night I lit out with what duds I c'd git together, an' as much grub +'s I could pack in that tin pail; an' the next time I see the old house +on Buxton Hill the' hadn't ben no Harums in it fer years." + +Here David rose from his chair, yawned and stretched himself, and stood +with his back to the fire. The widow looked up anxiously into his face. +"Is that all?" she asked after a while. + +"Wa'al, it is an' it ain't. I've got through yarnin' about Dave Harum at +any rate, an' mebbe we'd better have a little confab on your matters, +seein' 't I've got you 'way up here such a mornin' 's this. I gen'ally +do bus'nis fust an' talkin' afterward," he added, "but I kind o' got to +goin' an' kept on this time." + +He put his hand into the breast pocket of his coat and took out three +papers, which he shuffled in review as if to verify their identity, and +then held them in one hand, tapping them softly upon the palm of the +other, as if at a loss how to begin. The widow sat with her eyes +fastened upon the papers, trembling with nervous apprehension. +Presently he broke the silence. + +"About this here morgidge o' your'n," he said, "I sent ye word that I +wanted to close the matter up, an' seein' 't you're here an' come fer +that purpose, I guess we'd better make a job on't. The' ain't no time +like the present, as the sayin' is." + +"I s'pose it'll hev to be as you say," said the widow in a shaking +voice. + +"Mis' Cullom," said David solemnly, "_you_ know, an' I know, that I've +got the repitation of bein' a hard, graspin', schemin' man. Mebbe I be. +Mebbe I've ben hard done by all my hull life, an' have had to be; an' +mebbe, now 't I've got ahead some, it's got to be second nature, an' I +can't seem to help it. 'Bus'nis is bus'nis' ain't part of the golden +rule, I allow, but the way it gen'ally runs, fur 's I've found out, is, +'Do unto the other feller the way he'd like to do unto you, an' do it +fust.' But, if you want to keep this thing a-runnin' as it's goin' on +now fer a spell longer, say one year, or two, or even three, you may, +only I've got somethin' to say to ye 'fore ye elect." + +"Wa'al," said the poor woman, "I expect it 'd only be pilin' up wrath +agin' the day o' wrath. I can't pay the int'rist now without starvin', +an' I hain't got no one to bid in the prop'ty fer me if it was to be +sold." + +"Mis' Cullom," said David, "I said I'd got somethin' more to tell ye, +an' if, when I git through, you don't think I've treated you right, +includin' this mornin's confab, I hope you'll fergive me. It's this, an' +I'm the only person livin' that 's knowin' to it, an' in fact I may say +that I'm the only person that ever was really knowin' to it. It was +before you was married, an' I'm sure he never told ye, fer I don't doubt +he fergot all about it, but your husband, Billy P. Cullom, that was, +made a small investment once on a time, yes, ma'am, he did, an' in his +kind of careless way it jest slipped his mind. The amount of cap'tal he +put in wa'n't large, but the rate of int'rist was uncommon high. Now, he +never drawed no dividends on't, an' they've ben 'cumulatin' fer forty +year, more or less, at compound int'rist." + +The widow started forward, as if to rise from her seat. David put his +hand out gently and said, "Jest a minute, Mis' Cullom, jest a minute, +till I git through. Part o' that cap'tal," he resumed, "consistin' of a +quarter an' some odd cents, was invested in the cirkis bus'nis, an' the +rest on't--the cap'tal, an' all the cash cap'tal that I started in +bus'nis with--was the ten cents your husband give me that day, an' +here," said David, striking the papers in his left hand with the back of +his right, "_here_ is the _dividends_! This here second morgidge, not +bein' on record, may jest as well go onto the fire--it's gettin' +low--an' here's a satisfaction piece which I'm goin' to execute now, +that'll clear the thousan' dollar one. Come in here, John," he called +out. + +The widow stared at David for a moment speechless, but as the +significance of his words dawned upon her, the blood flushed darkly in +her face. She sprang to her feet and, throwing up her arms, cried out: +"My Lord! My Lord! Dave! Dave Harum! Is it true?--tell me it's true! You +ain't foolin' me, air ye, Dave? You wouldn't fool a poor old woman that +never done ye no harm, nor said a mean word agin ye, would ye? Is it +true? an' is my place clear? an' I don't owe nobody anythin'--I mean, no +money? Tell it agin. Oh, tell it agin! Oh, Dave! it's too good to be +true! Oh! Oh! Oh, _my_! an' here I be cryin' like a great baby, an', +an'"--fumbling in her pocket--"I do believe I hain't got no +hank'chif--Oh, thank ye," to John; "I'll do it up an' send it back +to-morrer. Oh, what made ye do it, Dave?" + +"Set right down an' take it easy, Mis' Cullom," said David soothingly, +putting his hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her back into her +chair. "Set right down an' take it easy.--Yes," to John, "I acknowledge +that I signed that." + +He turned to the widow, who sat wiping her eyes with John's +handkerchief. + +"Yes, ma'am," he said, "It's as true as anythin' kin be. I wouldn't no +more fool ye, ye know I wouldn't, don't ye? than I'd--jerk a hoss," he +asseverated. "Your place is clear now, an' by this time to-morro' the' +won't be the scratch of a pen agin it. I'll send the satisfaction over +fer record fust thing in the mornin'." + +"But, Dave," protested the widow, "I s'pose ye know what you're +doin'--?" + +"Yes," he interposed, "I cal'late I do, putty near. You ast me why I +done it, an' I'll tell ye if ye want to know. I'm payin' off an old +score, an' gettin' off cheap, too. That's what I'm doin'! I thought I'd +hinted up to it putty plain, seein' 't I've talked till my jaws ache; +but I'll sum it up to ye if you like." + +He stood with his feet aggressively wide apart, one hand in his +trousers pocket, and holding in the other the "morgidge," which he waved +from time to time in emphasis. + +"You c'n estimate, I reckon," he began, "what kind of a bringin'-up I +had, an' what a poor, mis'able, God-fersaken, scairt-to-death little +forlorn critter I was; put upon, an' snubbed, an' jawed at till I'd come +to believe myself--what was rubbed into me the hull time--that I was the +most all-'round no-account animul that was ever made out o' dust, an' +wa'n't ever likely to be no diff'rent. Lookin' back, it seems to me +that--exceptin' of Polly--I never had a kind word said to me, nor a +day's fun. Your husband, Billy P. Cullom, was the fust man that ever +treated me human up to that time. He give me the only enjoy'ble time 't +I'd ever had, an' I don't know 't anythin' 's ever equaled it since. He +spent money on me, an' he give me money to spend--that had never had a +cent to call my own--_an'_, Mis' Cullom, he took me by the hand, an' he +talked to me, an' he gin me the fust notion 't I'd ever had that mebbe I +wa'n't only the scum o' the earth, as I'd ben teached to believe. I told +ye that that day was the turnin' point of my life. Wa'al, it wa'n't the +lickin' I got, though that had somethin' to do with it, but I'd never +have had the spunk to run away's I did if it hadn't ben for the +heartenin' Billy P. gin me, an' never knowed it, an' never knowed it," +he repeated mournfully. "I alwus allowed to pay some o' that debt back +to him, but seein' 's I can't do that, Mis' Cullom, I'm glad an' +thankful to pay it to his widdo'." + +"Mebbe he knows, Dave," said Mrs. Cullom softly. + +"Mebbe he does," assented David in a low voice. + +Neither spoke for a time, and then the widow said: "David, I can't thank +ye 's I ought ter--I don't know how--but I'll pray for ye night an' +mornin' 's long 's I got breath. An', Dave," she added humbly, "I want +to take back what I said about the Lord's providin'." + +She sat a moment, lost in her thoughts, and then exclaimed, "Oh, it +don't seem 's if I c'd wait to write to Charley!" + +"I've wrote to Charley," said David, "an' told him to sell out there an' +come home, an' to draw on me fer any balance he needed to move him. I've +got somethin' in my eye that'll be easier an' better payin' than +fightin' grasshoppers an' drought in Kansas." + +"Dave Harum!" cried the widow, rising to her feet, "you ought to 'a' ben +a king!" + +"Wa'al," said David with a grin, "I don't know much about the kingin' +bus'nis, but I guess a cloth cap 'n' a hoss whip 's more 'n my line than +a crown an' scepter. An' now," he added, "'s we've got through 'th our +bus'nis, s'pose you step over to the house an' see Polly. She's +expectin' on ye to dinner. Oh, yes," replying to the look of deprecation +in her face as she viewed her shabby frock, "you an' Polly c'n prink up +some if you want to, but we can't take 'No' fer an answer Chris'mus day, +clo'es or no clo'es." + +"I'd really like ter," said Mrs. Cullom. + +"All right then," said David cheerfully. "The path is swep' by this +time, I guess, an' I'll see ye later. Oh, by the way," he exclaimed, +"the's somethin' I fergot. I want to make you a proposition, ruther an +onusual one, but seein' ev'rythin' is as 't is, perhaps you'll consider +it." + +"Dave," declared the widow, "if I could, an' you ast for it, I'd give ye +anythin' on the face o' this mortal globe!" + +"Wa'al," said David, nodding and smiling, "I thought that mebbe, long 's +you got the int'rist of that investment we ben talkin' about, you'd let +me keep what's left of the princ'pal. Would ye like to see it?" + +Mrs. Cullom looked at him with a puzzled expression without replying. + +David took from his pocket a large wallet, secured by a strap, and, +opening it, extracted something enveloped in much faded brown paper. +Unfolding this, he displayed upon his broad fat palm an old silver dime +black with age. + +"There's the cap'tal," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +John walked to the front door with Mrs. Cullom, but she declined with +such evident sincerity his offer to carry her bundle to the house that +he let her out of the office and returned to the back room. David was +sitting before the fire, leaning back in his chair with his hands thrust +deep in his trousers pockets. He looked up as John entered and said, +"Draw up a chair." + +John brought a chair and stood by the side of it while he said, "I want +to thank you for the Christmas remembrance, which pleased and touched me +very deeply; and," he added diffidently, "I want to say how mortified I +am--in fact, I want to apologize for--" + +"Regrettin'?" interrupted David with a motion of his hand toward the +chair and a smile of great amusement. "Sho, sho! Se' down, se' down. +I'm glad you found somethin' in your stockin' if it pleased ye, an' as +fur's that regret o' your'n was concerned--wa'al--wa'al, I liked ye all +the better for't, I did fer a fact. He, he, he! Appearances was ruther +agin me, wasn't they, the way I told it." + +"Nevertheless," said John, seating himself, "I ought not to have--that +is to say, I ought to have known--" + +"How could ye," David broke in, "When I as good as told ye I was +cal'latin' to rob the old lady? He, he, he, he! Scat my ----! Your face +was a picture when I told ye to write that note, though I reckon you +didn't know I noticed it." + +John laughed and said, "You have been very generous all through, Mr. +Harum." + +"Nothin' to brag on," he replied, "nothin' to brag on. Fur 's Mis' +Cullom's matter was concerned, 't was as I said, jest payin' off an old +score; an' as fur 's your stockin', it's really putty much the same. +I'll allow you've earned it, if it'll set any easier on your stomach." + +"I can't say that I have been overworked," said John with a slight +laugh. + +"Mebbe not," rejoined David, "but you hain't ben overpaid neither, an' I +want ye to be satisfied. Fact is," he continued, "my gettin' you up here +was putty consid'able of an experiment, but I ben watchin' ye putty +close, an' I'm more'n satisfied. Mebbe Timson c'd beat ye at figurin' +an' countin' money when you fust come, an' knowed more about the +pertic'ler points of the office, but outside of that he was the biggist +dumb-head I ever see, an' you know how he left things. He hadn't no +tack, fer one thing. Outside of summin' up figures an' countin' money he +had a faculty fer gettin' things t'other-end to that beat all. I'd tell +him a thing, an' explain it to him two three times over, an' he'd say +'Yes, yes,' an', scat my ----! when it came to carryin' on't out, he +hadn't sensed it a mite--jest got it which-end-t'other. An talk! Wa'al, +I think it must 'a' ben a kind of disease with him. He really didn't +mean no harm, mebbe, but he couldn't no more help lettin' out anythin' +he knowed, or thought he knowed, than a settin' hen c'n help settin'. +He kep' me on tenter-hooks the hull endurin' time." + +"I should say he was honest enough, was he not?" said John. + +"Oh, yes," replied David with a touch of scorn, "he was honest enough +fur 's money matters was concerned; but he hadn't no tack, nor no sense, +an' many a time he done more mischief with his gibble-gabble than if +he'd took fifty dollars out an' out. Fact is," said David, "the kind of +honesty that won't actually steal 's a kind of fool honesty that's +common enough; but the kind that keeps a feller's mouth shut when he +hadn't ought to talk 's about the scurcest thing goin'. I'll jest tell +ye, fer example, the last mess he made. You know Purse, that keeps the +gen'ral store? Wa'al, he come to me some months ago, on the quiet, an' +said that he wanted to borro' five hunderd. He didn't want to git no +indorser, but he'd show me his books an' give me a statement an' a +chattel morgidge fer six months. He didn't want nobody to know 't he was +anyway pushed fer money because he wanted to git some extensions, an' so +on. I made up my mind it was all right, an' I done it. Wa'al, about a +month or so after he come to me with tears in his eyes, as ye might say, +an' says, 'I got somethin' I want to show ye,' an' handed out a letter +from the house in New York he had some of his biggist dealin's with, +tellin' him that they regretted"--here David gave John a nudge--"that +they couldn't give him the extensions he ast for, an' that his paper +must be paid as it fell due--some twelve hunderd dollars. 'Somebody 's +leaked,' he says, 'an' they've heard of that morgidge, an' I'm in a +putty scrape,' he says. + +"'H'm'm,' I says, 'what makes ye think so?' + +"'Can't be nothin' else,' he says; 'I've dealt with them people fer +years an' never ast fer nothin' but what I got it, an' now to have 'em +round up on me like this, it can't be nothin' but what they've got wind +o' that chattel morgidge,' he says. + +"'H'm'm,' I says. 'Any o' their people ben up here lately?' I says. + +"'That's jest it,' he says. 'One o' their travellin' men was up here +last week, an' he come in in the afternoon as chipper as you please, +wantin' to sell me a bill o' goods, an' I put him off, sayin' that I had +a putty big stock, an' so on, an' he said he'd see me agin in the +mornin'--you know that sort of talk,' he says. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'did he come in?' + +"'No,' says Purse, 'he didn't. I never set eyes on him agin, an' more'n +that,' he says, 'he took the first train in the mornin', an' now,' he +says, 'I expect I'll have ev'ry last man I owe anythin' to buzzin' +'round my ears.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I see about how the land lays, an' I reckon +you ain't fur out about the morgidge bein' at the bottom on't, an' the' +ain't no way it c'd 'a' leaked out 'ceptin' through that dum'd +chuckle-head of a Timson. But this is the way it looks to me--you hain't +heard nothin' in the village, have ye?' I says. + +"'No,' he says. 'Not _yit_,' he says. + +"'Wa'al, ye won't, I don't believe,' I says, 'an' as fur as that drummer +is concerned, you c'n bet,' I says, 'that he didn't nor won't let on to +nobody but his own folks--not till _his_ bus'nis is squared up, an' +more 'n that,' I says, 'seein' that your trouble 's ben made ye by one +o' my help, I don't see but what I'll have to see ye through,' I says. +'You jest give me the address of the New York parties, an' tell me what +you want done, an' I reckon I c'n fix the thing so 't they won't bother +ye. I don't believe,' I says, 'that anybody else knows anythin' yet, an' +I'll shut up Timson's yawp so 's it'll stay shut.'" + +"How did the matter come out?" asked John, "and what did Purse say?" + +"Oh," replied David, "Purse went off head up an' tail up. He said he was +everlastin'ly obliged to me, an'--he, he, he!--he said 't was more 'n he +expected. You see I charged him what I thought was right on the 'rig'nal +deal, an' he squimmidged some, an' I reckon he allowed to be putty well +bled if I took holt agin; but I done as I agreed on the extension +bus'nis, an' I'm on his paper for twelve hunderd fer nothin', jest +because that nikum-noddy of a Timson let that drummer bamboozle him into +talkin'. I found out the hull thing, an' the very day I wrote to the New +York fellers fer Purse, I wrote to Gen'ral Wolsey to find me somebody to +take Timson's place. I allowed I'd ruther have somebody that didn't know +nobody, than such a clackin' ole he-hen as Chet." + +"I should have said that it was rather a hazardous thing to do," said +John, "to put a total stranger like me into what is rather a +confidential position, as well as a responsible one." + +"Wa'al," said David, "in the fust place I knew that the Gen'ral wouldn't +recommend no dead-beat nor no skin, an' I allowed that if the raw +material was O.K., I could break it in; an' if it wa'n't I should find +it out putty quick. Like a young hoss," he remarked, "if he's sound an' +kind, an' got gumption, I'd sooner break him in myself 'n not--fur's my +use goes--an' if I can't, nobody can, an' I get rid on him. You +understand?" + +"Yes," said John with a smile. + +"Wa'al," continued David, "I liked your letter, an' when you come I +liked your looks. Of course I couldn't tell jest how you'd take holt, +nor if you an' me 'd hitch. An' then agin, I didn't know whether you +could stan' it here after livin' in a city all your life. I watched ye +putty close--closter 'n you knowed of, I guess. I seen right off that +you was goin' to fill your collar, fur's the work was concerned, an' +though you didn't know nobody much, an' couldn't have no amusement to +speak on, you didn't mope nor sulk, an' what's more--though I know I +advised ye to stay there fer a spell longer when you spoke about +boardin' somewhere else--I know what the Eagle tavern is in winter; +summer, too, fer that matter, though it's a little better then, an' I +allowed that air test 'd be final. He, he, he! Putty rough, ain't it?" + +"It is, rather," said John, laughing. "I'm afraid my endurance is pretty +well at an end. Elright's wife is ill, and the fact is, that since day +before yesterday I have been living on what I could buy at the +grocery--crackers, cheese, salt fish, canned goods, _et cetera_." + +"Scat my ----!" cried David. "Wa'al! Wa'al! That's too dum'd bad! Why on +earth--why, you must be _hungry_! Wa'al, you won't have to eat no salt +herrin' to-day, because Polly 'n I are expectin' ye to dinner." + +Two or three times during the conversation David had gone to the window +overlooking his lawn and looked out with a general air of observing the +weather, and at this point he did so again, coming back to his seat with +a look of satisfaction, for which there was, to John, no obvious reason. +He sat for a moment without speaking, and then, looking at his watch, +said: "Wa'al, dinner 's at one o'clock, an' Polly's a great one fer +bein' on time. Guess I'll go out an' have another look at that pesky +colt. You better go over to the house 'bout quarter to one, an' you c'n +make your t'ilet over there. I'm 'fraid if you go over to the Eagle +it'll spoil your appetite. She'd think it might, anyway." + +So David departed to see the colt, and John got out some of the books +and busied himself with them until the time to present himself at +David's house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +"Why, Mis' Cullom, I'm real glad to see ye. Come right in," said Mrs. +Bixbee as she drew the widow into the "wing settin' room," and proceeded +to relieve her of her wraps and her bundle. "Set right here by the fire +while I take these things of your'n into the kitchen to dry 'em out. +I'll be right back"; and she bustled out of the room. When she came back +Mrs. Cullom was sitting with her hands in her lap, and there was in her +eyes an expression of smiling peace that was good to see. + +Mrs. Bixbee drew up a chair, and seating herself, said: "Wa'al, I don't +know when I've seen ye to git a chance to speak to ye, an' I was real +pleased when David said you was goin' to be here to dinner. An' my! how +well, you're lookin'--more like Cynthy Sweetland than I've seen ye fer I +don't know when; an' yet," she added, looking curiously at her guest, +"you 'pear somehow as if you'd ben cryin'." + +"You're real kind, I'm sure," responded Mrs. Cullom, replying to the +other's welcome and remarks _seriatim_; "I guess, though, I don't look +much like Cynthy Sweetland, if I do feel twenty years younger 'n I did a +while ago; an' I have ben cryin', I allow, but not fer sorro', Polly +Harum," she exclaimed, giving the other her maiden name. "Your brother +Dave comes putty nigh to bein' an angel!" + +"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee with a twinkle, "I reckon Dave might hev to +be fixed up some afore he come out in that pertic'ler shape, but," she +added impressively, "es fur as bein' a _man_ goes, he's 'bout 's good 's +they make 'em. I know folks thinks he's a hard bargainer, an' +close-fisted, an' some on 'em that ain't fit to lick up his tracks says +more'n that. He's got his own ways, I'll allow, but down at bottom, an' +all through, I know the' ain't no better man livin'. No, ma'am, the' +ain't, an' what he's ben to me, Cynthy Cullom, nobody knows but +me--an'--an'--mebbe the Lord--though I hev seen the time," she said +tentatively, "when it seemed to me 't I knowed more about my affairs 'n +He did," and she looked doubtfully at her companion, who had been +following her with affirmative and sympathetic nods, and now drew her +chair a little closer, and said softly: "Yes, yes, I know. I ben putty +doubtful an' rebellious myself a good many times, but seems now as if He +had had me in His mercy all the time." Here Aunt Polly's sense of humor +asserted itself. "What's Dave ben up to now?" she asked. + +And then the widow told her story, with tears and smiles, and the keen +enjoyment which we all have in talking about ourselves to a sympathetic +listener like Aunt Polly, whose interjections pointed and illuminated +the narrative. When it was finished she leaned forward and kissed Mrs. +Cullom on the cheek. + +"I can't tell ye how glad I be for ye," she said; "but if I'd known that +David held that morgidge, I could hev told ye ye needn't hev worried +yourself a mite. He wouldn't never have taken your prop'ty, more'n he'd +rob a hen-roost. But he done the thing his own way--kind o' fetched it +round fer a Merry Chris'mus, didn't he? Curious," she said reflectively, +after a momentary pause, "how he lays up things about his childhood," +and then, with a searching look at the Widow Cullom, "you didn't let on, +an' I didn't ask ye, but of course you've heard the things that some +folks says of him, an' natchally they got some holt on your mind. +There's that story about 'Lish, over to Whitcom--you heard somethin' +about that, didn't ye?" + +"Yes," admitted the widow, "I heard somethin' of it, I s'pose." + +"Wa'al," said Mrs. Bixbee, "you never heard the hull story, ner anybody +else really, but I'm goin' to tell it to ye--" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Cullom assentingly. + +Mrs. Bixbee sat up straight in her chair with her hands on her knees and +an air of one who would see justice done. + +"'Lish Harum," she began, "wa'n't only half-brother to Dave. He was +hull-brother to me, though, but notwithstandin' that, I will say that a +meaner boy, a meaner growin' man, an' a meaner man never walked the +earth. He wa'n't satisfied to git the best piece an' the biggist +piece--he hated to hev any one else git anythin' at all. I don't believe +he ever laughed in his life, except over some kind o' suff'rin'--man or +beast--an' what'd tickle him the most was to be the means on't. He took +pertic'ler delight in abusin' an' tormentin' Dave, an' the poor little +critter was jest as 'fraid as death of him, an' good reason. Father was +awful hard, but he didn't go out of his way; but 'Lish never let no +chance slip. Wa'al, I ain't goin' to give you the hull fam'ly hist'ry, +an' I've got to go into the kitchen fer a while 'fore dinner, but what I +started out fer 's this: 'Lish fin'ly settled over to Whitcom." + +"Did he ever git married?" interrupted Mrs. Cullom. + +"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "he got married when he was past forty. +It's curious," she remarked, in passing, "but it don't seem as if the' +was ever yit a man so mean but he c'd find some woman was fool enough to +marry him, an' she was a putty decent sort of a woman too, f'm all +accounts, an' good lookin'. Wa'al, she stood him six or seven year, an' +then she run off." + +"With another man?" queried the widow in an awed voice. Aunt Polly +nodded assent with compressed lips. + +"Yes'm," she went on, "she left him an' went out West somewhere, an' +that was the last of _her_; an' when her two boys got old enough to look +after themselves a little, they quit him too, an' they wa'n't no way +growed up neither. Wa'al, the long an' the short on't was that 'Lish got +goin' down hill ev'ry way, health an' all, till he hadn't nothin' left +but his disposition, an' fairly got onter the town. The' wa'n't nothin' +for it but to send him to the county house, onless somebody 'd s'port +him. Wa'al, the committee knew Dave was his brother, an' one on 'em come +to see him to see if he'd come forwud an' help out, an' he seen Dave +right here in this room, an' Dave made me stay an' hear the hull thing. +Man's name was Smith, I remember, a peaked little man with long chin +whiskers that he kep' clawin' at with his fingers. Dave let him tell +his story, an' he didn't say nothin' fer a minute or two, an' then he +says, 'What made ye come to me?' he says. 'Did he send ye?' + +"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'when it was clear that he couldn't do nuthin', we +ast him if the' wa'n't nobody could put up fer him, an' he said you was +his brother, an' well off, an' hadn't ought to let him go t' the +poorhouse.' + +"'He said that, did he?' says Dave. + +"'Amountin' to that,' says Smith. + +"'Wa'al,' says Dave, 'it's a good many years sence I see 'Lish, an' +mebbe you know him better 'n I do. You known him some time, eh?' + +"'Quite a number o' years,' says Smith. + +"'What sort of a feller was he,' says Dave, 'when he was somebody? Putty +good feller? good citizen? good neighber? lib'ral? kind to his fam'ly? +ev'rybody like him? gen'ally pop'lar, an' all that?' + +"'Wa'al,' says Smith, wigglin' in his chair an' pullin' out his whiskers +three four hairs to a time, 'I guess he come some short of all that.' + +"'E'umph!' says Dave, 'I guess he did! Now, honest,' he says, '_is_ the' +man, woman, or child in Whitcom that knows 'Lish Harum that's got a good +word fer him? or ever knowed of his doin' or sayin' anythin' that hadn't +got a mean side to it some way? Didn't he drive his wife off, out an' +out? an' didn't his two boys hev to quit him soon 's they could travel? +_An'_,' says Dave, 'if any one was to ask you to figure out a pattern of +the meanist human skunk you was capable of thinkin' of, wouldn't +it--honest, now!' Dave says, 'honest, now--wouldn't it be 's near like +'Lish Harum as one buckshot 's like another?'" + +"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom. "What did Mr. Smith say to that?" + +"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "he didn't say nuthin' at fust, not in so +many words. He sot fer a minute clawin' away at his whiskers--an' he'd +got both hands into 'em by that time--an' then he made a move as if he +gin the hull thing up an' was goin'. Dave set lookin' at him, an' then +he says, 'You ain't goin', air ye?' + +"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'feelin' 's you do, I guess my arrant here ain't +goin' t' amount to nothin', an' I may 's well.' + +"'No, you set still a minute,' says Dave. 'If you'll answer my question +honest an' square, I've got sunthin' more to say to ye. Come, now,' he +says. + +"'Wa'al,' says Smith, with a kind of give-it-up sort of a grin, 'I guess +you sized him up about right. I didn't come to see you on 'Lish Harum's +account. I come fer the town of Whitcom.' An' then he spunked up some +an' says, 'I don't give a darn,' he says, 'what comes of 'Lish, an' I +don't know nobody as does, fur's he's person'ly concerned; but he's got +to be a town charge less 'n you take 'm off our hands.' + +"Dave turned to me an' says, jest as if he meant it, 'How 'd you like to +have him here, Polly?' + +"'Dave Harum!' I says, 'what be you thinkin' of, seein' what he is, an' +alwus was, an' how he alwus treated you? Lord sakes!' I says, 'you ain't +thinkin' of it!' + +"'Not much,' he says, with an ugly kind of a smile, such as I never see +in his face before, 'not much! Not under this roof, or any roof of +mine, if it wa'n't more'n my cow stable--an',' he says, turnin' to +Smith, 'this is what I want to say to you: You've done all right. I +hain't no fault to find with you. But I want you to go back an' say to +'Lish Harum that you've seen me, an' that I told you that not one cent +of my money nor one mossel o' my food would ever go to keep him alive +one minute of time; that if I had an empty hogpen I wouldn't let him +sleep in't overnight, much less to bunk in with a decent hog. You tell +him that I said the poorhouse was his proper dwellin', barrin' the jail, +an' that it 'd have to be a dum'd sight poorer house 'n I ever heard of +not to be a thousan' times too good fer him.'" + +"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom again. "I can't really 'magine it of Dave." + +"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "I told ye how set he is on his young +days, an' nobody knows how cruel mean 'Lish used to be to him; but I +never see it come out of him so ugly before, though I didn't blame him a +mite. But I hain't told ye the upshot: 'Now,' he says to Smith, who set +with his mouth gappin' open, 'you understand how I feel about the +feller, an' I've got good reason for it. I want you to promise me that +you'll say to him, word fer word, jest what I've said to you about him, +an' I'll do this: You folks send him to the poorhouse, an' let him git +jest what the rest on 'em gits--no more an' no less--as long 's he +lives. When he dies you git him the tightest coffin you kin buy, to keep +him f'm spilin' the earth as long as may be, an' then you send me the +hull bill. But this has got to be between you an' me only. You c'n tell +the rest of the committee what you like, _but_ if you ever tell a +livin' soul about this here understandin', an' I find it out, I'll never +pay one cent, an' you'll be to blame. I'm willin', on them terms, to +stan' between the town of Whitcom an' harm; but fer 'Lish Harum, not one +sumarkee! Is it a barg'in?' Dave says. + +"'Yes, sir,' says Smith, puttin' out his hand. 'An' I guess,' he says, +'f'm all 't I c'n gather, thet you're doin' all 't we could expect, an' +more too,' an' off he put." + +"How 'd it come out?" asked Mrs. Cullom. + +"'Lish lived about two year," replied Aunt Polly, "an' Dave done as he +agreed, but even then when he come to settle up, he told Smith he didn't +want no more said about it 'n could be helped." + +"Wa'al," said Mrs. Cullom, "it seems to me as if David did take care on +him after all, fur 's spendin' money was concerned." + +"That's the way it looks to me," said Mrs. Bixbee, "but David likes to +think t'other. He meant to be awful mean, an' he was--as mean as he +could--but the fact is, he didn't reelly know how. My sakes! Cynthy +(looking at the clock), I'll hev to excuse myself fer a spell. Ef you +want to do any fixin' up 'fore dinner, jest step into my bedroom. I've +laid some things out on the bed, if you should happen to want any of +'em," and she hurried out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +David's house stood about a hundred feet back from the street, facing +the east. The main body of the house was of two stories (through which +ran a deep bay in front), with mansard roof. On the south of the main +body of the house were two stories of the "wing," in which were the +"settin' room," Aunt Polly's room, and, above, David's quarters. Ten +minutes or so before one o'clock John rang the bell at the front door. + +"Sairy's busy," said Mrs. Bixbee apologetically as she let him in, "an' +so I come to the door myself." + +"Thank you very much," said John. "Mr. Harum told me to come over a +little before one, but perhaps I ought to have waited a few minutes +longer." + +"No, it's all right," she replied, "for mebbe you'd like to wash an' fix +up 'fore dinner, so I'll jest show ye where to," and she led the way +upstairs and into the "front parlor bedroom." + +"There," she said, "make yourself comf'table, an' dinner 'll be ready in +about ten minutes." + +For a moment John mentally rubbed his eyes. Then he turned and caught +both of Mrs. Bixbee's hands and looked at her, speechless. When he +found words he said: "I don't know what to say, nor how to thank you +properly. I don't believe you know how kind this is." + +"Don't say nothin' about it," she protested, but with a look of great +satisfaction. "I done it jest t' relieve my mind, because ever sence you +fust come, I ben worryin' over your bein' at that nasty tavern," and she +made a motion to go. + +"You and your brother," said John earnestly, still holding her hands, +"have made me a gladder and happier man this Christmas day than I have +been for a very long time." + +"I'm glad on't," she said heartily, "an' I hope you'll be comf'table an' +contented here. I must go now an' help Sairy dish up. Come down to the +settin' room when you're ready," and she gave his hands a little +squeeze. + +"Aunt Po----, I beg pardon, Mrs. Bixbee," said John, moved by a sudden +impulse, "do you think you could find it in your heart to complete my +happiness by giving me a kiss? It's Christmas, you know," he added +smilingly. + +Aunt Polly colored to the roots of her hair. "Wa'al," she said, with a +little laugh, "seein' 't I'm old enough to be your mother, I guess 't +won't hurt me none," and as she went down the stairs she softly rubbed +her lips with the side of her forefinger. + +John understood now why David had looked out of the bank window so often +that morning. All his belongings were in Aunt Polly's best bedroom, +having been moved over from the Eagle while he and David had been in the +office. A delightful room it was, in immeasurable contrast to his +squalid surroundings at that hostelry. The spacious bed, with its snowy +counterpane and silk patchwork "comf'table" folded on the foot, the +bright fire in the open stove, the big bureau and glass, the soft +carpet, the table for writing and reading standing in the bay, his books +on the broad mantel, and his dressing things laid out ready to his hand, +not to mention an ample supply of _dry_ towels on the rack. + +The poor fellow's life during the weeks which he had lived in Homeville +had been utterly in contrast with any previous experience. Nevertheless +he had tried to make the best of it, and to endure the monotony, the +dullness, the entire lack of companionship and entertainment with what +philosophy he could muster. The hours spent in the office were the best +part of the day. He could manage to find occupation for all of them, +though a village bank is not usually a scene of active bustle. Many of +the people who did business there diverted him somewhat, and most of +them seemed never too much in a hurry to stand around and talk the sort +of thing that interested them. After John had got acquainted with his +duties and the people he came in contact with, David gave less personal +attention to the affairs of the bank; but he was in and out frequently +during the day, and rarely failed to interest his cashier with his +observations and remarks. + +But the long winter evenings had been very bad. After supper, a meal +which revolted every sense, there had been as many hours to be got +through with as he found wakeful, an empty stomach often adding to the +number of them, and the only resource for passing the time had been +reading, which had often been well-nigh impossible for sheer physical +discomfort. As has been remarked, the winter climate of the middle +portion of New York State is as bad as can be imagined. His light was a +kerosene lamp of half-candle power, and his appliance for warmth +consisted of a small wood stove, which (as David would have expressed +it) "took two men an' a boy" to keep in action, and was either red hot +or exhausted. + +As from the depths of a spacious lounging chair he surveyed his new +surroundings, and contrasted them with those from which he had been +rescued out of pure kindness, his heart was full, and it can hardly be +imputed to him as a weakness that for a moment his eyes filled with +tears of gratitude and happiness--no less. + +Indeed, there were four happy people at David's table that Christmas +day. Aunt Polly had "smartened up" Mrs. Cullom with collar and cuffs, +and in various ways which the mind of man comprehendeth not in detail; +and there had been some arranging of her hair as well, which altogether +had so transformed and transfigured her that John thought that he should +hardly have known her for the forlorn creature whom he had encountered +in the morning. And as he looked at the still fine eyes, large and +brown, and shining for the first time in many a year with a soft light +of happiness, he felt that he could understand how it was that Billy P. +had married the village girl. + +Mrs. Bixbee was grand in black silk and lace collar fastened with a +shell-cameo pin not quite as large as a saucer, and John caught the +sparkle of a diamond on her plump left hand--David's Christmas +gift--with regard to which she had spoken apologetically to Mrs. +Cullom: + +"I told David that I was ever so much obliged to him, but I didn't want +a dimun' more'n a cat wanted a flag, an' I thought it was jest throwin' +away money. But he would have it--said I c'd sell it an' keep out the +poorhouse some day, mebbe." + +David had not made much change in his usual raiment, but he was shaved +to the blood, and his round red face shone with soap and satisfaction. +As he tucked his napkin into his shirt collar, Sairy brought in the +tureen of oyster soup, and he remarked, as he took his first spoonful of +the stew, that he was "hungry 'nough t' eat a graven imidge," a +condition that John was able to sympathize with after his two days of +fasting on crackers and such provisions as he could buy at Purse's. It +was, on the whole, he reflected, the most enjoyable dinner that he ever +ate. Never was such a turkey; and to see it give way under David's +skillful knife--wings, drumsticks, second joints, side bones, +breast--was an elevating and memorable experience. And such potatoes, +mashed in cream; such boiled onions, turnips, Hubbard squash, succotash, +stewed tomatoes, celery, cranberries, "currant jell!" Oh! and to "top +off" with, a mince pie to die for and a pudding (new to John, but just +you try it some time) of steamed Indian meal and fruit, with a sauce of +cream sweetened with shaved maple sugar. + +"What'll you have?" said David to Mrs. Cullom, "dark meat? white meat?" + +"Anything," she replied meekly, "I'm not partic'ler. Most any part of a +turkey 'll taste good, I guess." + +"All right," said David. "Don't care means a little o' both. I alwus +know what to give Polly--piece o' the second jint an' the +last-thing-over-the-fence. Nice 'n rich fer scraggly folks," he +remarked. "How fer you, John?--little o' both, eh?" and he heaped the +plate till our friend begged him to keep something for himself. + +"Little too much is jest right," he asserted. + +When David had filled the plates and handed them along--Sairy was for +bringing in and taking out; they did their own helping to vegetables and +"passin'"--he hesitated a moment, and then got out of his chair and +started in the direction of the kitchen door. + +"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Bixbee in surprise. "Where you goin'?" + +"Woodshed," said David. + +"Woodshed!" she exclaimed, making as if to rise and follow. + +"You set still," said David. "Somethin' I fergot." + +"What on earth!" she exclaimed, with an air of annoyance and +bewilderment. "What do you want in the woodshed? Can't you set down an' +let Sairy git it for ye?" + +"No," he asserted with a grin. "Sairy might sqush it. It must be putty +meller by this time," And out he went. + +"Manners!" ejaculated Mrs. Bixbee. "You'll think (to John) we're reg'ler +heathin." + +"I guess not," said John, smiling and much amused. + +Presently Sairy appeared with four tumblers which she distributed, and +was followed by David bearing a bottle. He seated himself and began a +struggle to unwire the same with an ice-pick. Aunt Polly leaned forward +with a look of perplexed curiosity. + +"What you got there?" she asked. + +"Vewve Clikot's universal an' suv'rin remedy," said David, reading the +label and bringing the corners of his eye and mouth almost together in a +wink to John, "fer toothache, earache, burns, scalds, warts, dispepsy, +fallin' o' the hair, windgall, ringbone, spavin, disapp'inted +affections, an' pips in hens," and out came the cork with a "_wop_," at +which both the ladies, even Mrs. Cullom, jumped and cried out. + +"David Harum," declared his sister with conviction, "I believe thet +that's a bottle of champagne." + +"If it ain't," said David, pouring into his tumbler, "I ben swindled out +o' four shillin'," and he passed the bottle to John, who held it up +tentatively, looking at Mrs. Bixbee. + +"No, thank ye," she said with a little toss of the head, "I'm a son o' +temp'rence. I don't believe," she remarked to Mrs. Cullom, "thet that +bottle ever cost _less_ 'n a dollar." At which remarks David apparently +"swallered somethin' the wrong way," and for a moment or two was unable +to proceed with his dinner. Aunt Polly looked at him suspiciously. It +was her experience that, in her intercourse with her brother, he often +laughed utterly without reason--so far as she could see. + +"I've always heard it was dreadful expensive," remarked Mrs. Cullom. + +"Let me give you some," said John, reaching toward her with the bottle. +Mrs. Cullom looked first at Mrs. Bixbee and then at David. + +"I don't know," she said. "I never tasted any." + +"Take a little," said David, nodding approvingly. + +"Just a swallow," said the widow, whose curiosity had got the better of +scruples. She took a swallow of the wine. + +"How do ye like it?" asked David. + +"Well," she said as she wiped her eyes, into which the gas had driven +the tears, "I guess I could get along if I couldn't have it regular." + +"Don't taste good?" suggested David with a grin. + +"Well," she replied, "I never did care any great for cider, and this +tastes to me about as if I was drinkin' cider an' snuffin' horseradish +at one and the same time." + +"How's that, John?" said David, laughing. + +"I suppose it's an acquired taste," said John, returning the laugh and +taking a mouthful of the wine with infinite relish. "I don't think I +ever enjoyed a glass of wine so much, or," turning to Aunt Polly, "ever +enjoyed a dinner so much," which statement completely mollified her +feelings, which had been the least bit in the world "set edgeways." + +"Mebbe your app'tite's got somethin' to do with it," said David, +shoveling a knife-load of good things into his mouth. "Polly, this young +man's ben livin' on crackers an' salt herrin' fer a week." + +"My land!" cried Mrs. Bixbee with an expression of horror. "Is that +reelly so? 'T ain't now, reelly?" + +"Not quite so bad as that," John answered, smiling; "but Mrs. Elright +has been ill for a couple of days and--well, I have been foraging +around Purse's store a little." + +"Wa'al, of all the mean shames!" exclaimed Aunt Polly indignantly. +"David Harum, you'd ought to be ridic'lous t' allow such a thing." + +"Wa'al, I never!" said David, holding his knife and fork straight up in +either fist as they rested on the table, and staring at his sister. "I +believe if the meetin'-house roof was to blow off you'd lay it onto me +somehow. I hain't ben runnin' the Eagle tavern fer quite a consid'able +while. You got the wrong pig by the ear as usual. Jest you pitch into +him," pointing with his fork to John. "It's his funeral, if anybody's." + +"Wa'al," said Aunt Polly, addressing John in a tone of injury, "I do +think you might have let somebody know; I think you'd ortter 've +known--" + +"Yes, Mrs. Bixbee," he interrupted, "I did know how kind you are and +would have been, and if matters had gone on so much longer I should have +appealed to you, I should have indeed; but really," he added, smiling at +her, "a dinner like this is worth fasting a week for." + +"Wa'al," she said, mollified again, "you won't git no more herrin' +'nless you ask fer 'em." + +"That is just what your brother said this morning," replied John, +looking at David with a laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +The meal proceeded in silence for a few minutes. Mrs. Cullom had said +but little, but John noticed that her diction was more conventional than +in her talk with David and himself in the morning, and that her manner +at the table was distinctly refined, although she ate with apparent +appetite, not to say hunger. Presently she said, with an air of making +conversation, "I suppose you've always lived in the city, Mr. Lenox?" + +"It has always been my home," he replied, "but I have been away a good +deal." + +"I suppose folks in the city go to theaters a good deal," she remarked. + +"They have a great many opportunities," said John, wondering what she +was leading up to. But he was not to discover, for David broke in with a +chuckle. + +"Ask Polly, Mis' Cullom," he said. "She c'n tell ye all about the +theater, Polly kin." Mrs. Cullom looked from David to Mrs. Bixbee, whose +face was suffused. + +"Tell her," said David, with a grin. + +"I wish you'd shet up," she exclaimed. "I sha'n't do nothin' of the +sort." + +"Ne' mind," said David cheerfully, "_I'll_ tell ye, Mis' Cullom." + +"Dave Harum!" expostulated Mrs. Bixbee, but he proceeded without heed of +her protest. + +"Polly an' I," he said, "went down to New York one spring some years +ago. Her nerves was some wore out 'long of diff'rences with Sairy about +clearin' up the woodshed, an' bread risin's, an' not bein' able to suit +herself up to Purse's in the qual'ty of silk velvit she wanted fer a +Sunday-go-to-meetin' gown, an' I thought a spell off 'd do her good. +Wa'al, the day after we got there I says to her while we was havin' +breakfust--it was picked-up el'phant on toast, near 's I c'n remember, +wa'n't it, Polly?" + +"That's as near the truth as most o' the rest on't so fur," said Polly +with a sniff. + +"Wa'al, I says to her," he proceeded, untouched by her scorn, "'How'd +you like to go t' the theater? You hain't never ben,' I says, 'an' now +you're down here you may jest as well see somethin' while you got a +chanst,' I says. Up to that _time_" he remarked, as it were in passing, +"she'd ben somewhat pre_juced_ 'ginst theaters, an'----" + +"Wa'al," Mrs. Bixbee broke in, "I guess what we see that night was +cal'lated----" + +"You hold on," he interposed. "I'm tellin' this story. You had a chanst +to an' wouldn't. Anyway," he resumed, "she allowed she'd try it once, +an' we agreed we'd go somewheres that night. But somethin' happened to +put it out o' my mind, an' I didn't think on't agin till I got back to +the hotel fer supper. So I went to the feller at the news-stand an' +says, 'Got any show-tickits fer to-night?' + +"'Theater?' he says. + +"'I reckon so,' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I hain't got nothin' now but two seats fer +'Clyanthy.' + +"'Is it a good show?' I says--'moral, an' so on? I'm goin' to take my +sister, an' she's a little pertic'ler about some things,' I says. He +kind o' grinned, the feller did. 'I've took my wife twice, an' she's +putty pertic'ler herself,' he says, laughin.'" + +"She must 'a' ben," remarked Mrs. Bixbee with a sniff that spoke volumes +of her opinion of "the feller's wife." David emitted a chuckle. + +"Wa'al," he continued, "I took the tickits on the feller's recommend, +an' the fact of his wife's bein' so pertic'ler, an' after supper we +went. It was a mighty handsome place inside, gilded an' carved all over +like the outside of a cirkis wagin, an' when we went in the orchestry +was playin' an' the people was comin' in, an' after we'd set a few +minutes I says to Polly, 'What do you think on't?' I says. + +"'I don't see anythin' very unbecomin' so fur, an' the people looks +respectable enough,' she says. + +"'No jail birds in sight fur 's ye c'n see so fur, be they?' I says. He, +he, he, he!" + +"You needn't make me out more of a gump 'n I was," protested Mrs. +Bixbee. "An' you was jest as----" David held up his finger at her. + +"Don't you sp'ile the story by discountin' the sequil. Wa'al, putty soon +the band struck up some kind of a dancin' tune, an' the curt'in went up, +an' a girl come prancin' down to the footlights an' begun singin' an' +dancin', an', scat my ----! to all human appearances you c'd 'a' covered +ev'ry dum thing she had on with a postage stamp." John stole a glance at +Mrs. Cullom. She was staring at the speaker with wide-open eyes of +horror and amazement. + +"I guess I wouldn't go very _fur_ into pertic'lers," said Mrs. Bixbee in +a warning tone. + +David bent his head down over his plate and shook from head to foot, and +it was nearly a minute before he was able to go on. "Wa'al," he said, "I +heard Polly give a kind of a gasp an' a snort, 's if some one 'd throwed +water 'n her face. But she didn't say nothin', an', I swan! I didn't +dast to look at her fer a spell; an' putty soon in come a hull crowd +more girls that had left their clo'es in their trunks or somewhere, +singin', an' dancin', an' weavin' 'round on the stage, an' after a few +minutes I turned an' looked at Polly. He, he, he, he!" + +"David Harum!" cried Mrs. Bixbee, "ef you're goin' to discribe any more +o' them scand'lous goin's on I sh'll take my victuals into the kitchin. +_I_ didn't see no more of 'em," she added to Mrs. Cullom and John, +"after that fust trollop appeared." + +"I don't believe she did," said David, "fer when I turned she set there +with her eys shut tighter 'n a drum, an' her mouth shut too so's her +nose an' chin most come together, an' her face was red enough so 't a +streak o' red paint 'd 'a' made a white mark on it. 'Polly,' I says, +'I'm afraid you ain't gettin' the wuth o' your money.' + +"'David Harum,' she says, with her mouth shut all but a little place in +the corner toward me, 'if you don't take me out o' this place, I'll go +without ye,' she says. + +"'Don't you think you c'd stan' it a little longer?' I says. 'Mebbe +they've sent home fer their clo'es,' I says. He, he, he, he! But with +that she jest give a hump to start, an' I see she meant bus'nis. When +Polly Bixbee," said David impressively, "puts that foot o' her'n _down_ +somethin's got to sqush, an' don't you fergit it." Mrs. Bixbee made no +acknowledgment of this tribute to her strength of character. John looked +at David. + +"Yes," he said, with a solemn bend of the head, as if in answer to a +question, "I squshed. I says to her, 'All right. Don't make no +disturbance more'n you c'n help, an' jest put your hank'chif up to your +nose 's if you had the nosebleed,' an' we squeezed out of the seats, an' +sneaked up the aisle, an' by the time we got out into the entry I guess +my face was as red as Polly's. It couldn't 'a' ben no redder," he added. + +"You got a putty fair color as a gen'ral thing," remarked Mrs. Bixbee +dryly. + +"Yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am, I expect that's so," he assented, "but I got an +extry coat o' tan follerin' you out o' that theater. When we got out +into the entry one o' them fellers that stands 'round steps up to me an' +says, 'Ain't your ma feelin' well?' he says. 'Her feelin's has ben a +trifle rumpled up,' I says, 'an' that gen'ally brings on the nosebleed,' +an' then," said David, looking over Mrs. Bixbee's head, "the feller went +an' leaned up agin the wall." + +"David Harum!" exclaimed Mrs. Bixbee, "that's a downright _lie_. You +never spoke to a soul, an'--an'--ev'rybody knows 't I ain't more 'n four +years older 'n you be." + +"Wa'al, you see, Polly," her brother replied in a smooth tone of +measureless aggravation, "the feller wa'n't acquainted with us, an' he +only went by appearances." + +Aunt Polly appealed to John: "Ain't he enough to--to--I d' know what?" + +"I really don't see how you live with him," said John, laughing. + +Mrs. Cullom's face wore a faint smile, as if she were conscious that +something amusing was going on, but was not quite sure what. The widow +took things seriously for the most part, poor soul. + +"I reckon you haven't followed theater-goin' much after that," she said +to her hostess. + +"No, ma'am," Mrs. Bixbee replied with emphasis, "you better believe I +hain't. I hain't never thought of it sence without tinglin' all over. I +believe," she asserted, "that David 'd 'a' stayed the thing out if it +hadn't ben fer me; but as true 's you live, Cynthy Cullom, I was so +'shamed at the little 't I did see that when I come to go to bed I took +my clo'es off in the dark." + +David threw back his head and roared with laughter. Mrs. Bixbee looked +at him with unmixed scorn. "If I couldn't help makin' a----" she began, +"I'd----" + +"Oh, Lord! Polly," David broke in, "be sure 'n wrap up when you go out. +If you sh'd ketch cold an' your sense o' the ridic'lous sh'd strike in +you'd be a dead-'n'-goner sure." This was treated with the silent +contempt which it deserved, and David fell upon his dinner with the +remark that "he guessed he'd better make up fer lost time," though as a +matter of fact while he had done most of the talking he had by no means +suspended another function of his mouth while so engaged. + +For a time nothing more was said which did not relate to the +replenishment of plates, glasses, and cups. Finally David cleaned up +his plate with his knife blade and a piece of bread, and pushed it away +with a sigh of fullness, mentally echoed by John. + +"I feel 's if a child could play with me," he remarked. "What's comin' +now, Polly?" + +"The's a mince pie, an' Injun puddin' with maple sugar an' cream, an' +ice cream," she replied. + +"Mercy on us!" he exclaimed. "I guess I'll have to go an' jump up an' +down on the verandy. How do you feel, John? I s'pose you got so used to +them things at the Eagle 't you won't have no stomach fer 'em, eh? +Wa'al, fetch 'em along. May 's well die fer the ole sheep 's the lamb, +but, Polly Bixbee, if you've got designs on my life, I may 's well tell +ye right now 't I've left all my prop'ty to the Institution fer +Disappinted Hoss Swappers." + +"That's putty near next o' kin, ain't it?" was the unexpected rejoinder +of the injured Polly. + +"Wa'al, scat my ----!" exclaimed David, hugely amused, "if Polly Bixbee +hain't made a joke! You'll git yourself into the almanic, Polly, fust +thing you know." Sairy brought in the pie and then the pudding. + +"John," said David, "if you've got a pencil an' a piece o' paper handy +I'd like to have ye take down a few of my last words 'fore we proceed to +the pie an' puddin' bus'nis. Any more 'hoss-redish' in that bottle?" +holding out his glass. "Hi! hi! that's enough. You take the rest on't," +which John did, nothing loath. + +David ate his pie in silence, but before he made up his mind to attack +the pudding, which was his favorite confection, he gave an audible +chuckle, which elicited Mrs. Bixbee's notice. + +"What you gigglin' 'bout now?" she asked. + +David laughed. "I was thinkin' of somethin' I heard up to Purse's last +night," he said as he covered his pudding with the thick cream sauce. +"Amri Shapless has ben gittin' married." + +"Wa'al, I declare!" she exclaimed. "That ole shack! Who in creation +could he git to take him?" + +"Lize Annis is the lucky woman," replied David with a grin. + +"Wa'al, if that don't beat all!" said Mrs. Bixbee, throwing up her +hands, and even from Mrs. Cullom was drawn a "Well, I never!" + +"Fact," said David, "they was married yestidy forenoon. Squire Parker +done the job. Dominie White wouldn't have nothin' to do with it!" + +"Squire Parker 'd ortter be 'shamed of himself," said Mrs. Bixbee +indignantly. + +"Don't you think that trew love had ought to be allowed to take its +course?" asked David with an air of sentiment. + +"I think the squire'd ortter be 'shamed of himself," she reiterated. +"S'pose them two old skinamulinks was to go an' have children?" + +"Polly, you make me blush," protested her brother. "Hain't you got no +respect fer the holy institution of matrimuny?--and--at cet'ry?" he +added, wiping his whole face with his napkin. + +"Much as you hev, I reckon," she retorted. "Of all the amazin' things in +this world, the amazinist to me is the kind of people that gits married +to each other in gen'ral; but this here performence beats ev'rything +holler." + +"Amri give a very good reason for't," said David with an air of +conviction, and then he broke into a laugh. + +"Ef you got anythin' to tell, tell it," said Mrs. Bixbee impatiently. + +"Wa'al," said David, taking the last of his pudding into his mouth, "if +you insist on't, painful as 't is. I heard Dick Larrabee tellin' 'bout +it. Amri told Dick day before yestiday that he was thinkin' of gettin' +married, an' ast him to go along with him to Parson White's an' be a +witniss, an' I reckon a kind of moral support. When it comes to moral +supportin'," remarked David in passing, "Dick's as good 's a +professional, an' he'd go an' see his gran'mother hung sooner 'n miss +anythin', an' never let his cigar go out durin' the performence. Dick +said he congratilated Am on his choice, an' said he reckoned they'd be +putty ekally yoked together, if nothin' else." + +Here David leaned over toward Aunt Polly and said, protestingly, "Don't +gi' me but jest a teasp'nful o' that ice cream. I'm so full now 't I +can't hardly reach the table." He took a taste of the cream and resumed: +"I can't give it jest as Dick did," he went on, "but this is about the +gist on't. Him, an' Lize, an' Am went to Parson White's about half after +seven o'clock an' was showed into the parler, an' in a minute he come +in, an' after sayin' 'Good evenin'' all 'round, he says, 'Well, what c'n +I do for ye?' lookin' at Am an' Lize, an' then at Dick. + +"'Wa'al,' says Am, 'me an' Mis' Annis here has ben thinkin' fer some +time as how we'd ought to git married.' + +"'_Ought_ to git married?' says Parson White, scowlin' fust at one an' +then at t'other. + +"'Wa'al,' says Am, givin' a kind o' shuffle with his feet, 'I didn't +mean _ortter_ exac'ly, but jest as _well_--kinder comp'ny,' he says. 'We +hain't neither on us got nobody, an' we thought we might 's well.' + +"'What have you got to git married on?' says the dominie after a minute. +'Anythin'?' he says. + +"'Wa'al,' says Am, droppin' his head sideways an' borin' into his ear +'ith his middle finger, 'I got the promise mebbe of a job o' work fer a +couple o' days next week.' 'H'm'm'm,' says the dominie, lookin' at him. +'Have _you_ got anythin' to git married on?' the dominie says, turnin' +to Lize. 'I've got ninety cents comin' to me fer some work I done last +week,' she says, wiltin' down onto the sofy an' beginnin' to snivvle. +Dick says that at that the dominie turned round an' walked to the other +end of the room, an' he c'd see he was dyin' to laugh, but he come back +with a straight face. + +"'How old air you, Shapless?" he says to Am. 'I'll be fifty-eight or +mebbe fifty-nine come next spring,' says Am. + +"'How old air _you_?' the dominie says, turnin' to Lize. She wriggled a +minute an' says, 'Wa'al, I reckon I'm all o' thirty,' she says." + +"All o' thirty!" exclaimed Aunt Polly. "The woman 's most 's old 's I +be." + +David laughed and went on with, "Wa'al, Dick said at that the dominie +give a kind of a choke, an' Dick he bust right out, an' Lize looked at +him as if she c'd eat him. Dick said the dominie didn't say anythin' fer +a minute or two, an' then he says to Am, 'I suppose you c'n find +somebody that'll marry you, but I cert'inly won't, an' what possesses +you to commit such a piece o' folly,' he says, 'passes my +understandin'. What earthly reason have you fer wantin' to marry? On +your own showin',' he says, 'neither one on you 's got a cent o' money +or any settled way o' gettin' any.' + +"'That's jest the very reason,' says Am, 'that's jest the _very reason_. +I hain't got nothin', an' Mis' Annis hain't got nothin', an' we figured +that we'd jest better git married an' settle down, an' make a good home +fer us both,' an' if that ain't good reasonin'," David concluded, "I +don't know what is." + +"An' be they actially married?" asked Mrs. Bixbee, still incredulous of +anything so preposterous. + +"So Dick says," was the reply. "He says Am an' Lize come away f'm the +dominie's putty down in the mouth, but 'fore long Amri braced up an' +allowed that if he had half a dollar he'd try the squire in the mornin', +an' Dick let him have it. I says to Dick, 'You're out fifty cents on +that deal,' an' he says, slappin' his leg, 'I don't give a dum,' he +says; 'I wouldn't 'a' missed it fer double the money.'" + +Here David folded his napkin and put it in the ring, and John finished +the cup of clear coffee which Aunt Polly, rather under protest, had +given him. Coffee without cream and sugar was incomprehensible to Mrs. +Bixbee. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Two or three days after Christmas John was sitting in his room in the +evening when there came a knock at the door, and to his "Come in" there +entered Mr. Harum, who was warmly welcomed and entreated to take the big +chair, which, after a cursory survey of the apartment and its +furnishings, he did, saying, "Wa'al, I thought I'd come in an' see how +Polly'd got you fixed; whether the baskit [casket?] was worthy of the +jew'l, as I heard a feller say in a theater once." + +"I was never more comfortable in my life," said John. "Mrs. Bixbee has +been kindness itself, and even permits me to smoke in the room. Let me +give you a cigar." + +"Heh! You got putty well 'round Polly, I reckon," said David, looking +around the room as he lighted the cigar, "an' I'm glad you're +comf'table--I reckon 't is a shade better 'n the Eagle," he remarked, +with his characteristic chuckle. + +"I should say so," said John emphatically, "and I am more obliged than I +can tell you." + +"All Polly's doin's," asserted David, holding the end of his cigar +critically under his nose. "That's a trifle better article 'n I'm in the +habit of smokin'," he remarked. + +"I think it's my one extravagance," said John semi-apologetically, "but +I don't smoke them exclusively. I am very fond of good tobacco, and--" + +"I understand," said David, "an' if I had my life to live over agin, +knowin' what I do now, I'd do diff'rent in a number o' ways. I often +think," he proceeded, as he took a pull at the cigar and emitted the +smoke with a chewing movement of his mouth, "of what Andy Brown used to +say. Andy was a curious kind of a customer 't I used to know up to +Syrchester. He liked good things, Andy did, an' didn't scrimp himself +when they was to be had--that is, when he had the go-an'-fetch-it to git +'em with. He used to say, 'Boys, whenever you git holt of a ten-dollar +note you want to git it _into_ ye or _onto_ ye jest 's quick 's you kin. +We're here to-day an' gone to-morrer,' he'd say, 'an' the' ain't no +pocket in a shroud,' an' I'm dum'd if I don't think sometimes," declared +Mr. Harum, "that he wa'n't very fur off neither. 'T any rate," he added +with a philosophy unexpected by his hearer, "'s I look back, it ain't +the money 't I've spent fer the good times 't I've had 't I regret; it's +the good times 't I might 's well 've had an' didn't. I'm inclined to +think," he remarked with an air of having given the matter +consideration, "that after Adam an' Eve got bounced out of the gard'n +they kicked themselves as much as anythin' fer not havin' cleaned up the +hull tree while they was about it." + +John laughed and said that that was very likely among their regrets. + +"Trouble with me was," said David, "that till I was consid'able older 'n +you be I had to scratch grav'l like all possessed, an' it's hard work +now sometimes to git the idee out of my head but what the money's wuth +more 'n the things. I guess," he remarked, looking at the ivory-backed +brushes and the various toilet knick-knacks of cut-glass and silver +which adorned John's bureau, and indicating them with a motion of his +hand, "that up to about now you ben in the habit of figurin' the other +way mostly." + +"Too much so, perhaps," said John; "but yet, after all, I don't think I +am sorry. I wouldn't spend the money for those things now, but I am glad +I bought them when I did." + +"Jess so, jess so," said David appreciatively. He reached over to the +table and laid his cigar on the edge of a book, and, reaching for his +hip pocket, produced a silver tobacco box, at which he looked +contemplatively for a moment, opening and shutting the lid with a snap. + +"There," he said, holding it out on his palm, "I was twenty years makin' +up my mind to buy that box, an' to this day I can't bring myself to +carry it all the time. Yes, sir, I wanted that box fer twenty years. I +don't mean to say that I didn't spend the wuth of it foolishly times +over an' agin, but I couldn't never make up my mind to put that amount +o' money into that pertic'ler thing. I was alwus figurin' that some day +I'd have a silver tobacco box, an' I sometimes think the reason it +seemed so extrav'gant, an' I put it off so long, was because I wanted it +so much. Now I s'pose you couldn't understand that, could ye?" + +"Yes," said John, nodding his head thoughtfully, "I think I can +understand it perfectly," and indeed it spoke pages of David's +biography. + +"Yes, sir," said David, "I never spent a small amount o' money but one +other time an' got so much value, only I alwus ben kickin' myself to +think I didn't do it sooner." + +"Perhaps," suggested John, "you enjoyed it all the more for waiting so +long." + +"No," said David, "it wa'n't that--I dunno--'t was the feelin' 't I'd +got there at last, I guess. Fur's waitin' fer things is concerned, the' +is such a thing as waitin' too long. Your appetite 'll change mebbe. I +used to think when I was a youngster that if ever I got where I c'd have +all the custard pie I c'd eat that'd be all 't I'd ask fer. I used to +imagine bein' baked into one an' eatin' my way out. Nowdays the's a good +many things I'd sooner have than custard pie, though," he said with a +wink, "I gen'ally do eat two pieces jest to please Polly." + +John laughed. "What was the other thing?" he asked. + +"Other thing I once bought?" queried David. "Oh, yes, it was the fust +hoss I ever owned. I give fifteen dollars fer him, an' if he wa'n't a +dandy you needn't pay me a cent. Crowbait wa'n't no name fer him. He was +stun blind on the off side, an' couldn't see anythin' in pertic'ler on +the nigh side--couldn't get nigh 'nough, I reckon--an' had most +ev'rythin' wrong with him that c'd ail a hoss; but I thought he was a +thoroughbred. I was 'bout seventeen year old then, an' was helpin' +lock-tender on the Erie Canal, an' when the' wa'n't no boat goin' +through I put in most o' my time cleanin' that hoss. If he got through +'th less 'n six times a day he got off cheap, an' once I got up an' give +him a little attention at night. Yes, sir, if I got big money's wuth out +o' that box it was mostly a matter of feelin'; but as fur 's that old +plugamore of a hoss was concerned, I got it both ways, for I got my +fust real start out of his old carkiss." + +"Yes?" said John encouragingly. + +"Yes, sir," affirmed David, "I cleaned him up, an' fed him up, an' +almost got 'im so'st he c'd see enough out of his left eye to shy at a +load of hay close by; an' fin'ly traded him off fer another +record-breaker an' fifteen dollars to boot." + +"Were you as enthusiastic over the next one as the first?" asked John, +laughing. + +"Wa'al," replied David, relighting his temporarily abandoned cigar +against a protest and proffer of a fresh one--"wa'al, he didn't lay holt +on my affections to quite the same extent. I done my duty by him, but I +didn't set up with him nights. You see," he added with a grin, "I'd got +some used to bein' a hoss owner, an' the edge had wore off some." He +smoked for a minute or two in silence, with as much apparent relish as +if the cigar had not been stale. + +"Aren't you going on?" asked John at last + +"Wa'al," he replied, pleased with his audience, "I c'd go on, I s'pose, +fast enough an' fur enough, but I don't want to tire ye out. I reckon +you never had much to do with canals?" + +"No," said John, smiling, "I can't say that I have, but I know something +about the subject in a general way, and there is no fear of your tiring +me out." + +"All right," proceeded David. "As I was sayin', I got another equine +wonder an' fifteen dollars to boot fer my old plug, an' it wa'n't a +great while before I was in the hoss bus'nis to stay. After between two +an' three years I had fifty or sixty hosses an' mules, an' took all +sorts of towin' jobs. Then a big towin' concern quit bus'nis, an' I +bought their hull stock an' got my money back three four times over, an' +by the time I was about twenty-one I had got ahead enough to quit the +canal an' all its works fer good, an' go into other things. But there +was where I got my livin' after I run away f'm Buxton Hill. Before I got +the job of lock-tendin' I had made the trip to Albany an' back +twice--'walkin' my passage,' as they used to call it, an' I made one +trip helpin' steer, so 't my canal experience was putty thorough, take +it all 'round." + +"It must have been a pretty hard life," remarked John. + +David took out his penknife and proceeded to impale his cigar upon the +blade thereof. "No," he said, to John's proffer of the box, "this 'll +last quite a spell yet. Wa'al," he resumed after a moment, in reply to +John's remark, "viewin' it all by itself, it _was_ a hard life. A thing +is hard though, I reckon, because it's harder 'n somethin' else, or you +think so. Most things go by comparin'. I s'pose if the gen'ral run of +trotters never got better 'n three 'n a half that a hoss that c'd do it +in three 'd be fast, but we don't call 'em so nowdays. I s'pose if at +that same age you'd had to tackle the life you'd 'a' found it hard, an' +the' was hard things about it--trampin' all night in the rain, fer +instance; sleepin' in barns at times, an' all that; an' once the cap'n +o' the boat got mad at somethin' an' pitched me head over heels into the +canal. It was about the close of navigation an' the' was a scum of ice. +I scrambled out somehow, but he wouldn't 'a' cared if I'd ben drownded. +He was an exception, though. The canalers was a rough set in gen'ral, +but they averaged fer disposition 'bout like the ord'nary run o' folks; +the' was mean ones an' clever ones; them that would put upon ye, an' +them that would treat ye decent. The work was hard an' the grub wasn't +alwus much better 'n what you--he, he, he!--what you ben gettin' at the +Eagle" (John was now by the way of rather relishing jokes on that +subject); "but I hadn't ben raised in the lap o' luxury--not to any +consid'able extent--not enough to stick my nose up much. The men I +worked fer was rough, an' I got my share of cusses an' cuffs, an' once +in a while a kick to keep up my spirit of perseverance; but, on the +hull, I think I got more kindness 'n I did at home (leavin' Polly out), +an' as fer gen'ral treatment, none on 'em c'd come up to my father, an' +wuss yet, my oldest brother 'Lish. The cap'n that throwed me overboard +was the wust, but alongside o' 'Lish he was a forty hosspower angil with +a hull music store o' harps; an' even my father c'd 'a' given him cards +an' spades; an' as fer the victuals" (here David dropped his cigar end +and pulled from his pocket the silver tobacco box)--"as fer the +victuals," he repeated, "they mostly averaged up putty high after what +I'd ben used to. Why, I don't believe I ever tasted a piece of beefsteak +or roast beef in my life till after I left home. When we had meat at all +it was pork--boiled pork, fried pork, pigs' liver, an' all that, enough +to make you 'shamed to look a pig in the face--an' fer the rest, +potatoes, an' duff, an' johnny-cake, an' meal mush, an' milk emptins +bread that you c'd smell a mile after it got cold. With 'leven folks on +a small farm nuthin' c'd afford to be eat that c'd be sold, an' +ev'rythin' that couldn't be sold had to be eat. Once in a while the' 'd +be pie of some kind, or gingerbread; but with 'leven to eat 'em I didn't +ever git more 'n enough to set me hankerin'." + +"I must say that I think I should have liked the canal better," remarked +John as David paused. "You were, at any rate, more or less free--that +is, comparatively, I should say." + +"Yes, sir, I did," said David, "an' I never see the time, no matter how +rough things was, that I wished I was back on Buxton Hill. I used to +want to see Polly putty bad once in a while, an' used to figure that if +I ever growed up to be a man, an' had money enough, I'd buy her a new +pair o' shoes an' the stuff fer a dress, an' sometimes my cal'lations +went as fur 's a gold breastpin; but I never wanted to see none o' the +rest on 'em, an' fer that matter, I never did. Yes, sir, the old ditch +was better to me than the place I was borned in, an', as you say, I +wa'n't nobody's slave, an' I wa'n't scairt to death the hull time. Some +o' the men was rough, but they wa'n't cruel, as a rule, an' as I growed +up a little I was putty well able to look out fer myself--wa'al, wa'al +(looking at his watch), I guess you must 'a' had enough o' my meemores +fer one sittin'." + +"No, really," John protested, "don't go yet. I have a little proposal to +make to you," and he got up and brought a bottle from the bottom of the +washstand. + +"Wa'al," said David, "fire it out." + +"That you take another cigar and a little of this," holding up the +bottle. + +"Got any glasses?" asked David with practical mind. + +"One and a tooth mug," replied John, laughing. "Glass for you, tooth +mug for me. Tastes just as good out of a tooth mug." + +"Wa'al," said David, with a comical air of yielding as he took the glass +and held it out to John, "under protest, stric'ly under protest--sooner +than have my clo'es torn. I shall tell Polly--if I should happen to +mention it--that you threatened me with vi'lence. Wa'al, here's lookin' +at ye," which toast was drunk with the solemnity which befitted it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +The two men sat for a while smoking in silence, John taking an +occasional sip of his grog. Mr. Harum had swallowed his own liquor +"raw," as was the custom in Homeville and vicinity, following the +potation with a mouthful of water. Presently he settled a little farther +down in his chair and his face took on a look of amused recollection. + +He looked up and gave a short laugh. "Speakin' of canals," he said, as +if the subject had only been casually mentioned, "I was thinkin' of +somethin'." + +"Yes?" said John. + +"E-up," said David. "That old ditch f'm Albany to Buffalo was an +almighty big enterprise in them days, an' a great thing fer the +prosperity of the State, an' a good many better men 'n I be walked the +ole towpath when they was young. Yes, sir, that's a fact. Wa'al, some +years ago I had somethin' of a deal on with a New York man by the name +of Price. He had a place in Newport where his fam'ly spent the summer, +an' where he went as much as he could git away. I was down to New York +to see him, an' we hadn't got things quite straightened out, an' he says +to me, 'I'm goin' over to Newport, where my wife an' fam'ly is, fer +Sunday, an' why can't you come with me,' he says, 'an' stay over till +Monday? an' we c'n have the day to ourselves over this matter?' 'Wa'al,' +I says, 'I'm only down here on this bus'nis, an' as I left a hen on, up +home, I'm willin' to save the time 'stid of waitin' here fer you to git +back, if you don't think,' I says, 'that it'll put Mis' Price out any to +bring home a stranger without no notice.' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, laughin', 'I guess she c'n manage fer once,' an' so I +went along. When we got there the' was a carriage to meet us, an' two +men in uniform, one to drive an' one to open the door, an' we got in an' +rode up to the house--cottige, he called it, but it was built of stone, +an' wa'n't only about two sizes smaller 'n the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Some +kind o' doin's was goin' on, fer the house was blazin' with light, an' +music was playin'. + +"'What's on?' says Price to the feller that let us in. + +"'Sir and Lady somebody 's dinin' here to-night, sir,' says the man. + +"'Damn!' says Price, 'I fergot all about the cussed thing. Have Mr. +Harum showed to a room,' he says, 'an' serve dinner in my office in a +quarter of an hour, an' have somebody show Mr. Harum there when it's +ready.' + +"Wa'al," pursued David, "I was showed up to a room. The' was lace +coverin's on the bed pillers, an' a silk an' lace spread, an' more dum +trinkits an' bottles an' lookin'-glasses 'n you c'd shake a stick at, +an' a bathroom, an' Lord knows what; an' I washed up, an' putty soon one +o' them fellers come an' showed me down to where Price was waitin'. +Wa'al, we had all manner o' things fer supper, an' champagne, an' so on, +an' after we got done, Price says, 'I've got to ask you to excuse me, +Harum,' he says. 'I've got to go an' dress an' show up in the +drawin'-room,' he says. 'You smoke your cigar in here, an' when you want +to go to your room jest ring the bell.' + +"'All right,' I says. 'I'm 'bout ready to turn in anyway.'" + +The narrator paused for a moment. John was rather wondering what it all +had to do with the Erie Canal, but he said nothing. + +"Wa'al, next mornin'," David resumed, "I got up an' shaved an' dressed, +an' set 'round waitin' fer the breakfust bell to ring till nigh on to +half-past nine o'clock. Bom-by the' came a knock at the door, an' I +says, 'Come in,' an' in come one o' them fellers. 'Beg pah'din, sir,' he +says. 'Did you ring, sir?' + +"'No,' I says, 'I didn't ring. I was waitin' to hear the bell.' + +"'Thank you, sir,' he says. 'An' will you have your breakfust now, sir?' + +"'Where?' I says. + +"'Oh,' he says, kind o' grinnin', 'I'll bring it up here, sir, +d'rec'ly,' he says, an' went off. Putty soon come another knock, an' in +come the feller with a silver tray covered with a big napkin, an' on it +was a couple of rolls wrapped up in a napkin, a b'iled egg done up in +another napkin, a cup an' saucer, a little chiney coffee-pot, a little +pitcher of cream, some loaf sugar in a silver dish, a little pancake of +butter, a silver knife, two little spoons like what the childern play +with, a silver pepper duster an' salt dish, an' an orange. Oh, yes, the' +was another contraption--a sort of a chiney wineglass. The feller set +down the tray an' says, 'Anythin' else you'd like to have, sir?' + +"'No,' I says, lookin' it over, 'I guess there's enough to last me a day +or two,' an' with that he kind o' turned his face away fer a second or +two. 'Thank you, sir,' he says. 'The second breakfust is at half-past +twelve, sir,' an' out he put. Wa'al," David continued, "the bread an' +butter was all right enough, exceptin' they'd fergot the salt in the +butter, an' the coffee was all right; but when it come to the egg, dum'd +if I wa'n't putty nigh out of the race; but I made up my mind it must be +hard-b'iled, an' tackled it on that idee. Seems t' amuse ye," he said +with a grin, getting up and helping himself. After swallowing the +refreshment, and the palliating mouthful of water, he resumed his seat +and his narrative. + +"Wa'al, sir," he said, "that dum'd egg was about 's near raw as it was +when i' was laid, an' the' was a crack in the shell, an' fust thing I +knowed it kind o' c'lapsed, an' I give it a grab, an' it squirtid all +over my pants, an' the floor, an' on my coat an' vest, an' up my sleeve, +an' all over the tray. Scat my ----! I looked gen'ally like an ab'lition +orator before the war. You never see such a mess," he added, with an +expression of rueful recollection. "I believe that dum'd egg held more +'n a pint." + +John fairly succumbed to a paroxysm of laughter. + +"Funny, wa'n't it?" said David dryly. + +"Forgive me," pleaded John, when he got his breath. + +"Oh, that's all right," said David, "but it wa'n't the kind of emotion +it kicked up in my breast at the time. I cleaned myself up with a towel +well 's I could, an' thought I'd step out an' take the air before the +feller 'd come back to git that tray, an' mebbe rub my nose in't." + +"Oh, Lord!" cried John. + +"Yes, sir," said David, unheeding, "I allowed 't I'd walk 'round with my +mouth open a spell, an' git a little air on my stomech to last me till +that second breakfust; an' as I was pokin' 'round the grounds I come to +a sort of arbor, an' there was Price, smokin' a cigar. + +"'Mornin', Harum; how you feelin'?' he says, gettin' up an' shakin' +hands; an' as we passed the time o' day, I noticed him noticin' my coat. +You see as they dried out, the egg spots got to showin' agin. + +"'Got somethin' on your coat there,' he says. + +"'Yes,' I says, tryin' to scratch it out with my finger nail. + +"'Have a cigar?' he says, handin' one out. + +"'Never smoke on an empty stomach,' I says. + +"'What?' he says. + +"'Bad fer the ap'tite,' I says, 'an' I'm savin' mine fer that second +breakfust o' your'n.' + +"'What!' he says, 'haven't you had anythin' to eat?' An' then I told him +what I ben tellin' you. Wa'al, sir, fust he looked kind o' mad an' +disgusted, an' then he laughed till I thought he'd bust, an' when he +quit he says, 'Excuse me, Harum, it's too damned bad; but I couldn't +help laughin' to save my soul. An' it's all my fault too,' he says. 'I +intended to have you take your breakfust with me, but somethin' happened +last night to upset me, an' I woke with it on my mind, an' I fergot. Now +you jest come right into the house, an' I'll have somethin' got fer you +that'll stay your stomach better 'n air,' he says. + +"'No,' I says, 'I've made trouble enough fer one day, I guess,' an' I +wouldn't go, though he urged me agin an' agin. 'You don't fall in with +the customs of this region?' I says to him. + +"'Not in that pertic'ler, at any rate,' he says. 'It's one o' the fool +notions that my wife an' the girls brought home f'm Eurup. I have a good +solid meal in the mornin', same as I alwus did,' he says." + +Mr. Harum stopped talking to relight his cigar, and after a puff or two, +"When I started out," he said, "I hadn't no notion of goin' into all the +highways an' byways, but when I git begun one thing's apt to lead to +another, an' you never c'n tell jest where I _will_ fetch up. Now I +started off to tell somethin' in about two words, an' I'm putty near as +fur off as when I begun." + +"Well," said John, "it's Saturday night, and the longer your story is +the better I shall like it. I hope the second breakfast was more of a +success than the first one," he added with a laugh. + +"I managed to average up on the two meals, I guess," David remarked. +"Wa'al," he resumed, "Price an' I set 'round talkin' bus'nis an' things +till about twelve or a little after, mebbe, an' then he turned to me an' +kind o' looked me over an' says, 'You an' me is about of a build, an' if +you say so I'll send one of my coats an' vests up to your room an' have +the man take yours an' clean 'em.' + +"'I guess the' is ruther more egg showin' than the law allows,' I says, +'an' mebbe that 'd be a good idee; but the pants caught it the wust,' I +says. + +"'Mine'll fit ye,' he says. + +"'What'll your wife say to seein' me airifyin' 'round in your git-up?' +I says. He gin me a funny kind of look. 'My wife?' he says. 'Lord, she +don't know more about my clo'es 'n you do.' That struck me as bein' +ruther curious," remarked David. "Wouldn't it you?" + +"Very," replied John gravely. + +"Yes, sir," said David. "Wa'al, when we went into the eatin' room the +table was full, mostly young folks, chatterin' an' laughin'. Price +int'duced me to his wife, an' I set down by him at the other end of the +table. The' wa'n't nothin' wuth mentionin'; nobody paid any attention to +me 'cept now an' then a word from Price, an' I wa'n't fer talkin' +anyway--I c'd have eat a raw dog. After breakfust, as they called it, +Price an' I went out onto the verandy an' had some coffee, an' smoked +an' talked fer an hour or so, an' then he got up an' excused himself to +write a letter. 'You may like to look at the papers awhile,' he says. +'I've ordered the hosses at five, an' if you like I'll show you 'round a +little.' + +"'Won't your wife be wantin' 'em?' I says. + +"'No, I guess she'll git along,' he says, kind o' smilin'. + +"'All right,' I says, 'don't mind me.' An' so at five up come the hosses +an' the two fellers in uniform an' all. I was lookin' the hosses over +when Price come out. 'Wa'al, what do you think of 'em?' he says. + +"'Likely pair,' I says, goin' over an' examinin' the nigh one's feet an' +legs. 'Sore forr'ed?' I says, lookin' up at the driver. + +"'A trifle, sir,' he says, touchin' his hat. + +"'What's that?' says Price, comin' up an' examinin' the critter's face +an' head. 'I don't see anythin' the matter with his forehead,' he says. +I looked up an' give the driver a wink," said David with a chuckle, "an' +he give kind of a chokin' gasp, but in a second was lookin' as solemn as +ever. + +"I can't tell ye jest where we went," the narrator proceeded, "but +anyway it was where all the nabobs turned out, an' I seen more style an' +git-up in them two hours 'n I ever see in my life, I reckon. The' didn't +appear to be no one we run across that, accordin' to Price's tell, was +wuth under five million, though we may 'a' passed one without his +noticin'; an' the' was a good many that run to fifteen an' twenty an' +over, an' most on 'em, it appeared, was f'm New York. Wa'al, fin'ly we +got back to the house a little 'fore seven. On the way back Price says, +'The' are goin' to be three four people to dinner to-night in a quiet +way, an' the' ain't no reason why you shouldn't stay dressed jest as you +are, but if you would feel like puttin' on evenin' clo'es (that's what +he called 'em), why I've got an extry suit that'll fit ye to a "tee,"' +he says. + +"'No,' I says, 'I guess I better not. I reckon I'd better git my grip +an' go to the hotel. I sh'd be ruther bashful to wear your swallertail, +an' all them folks'll be strangers,' I says. But he insisted on't that I +sh'd come to dinner anyway, an' fin'ly I gin in, an' thinkin' I might 's +well go the hull hog, I allowed I'd wear his clo'es; 'but if I do +anythin' or say anythin' 't you don't like,' says I, 'don't say I didn't +warn ye.' What would you 'a' done?" Mr. Harum asked. + +"Worn the clothes without the slightest hesitation," replied John. +"Nobody gave your costume a thought." + +"They didn't appear to, fer a fact," said David, "an' I didn't either, +after I'd slipped up once or twice on the matter of pockets. The same +feller brought 'em up to me that fetched the stuff in the mornin'; an' +the rig was complete--coat, vest, pants, shirt, white necktie, an', by +gum! shoes an' silk socks, an', sir, scat my ----! the hull outfit +fitted me as if it was made fer me. 'Shell I wait on you, sir?' says the +man. 'No,' I says, 'I guess I c'n git into the things; but mebbe you +might come up in 'bout quarter of an hour an' put on the finishin' +touches, an' here,' I says, 'I guess that brand of eggs you give me this +mornin' 's wuth about two dollars apiece.' + +"'Thank you, sir,' he says, grinnin', 'I'd like to furnish 'em right +along at that rate, sir, an' I'll be up as you say, sir.'" + +"You found the way to _his_ heart," said John, smiling. + +"My experience is," said David dryly, "that most men's hearts is located +ruther closter to their britchis pockets than they are to their breast +pockets." + +"I'm afraid that's so," said John. + +"But this feller," Mr. Harum continued, "was a putty decent kind of a +chap. He come up after I'd got into my togs an' pulled me here, an' +pulled me there, an' fixed my necktie, an' hitched me in gen'ral so'st I +wa'n't neither too tight nor too free, an' when he got through, 'You'll +do now, sir,' he says. + +"'Think I will?' says I. + +"'Couldn't nobody look more fit, sir,' he says, an' I'm dum'd," said +David, with an assertive nod, "when I looked at myself in the +lookin'-glass. I scurcely knowed myself, an' (with a confidential +lowering of the voice) when I got back to New York the very fust hard +work I done was to go an' buy the hull rig-out--an'," he added with a +grin, "strange as it may appear, it ain't wore out _yit_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +"People don't dress for dinner in Homeville, as a rule, then," John +said, smiling. + +"No," said Mr. Harum, "when they dress fer breakfust that does 'em fer +all three meals. I've wore them things two three times when I've ben +down to the city, but I never had 'em on but once up here." + +"No?" said John. + +"No," said David, "I put 'em on _once_ to show to Polly how city folks +dressed--he, he, he, he!--an' when I come into the room she set forwud +on her chair an' stared at me over her specs. 'What on airth!' she says. + +"'I bought these clo'es,' I says, 'to wear when bein' ent'tained by the +fust fam'lies. How do I look?' I says. + +"'Turn 'round,' she says. 'You look f'm behind,' she says, 'like a +red-headed snappin' bug, an' in front,' she says, as I turned agin, +'like a reg'lar slinkum. I'll bet,' she says, 'that you hain't throwed +away less 'n twenty dollars on that foolishniss.' Polly's a very +conserv'tive person," remarked her brother, "and don't never imagine a +vain thing, as the Bible says, not when she _knows_ it, an' I thought it +wa'n't wuth while to argue the point with her." + +John laughed and said, "Do you recall that memorable interview between +the governors of the two Carolinas?" + +"Nothin' in the historical lit'riture of our great an' glorious +country," replied Mr. Harum reverently, "sticks closter to my mind--like +a burr to a cow's tail," he added, by way of illustration. "Thank you, +jest a mouthful." + +"How about the dinner?" John asked after a little interlude. "Was it +pleasant?" + +"Fust rate," declared David. "The young folks was out somewhere else, +all but one o' Price's girls. The' was twelve at the table all told. I +was int'duced to all of 'em in the parlor, an' putty soon in come one of +the fellers an' said somethin' to Mis' Price that meant dinner was +ready, an' the girl come up to me an' took holt of my arm. 'You're goin' +to take me out,' she says, an' we formed a procession an' marched out to +the dinin' room. 'You're to sit by mammer,' she says, showin' me, an' +there was my name on a card, sure enough. Wa'al, sir, that table was a +show! I couldn't begin to describe it to ye. The' was a hull flower +garden in the middle, an' a worked tablecloth; four five glasses of all +colors an' sizes at ev'ry plate, an' a nosegay, an' five six diff'rent +forks an' a lot o' knives, though fer that matter," remarked the +speaker, "the' wa'n't but one knife in the lot that amounted to +anythin', the rest on 'em wouldn't hold nothin'; an' the' was three four +sort of chiney slates with what they call--the--you 'n me----" + +"Menu," suggested John. + +"I guess that's it," said David, "but that wa'n't the way it was spelt. +Wa'al, I set down an' tucked my napkin into my neck, an' though I +noticed none o' the rest on 'em seemed to care, I allowed that 't +wa'n't _my_ shirt, an' mebbe Price might want to wear it agin 'fore 't +was washed." + +John put his handkerchief over his face and coughed violently. David +looked at him sharply. "Subject to them spells?" he asked. + +"Sometimes," said John when he recovered his voice, and then, with as +clear an expression of innocence as he could command, but somewhat +irrelevantly, asked, "How did you get on with Mrs. Price?" + +"Oh," said David, "nicer 'n a cotton hat. She appeared to be a quiet +sort of woman that might 'a' lived anywhere, but she was dressed to +kill--an' so was the rest on 'em, fer that matter," he remarked with a +laugh. "I tried to tell Polly about 'em afterwuds, an'--he, he, he!--she +shut me up mighty quick, an' I thought myself at the time, thinks I, +it's a good thing it's warm weather, I says to myself. Oh, yes, Mis' +Price made me feel quite to home, but I didn't talk much the fust part +of dinner, an' I s'pose she was more or less took up with havin' so many +folks at table; but fin'ly she says to me, 'Mr. Price was so annoyed +about your breakfust, Mr. Harum.' + +"'Was he?' I says. 'I was afraid you'd be the one that 'd be vexed at +me.' + +"'Vexed with you? I don't understand,' she says. + +"''Bout the napkin I sp'iled,' I says. 'Mebbe not actially sp'iled,' I +says, 'but it'll have to go into the wash 'fore it c'n be used agin.' +She kind o' smiled, an' says, 'Really, Mr. Harum, I don't know what you +are talkin' about.' + +"'Hain't nobody told ye?' I says. 'Well, if they hain't they will, an' I +may 's well make a clean breast on't. I'm awful sorry,' I says, 'but +this mornin' when I come to the egg I didn't see no way to eat it 'cept +to peel it, an' fust I knew it kind of exploded and daubed ev'rythin' +all over creation. Yes'm,' I says, 'it went _off_, 's ye might say, like +old Elder Maybee's powder,' I guess," said David, "that I must 'a' ben +talkin' ruther louder 'n I thought, fer I looked up an' noticed that +putty much ev'ry one on 'em was lookin' our way, an' kind o' laughin', +an' Price in pertic'ler was grinnin' straight at me. + +"'What's that,' he says, 'about Elder Maybee's powder?' + +"'Oh, nuthin' much,' I says, 'jest a little supprise party the elder had +up to his house.' + +"'Tell us about it,' says Price. 'Oh, yes, do tell us about it,' says +Mis' Price. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'the' ain't much to it in the way of a story, but +seein' dinner must be most through,' I says, 'I'll tell ye all the' was +of it. The elder had a small farm 'bout two miles out of the village,' I +says, 'an' he was great on raisin' chickins an' turkeys. He was a slow, +putterin' kind of an ole foozle, but on the hull a putty decent citizen. +Wa'al,' I says, 'one year when the poultry was comin' along, a family o' +skunks moved onto the premises an' done so well that putty soon, as the +elder said, it seemed to him that it was comin' to be a ch'ice between +the chickin bus'nis an' the skunk bus'nis, an' though he said he'd heard +the' was money in it, if it was done on a big enough scale, he hadn't +ben edicated to it, he said, and didn't take to it _any_ ways. So,' I +says, 'he scratched 'round an' got a lot o' traps an' set 'em, an' the +very next mornin' he went out an' found he'd ketched an ole +he-one--president of the comp'ny. So he went to git his gun to shoot +the critter, an' found he hadn't got no powder. The boys had used it all +up on woodchucks, an' the' wa'n't nothin' fer it but to git some more +down to the village, an', as he had some more things to git, he hitched +up 'long in the forenoon an' drove down.' At this," said David, "one of +the ladies, wife to the judge, name o' Pomfort, spoke up an' says, 'Did +he leave that poor creature to suffer all that time? Couldn't it have +been put out of it's misery some other way?' + +"'Wa'al marm,' I says, 'I never happened to know but one feller that set +out to kill one o' them things with a club, an' _he_ put in most o' +_his_ time fer a week or two up in the woods _hatin'_ himself,' I says. +'He didn't mingle in gen'ral soci'ty, an' in fact,' I says, 'he had the +hull road to himself, as ye might say, fer a putty consid'able spell.'" + +John threw back his head and laughed. "Did she say any more?" he asked. + +"No," said David with a chuckle. "All the men set up a great laugh, an' +she colored up in a kind of huff at fust, an' then she begun to laugh +too, an' then one o' the waiter fellers put somethin' down in front of +me an' I went eatin' agin. But putty soon Price, he says, 'Come,' he +says, 'Harum, ain't you goin' on? How about that powder?' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'mebbe we had ought to put that critter out of his +misery. The elder went down an' bought a pound o' powder an' had it done +up in a brown paper bundle, an' put it with his other stuff in the +bottom of his dem'crat wagin; but it come on to rain some while he was +ridin' back, an' the stuff got more or less wet, an' so when he got home +he spread it out in a dishpan an' put it under the kitchen stove to dry, +an' thinkin' that it wa'n't dryin' fast enough, I s'pose, made out to +assist Nature, as the sayin' is, by stirrin' on't up with the kitchin +poker. Wa'al,' I says, 'I don't jest know how it happened, an' the elder +cert'inly didn't, fer after they'd got him untangled f'm under what was +left of the woodshed an' the kitchin stove, an' tied him up in cotton +battin', an' set his leg, an' put out the house, an' a few things like +that, bom-by he come round a little, an' the fust thing he says was, +"Wa'al, wa'al, wa'al!" "What is it, pa?" says Mis' Maybee, bendin' down +over him. "That peowder," he says, in almost no voice, "that peowder! I +was jest stirrin' on't a little, an' it went _o-f-f_, it went _o-f-f_," +he says, "_seemin'ly--in--a--minute_!" an' that,' I says to Mis' Price, +'was what that egg done.' + +"'We'll have to forgive you that egg,' she says, laughin' like +ev'rything, 'for Elder Maybee's sake'; an' in fact," said David, "they +all laughed except one feller. He was an Englishman--I fergit his name. +When I got through he looked kind o' puzzled an' says" (Mr. Harum +imitated his style as well as he could), "'But ra'ally, Mr. Harum, you +kneow that's the way powdah always geoes off, don't you kneow,' an' +then," said David, "they laughed harder 'n ever, an' the Englishman got +redder 'n a beet." + +"What did you say?" asked John. + +"Nuthin'," said David. "They was all laughin' so't I couldn't git in a +word, an' then the waiter brought me another plateful of somethin'. Scat +my ----!" he exclaimed, "I thought that dinner 'd go on till kingdom +come. An' wine! Wa'al! I begun to feel somethin' like the old feller did +that swallered a full tumbler of white whisky, thinkin' it was water. +The old feller was temp'rence, an' the boys put up a job on him one hot +day at gen'ral trainin'. Somebody ast him afterwuds how it made him +feel, an' he said he felt as if he was sittin' straddle the meetin' +house, an' ev'ry shingle was a Jew's-harp. So I kep' mum fer a while. +But jest before we fin'ly got through, an' I hadn't said nothin' fer a +spell, Mis' Price turned to me an' says, 'Did you have a pleasant drive +this afternoon?' + +"'Yes'm,' I says, 'I seen the hull show, putty much. I guess poor folks +must be 't a premium 'round here. I reckon,' I says, 'that if they'd +club together, the folks your husband p'inted out to me to-day could +_almost_ satisfy the requirements of the 'Merican Soci'ty fer For'n +Missions.' Mis' Price laughed, an' looked over at her husband. 'Yes,' +says Price, 'I told Mr. Harum about some of the people we saw this +afternoon, an' I must say he didn't appear to be as much impressed as I +thought he would. How's that, Harum?' he says to me. + +"'Wa'al,' says I, 'I was thinkin' 't I'd like to bet you two dollars to +a last year's bird's nest,' I says, 'that if all them fellers we seen +this afternoon, that air over fifty, c'd be got together, an' some one +was suddinly to holler "LOW BRIDGE!" that nineteen out o' twenty 'd +_duck their heads_.'" + +"And then?" queried John. + +"Wa'al," said David, "all on 'em laughed some, but Price--he jest lay +back an' roared, and I found out afterwuds," added David, "that ev'ry +man at the table, except the Englis'man, know'd what 'low bridge' meant +from actial experience. Wa'al, scat my ----!" he exclaimed, as he looked +at his watch, "it ain't hardly wuth while undressin'," and started for +the door. As he was halfway through it, he turned and said, "Say, I +s'pose _you'd_ 'a' known what to do with that egg," but he did not wait +for a reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +It must not be understood that the Harums, Larrabees, Robinsons, +Elrights, and sundry who have thus far been mentioned, represented the +only types in the prosperous and enterprising village of Homeville, and +David perhaps somewhat magnified the one-time importance of the Cullom +family, although he was speaking of a period some forty years earlier. +Be that as it may, there were now a good many families, most of them +descendants of early settlers, who lived in good and even fine houses, +and were people of refinement and considerable wealth. These constituted +a coterie of their own, though they were on terms of acquaintance and +comity with the "village people," as they designated the rank and file +of the Homeville population. To these houses came in the summer sons and +daughters, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren, and at the period of +which I am writing there had been built on the shore of the lake, or in +its vicinity, a number of handsome and stately residences by people who +had been attracted by the beauty of the situation and the salubrity of +the summer climate. And so, for some months in the pleasant season, the +village was enlivened by a concourse of visitors who brought with them +urban customs, costumes, and equipages, and gave a good deal of life +and color to the village streets. Then did Homeville put its best foot +forward and money in its pouch. + +"I ain't what ye might call an old residenter," said David, "though I +was part raised on Buxton Hill, an' I ain't so well 'quainted with the +nabobs; but Polly's lived in the village ever sence she got married, an' +knows their fam'ly hist'ry, dam, an' sire, an' pedigree gen'ally. Of +course," he remarked, "I know all the men folks, an' they know me, but I +never ben into none o' their houses except now an' then on a matter of +bus'nis, an' I guess," he said with a laugh, "that Polly 'd allow 't she +don't spend all her time in that circle. Still," he added, "they all +know her, an' ev'ry little while some o' the women folks 'll come in an' +see her. She's putty popular, Polly is," he concluded. + +"I should think so, indeed," remarked John. + +"Yes, sir," said David, "the's worse folks 'n Polly Bixbee, if she don't +put on no style; an' the fact is, that some of the folks that lives here +the year 'round, an' always have, an' call the rest on us 'village +people,' 'r' jest as countryfied in their way 's me an' Polly is in +our'n--only they don't know it. 'Bout the only diff'rence is the way +they talk an' live." John looked at Mr. Harum in some doubt as to the +seriousness of the last remark. + +"Go to the 'Piscopal church, an' have what they call dinner at six +o'clock," said David. "Now, there's the The'dore Verjooses," he +continued; "the 'rig'nal Verjoos come an' settled here some time in the +thirties, I reckon. He was some kind of a Dutchman, I guess" +["Dutchman" was Mr. Harum's generic name for all people native to the +Continent of Europe]; "but he had some money, an' bought land an' +morgidges, an' so on, an' havin' money--money was awful scurce in them +early days--made more; never spent anythin' to speak of, an' died +pinchin' the 'rig'nal cent he started in with." + +"He was the father of Mr. Verjoos the other banker here, I suppose?" +said John. + +"Yes," said David, "the' was two boys an' a sister. The oldest son, +Alferd, went into the law an' done bus'nis in Albany, an' afterw'ds +moved to New York; but he's always kept up the old place here. The old +man left what was a good deal o' propity fer them days, an' Alf he kept +his share an' made more. He was in the Assembly two three terms, an' +afterw'ds member of Congress, an' they do say," remarked Mr. Harum with +a wink, "that he never lost no money by his politics. On the other hand, +The'dore made more or less of a muddle on't, an' 'mongst 'em they set +him up in the bankin' bus'nis. I say 'them' because the Verjooses, an' +the Rogerses, an' the Swaynes, an' a lot of 'em, is all more or less +related to each other, but Alf's reely the one at the bottom on't, an' +after The 'd lost most of his money it was the easiest way to kind o' +keep him on his legs." + +"He seems a good-natured, easy-going sort of person," said John by way +of comment, and, truth to say, not very much interested. + +"Oh, yes," said David rather contemptuously, "you could drive him with a +tow string. He don't _know_ enough to run away. But what I was gettin' +at was this: He an' his wife--he married one of the Tenakers--has lived +right here fer the Lord knows how long; born an' brought up here both +on 'em, an' somehow we're 'village people' an' they ain't, that's all." + +"Rather a fine distinction," remarked his hearer, smiling. + +"Yes, sir," said David. "Now, there's old maid Allis, relative of the +Rogerses, lives all alone down on Clark Street in an old house that +hain't had a coat o' paint or a new shingle sence the three Thayers was +hung, an' she talks about the folks next door, both sides, that she's +knowed alwus, as 'village people,' and I don't believe," asserted the +speaker, "she was ever away f'm Homeville two weeks in the hull course +of her life. She's a putty decent sort of a woman too," Mr. Harum +admitted. "If the' was a death in the house she'd go in an' help, but +she wouldn't never think of askin' one on 'em to tea." + +"I suppose you have heard it said," remarked John, laughing, "that it +takes all sorts of people to make a world." + +"I think I hev heard a rumor to that effect," said David, "an' I guess +the' 's about as much human nature in some folks as the' is in others, +if not more." + +"And I don't fancy that it makes very much difference to you," said +John, "whether the Verjooses or Miss Allis call you 'village people' or +not." + +"Don't cut no figger at all," declared Mr. Harum. "Polly 'n I are too +old to set up fer shapes even if we wanted to. A good fair road-gait 's +good enough fer me; three square meals, a small portion of the 'filthy +weed,' as it's called in po'try, a hoss 'r two, a ten-dollar note where +you c'n lay your hand on't, an' once in a while, when your consciunce +pricks ye, a little somethin' to permote the cause o' temp'rence, an' +make the inwurd moniter quit jerkin' the reins--wa'al, I guess I c'n git +along, heh?" + +"Yes," said John, by way of making some rejoinder, "if one has all one +needs it is enough." + +"Wa'al, yes," observed the philosopher, "that's so, as you might say, up +to a certain _point_, an' in some _ways_. I s'pose a feller could git +along, but at the same time I've noticed that, gen'ally speakin', a +leetle too big 's about the right size." + +"I am told," said John, after a pause in which the conversation seemed +to be dying out for lack of fuel, and apropos of nothing in particular, +"that Homeville is quite a summer resort." + +"Quite a consid'able," responded Mr. Harum. "It has ben to some extent +fer a good many years, an' it's gettin' more an' more so all the time, +only diff'rent. I mean," he said, "that the folks that come now make +more show an' most on 'em who ain't visitin' their relations either has +places of their own or hires 'em fer the summer. One time some folks +used to come an' stay at the hotel. The' was quite a fair one then," he +explained; "but it burned up, an' wa'n't never built up agin because it +had got not to be thought the fash'nable thing to put up there. Mis' +Robinson (Dug's wife), an' Mis' Truman, 'round on Laylock Street, has +some fam'lies that come an' board with them ev'ry year, but that's about +all the boardin' the' is nowdays." Mr. Harum stopped and looked at his +companion thoughtfully for a moment, as if something had just occurred +to him. + +"The' 'll be more o' your kind o' folk 'round, come summer," he said; +and then, on a second thought, "you're 'Piscopal, ain't ye?" + +"I have always attended that service," replied John, smiling, "and I +have gone to St. James's here nearly every Sunday." + +"Hain't they taken any notice of ye?" asked David. + +"Mr. Euston, the rector, called upon me," said John, "but I have made no +further acquaintances." + +"E-um'm!" said David, and, after a moment, in a sort of confidential +tone, "Do you like goin' to church?" he asked. + +"Well," said John, "that depends--yes, I think I do. I think it is the +proper thing," he concluded weakly. + +"Depends some on how a feller's ben brought up, don't ye think so?" said +David. + +"I should think it very likely," John assented, struggling manfully with +a yawn. + +"I guess that's about my case," remarked Mr. Harum, "an' I sh'd have to +admit that I ain't much of a hand fer church-goin'. Polly has the +princ'pal charge of that branch of the bus'nis, an' the one I stay away +from, when I _don't_ go," he said with a grin, "'s the Prespyteriun." +John laughed. + +"No, sir," said David, "I ain't much of a hand for't. Polly used to +worry at me about it till I fin'ly says to her, 'Polly,' I says, 'I'll +tell ye what I'll do. I'll compermise with ye,' I says. 'I won't +undertake to foller right along in your track--I hain't got the req'sit +speed,' I says, 'but f'm now on I'll go to church reg'lar on +Thanksgivin'.' It was putty near Thanksgivin' time," he remarked, "an' I +dunno but she thought if she c'd git me started I'd finish the heat, +an' so we fixed it at that." + +"Of course," said John with a laugh, "you kept your promise?" + +"Wa'al, sir," declared David with the utmost gravity, "fer the next five +years I never missed attendin' church on Thanksgivin' day but _four_ +times; but after that," he added, "I had to beg off. It was too much of +a strain," he declared with a chuckle, "an' it took more time 'n Polly +c'd really afford to git me ready." And so he rambled on upon such +topics as suggested themselves to his mind, or in reply to his auditor's +comments and questions, which were, indeed, more perfunctory than +otherwise. For the Verjooses, the Rogerses, the Swaynes, and the rest, +were people whom John not only did not know, but whom he neither +expected nor cared to know; and so his present interest in them was +extremely small. + +Outside of his regular occupations, and despite the improvement in his +domestic environment, life was so dull for him that he could not imagine +its ever being otherwise in Homeville. It was a year since the +world--his world--had come to an end, and though his sensations of loss +and defeat had passed the acute stage, his mind was far from healthy. He +had evaded David's question, or only half answered it, when he merely +replied that the rector had called upon him. The truth was that some +tentative advances had been made to him, and Mr. Euston had presented +him to a few of the people in his flock; but beyond the point of mere +politeness he had made no response, mainly from indifference, but to a +degree because of a suspicion that his connection with Mr. Harum would +not, to say the least, enhance his position in the minds of certain of +the people of Homeville. As has been intimated, it seemed at the outset +of his career in the village as if there had been a combination of +circumstance and effort to put him on his guard, and, indeed, rather to +prejudice him against his employer; and Mr. Harum, as it now appeared to +our friend, had on one or two occasions laid himself open to +misjudgment, if no more. No allusion had ever been made to the episode +of the counterfeit money by either his employer or himself, and it was +not till months afterward that the subject was brought up by Mr. Richard +Larrabee, who sauntered into the bank one morning. Finding no one there +but John, he leaned over the counter on his elbows, and, twisting one +leg about the other in a restful attitude, proceeded to open up a +conversation upon various topics of interest to his mind. Dick was Mr. +Harum's confidential henchman and factotum, although not regularly so +employed. His chief object in life was apparently to get as much +amusement as possible out of that experience, and he was quite +unhampered by over-nice notions of delicacy or bashfulness. But, withal, +Mr. Larrabee was a very honest and loyal person, strong in his likes and +dislikes, devoted to David, for whom he had the greatest admiration, and +he had taken a fancy to our friend, stoutly maintaining that he "wa'n't +no more stuck-up 'n you be," only, as he remarked to Bill Perkins, "he +hain't had the advantigis of your bringin' up." + +After some preliminary talk--"Say," he said to John, "got stuck with any +more countyfit money lately?" + +John's face reddened a little and Dick laughed. + +"The old man told me about it," he said. "Say, you'd ought to done as he +told ye to. You'd 'a' saved fifteen dollars," Dick declared, looking at +our friend with an expression of the utmost amusement. + +"I don't quite understand," said John rather stiffly. + +"Didn't he tell ye to charge 'em up to the bank, an' let him take 'em?" +asked Dick. + +"Well?" said John shortly. + +"Oh, yes, I know," said Mr. Larrabee. "He said sumpthin' to make you +think he was goin' to pass 'em out, an' you didn't give him no show to +explain, but jest marched into the back room an' stuck 'em onto the +fire. Ho, ho, ho, ho! He told me all about it," cried Dick. "Say," he +declared, "I dunno 's I ever see the old man more kind o' womble-cropped +over anythin'. Why, he wouldn't no more 'a' passed them bills 'n he'd +'a' cut his hand off. He, he, he, he! He was jest ticklin' your heels a +little," said Mr. Larrabee, "to see if you'd kick, an'," chuckled the +speaker, "you _surely_ did." + +"Perhaps I acted rather hastily," said John, laughing a little from +contagion. + +"Wa'al," said Dick, "Dave's got ways of his own. I've summered an' +wintered with him now for a good many years, an' _I_ ain't got to the +bottom of him yet, an'," he added, "I don't know nobody that has." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +Although, as time went on and John had come to a better insight of the +character of the eccentric person whom Dick had failed to fathom, his +half-formed prejudices had fallen away, it must be admitted that he +ofttimes found him a good deal of a puzzle. The domains of the serious +and the facetious in David's mind seemed to have no very well defined +boundaries. + +The talk had drifted back to the people and gossip of Homeville, but, +sooth to say, it had not on this occasion got far away from those +topics. + +"Yes," said Mr. Harum, "Alf Verjoos is on the hull the best off of any +of the lot. As I told ye, he made money on top of what the old man left +him, an' he married money. The fam'ly--some on 'em--comes here in the +summer, an' he's here part o' the time gen'ally, but the women folks +won't stay here winters, an' the house is left in care of Alf's sister +who never got married. He don't care a hill o' white beans fer anything +in Homeville but the old place, and he don't cal'late to have nobody on +his grass, not if he knows it. Him an' me are on putty friendly terms, +but the fact is," said David, in a semi-confidential tone, "he's about +an even combine of pykery an' viniger, an' about as pop'lar in gen'ral +'round here as a skunk in a hen-house; but Mis' Verjoos is putty well +liked; an' one o' the girls, Claricy is her name, is a good deal of a +fav'rit. Juliet, the other one, don't mix with the village folks much, +an' sometimes don't come with the fam'ly at all. She favors her father," +remarked the historian. + +"Inherits his popularity, I conclude," remarked John, smiling. + +"She does favor him to some extent in that respect," was the reply; "an' +she's dark complected like him, but she's a mighty han'some girl, +notwithstandin'. Both on 'em is han'some girls," observed Mr. Harum, +"an' great fer hosses, an' that's the way I got 'quainted with 'em. +They're all fer ridin' hossback when they're up here. Did you ever ride +a hoss?" he asked. + +"Oh, yes," said John, "I have ridden a good deal one time and another." + +"Never c'd see the sense on't," declared David. "I c'n imagine gettin' +on to a hoss's back when 't was either that or walkin', but to do it fer +the fun o' the thing 's more 'n I c'n understand. There you be," he +continued, "stuck up four five feet up in the air like a clo'espin, +havin' your backbone chucked up into your skull, an' takin' the skin off +in spots an' places, expectin' ev'ry next minute the critter'll git out +f'm under ye--no, sir," he protested, "if it come to be that it was +either to ride a hossback fer the fun o' the thing or have somebody kick +me, an' kick me hard, I'd say, 'Kick away.' It comes to the same thing +fur 's enjoyment goes, and it's a dum sight safer." + +John laughed outright, while David leaned forward with his hands on his +knees, looking at him with a broad though somewhat doubtful smile. + +"That being your feeling," remarked John, "I should think saddle horses +would be rather out of your line. Was it a saddle horse that the Misses +Verjoos were interested in?" + +"Wa'al, I didn't buy him fer that," replied David, "an' in fact when the +feller that sold him to me told me he'd ben rode, I allowed that ought +to knock twenty dollars off 'n the price, but I did have such a hoss, +an', outside o' that, he was a nice piece of hoss flesh. I was up to the +barn one mornin', mebbe four years ago," he continued, "when in drove +the Verjoos carriage with one of the girls, the oldest one, inside, an' +the yeller-haired one on a hossback. 'Good mornin'. You're Mr. Harum, +ain't you?' she says. 'Good mornin',' I says, 'Harum's the name 't I use +when I appear in public. You're Miss Verjoos, I reckon,' I says. + +"She laughed a little, an' says, motionin' with her head to'ds the +carriage, 'My sister is Miss Verjoos. I'm Miss Claricy.' I took off my +cap, an' the other girl jest bowed her head a little. + +"'I heard you had a hoss 't I could ride,' says the one on hossback. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, lookin' at her hoss, an' he was a good one," remarked +David, "'fer a saddle hoss, I shouldn't think you was entirely out o' +hosses long's you got that one.' 'Oh,' she says, this is my sister's +hoss. Mine has hurt his leg so badly that I am 'fraid I sha'n't be able +to ride him this summer.' 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I've got a hoss that's ben +rode, so I was told, but I don't know of my own knowin'.' + +"'Don't you ride?' she says. 'Hossback?' I says. 'Why, of course,' she +says. '_No_, ma'am,' I says, 'not when I c'n raise the money to pay my +_fine_' She looked kind o' puzzled at that," remarked David, "but I see +the other girl look at her an' give a kind of quiet laugh." + +"'Can I see him?' says Miss Claricy. 'Cert'nly,' I says, an' went an' +brought him out. 'Oh!' she says to her sister, 'ain't he a beauty? C'n I +try him?' she says to me. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I c'n resk it if you +can, but I didn't buy him fer a saddle hoss, an' if I'm to own him fer +any len'th of time I'd ruther he'd fergit the saddle bus'nis, an' in any +case,' I says, 'I wouldn't like him to git a sore back, an' then agin,' +I says, 'I hain't got no saddle.' + +"'Wa'al,' she says, givin' her head a toss, 'if I couldn't sit straight +I'd never ride agin. I never made a hoss's back sore in my life,' she +says. 'We c'n change the saddle,' she says, an' off she jumps, an', scat +my ----!" exclaimed David, "the way she knowed about gettin' that saddle +fixed, pads, straps, girt's, an' the hull bus'nis, an' put up her foot +fer me to give her a lift, an' wheeled that hoss an' went out o' the +yard a-kitin', was as slick a piece o' hoss bus'nis as ever I see. It +took fust money, that did," said Mr. Harum with a confirmatory shake of +the head. "Wa'al," he resumed, "in about a few minutes back she come, +lickity-cut, an' pulled up in front of me. 'C'n you send my sister's +hoss home?' she says, 'an' then I sha'n't have to change agin. I'll stay +on _my_ hoss,' she says, laughin', an' then agin laughin' fit to kill, +fer I stood there with my mouth open clear to my back teeth, not bein' +used to doin' bus'nis 'ith quite so much neatniss an' dispatch, as the +sayin' is. + +"'Oh, it's all right,' she says. 'Poppa came home last night an' I'll +have him see you this afternoon or to-morro'.' 'But mebbe he 'n I won't +agree about the price,' I says. 'Yes, you will,' she says, 'an' if you +don't I won't make his back sore'--an' off they went, an' left me +standin' there like a stick in the mud. I've bought an' sold hosses to +some extent fer a consid'able number o' years," said Mr. Harum +reflectively, "but that partic'ler transaction's got a peg all to +itself." + +John laughed and asked, "How did it come out? I mean, what sort of an +interview did you have with the young woman's father, the popular Mr. +Verjoos?" + +"Oh," said David, "he druv up to the office the next mornin', 'bout ten +o'clock, an' come into the back room here, an' after we'd passed the +time o' day, he says, clearin' his throat in a way he's got, 'He-uh, +he-uh!' he says, 'my daughter tells me that she run off with a hoss of +yours yestidy in rather a summery manner, an--he-uh-uh--I have come to +see you about payin' fer him. What is the price?' he says. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, more 'n anythin' to see what he'd say, 'what would you +say he was wuth?' An' with that he kind o' stiffened a little stiffer 'n +he was before, if it could be. + +"'Really,' he says, 'he-uh-uh, I haven't any idea. I haven't seen the +animal, an' I should not consider myself qual'fied to give an opinion +upon his value if I had, but,' he says, 'I don't know that that makes +any material diff'rence, however, because I am quite--he-uh, he-uh--in +your hands--he-uh!--within limits--he-uh-uh!--within limits,' he says. +That kind o' riled me," remarked David. "I see in a minute what was +passin' in his mind. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'Mr. Verjoos, I guess the fact o' +the matter is 't I'm about as much in the mud as you be in the +mire--your daughter's got my hoss,' I says. 'Now you ain't dealin' with +a hoss jockey,' I says, 'though I don't deny that I buy an' sell hosses, +an' once in a while make money at it. You're dealin' with David Harum, +Banker, an' I consider 't I'm dealin' with a lady, or the father of one +on her account,' I says. + +"'He-uh, he-uh! I meant no offense, sir,' he says. + +"'None bein' meant, none will be took,' I says. 'Now,' I says,' I was +offered one-seventy-five fer that hoss day before yestidy, an' wouldn't +take it. I can't sell him fer that,' I says. + +"'He-uh, uh! cert'nly not,' he says. + +"'Wait a minit,' I says. 'I can't sell him fer that because I +_said_ I wouldn't; but if you feel like drawin' your check fer +one-seventy-_six_,' I says, 'we'll call it a deal,'" The speaker +paused with a chuckle. + +"Well?" said John. + +"Wa'al," said David, "he, he, he, he! That clean took the wind out of +him, an' he got redder 'n a beet. 'He-uh-uh-uh-huh! really,' he says, 'I +couldn't think of offerin' you less than two hunderd.' + +"'All right,' I says, 'I'll send up fer the hoss. One-seventy-six is my +price, no more an' no less,' an' I got up out o' my chair." + +"And what did he say then?" asked John. + +"Wa'al," replied Mr. Harum, "he settled his neck down into his collar +an' necktie an' cleared his throat a few times, an' says, 'You put me in +ruther an embarrassin' position, Mr. Harum. My daughter has set her +heart on the hoss, an'--he-uh-uh-uh!'--with a kind of a smile like a +wrinkle in a boot, 'I can't very well tell her that I wouldn't buy him +because you wouldn't accept a higher offer than your own price. I--I +think I must accede to your proposition, an'--he-uh-uh--accept the +favor,' he says, draggin' the words out by the roots. + +"'No favor at all,' I says, 'not a bit on't, not a bit on't. It was the +cleanest an' slickist deal I ever had,' I says, 'an' I've had a good +many. That girl o' your'n,' I says, 'if you don't mind my sayin' it, +comes as near bein' a full team an' a cross dog under the wagin as you +c'n git; an' you c'n tell her if you think fit,' I says, 'that if she +ever wants anythin' more out o' _my_ barn I'll throw off twenty-four +dollars ev'ry time, if she'll only do her own buyin'.' + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, "I didn't know but what he'd gag a little at +that, but he didn't seem to, an' when he went off after givin' me his +check, he put out his hand an' shook hands, a thing he never done +before." + +"That was really very amusing," was John's comment. + +"'T wa'n't a bad day's work either," observed Mr. Harum. "I've sold the +crowd a good many hosses since then, an' I've laughed a thousan' times +over that pertic'ler trade. Me 'n Miss Claricy," he added, "has alwus +ben good friends sence that time--an' she 'n Polly are reg'lar neetups. +She never sees me in the street but what it's 'How dee do, Mr. H-a-rum?' +An' I'll say, 'Ain't that ole hoss wore out yet?' or, 'When you comin' +'round to run off with another hoss?' I'll say." + +At this point David got out of his chair, yawned, and walked over to the +window. + +"Did you ever in all your born days," he said, "see such dum'd weather? +Jest look out there--no sleighin', no wheelin', an' a barn full wantin' +exercise. Wa'al, I guess I'll be moseyin' along." And out he went. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +If John Lenox had kept a diary for the first year of his life in +Homeville most of its pages would have been blank. + +The daily routine of the office (he had no assistant but the callow +Hopkins) was more exacting than laborious, but it kept him confined +seven hours in the twenty-four. Still, there was time in the lengthened +days as the year advanced for walking, rowing, and riding or driving +about the picturesque country which surrounds Homeville. He and Mr. +Harum often drove together after the bank closed, or after "tea," and it +was a pleasure in itself to observe David's dexterous handling of his +horses, and his content and satisfaction in the enjoyment of his +favorite pastime. In pursuit of business he "jogged 'round," as he said, +behind the faithful Jinny, but when on pleasure bent, a pair of +satin-coated trotters drew him in the latest and "slickest" model of +top-buggies. + +"Of course," he said, "I'd ruther ride all alone than not to ride at +all, but the's twice as much fun in't when you've got somebody along. I +ain't much of a talker, unless I happen to git started" (at which +assertion John repressed a smile), "but once in a while I like to have +somebody to say somethin' to. You like to come along, don't ye?" + +"Very much indeed." + +"I used to git Polly to come once in a while," said David, "but it +wa'n't no pleasure to her. She hadn't never ben used to hosses an' alwus +set on the edge of the seat ready to jump, an' if one o' the critters +capered a little she'd want to git right out then an' there. I reckon +she never went out but what she thanked mercy when she struck the hoss +block to git back with hull bones." + +"I shouldn't have thought that she would have been nervous with the +reins in your hands," said John. + +"Wa'al," replied David, "the last time she come along somethin' give the +team a little scare an' she reached over an' made a grab at the lines. +That," he remarked with a grin, "was quite a good while ago. I says to +her when we got home, 'I guess after this you'd better take your airin's +on a stun-boat. You won't be so liable to git run away with an' throwed +out,' I says." + +John laughed a little, but made no comment. + +"After all," said David, "I dunno 's I blamed her fer bein' skittish, +but I couldn't have her grabbin' the lines. It's curi's," he reflected, +"I didn't used to mind what I rode behind, nor who done the drivin', but +I'd have to admit that as I git older I prefer to do it myself, I ride +ev'ry once in a while with fellers that c'n drive as well, an' mebbe +better, 'n I can, an' I know it, but if anythin' turns up, or looks like +it, I can't help wishin' 't I had holt o' the lines myself." + +The two passed a good many hours together thus beguiling the time. +Whatever David's other merits as a companion, he was not exacting of +response when engaged in conversation, and rarely made any demands upon +his auditor. + + * * * * * + +During that first year John made few additions to his social +acquaintance, and if in the summer the sight of a gay party of young +people caused some stirrings in his breast, they were not strong enough +to induce him to make any attempts toward the acquaintance which he +might have formed. He was often conscious of glances of curiosity +directed toward himself, and Mr. Euston was asked a good many questions +about the latest addition to his congregation. + +Yes, he had called upon Mr. Lenox and his call had been returned. In +fact, they had had several visits together--had met out walking once and +had gone on in company. Was Mr. Lenox "nice"? Yes, he had made a +pleasant impression upon Mr. Euston, and seemed to be a person of +intelligence and good breeding--very gentlemanlike. Why did not people +know him? Well, Mr. Euston had made some proffers to that end, but Mr. +Lenox had merely expressed his thanks. No, Mr. Euston did not know how +he happened to be in Homeville and employed by that queer old Mr. Harum, +and living with him and his funny old sister; Mr. Lenox had not confided +in him at all, and though very civil and pleasant, did not appear to +wish to be communicative. + +So our friend did not make his entrance that season into the drawing or +dining rooms of any of what David called the "nabobs'" houses. By the +middle or latter part of October Homeville was deserted of its visitors +and as many of that class of its regular population as had the means to +go with and a place to go to. + +It was under somewhat different auspices that John entered upon the +second winter of his sojourn. It has been made plain that his relations +with his employer and the kind and lovable Polly were on a satisfactory +and permanent footing. + +"I'm dum'd," said David to Dick Larrabee, "if it hain't got putty near +to the p'int when if I want to git anythin' out o' the common run out o' +Polly, I'll have to ask John to fix it fer me. She's like a cow with a +calf," he declared. + +"David sets all the store in the world by him," stated Mrs. Bixbee to a +friend, "though he don't jest let on to--not in so many words. He's got +a kind of a notion that his little boy, if he'd lived, would 'a' ben +like him some ways. I never seen the child," she added, with an +expression which made her visitor smile, "but as near 's I c'n make out +f'm Dave's tell, he must 'a' ben red-headed. Didn't you know 't he'd +ever ben married? Wa'al, he was fer a few years, though it's the one +thing--wa'al, I don't mean exac'ly that--it's _one_ o' the things he +don't have much to say about. But once in a while he'll talk about the +boy, what he'd be now if he'd lived, an' so on; an' he's the greatest +hand fer childern--everlastin'ly pickin' on 'em up when he's ridin' and +such as that--an' I seen him once when we was travelin' on the cars go +an' take a squawlin' baby away f'm it's mother, who looked ready to +drop, an' lay it across that big chest of his, an' the little thing +never gave a whimper after he got it into his arms--jest went right off +to sleep. No," said Mrs. Bixbee, "I never had no childern, an' I don't +know but what I was glad of it at the time; Jim Bixbee was about as +much baby as I thought I could manage, but now--" + +There was some reason for not concluding the sentence, and so we do not +know what was in her mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +The year that had passed had seemed a very long one to John, but as the +months came and went he had in a measure adjusted himself to the change +in his fortunes and environment; and so as time went on the poignancy of +his sorrow and regret diminished, as it does with all of us. Yet the +sight of a gray-haired man still brought a pang to his heart, and there +were times of yearning longing to recall every line of the face, every +detail of the dress, the voice, the words, of the girl who had been so +dear to him, and who had gone out of his life as irrevocably, it seemed +to him, as if by death itself. It may be strange, but it is true that +for a very long time it never occurred to him that he might communicate +with her by mailing a letter to her New York address to be forwarded, +and when the thought came to him the impulse to act upon it was very +strong, but he did not do so. Perhaps he would have written had he been +less in love with her, but also there was mingled with that sentiment +something of bitterness which, though he could not quite explain or +justify it, did exist. Then, too, he said to himself, "Of what avail +would it be? Only to keep alive a longing for the impossible." No, he +would forget it all. Men had died and worms had eaten them, but not for +love. Many men lived all their lives without it and got on very well +too, he was aware. Perhaps some day, when he had become thoroughly +affiliated and localized, he would wed a village maiden, and rear a +Freeland County brood. Our friend, as may be seen, had a pretty healthy +mind, and we need not sympathize with him to the disturbance of our own +peace. + +Books accumulated in the best bedroom. John's expenses were small, and +there was very little temptation, or indeed opportunity, for spending. +At the time of his taking possession of his quarters in David's house he +had raised the question of his contribution to the household expenses, +but Mr. Harum had declined to discuss the matter at all and referred him +to Mrs. Bixbee, with whom he compromised on a weekly sum which appeared +to him absurdly small, but which she protested she was ashamed to +accept. After a while a small upright piano made its appearance, with +Aunt Polly's approval. + +"Why, of course," she said. "You needn't to hev ast me. I'd like to hev +you anyway. I like music ever so much, an' so does David, though I guess +it would floor him to try an' raise a tune. I used to sing quite a +little when I was younger, an' I gen'ally help at church an' prayer +meetin' now. Why, cert'nly. Why not? When would you play if it wa'n't in +the evenin'? David sleeps over the wing. Do you hear him snore?" + +"Hardly ever," replied John, smiling. "That is to say, not very +much--just enough sometimes to know that he is asleep." + +"Wa'al," she said decidedly, "if he's fur enough off so 't you can't +hear _him_, I guess he won't hear _you_ much, an' he sure won't hear +you after he gits to sleep." + +So the piano came, and was a great comfort and resource. Indeed, before +long it became the regular order of things for David and his sister to +spend an hour or so on Sunday evenings listening to his music and their +own as well--that is, the music of their choice--which latter was mostly +to be found in "Carmina Sacra" and "Moody and Sankey"; and Aunt Polly's +heart was glad indeed when she and John together made concord of sweet +sounds in some familiar hymn tune, to the great edification of Mr. +Harum, whose admiration was unbounded. + + * * * * * + +"Did I tell you," said David to Dick Larrabee, "what happened the last +time me an' John went ridin' together?" + +"Not's I remember on," replied Dick. + +"Wa'al, we've rode together quite a consid'able," said Mr. Harum, "but I +hadn't never said anythin' to him about takin' a turn at the lines. This +day we'd got a piece out into the country an' I had the brown colts. I +says to him, 'Ever do any drivin'?" + +"'More or less,' he says. + +"'Like to take the lines fer a spell?' I says. + +"'Yes,' he says, lookin' kind o' pleased, 'if you ain't afraid to trust +me with 'em,' he says. + +"'Wa'al, I'll be here,' I says, an' handed 'em over. Wa'al, sir, I see +jest by the way he took holt on 'em it wa'n't the fust time, an' we went +along to where the road turns in through a piece of woods, an' the track +is narrer, an' we run slap onto one o' them dum'd road-engines that had +got wee-wawed putty near square across the track. Now I tell ye," said +Mr. Harum, "them hosses didn't like it fer a cent, an' tell the truth I +didn't like it no better. We couldn't go ahead fer we couldn't git by +the cussed thing, an' the hosses was 'par'ntly tryin' to git back under +the buggy, an', scat my ----! if he didn't straighten 'em out an' back +'em 'round in that narrer road, an' hardly scraped a wheel. Yes, sir," +declared Mr. Harum, "I couldn't 'a' done it slicker myself, an' I don't +know nobody that could." + +"Guess you must 'a' felt a little ticklish yourself," said Dick +sympathetically, laughing as usual. + +"Wa'al, you better believe," declared the other. "The' was 'bout half a +minute when I'd have sold out mighty cheap, an' took a promise fer the +money. He's welcome to drive any team in _my_ barn," said David, +feeling--in which view Mr. Larrabee shared--that encomium was pretty +well exhausted in that assertion. + +"I don't believe," said Mr. Harum after a moment, in which he and his +companion reflected upon the gravity of his last declaration, "that +the's any dum thing that feller can't do. The last thing 's a piany. +He's got a little one that stands up on it's hind legs in his room, an' +he c'n play it with both hands 'thout lookin' on. Yes, sir, we have +reg'lar concerts at my house ev'ry Sunday night, admission free, an' +childern half price, an'," said David, "you'd ought to hear him an' +Polly sing, an'--he, he, he! you'd ought to _see_ her singin'--tickleder +'n a little dog with a nosegay tied to his tail." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Our friend's acquaintance with the rector of St. James's church had +grown into something like friendship, and the two men were quite often +together in the evening. John went sometimes to Mr. Euston's house, and +not unfrequently the latter would spend an hour in John's room over a +cigar and a chat. On one of the latter occasions, late in the autumn, +Mr. Euston went to the piano after sitting a few minutes and looked over +some of the music, among which were two or three hymnals. "You are +musical," he said. + +"In a modest way," was the reply. + +"I am very fond of it," said the clergyman, "but have little knowledge +of it. I wish I had more," he added in a tone of so much regret as +to cause his hearer to look curiously at him. "Yes," he said, "I wish I +knew more--or less. It's the bane of my existence," declared the rector +with a half laugh. John looked inquiringly at him, but did not respond. + +"I mean the music--so called--at St. James's," said Mr. Euston. "I don't +wonder you smile," he remarked; "but it's not a matter for smiling with +me." + +"I beg pardon," said John. + +"No, you need not," returned the other, "but really--Well, there are a +good many unpleasant and disheartening experiences in a clergyman's +life, and I can, I hope, face and endure most of them with patience, but +the musical part of my service is a never-ending source of anxiety, +perplexity, and annoyance. I think," said Mr. Euston, "that I expend +more nerve tissue upon that branch of my responsibilities than upon all +the rest of my work. You see we can not afford to pay any of the +singers, and indeed my people--some of them, at least--think fifty +dollars is a great sum for poor little Miss Knapp, the organist. The +rest are volunteers, or rather, I should say, have been pressed into the +service. We are supposed to have two sopranos and two altos; but in +effect it happens sometimes that neither of a pair will appear, each +expecting the other to be on duty. The tenor, Mr. Hubber, who is an +elderly man without any voice to speak of, but a very devout and +faithful churchman, is to be depended upon to the extent of his +abilities; but Mr. Little, the bass--well," observed Mr. Euston, "the +less said about him the better." + +"How about the organist?" said John. "I think she does very well, +doesn't she?" + +"Miss Knapp is the one redeeming feature," replied the rector, "but she +has not much courage to interfere. Hubber is nominally the leader, but +he knows little of music." Mr. Euston gave a sorry little laugh. "It's +trying enough," he said, "one Sunday with another, but on Christmas and +Easter, when my people make an unusual effort, and attempt the +impossible, it is something deplorable." + +John could not forbear a little laugh. "I should think it must be pretty +trying," he said. + +"It is simply corroding," declared Mr. Euston. + +They sat for a while smoking in silence, the contemplation of his woes +having apparently driven other topics from the mind of the harassed +clergyman. At last he said, turning to our friend: + +"I have heard your voice in church." + +"Yes?" + +"And I noticed that you sang not only the hymns but the chants, and in a +way to suggest the idea that you have had experience and training. I did +not come here for the purpose," said Mr. Euston, after waiting a moment +for John to speak, "though I confess the idea has occurred to me before, +but it was suggested again by the sight of your piano and music. I know +that it is asking a great deal," he continued, "but do you think you +could undertake, for a while at least, to help such a lame dog as I am +over the stile? You have no idea," said the rector earnestly, "what a +service you would be doing not only to me, but to my people and the +church." + +John pulled thoughtfully at his mustache for a moment, while Mr. Euston +watched his face. "I don't know," he said at last in a doubtful tone. "I +am afraid you are taking too much for granted--I don't mean as to my +good will, but as to my ability to be of service, for I suppose you mean +that I should help in drilling your choir." + +"Yes," replied Mr. Euston. "I suppose it would be too much to ask you to +sing as well." + +"I have had no experience in the way of leading or directing," replied +John, ignoring the suggestion, "though I have sung in church more or +less, and am familiar with the service, but even admitting my ability to +be of use, shouldn't you be afraid that my interposing might make more +trouble than it would help? Wouldn't your choir resent it? Such people +are sometimes jealous, you know." + +"Oh, dear, yes," sighed the rector. "But," he added, "I think I can +guarantee that there will be no unpleasant feeling either toward you or +about you. Your being from New York will give you a certain prestige, +and their curiosity and the element of novelty will make the beginning +easy." + +There came a knock at the door and Mr. Harum appeared, but, seeing a +visitor, was for withdrawing. + +"Don't go," said John. "Come in. Of course you know Mr. Euston." + +"Glad to see ye," said David, advancing and shaking hands. "You folks +talkin' bus'nis?" he asked before sitting down. + +"I am trying to persuade Mr. Lenox to do me a great favor," said Mr. +Euston. + +"Well, I guess he won't want such an awful sight o' persuadin'," said +David, taking a chair, "if he's able to do it. What does he want of ye?" +he asked, turning to John. Mr. Euston explained, and our friend gave his +reasons for hesitating--all but the chief one, which was that he was +reluctant to commit himself to an undertaking which he apprehended would +be not only laborious but disagreeable. + +"Wa'al," said David, "as fur 's the bus'nis itself 's concerned, the +hull thing's all nix-cum-rouse to me; but as fur 's gettin' folks to +come an' sing, you c'n git a barn full, an' take your pick; an' a +feller that c'n git a pair of hosses an' a buggy out of a tight fix the +way you done a while ago ought to be able to break in a little team of +half a dozen women or so." + +"Well," said John, laughing, "_you_ could have done what I was lucky +enough to do with the horses, but--" + +"Yes, yes," David broke in, scratching his cheek, "I guess you got me +that time." + +Mr. Euston perceived that for some reason he had an ally and advocate in +Mr. Harum. He rose and said good-night, and John escorted him downstairs +to the door. "Pray think of it as favorably as you can," he said, as +they shook hands at parting. + +"Putty nice kind of a man," remarked David when John came back; "putty +nice kind of a man. 'Bout the only 'quaintance you've made of his kind, +ain't he? Wa'al, he's all right fur 's he goes. Comes of good stock, I'm +told, an' looks it. Runs a good deal to emptins in his preachin' though, +they say. How do you find him?" + +"I think I enjoy his conversation more than his sermons," admitted John +with a smile. + +"Less of it at times, ain't the'?" suggested David. "I may have told +ye," he continued, "that I wa'n't a very reg'lar churchgoer, but I've +ben more or less in my time, an' when I did listen to the sermon all +through, it gen'ally seemed to me that if the preacher 'd put all the' +really was in it together he wouldn't need to have took only 'bout +quarter the time; but what with scorin' fer a start, an' laggin' on the +back stretch, an' ev'ry now an' then breakin' to a stan'still, I +gen'ally wanted to come down out o' the stand before the race was over. +The's a good many fast quarter hosses," remarked Mr. Harum, "but them +that c'n keep it up fer a full mile is scurce. What you goin' to do +about the music bus'nis, or hain't ye made up your mind yet?" he asked, +changing the subject. + +"I like Mr. Euston," said John, "and he seems very much in earnest about +this matter; but I am not sure," he added thoughtfully, "that I can do +what he wants, and I must say that I am very reluctant to undertake it; +still, I don't know but that I ought to make the trial," and he looked +up at David. + +"I guess I would if I was you," said the latter. "It can't do ye no +harm, an' it may do ye some good. The fact is," he continued, "that you +ain't out o' danger of runnin' in a rut. It would do you good mebbe to +git more acquainted, an' mebbe this'll be the start on't." + +"With a little team of half a dozen women, as you called them," said +John. "Mr. Euston has offered to introduce me to any one I cared to +know." + +"I didn't mean the singin' folks," responded Mr. Harum, "I meant the +church folks in gen'ral, an' it'll come 'round in a natur'l sort of +way--not like bein' took 'round by Mr. Euston as if you'd _ast_ him to. +You can't git along--you may, an' have fer a spell, but not alwus--with +nobody to visit with but me an' Polly an' Dick, an' so on, an' once in a +while with the parson; you ben used to somethin' diff'rent, an' while I +ain't sayin' that Homeville soci'ty, pertic'lerly in the winter, 's the +finest in the land, or that me an' Polly ain't all right in our way, you +want a change o' feed once in a while, or you _may_ git the colic. +Now," proceeded the speaker, "if this singin' bus'nis don't do more'n +to give ye somethin' new to think about, an' take up an evenin' now an' +then, even if it bothers ye some, I think mebbe it'll be a good thing +fer ye. They say a reasonable amount o' fleas is good fer a dog--keeps +him from broodin' over _bein'_ a dog, mebbe," suggested David. + +"Perhaps you are right," said John. "Indeed, I don't doubt that you are +right, and I will take your advice." + +"Thank you," said David a minute or two later on, holding out the glass +while John poured, "jest a wisdom toothful. I don't set up to be no +Sol'mon, an' if you ever find out how I'm bettin' on a race jest +'copper' me an' you c'n wear di'monds, but I know when a hoss has stood +too long in the barn as soon as the next man." + +It is possible that even Mr. Euston did not fully appreciate the +difficulties of the task which he persuaded our friend John to +undertake; and it is certain that had the latter known all that they +were to be he would have hardened his heart against both the pleadings +of the rector and the advice of David. His efforts were welcomed and +seconded by Mr. Hubber the tenor, and Miss Knapp the organist, and there +was some earnestness displayed at first by the ladies of the choir; but +Mr. Little, the bass, proved a hopeless case, and John, wholly against +his intentions, and his inclinations as well, had eventually to take +over the basso's duty altogether, as being the easiest way--in fact, the +only way--to save his efforts from downright failure. + +Without going in detail into the trials and tribulations incident to the +bringing of the musical part of the service at Mr. Euston's church up +to a respectable if not a high standard, it may be said that with +unremitting pains this end was accomplished, to the boundless relief and +gratitude of that worthy gentleman, and to a good degree of the members +of his congregation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +On a fine Sunday in summer after the close of the service the exit of +the congregation of St. James's church presents an animated and +inspiring spectacle. A good many well-dressed ladies of various ages, +and not quite so many well-dressed men, mostly (as David would have put +it) "runnin' a little younger," come from out the sacred edifice with an +expression of relief easily changeable to something gayer. A few drive +away in handsome equipages, but most prefer to walk, and there is +usually a good deal of smiling talk in groups before parting, in which +Mr. Euston likes to join. He leaves matters in the vestry to the care of +old Barlow, the sexton, and makes, if one may be permitted the +expression, "a quick change." + +Things had come about very much as David had desired and anticipated, +and our friend had met quite a number of the "summer people," having +been waylaid at times by the rector--in whose good graces he stood so +high that he might have sung anything short of a comic song during the +offertory--and presented willy-nilly. On this particular Sunday he had +lingered a while in the gallery after service over some matter connected +with the music, and when he came out of the church most of the people +had made their way down the front steps and up the street; but standing +near the gate was a group of three--the rector and two young women whom +John had seen the previous summer, and now recognized as the Misses +Verjoos. He raised his hat as he was passing the group, when Mr. Euston +detained him: "I want to present you to the Misses Verjoos." A tall +girl, dressed in some black material which gave John the impression of +lace, recognized his salutation with a slight bow and a rather +indifferent survey from a pair of very somber dark eyes, while her +sister, in light colors, gave him a smiling glance from a pair of very +blue ones, and, rather to his surprise, put out her hand with the usual +declaration of pleasure, happiness, or what not. + +"We were just speaking of the singing," said the rector, "and I was +saying that it was all your doing." + +"You really have done wonders," condescended she of the somber eyes. "We +have only been here a day or two and this is the first time we have been +at church." + +The party moved out of the gate and up the street, the rector leading +with Miss Verjoos, followed by our friend and the younger sister. + +"Indeed you have," said the latter, seconding her sister's remark. "I +don't believe even yourself can quite realize what the difference is. +My! it is very nice for the rest of us, but it must be a perfect killing +bore for you." + +"I have found it rather trying at times," said John; "but now--you are +so kind--it is beginning to appear to me as the most delightful of +pursuits." + +"Very pretty," remarked Miss Clara. "Do you say a good deal of that sort +of thing?" + +"I am rather out of practice," replied John. "I haven't had much +opportunity for some time." + +"I don't think you need feel discouraged," she returned. "A good method +is everything, and I have no doubt you might soon be in form again." + +"Thanks for your encouragement," said John, smiling. "I was beginning to +feel quite low in my mind about it." She laughed a little. + +"I heard quite a good deal about you last year from a very good friend +of yours," said Miss Clara after a pause. + +John looked at her inquiringly. + +"Mrs. Bixbee," she said. "Isn't she an old dear?" + +"I have reason to think so, with all my heart," said John stoutly. + +"She talked a lot about you to me," said Miss Clara. + +"Yes?" + +"Yes, and if your ears did not burn you have no sense of gratitude. +Isn't Mr. Harum funny?" + +"I have sometimes suspected it," said John, laughing. "He once told me +rather an amusing thing about a young woman's running off with one of +his horses." + +"Did he tell you that? Really? I wonder what you must have thought of +me?" + +"Something of what Mr. Harum did, I fancy," said John. + +"What was that?" + +"Pardon me," was the reply, "but I have been snubbed once this morning." +She gave a little laugh. + +"Mr. Harum and I are great 'neetups,' as he says. Is 'neetups' a nice +word?" she asked, looking at her companion. + +"I should think so if I were in Mr. Harum's place," said John. "It means +'cronies,' I believe, in his dictionary." + +They had come to where Freeland Street terminates in the Lake Road, +which follows the border of the lake to the north and winds around the +foot of it to the south and west. + +"Why!" exclaimed Miss Clara, "there comes David. I haven't seen him this +summer." + +They halted and David drew up, winding the reins about the whipstock and +pulling off his buckskin glove. + +"How do you do, Mr. Harum?" said the girl, putting her hand in his. + +"How air ye, Miss Claricy? Glad to see ye agin," he said. "I'm settin' +up a little ev'ry day now, an' you don't look as if you was off your +feed much, eh?" + +"No," she replied, laughing, "I'm in what you call pretty fair +condition, I think." + +"Wa'al, I reckon," he said, looking at her smiling face with the +frankest admiration. "Guess you come out a little finer ev'ry season, +don't ye? Hard work to keep ye out o' the 'free-fer-all' class, I guess. +How's all the folks?" + +"Nicely, thanks," she replied. + +"That's right," said David. + +"How is Mrs. Bixbee?" she inquired. + +"Wa'al," said David with a grin, "I ben a little down in the mouth +lately 'bout Polly--seems to be fallin' away some--don't weigh much more +'n I do, I guess;" but Miss Clara only laughed at this gloomy report. + +"How is my horse Kirby?" she asked. + +"Wa'al, the ole bag-o'-bones is breathin' yet," said David, chuckling, +"but he's putty well wore out--has to lean up agin the shed to whicker. +Guess I'll have to sell ye another putty soon now. Still, what the' is +left of him 's 's good 's ever 't will be, an' I'll send him up in the +mornin'." He looked from Miss Clara to John, whose salutation he had +acknowledged with the briefest of nods. + +"How'd you ketch _him_?" he asked, indicating our friend with a motion +of his head. "Had to go after him with a four-quart measure, didn't ye? +or did he let ye corner him?" + +"Mr. Euston caught him for me," she said, laughing, but coloring +perceptibly, while John's face grew very red. "I think I will run on and +join my sister, and Mr. Lenox can drive home with you. Good bye, Mr. +Harum. I shall be glad to have Kirby whenever it is convenient. We shall +be glad to see you at Lakelawn," she said to John cordially, "whenever +you can come;" and taking her prayer book and hymnal from him, she sped +away. + +"Look at her git over the ground," said David, turning to watch her +while John got into the buggy. "Ain't that a gait?" + +"She is a charming girl," said John as old Jinny started off. + +"She's the one I told you about that run off with my hoss," remarked +David, "an' I alwus look after him fer her in the winter." + +"Yes, I know," said John. "She was laughing about it to-day, and saying +that you and she were great friends." + +"She was, was she?" said David, highly pleased. "Yes, sir, that's the +girl, an', scat my ----! if I was thirty years younger she c'd run off +with me jest as easy--an' I dunno but what she could anyway," he added. + +"Charming girl," repeated John rather thoughtfully. + +"Wa'al," said David, "I don't know as much about girls as I do about +some things; my experience hain't laid much in that line, but I wouldn't +like to take a contract to match _her_ on any _limit_. I guess," he +added softly, "that the consideration in that deal 'd have to be 'love +an' affection.' Git up, old lady," he exclaimed, and drew the whip along +old Jinny's back like a caress. The mare quickened her pace, and in a +few minutes they drove into the barn. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +"Where you ben?" asked Mrs. Bixbee of her brother as the three sat at +the one o'clock dinner. "I see you drivin' off somewheres." + +"Ben up the Lake Road to 'Lizer Howe's," replied David. "He's got a hoss +'t I've some notion o' buyin'." + +"Ain't the' week-days enough," she asked, "to do your horse-tradin' in +'ithout breakin' the Sabbath?" + +David threw back his head and lowered a stalk of the last asparagus of +the year into his mouth. + +"Some o' the best deals I ever made," he said, "was made on a Sunday. +Hain't you never heard the sayin', 'The better the day, the better the +deal'?" + +"Wa'al," declared Mrs. Bixbee, "the' can't be no blessin' on money +that's made in that way, an' you'd be better off without it." + +"I dunno," remarked her brother, "but Deakin Perkins might ask a +blessin' on a hoss trade, but I never heard of it's bein' done, an' I +don't know jest how the deakin 'd put it; it'd be two fer the deakin an' +one fer the other feller, though, somehow, you c'n bet." + +"Humph!" she ejaculated. "I guess nobody ever did; an' I sh'd think you +had money enough an' horses enough an' time enough to keep out o' that +bus'nis on Sunday, anyhow." + +"Wa'al, wa'al," said David, "mebbe I'll swear off before long, an' +anyway the' wa'n't no blessin' needed on this trade, fer if you'll ask +'Lizer he'll tell ye the' wa'n't none made. 'Lizer 's o' your way o' +thinkin' on the subjict." + +"That's to his credit, anyway," she asserted. + +"Jes' so," observed her brother; "I've gen'ally noticed that folks who +was of your way o' thinkin' never made no mistakes, an' 'Lizer 's a very +consistent believer;" whereupon he laughed in a way to arouse both Mrs. +Bixbee's curiosity and suspicion. + +"I don't see anythin' in that to laugh at," she declared. + +"He, he, he, he!" chuckled David. + +"Wa'al, you may 's well tell it one time 's another. That's the way," +she said, turning to John with a smile trembling on her lips, "'t he +picks at me the hull time." + +"I've noticed it," said John. "It's shameful." + +"I do it hully fer her good," asserted David with a grin. "If it wa'n't +fer me she'd git in time as narrer as them seven-day Babtists over to +Peeble--they call 'em the 'narrer Babtists.' You've heard on 'em, hain't +you, Polly?" + +"No," she said, without looking up from her plate, "I never heard on +'em, an' I don't much believe you ever did neither." + +"What!" exclaimed David, "You lived here goin' on seventy year an' never +heard on 'em?" + +"David Harum!" she cried, "I ain't within ten year----" + +"Hold on," he protested, "don't throw that teacup. I didn't say you +_was_, I only said you was _goin' on_--an' about them people over to +Peeble, they've got the name of the 'narrer Babtists' because they're so +narrer in their views that fourteen on 'em c'n sit, side an' side, in a +buggy." This astonishing statement elicited a laugh even from Aunt +Polly, but presently she said: + +"Wa'al, I'm glad you found one man that would stan' you off on Sunday." + +"Yes'm," said her brother, "'Lizer 's jest your kind. I knew 't he'd +hurt his foot, an' prob'ly couldn't go to meetin', an' sure enough, he +was settin' on the stoop, an' I drove in an' pulled up in the lane +alongside. We said good mornin' an' all that, an' I ast after the folks +an' how his foot was gettin' 'long, an' so on, an' fin'ly I says, 'I see +your boy drivin' a hoss the other day that looked a little--f'm the +middle o' the road--as if he might match one I've got, an' I thought I'd +drive up this mornin' an' see if we couldn't git up a dicker.' Wa'al, he +give a kind of a hitch in his chair as if his foot hurt him, an' then he +says, 'I guess I can't deal with ye to-day. I don't never do no bus'nis +on Sunday,' he says. + +"'I've heard you was putty pertic'ler,' I says, 'but I'm putty busy jest +about now, an' I thought that mebbe once in a way, an' seein' that you +couldn't go to meetin' anyway, an' that I've come quite a ways an' don't +know when I c'n see you agin, an' so on, that mebbe you'd think, under +all the circumstances, the' wouldn't be no great harm in't--long 's I +don't pay over no money, at cetery,' I says. + +"'No,' he says, shakin' his head in a sort o' mournful way, 'I'm glad to +see ye, an' I'm sorry you've took all that trouble fer nuthin', but my +conscience won't allow me,' he says, 'to do no bus'nis on Sunday.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I don't ask no man to go agin his conscience, but it +wouldn't be no very glarin' transgression on your part, would it, if I +was to go up to the barn all alone by myself an' look at the hoss?' I +c'd see," continued Mr. Harum, "that his face kind o' brightened up at +that, but he took his time to answer. 'Wa'al,' he says fin'ly, 'I don't +want to lay down no law fer _you_, an' if _you_ don't see no harm in't, +I guess the' ain't nuthin' to prevent ye.' So I got down an' started fer +the barn, an'--he, he, he!--when I'd got about a rod he hollered after +me, 'He's in the end stall,' he says. + +"Wa'al," the narrator proceeded, "I looked the critter over an' made up +my mind about what he was wuth to me, an' went back an' got in, an' +drove into the yard, an' turned 'round, an' drew up agin 'longside the +stoop. 'Lizer looked up at me in an askin' kind of a way, but he didn't +say anythin'. + +"'I s'pose,' I says, 'that you wouldn't want me to say anythin' more to +ye, an' I may 's well jog along back.' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I can't very well help hearin' ye, kin I, if you got +anythin' to say?' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'the hoss ain't exac'ly what I expected to find, nor +jest what I'm lookin' fer; but I don't say I wouldn't 'a' made a deal +with ye if the price had ben right, an' it hadn't ben Sunday.' I +reckon," said David with a wink at John, "that that there foot o' his'n +must 'a' give him an extry twinge the way he wriggled in his chair; but +I couldn't break his lockjaw yit. So I gathered up the lines an' took +out the whip, an' made all the motions to go, an' then I kind o' stopped +an' says, 'I don't want you to go agin your princ'ples nor the law an' +gosp'l on my account, but the' can't be no harm in s'posin' a case, can +the'?' No, he allowed that s'posin' wa'n't jest the same as doin'. +'Wa'al,' says I, 'now s'posin' I'd come up here yestidy as I have +to-day, an' looked your hoss over, an' said to you, "What price do you +put on him?" what do you s'pose you'd 'a' said?' + +"'Wa'al,' he said, 'puttin' it that way, I s'pose I'd 'a' said +one-seventy.' + +"'Yes,' I says, 'an' then agin, if I'd said that he wa'n't wuth that +money to me, not bein' jest what I wanted--an' so he ain't--but that I'd +give one-forty, _cash_, what do you s'pose you'd 'a' said?' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, givin' a hitch, 'of course I don't know jest what I +would have said, but I _guess_,' he says, ''t I'd 'a' said if you'll +make it one-fifty you c'n have the hoss.' + +"'Wa'al, now,' I says, 's'posin' I was to send Dick Larrabee up here in +the mornin' with the money, what do you s'pose you'd do?' + +"'I _s'pose_ I'd let him go,' says 'Lizer. + +"'All right,' I says, an' off I put. That conscience o' 'Lizer's," +remarked Mr. Harum in conclusion, "is wuth its weight in gold, _jest +about_." + +"David Harum," declared Aunt Polly, "you'd ort to be 'shamed o' +yourself." + +"Wa'al," said David with an air of meekness, "if I've done anythin' I'm +sorry for, I'm willin' to be forgi'n. Now, s'posin'----" + +"I've heard enough 'bout s'posin' fer one day," said Mrs. Bixbee +decisively, "unless it's s'posin' you finish your dinner so's't Sairy +c'n git through her work sometime." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +After dinner John went to his room and David and his sister seated +themselves on the "verandy." Mr. Harum lighted a cigar and enjoyed his +tobacco for a time in silence, while Mrs. Bixbee perused, with rather +perfunctory diligence, the columns of her weekly church paper. + +"I seen a sight fer sore eyes this mornin'," quoth David presently. + +"What was that?" asked Aunt Polly, looking up over her glasses. + +"Claricy Verjoos fer one part on't," said David. + +"The Verjooses hev come, hev they? Wa'al, that's good. I hope she'll +come up an' see me." + +David nodded. "An' the other part on't was," he said, "she an' that +young feller of our'n was walkin' together, an' a putty slick pair they +made too." + +"Ain't she purty?" said Mrs. Bixbee. + +"They don't make 'em no puttier," affirmed David; "an' they was a nice +pair. I couldn't help thinkin'," he remarked, "what a nice hitch up +they'd make." + +"Guess the' ain't much chance o' that," she observed. + +"No, I guess not either," said David. + +"He hain't got anythin' to speak of, I s'pose, an' though I reckon +she'll hev prop'ty some day, all that set o' folks seems to marry money, +an' some one's alwus dyin' an' leavin' some on 'em some more. The' ain't +nothin' truer in the Bible," declared Mrs. Bixbee with conviction, "'n +that sayin' thet them that has gits." + +"That's seemin'ly about the way it runs in gen'ral," said David. + +"It don't seem right," said Mrs. Bixbee, with her eyes on her brother's +face. "Now there was all that money one o' Mis' Elbert Swayne's +relations left her last year, an' Lucy Scramm, that's poorer 'n +poverty's back kitchin, an' the same relation to him that Mis' Swayne +was, only got a thousan' dollars, an' the Swaynes rich already. Not but +what the thousan' was a godsend to the Scramms, but he might jest as +well 'a' left 'em comf'tibly off as not, 'stid of pilin' more onto the +Swaynes that didn't need it." + +"Does seem kind o' tough," David observed, leaning forward to drop his +cigar ash clear of the veranda floor, "but that's the way things goes, +an' I've often had to notice that a man'll sometimes do the foolishist +thing or the meanest thing in his hull life after he's dead." + +"You never told me," said Mrs. Bixbee, after a minute or two, in which +she appeared to be following up a train of reflection, "much of anythin' +about John's matters. Hain't he ever told you anythin' more 'n what +you've told me? or don't ye want me to know? Didn't his father leave +anythin'?" + +"The' was a little money," replied her brother, blowing out a cloud of +smoke, "an' a lot of unlikely chances, but nothin' to live on." + +"An' the' wa'n't nothin' for 't but he had to come up here?" she +queried. + +"He'd 'a' had to work on a salary somewhere, I reckon," was the reply. +"The' was one thing," added David thoughtfully after a moment, "that'll +mebbe come to somethin' some time, but it may be a good while fust, an' +don't you ever let on to him nor nobody else 't I ever said anythin' +about it." + +"I won't open my head to a livin' soul," she declared. "What was it?" + +"Wa'al, I don't know 's I ever told ye," he said, "but a good many years +ago I took some little hand in the oil bus'nis, but though I didn't git +in as deep as I wish now 't I had, I've alwus kept up a kind of int'rist +in what goes on in that line." + +"No, I guess you never told me," she said. "Where you goin'?" as he got +out of his chair. + +"Goin' to git my cap," he answered. "Dum the dum things! I don't believe +the's a fly in Freeland County that hain't danced the wild kachuky on my +head sence we set here. Be I much specked?" he asked, as he bent his +bald poll for her inspection. + +"Oh, go 'long!" she cried, as she gave him a laughing push. + +"'Mongst other-things," he resumed, when he had returned to his chair +and relighted his cigar, "the' was a piece of about ten or twelve +hunderd acres of land down in Pennsylvany havin' some coal on it, he +told me he understood, but all the timber, ten inch an' over, 'd ben +sold off. He told me that his father's head clerk told him that the old +gentleman had tried fer a long time to dispose of it; but it called fer +too much to develop it, I guess; 't any rate he couldn't, an' John's +got it to pay taxes on." + +"I shouldn't think it was wuth anythin' to him but jest a bill of +expense," observed Mrs. Bixbee. + +"Tain't now," said David, "an' mebbe won't be fer a good while; still, +it's wuth somethin', an' I advised him to hold onto it on gen'ral +princ'ples. I don't know the pertic'ler prop'ty, of course," he +continued, "but I do know somethin' of that section of country, fer I +done a little prospectin' 'round there myself once on a time. But it +wa'n't in the oil territory them days, or wa'n't known to be, anyway." + +"But it's eatin' itself up with taxes, ain't it?" objected Mrs. Bixbee. + +"Wa'al," he replied, "it's free an' clear, an' the taxes ain't so very +much--though they do stick it to an outside owner down there--an' the +p'int is here: I've alwus thought they didn't drill deep enough in that +section. The' was some little traces of oil the time I told ye of, an' +I've heard lately that the's some talk of a move to test the territory +agin, an', if anythin' was to be found, the young feller's prop'ty might +be wuth somethin', but," he added, "of course the' ain't no tellin'." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +"Well," said Miss Verjoos, when her sister overtook her, Mr. Euston +having stopped at his own gate, "you and your latest discovery seemed to +be getting on pretty well from the occasional sounds which came to my +ears. What is he like?" + +"He's charming," declared Miss Clara. + +"Indeed," remarked her sister, lifting her eyebrows. "You seem to have +come to a pretty broad conclusion in a very short period of time. +'Charming' doesn't leave very much to be added on longer acquaintance, +does it?" + +"Oh, yes it does," said Miss Clara, laughing. "There are all degrees: +Charming, very charming, most charming, and _perfectly_ charming." + +"To be sure," replied the other. "And there is the descending scale: +Perfectly charming, most charming, very charming, charming, very +pleasant, quite nice, and, oh, yes, well enough. Of course you have +asked him to call." + +"Yes, I have," said Miss Clara. + +"Don't you think that mamma----" + +"No, I don't," declared the girl with decision. "I know from what Mr. +Euston said, and I know from the little talk I had with him this +morning, from his manner and--_je ne sais quoi_--that he will be a +welcome addition to a set of people in which every single one knows +just what every other one will say on any given subject and on any +occasion. You know how it is." + +"Well," said the elder sister, smiling and half shutting her eyes with a +musing look, "I think myself that we all know each other a little too +well to make our affairs very exciting. Let us hope the new man will be +all you anticipate, and," she added with a little laugh, and a side +glance at her sister, "that there will be enough of him to go 'round." + +It hardly needs to be said that the aristocracy of Homeville and all the +summer visitors and residents devoted their time to getting as much +pleasure and amusement out of their life as was to be afforded by the +opportunities at hand: Boating, tennis, riding, driving; an occasional +picnic, by invitation, at one or the other of two very pretty +waterfalls, far enough away to make the drive there and back a feature; +as much dancing in an informal way as could be managed by the younger +people; and a certain amount of flirtation, of course (but of a very +harmless sort), to supply zest to all the rest. But it is not intended +to give a minute account of the life, nor to describe in detail all the +pursuits and festivities which prevailed during the season. Enough to +say that our friend soon had opportunity to partake in them as much and +often as was compatible with his duties. His first call at Lakelawn +happened to be on an evening when the ladies were not at home, and it is +quite certain that upon this, the occasion of his first essay of the +sort, he experienced a strong feeling of relief to be able to leave +cards instead of meeting a number of strange people, as he had thought +would be likely. + +One morning, some days later, Peleg Hopkins came in with a grin and +said, "The's some folks eout in front wants you to come eout an' see +'em." + +"Who are they?" asked John, who for the moment was in the back room and +had not seen the carriage drive up. + +"The two Verjoos gals," said Peleg with another distortion of his +freckled countenance. "One on 'em hailed me as I was comin' in and ast +me to ast you to come eout." John laughed a little as he wondered what +their feeling would be were they aware that they were denominated as the +"Verjoos gals" by people of Peleg's standing in the community. + +"We were so sorry to miss your visit the other evening," said Miss +Clara, after the usual salutations. + +John said something about the loss having been his own, and after a few +remarks of no special moment the young woman proceeded to set forth her +errand. + +"Do you know the Bensons from Syrchester?" she asked. + +John replied that he knew who they were but had not the pleasure of +their acquaintance. + +"Well," said Miss Clara, "they are extremely nice people, and Mrs. +Benson is very musical; in fact, Mr. Benson does something in that line +himself. They have with them for a few days a violinist, Fairman I think +his name is, from Boston, and a pianist--what was it, Juliet?" + +"Schlitz, I think," said Miss Verjoos. + +"Oh, yes, that is it, and they are coming to the house to-night, and we +are going to have some music in an informal sort of way. We shall be +glad to have you come if you can." + +"I shall be delighted," said John sincerely. "At what time?" + +"Any time you like," she said; "but the Bensons will probably get there +about half-past eight or nine o'clock." + +"Thank you very much, and I shall be delighted," he repeated. + +Miss Clara looked at him for a moment with a hesitating air. + +"There is another thing," she said. + +"Yes?" + +"Yes," she replied, "I may as well tell you that you will surely be +asked to sing. Quite a good many people who have heard you in the +quartette in church are anxious to hear you sing alone, Mrs. Benson +among them." + +John's face fell a little. + +"You do sing other than church music, do you not?" she asked. + +"Yes," he admitted, "I know some other music." + +"Do you think it would be a bore to you." + +"No," said John, who indeed saw no way out of it; "I will bring some +music, with pleasure, if you wish." + +"That's very nice of you," said Miss Clara, "and you will give us all a +great deal of pleasure." + +He looked at her with a smile. + +"That will depend," he said, and after a moment, "Who will play for me?" + +"I had not thought of that," was the reply. "I think I rather took it +for granted that you could play for yourself. Can't you?" + +"After a fashion, and simple things," he said, "but on an occasion I +would rather not attempt it." + +The girl looked at her sister in some perplexity. + +"I should think," suggested Miss Verjoos, speaking for the second time, +"that Mr. or Herr Schlitz would play your accompaniments, particularly +if Mrs. Benson were to ask him, and if he can play for the violin I +should fancy he can for the voice." + +"Very well," said John, "we will let it go at that." As he spoke David +came round the corner of the bank and up to the carriage. + +"How d'y' do, Miss Verjoos? How air ye, Miss Claricy?" he asked, taking +off his straw hat and mopping his face and head with his handkerchief. +"Guess we're goin' to lose our sleighin', ain't we?" + +"It seems to be going pretty fast," replied Miss Clara, laughing. + +"Yes'm," he remarked, "we sh'll be scrapin' bare ground putty soon now +if this weather holds on. How's the old hoss now you got him agin?" he +asked. "Seem to 've wintered putty well? Putty chipper, is he?" + +"Better than ever," she affirmed. "He seems to grow younger every year." + +"Come, now," said David, "that ain't a-goin' to do. I cal'lated to sell +ye another hoss _this_ summer anyway. Ben dependin' on't in fact, to pay +a dividend. The bankin' bus'nis has been so neglected since this feller +come that it don't amount to much any more," and he laid his hand on +John's shoulder, who colored a little as he caught a look of demure +amusement in the somber eyes of the elder sister. + +"After that," he said, "I think I had better get back to my neglected +duties," and he bowed his adieus. + +"No, sir," said Miss Clara to David, "you must get your dividend out of +some one else this summer." + +"Wa'al," said he, "I see I made a mistake takin' such good care on him. +Guess I'll have to turn him over to Dug Robinson to winter next year. +Ben havin' a little visit with John?" he asked. Miss Clara colored a +little, with something of the same look which John had seen in her +sister's face. + +"We are going to have some music at the house to-night, and Mr. Lenox +has kindly promised to sing for us," she replied. + +"He has, has he?" said David, full of interest. "Wa'al, he's the feller +c'n do it if anybody can. We have singin' an' music up t' the house +ev'ry Sunday night--me an' Polly an' him--an' it's fine. Yes, ma'am, I +don't know much about music myself, but I c'n beat time, an' he's got a +stack o' music more'n a mile high, an' one o' the songs he sings 'll +jest make the windows rattle. That's my fav'rit," averred Mr. Harum. + +"Do you remember the name of it?" asked Miss Clara. + +"No," he said; "John told me, an' I guess I'd know it if I heard it; but +it's about a feller sittin' one day by the org'n an' not feelin' exac'ly +right--kind o' tired an' out o' sorts an' not knowin' jest where he was +drivin' at--jest joggin' 'long with a loose rein fer quite a piece, an' +so on; an' then, by an' by, strikin' right into his gait an' goin' on +stronger 'n stronger, an' fin'ly finishin' up with an A--men that +carries him quarter way round the track 'fore he c'n pull up. That's my +fav'rit," Mr. Harum repeated, "'cept when him an' Polly sings together, +an' if that ain't a show--pertic'lerly Polly--I don't want a cent. No, +ma'am, when him an' Polly gits good an' goin' you can't see 'em fer +dust." + +"I should like to hear them," said Miss Clara, laughing, "and I should +particularly like to hear your favorite, the one which ends with the +Amen--the very _large_ A--men." + +"Seventeen hands," declared Mr. Harum. "Must you be goin'? Wa'al, glad +to have seen ye. Polly's hopin' you'll come an' see her putty soon." + +"I will," she promised. "Give her my love, and tell her so, please." + +They drove away and David sauntered in, went behind the desks, and +perched himself up on a stool near the teller's counter as he often did +when in the office, and John was not particularly engaged. + +"Got you roped in, have they?" he said, using his hat as a fan. "Scat my +----! but ain't this a ring-tail squealer?" + +"It is very hot," responded John. + +"Miss Claricy says you're goin' to sing fer 'em up to their house +to-night." + +"Yes," said John, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, as he pinned a +paper strap around a pile of bills and began to count out another. + +"Don't feel very fierce for it, I guess, do ye?" said David, looking +shrewdly at him. + +"Not very," said John, with a short laugh. + +"Feel a little skittish 'bout it, eh?" suggested Mr. Harum. "Don't see +why ye should--anybody that c'n put up a tune the way you kin." + +"It's rather different," observed the younger man, "singing for you and +Mrs. Bixbee and standing up before a lot of strange people." + +"H-m, h-m," said David with a nod; "diff'rence 'tween joggin' along on +the road an' drivin' a fust heat on the track; in one case the' ain't +nothin' up, an' ye don't care whether you git there a little more +previously or a little less; an' in the other the's the crowd, an' the +judges, an' the stake, an' your record, an' mebbe the pool box into the +barg'in, that's all got to be considered. Feller don't mind it so much +after he gits fairly off, but thinkin' on't beforehand 's fidgity +bus'nis." + +"You have illustrated it exactly," said John, laughing, and much amused +at David's very characteristic, as well as accurate, illustration. + + * * * * * + +"My!" exclaimed Aunt Polly, when John came into the sitting room after +dinner dressed to go out. "My, don't he look nice? I never see you in +them clo'es. Come here a minute," and she picked a thread off his sleeve +and took the opportunity to turn him round for the purpose of giving him +a thorough inspection. + +"That wa'n't what you said when you see me in _my_ gold-plated harniss," +remarked David, with a grin. "You didn't say nothin' putty to me." + +"Humph! I guess the's some diff'rence," observed Mrs. Bixbee with scorn, +and her brother laughed. + +"How was you cal'latin' to git there?" he asked, looking at our friend's +evening shoes. + +"I thought at first I would walk," was the reply, "but I rather think I +will stop at Robinson's and get him to send me over." + +"I guess you won't do nothin' o' the sort," declared David. "Tom's all +hitched to take you over, an' when you're ready jest ring the bell." + +"You're awfully kind," said John gratefully, "but I don't know when I +shall be coming home." + +"Come back when you git a good ready," said Mr. Harum. "If you keep him +an' the hoss waitin' a spell, I guess they won't take cold this +weather." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +The Verjoos house, of old red brick, stands about a hundred feet back +from the north side of the Lake Road, on the south shore of the lake. +Since its original construction a _porte cochere_ has been built upon +the front. A very broad hall, from which rises the stairway with a +double turn and landing, divides the main body of the house through the +middle. On the left, as one enters, is the great drawing room; on the +right a parlor opening into a library; and beyond, the dining room, +which looks out over the lake. The hall opens in the rear upon a broad, +covered veranda, facing the lake, with a flight of steps to a lawn which +slopes down to the lake shore, a distance of some hundred and fifty +yards. + +John had to pass through a little flock of young people who stood near +and about the entrance to the drawing room, and having given his package +of music to the maid in waiting, with a request that it be put upon the +piano, he mounted the stairs to deposit his hat and coat, and then went +down. + +In the south end of the drawing room were some twenty people sitting and +standing about, most of them the elders of the families who constituted +society in Homeville, many of whom John had met, and nearly all of whom +he knew by sight and name. On the edge of the group, and halfway down +the room, were Mrs. Verjoos and her younger daughter, who gave him a +cordial greeting; and the elder lady was kind enough to repeat her +daughter's morning assurances of regret that they were out on the +occasion of his call. + +"I trust you have been as good as your word," said Miss Clara, "and +brought some music." + +"Yes, it is on the piano," he replied, looking across the room to where +the instrument stood. + +The girl laughed. "I wish," she said, "you could have heard what Mr. +Harum said this morning about your singing, particularly his description +of The Lost Chord, and I wish that I could repeat it just as he gave +it." + +"It's about a feller sittin' one day by the org'n," came a voice from +behind John's shoulder, so like David's as fairly to startle him, "an' +not feelin' exac'ly right--kind o' tired an' out o' sorts, an' not +knowin' jest where he was drivin' at--jest joggin' along with a loose +rein fer quite a piece, an' so on; an' then, by an' by, strikin' right +into his gait an' goin' on stronger an' stronger, an' fin'ly finishin' +up with an A--men that carries him quarter way 'round the track 'fore he +c'n pull up." They all laughed except Miss Verjoos, whose gravity was +unbroken, save that behind the dusky windows of her eyes, as she looked +at John, there was for an instant a gleam of mischievous drollery. + +"Good evening, Mr. Lenox," she said. "I am very glad to see you," and +hardly waiting for his response, she turned and walked away. + +"That is Juliet all over," said her sister. "You would not think to see +her ordinarily that she was given to that sort of thing, but once in a +while, when she feels like it--well--pranks! She is the funniest +creature that ever lived, I believe, and can mimic and imitate any +mortal creature. She sat in the carriage this morning, and one might +have fancied from her expression that she hardly heard a word, but I +haven't a doubt that she could repeat every syllable that was uttered. +Oh, here come the Bensons and their musicians." + +John stepped back a pace or two toward the end of the room, but was +presently recalled and presented to the newcomers. After a little talk +the Bensons settled themselves in the corner at the lower end of the +room, where seats were placed for the two musicians, and our friend took +a seat near where he had been standing. The violinist adjusted his +folding music rest. Miss Clara stepped over to the entrance door and put +up her finger at the young people in the hall. "After the music begins," +she said, with a shake of the head, "if I hear one sound of giggling or +chattering, I will send every one of you young heathen home. Remember +now! This isn't your party at all." + +"But, Clara, dear," said Sue Tenaker (aged fifteen), "if we are very +good and quiet do you think they would play for us to dance a little by +and by?" + +"Impudence!" exclaimed Miss Clara, giving the girl's cheek a playful +slap and going back to her place. Miss Verjoos came in and took a chair +by her sister. Mrs. Benson leaned forward and raised her eyebrows at +Miss Clara, who took a quick survey of the room and nodded in return. +Herr Schlitz seated himself on the piano chair, pushed it a little back, +drew it a little forward to the original place, looked under the piano +at the pedals, took out his handkerchief and wiped his face and hands, +and after arpeggioing up and down the key-board, swung into a waltz of +Chopin's (Opus 34, Number 1), a favorite of our friend's, and which he +would have thoroughly enjoyed--for it was splendidly played--if he had +not been uneasily apprehensive that he might be asked to sing after it. +And while on some accounts he would have been glad of the opportunity to +"have it over," he felt a cowardly sense of relief when the violinist +came forward for the next number. There had been enthusiastic applause +at the north end of the room, and more or less clapping of hands at the +south end, but not enough to impel the pianist to supplement his +performance at the time. The violin number was so well received that Mr. +Fairman added a little minuet of Boccherini's without accompaniment, and +then John felt that his time had surely come. But he had to sit, drawing +long breaths, through a Liszt fantasie on themes from Faust before his +suspense was ended by Miss Clara, who was apparently mistress of +ceremonies and who said to him, "Will you sing now, Mr. Lenox?" + +He rose and went to the end of the room where the pianist was sitting. +"I have been asked to sing," he said to that gentleman. "Can I induce +you to be so kind as to play for me?" + +"I am sure he will," said Mrs. Benson, looking at Herr Schlitz. + +"Oh, yes, I blay for you if you vant," he said. "Vhere is your moosic?" +They went over to the piano. "Oh, ho! Jensen, Lassen, Helmund, +Grieg--you zing dem?" + +"Some of them," said John. The pianist opened the Jensen album. + +"You want to zing one of dese?" he asked. + +"As well as anything," replied John, who had changed his mind a dozen +times in the last ten minutes and was ready to accept any suggestion. + +"Ver' goot," said the other. "Ve dry dis: Lehn deine wang' an meine +Wang'." His face brightened as John began to sing the German words. In a +measure or two the singer and player were in perfect accord, and as the +former found his voice the ends of his fingers grew warm again. At the +end of the song the applause was distributed about as after the Chopin +waltz. + +"Sehr schoen!" exclaimed Herr Schlitz, looking up and nodding; "you must +zing zome more," and he played the first bars of Marie, am Fenster +sitzest du, humming the words under his breath, and quite oblivious of +any one but himself and the singer. + +"Zierlich," he said when the song was done, reaching for the collection +of Lassen. "Mit deinen blauen Augen," he hummed, keeping time with his +hands, but at this point Miss Clara came across the room, followed by +her sister. + +"Mrs. Tenaker," she said, laughing, "asked me to ask you, Mr. Lenox, if +you wouldn't please sing something they could understand." + +"I have a song I should like to hear you sing," said Miss Verjoos. +"There is an obligato for violin and we have a violinist here. It is a +beautiful song--Tosti's Beauty's Eyes. Do you know it?" + +"Yes," he replied. + +"Will you sing it for me?" she asked. + +"With the greatest pleasure," he answered. + +Once, as he sang the lines of the song, he looked up. Miss Verjoos was +sitting with her elbows on the arm of her chair, her cheek resting upon +her clasped hands and her dusky eyes were fastened upon his face. As the +song concluded she rose and walked away. Mrs. Tenaker came over to the +piano and put out her hand. + +"Thank you so much for your singing, Mr. Lenox," she said. "Would you +like to do an old woman a favor?" + +"Very much so," said John, smiling and looking first at Mrs. Tenaker and +then about the room, "but there are no old women here as far as I can +see." + +"Very pretty, sir, very pretty," she said, looking very graciously at +him. "Will you sing Annie Laurie for me?" + +"With all my heart," he said, bowing. He looked at Herr Schlitz, who +shook his head. + +"Let me play it for you," said Mrs. Benson, coming over to the piano. + +"Where do you want it?" she asked, modulating softly from one key to +another. + +"I think D flat will be about right," he replied. "Kindly play a little +bit of it." + +The sound of the symphony brought most of even the young people into the +drawing room. At the end of the first verse there was a subdued rustle +of applause, a little more after the second, and at the end of the song +so much of a burst of approval as could be produced by the audience. +Mrs. Benson looked up into John's face and smiled. + +"We appear to have scored the success of the evening," she said with a +touch of sarcasm. Miss Clara joined them. + +"What a dear old song that is!" she said. "Did you see Aunt Charlie +(Mrs. Tenaker) wiping her eyes?--and that lovely thing of Tosti's! We +are ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Lenox." + +John bowed his acknowledgments. + +"Will you take Mrs. Benson out to supper? There is a special table for +you musical people at the east end of the veranda." + +"Is this merely a segregation or a distinction?" said John as they sat +down. + +"We shall have to wait developments to decide that point, I should say," +replied Mrs. Benson. "I suppose that fifth place was put on the off +chance that Mr. Benson might be of our party, but," she said, with a +short laugh, "he is probably nine fathoms deep in a flirtation with Sue +Tenaker. He shares Artemas Ward's tastes, who said, you may remember, +that he liked little girls--big ones too." + +A maid appeared with a tray of eatables, and presently another with a +tray on which were glasses and a bottle of Pommery _sec._ "Miss Clara's +compliments," she said. + +"What do you think now?" asked Mrs. Benson, laughing. + +"Distinctly a distinction, I should say," he replied. + +"Das ist nicht so schlecht," grunted Herr Schlitz as he put half a +_pate_ into his mouth, "bot I vould brefer beer." + +"The music has been a great treat to me," remarked John. "I have heard +nothing of the sort for two years." + +"You have quite contributed your share of the entertainment," said Mrs. +Benson. + +"You and I together," he responded, smiling. + +"You have got a be-oodifool woice," said Herr Schlitz, speaking with a +mouthful of salad, "und you zing ligh a moosician, und you bronounce +your vorts very goot." + +"Thank you," said John. + +After supper there was more singing in the drawing room, but it was not +of a very classical order. Something short and taking for violin and +piano was followed by an announcement from Herr Schlitz. + +"I zing you a zong," he said. The worthy man "breferred beer," but had, +perhaps, found the wine quicker in effect, and in a tremendous bass +voice he roared out, Im tiefen Keller sitz' ich hier, auf einem Fass +voll Reben, which, if not wholly understood by the audience, had some of +its purport conveyed by the threefold repetition of "trinke" at the end +of each verse. Then a deputation waited upon John, to ask in behalf of +the girls and boys if he knew and could sing Solomon Levi. + +"Yes," he said, sitting down at the piano, "if you'll all sing with me," +and it came to pass that that classic, followed by Bring Back my Bonnie +to Me, Paddy Duffy's Cart, There's Music in the Air, and sundry other +ditties dear to all hearts, was given by "the full strength of the +company" with such enthusiasm that even Mr. Fairman was moved to join in +with his violin; and when the Soldier's Farewell was given, Herr Schlitz +would have sung the windows out of their frames had they not been open. +Altogether, the evening's programme was brought to an end with a grand +climax. + +"Thank you very much," said John as he said good night to Mrs. Verjoos. +"I don't know when I have enjoyed an evening so much." + +"Thank _you_ very much," she returned graciously. "You have given us all +a great deal of pleasure." + +"Yes," said Miss Verjoos, giving her hand with a mischievous gleam in +her half-shut eyes, "I was enchanted with Solomon Levi." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +David and John had been driving for some time in silence. The elder man +was apparently musing upon something which had been suggested to his +mind. The horses slackened their gait to a walk as they began the ascent +of a long hill. Presently the silence was broken by a sound which caused +John to turn his head with a look of surprised amusement--Mr. Harum was +singing. The tune, if it could be so called, was scaleless, and these +were the words: + + "_Mon_day _mor_nin' I _mar_ried me a _wife_, + _Think_in' to _lead_ a _more_ contented _life_; + _Fid_dlin' an' _danc_in' _the_' was _played_, + To _see_ how un_happy_ poor _I_ was _made_. + + "_Tues_day _morn_in', _'bout_ break o' _day_, + _While_ my _head_ on the _pil_ler did _lay_, + She _tuned_ up her _clack_, an' _scold_ed _more_ + _Than_ I _ever_ heard be_fore_." + +"Never heard me sing before, did ye?" he said, looking with a grin at +his companion, who laughed and said that he had never had that pleasure. +"Wa'al, that's all 't I remember on't," said David, "an' I dunno 's I've +thought about it in thirty year. The' was a number o' verses which +carried 'em through the rest o' the week, an' ended up in a case of +'sault an' battery, I rec'lect, but I don't remember jest how. +Somethin' we ben sayin' put the thing into my head, I guess." + +"I should like to hear the rest of it," said John, smiling. + +David made no reply to this, and seemed to be turning something over in +his mind. At last he said: + +"Mebbe Polly's told ye that I'm a wid'wer." + +John admitted that Mrs. Bixbee had said as much as that. + +"Yes, sir," said David, "I'm a wid'wer of long standin'." + +No appropriate comment suggesting itself to his listener, none was made. + +"I hain't never cared to say much about it to Polly," he remarked, +"though fer that matter Jim Bixbee, f'm all accounts, was about as poor +a shack as ever was turned out, I guess, an'--" + +John took advantage of the slight hesitation to interpose against what +he apprehended might be a lengthy digression on the subject of the +deceased Bixbee by saying: + +"You were quite a young fellow when you were married, I infer." + +"Two or three years younger 'n you be, I guess," said David, looking at +him, "an' a putty green colt too in some ways," he added, handing over +the reins and whip while he got out his silver tobacco box and helped +himself to a liberal portion of its contents. It was plain that he was +in the mood for personal reminiscences. + +"As I look back on't now," he began, "it kind o' seems as if it must 'a' +ben some other feller, an' yet I remember it all putty dum'd well +too--all but one thing, an' that the biggist part on't, an' that is how +I ever come to git married at all. She was a widdo' at the time, an' +kep' the boardin' house where I was livin'. It was up to Syrchester. I +was better lookin' them days 'n I be now--had more hair at any +rate--though," he remarked with a grin, "I was alwus a better goer than +I was a looker. I was doin' fairly well," he continued, "but mebbe not +so well as was thought by some. + +"Wa'al, she was a good-lookin' woman, some older 'n I was. She seemed to +take some shine to me. I'd roughed it putty much alwus, an' she was +putty clever to me. She was a good talker, liked a joke an' a laugh, an' +had some education, an' it come about that I got to beauin' her 'round +quite a consid'able, and used to go an' set in her room or the parlor +with her sometimes evenin's an' all that, an' I wouldn't deny that I +liked it putty well." + +It was some minutes before Mr. Harum resumed his narrative. The reins +were sagging over the dashboard, held loosely between the first two +fingers and thumb of his left hand, while with his right he had been +making abstracted cuts at the thistles and other eligible marks along +the roadside. + +"Wa'al," he said at last, "we was married, an' our wheels tracked putty +well fer quite a consid'able spell. I got to thinkin' more of her all +the time, an' she me, seemin'ly. We took a few days off together two +three times that summer, to Niag'ry, an' Saratogy, an' 'round, an' had +real good times. I got to thinkin' that the state of matrimony was a +putty good institution. When it come along fall, I was doin' well enough +so 't she could give up bus'nis, an' I hired a house an' we set up +housekeepin'. It was really more on my account than her'n, fer I got to +kind o' feelin' that when the meat was tough or the pie wa'n't done on +the bottom that I was 'sociated with it, an' gen'ally I wanted a place +of my own. But," he added, "I guess it was a mistake, fur 's she was +concerned." + +"Why?" said John, feeling that some show of interest was incumbent. + +"I reckon," said David, "'t she kind o' missed the comp'ny an' the talk +at table, an' the goin's on gen'ally, an' mebbe the work of runnin' the +place--she was a great worker--an' it got to be some diff'rent, I +s'pose, after a spell, settin' down to three meals a day with jest only +me 'stid of a tableful, to say nothin' of the evenin's. I was glad +enough to have a place of my own, but at the same time I hadn't ben used +to settin' 'round with nothin' pertic'ler to do or say, with somebody +else that hadn't neither, an' I wa'n't then nor ain't now, fer that +matter, any great hand fer readin'. Then, too, we'd moved into a +diff'rent part o' the town where my wife wa'n't acquainted. Wa'al, +anyway, fust things begun to drag some--she begun to have spells of not +speakin', an' then she begun to git notions about me. Once in a while +I'd have to go down town on some bus'nis in the evenin'. She didn't seem +to mind it at fust, but bom-by she got it into her head that the' wa'n't +so much bus'nis goin' on as I made out, an' though along that time she'd +set sometimes mebbe the hull evenin' without sayin' anythin' more 'n yes +or no, an' putty often not that, yet if I went out there'd be a +flare-up; an' as things went on the'd be spells fer a fortni't together +when I couldn't any time of day git a word out of her hardly, unless it +was to go fer me 'bout somethin' that mebbe I'd done an' mebbe I +hadn't--it didn't make no diff'rence. An' when them spells was on, what +she didn't take out o' me she did out o' the house--diggin' an' +scrubbin', takin' up carpits, layin' down carpits, shiftin' the +furniture, eatin' one day in the kitchin an' another in the settin' +room, an' sleepin' most anywhere. She wa'n't real well after a while, +an' the wuss she seemed to feel, the fiercer she was fer scrubbin' an' +diggin' an' upsettin' things in gen'ral, an' bom-by she got so she +couldn't keep a hired girl in the house more 'n a day or two at a time. +She either wouldn't have 'em, or they wouldn't stay, an' more 'n half +the time we was without one. This can't int'rist you much, can it?" said +Mr. Harum, turning to his companion. + +"On the contrary," replied John, "it interests me very much. I was +thinking," he added, "that probably the state of your wife's health had +a good deal to do with her actions and views of things, but it must have +been pretty hard on you all the same." + +"Wa'al, yes," said David, "I guess that's so. Her health wa'n't jest +right, an' she showed it in her looks. I noticed that she'd pined an' +pindled some, but I thought the' was some natural criss-crossedniss +mixed up into it too. But I tried to make allow'nces an' the best o' +things, an' git along 's well 's I could; but things kind o' got wuss +an' wuss. I told ye that she begun to have notions about me, an' 't +ain't hardly nec'sary to say what shape they took, an' after a while, +mebbe a year 'n a half, she got so 't she wa'n't satisfied to know where +I was _nights_--she wanted to know where I was _daytimes_. Kind o' +makes me laugh now," he observed, "it seems so redic'lous; but it wa'n't +no laughin' matter then. If I looked out o' winder she'd hint it up to +me that I was watchin' some woman. She grudged me even to look at a +picture paper; an' one day when we happened to be walkin' together she +showed feelin' about one o' them wooden Injun women outside a cigar +store." + +"Oh, come now, Mr. Harum," said John, laughing. + +"Wa'al," said David with a short laugh, "mebbe I did stretch that a +little; but 's I told ye, she wanted to know where I was daytimes well +'s nights, an' ev'ry once 'n a while she'd turn up at my bus'nis place, +an' if I wa'n't there she'd set an' wait fer me, an' I'd either have to +go home with her or have it out in the office. I don't mean to say that +all the sort of thing I'm tellin' ye of kep' up all the time. It kind o' +run in streaks; but the streaks kep' comin' oftener an' oftener, an' you +couldn't never tell when the' was goin' to appear. Matters 'd go along +putty well fer a while, an' then, all of a sudden, an' fer nothin' 't I +could see, the' 'd come on a thunder shower 'fore you c'd git in out o' +the wet." + +"Singular," said John thoughtfully. + +"Yes, sir," said David. "Wa'al, it come along to the second spring, +'bout the first of May. She'd ben more like folks fer about a week mebbe +'n she had fer a long spell, an' I begun to chirk up some. I don't +remember jest how I got the idee, but f'm somethin' she let drop I +gathered that she was thinkin' of havin' a new bunnit. I will say this +for her," remarked David, "that she was an economical woman, an' never +spent no money jest fer the sake o' spendin' it. Wa'al, we'd got along +so nice fer a while that I felt more 'n usual like pleasin' her, an' I +allowed to myself that if she wanted a new bunnit, money shouldn't stand +in the way, an' I set out to give her a supprise." + +They had reached the level at the top of the long hill and the horses +had broken into a trot, when Mr. Harum's narrative was interrupted and +his equanimity upset by the onslaught of an excessively shrill, active, +and conscientious dog of the "yellow" variety, which barked and sprang +about in front of the mares with such frantic assiduity as at last to +communicate enough of its excitement to them to cause them to bolt +forward on a run, passing the yellow nuisance, which, with the facility +of long practice, dodged the cut which David made at it in passing. It +was with some little trouble that the horses were brought back to a +sober pace. + +"Dum that dum'd dog!" exclaimed David with fervor, looking back to where +the object of his execrations was still discharging convulsive yelps at +the retreating vehicle, "I'd give a five-dollar note to git one good +lick at him. I'd make him holler 'pen-an'-ink' _once_! Why anybody's +willin' to have such a dum'd, wuthless, pestiferous varmint as that +'round 's more 'n I c'n understand. I'll bet that the days they churn, +that critter, unless they ketch him an' tie him up the night before, 'll +be under the barn all day, an' he's jest blowed off steam enough to run +a dog churn a hull forenoon." + +Whether or not the episode of the dog had diverted Mr. Harum's mind from +his previous topic, he did not resume it until John ventured to remind +him of it, with "You were saying something about the surprise for your +wife." + +"That's so," said David. "Yes, wa'al, when I went home that night I +stopped into a mil'nery store, an' after I'd stood 'round a minute, a +girl come up an' ast me if she c'd show me anythin'. + +"'I want to buy a bunnit,' I says, an' she kind o' laughed. 'No,' I +says, 'it ain't fer me, it's fer a lady,' I says; an' then we both +laughed. + +"'What sort of a bunnit do you want?' she says. + +"'Wa'al, I dunno,' I says, 'this is the fust time I ever done anythin' +in the bunnit line.' So she went over to a glass case an' took one out +an' held it up, turnin' it 'round on her hand. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess it's putty enough fur 's it goes, but the' +don't seem to be much of anythin' _to_ it. Hain't you got somethin' a +little bit bigger an'--' + +"'Showier?' she says. 'How is this?' she says, doin' the same trick with +another. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'that looks more like it, but I had an idee that the +A 1, trible-extry fine article had more traps on't, an' most any one +might have on either one o' them you've showed me an' not attrac' no +attention at all. You needn't mind expense,' I says. + +"'Oh, very well,' she says, 'I guess I know what you want,' an' goes +over to another case an' fetches out another bunnit twice as big as +either the others, an' with more notions on't than you c'd shake a stick +at--flowers, an' gard'n stuff, an' fruit, an' glass beads, an' feathers, +an' all that, till you couldn't see what they was fixed on to. She took +holt on't with both hands, the girl did, an' put it onto her head, an' +kind o' smiled an' turned 'round slow so 't I c'd git a gen'ral view +on't. + +"'Style all right?' I says. + +"'The very best of its kind,' she says. + +"'How 'bout the _kind_?' I says. + +"'The very best of its style,' she says." + +John laughed outright. David looked at him for a moment with a doubtful +grin. + +"She _was_ a slick one, wa'n't she?" he said. "What a hoss trader she +would 'a' made. I didn't ketch on at the time, but I rec'lected +afterward. Wa'al," he resumed, after this brief digression, "'how much +is it?' I says. + +"'Fifteen dollars,' she says. + +"'What?' I says. 'Scat my ----! I c'd buy head rigging enough to last me +ten years fer that.' + +"'We couldn't sell it for less,' she says. + +"'S'posin' the lady 't I'm buyin' it fer don't jest like it,' I says, +'can you alter it or swap somethin' else for it?' + +"'Cert'nly, within a reasonable time,' she says. + +"'Wa'al, all right,' I says, 'do her up.' An' so she wrapped the thing +'round with soft paper an' put it in a box, an' I paid for't an' moseyed +along up home, feelin' that ev'ry man, woman, an' child had their eyes +on my parcel, but thinkin' how tickled my wife would be." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +The road they were on was a favorite drive with the two men, and at the +point where they had now arrived David always halted for a look back and +down upon the scene below them--to the south, beyond the intervening +fields, bright with maturing crops, lay the village; to the west the +blue lake, winding its length like a broad river, and the river itself a +silver ribbon, till it was lost beneath the southern hills. + +Neither spoke. For a few minutes John took in the scene with the +pleasure it always afforded him, and then glanced at his companion, who +usually had some comment to make upon anything which stirred his +admiration or interest. He was gazing, not at the landscape, but +apparently at the top of the dashboard. "Ho, hum," he said, +straightening the reins, with a "clk" to the horses, and they drove +along for a while in silence--so long, in fact, that our friend, while +aware that the elder man did not usually abandon a topic until he had +"had his say out," was moved to suggest a continuance of the narrative +which had been rather abruptly broken off, and in which he had become +considerably interested. + +"Was your wife pleased?" he asked at last. + +"Where was I?" asked the other in return. + +"You were on your way home with your purchase," was the reply. + +"Oh, yes," Mr. Harum resumed. "It was a little after tea time when I got +to the house, an' I thought prob'ly I'd find her in the settin' room +waitin' fer me; but she wa'n't, an' I went up to the bedroom to find +her, feelin' a little less sure o' things. She was settin' lookin' out +o' winder when I come in, an' when I spoke to her she didn't give me no +answer except to say, lookin' up at the clock, 'What's kept ye like +this?' + +"'Little matter o' bus'nis,' I says, lookin' as smilin' 's I knew how, +an' holdin' the box behind me. + +"'What you got there?' she says, slewin' her head 'round to git a sight +at it. + +"'Little matter o' bus'nis,' I says agin, bringin' the box to the front +an' feelin' my face straighten out 's if you'd run a flat iron over it. +She seen the name on the paper. + +"'You ben spendin' your time there, have ye?' she says, settin' up in +her chair an' pointin' with her finger at the box. '_That's_ where you +ben the last half hour, hangin' 'round with them minxes in Mis' +Shoolbred's. What's in that box?' she says, with her face a-blazin'. + +"'Now, Lizy,' I says, 'I wa'n't there ten minutes if I was that, an' I +ben buyin' you a bunnit.' + +"'_You--ben--buyin'--me--a--bunnit_?' she says, stifnin' up stiffer 'n a +stake. + +"'Yes,' I says, 'I heard you say somethin' 'bout a spring bunnit, an' I +thought, seein' how economicle you was, that I'd buy you a nicer one 'n +mebbe you'd feel like yourself. I thought it would please ye,' I says, +tryin' to rub her the right way. + +"'Let me see it,' she says, in a voice dryer 'n a lime-burner's hat, +pressin' her lips together an' reachin' out fer the box. Wa'al, sir, she +snapped the string with a jerk an' sent the cover skimmin' across the +room, an' then, as she hauled the parcel out of the box, she got up onto +her feet. Then she tore the paper off on't an' looked at it a minute, +an' then took it 'tween her thumb an' finger, like you hold up a dead +rat by the tail, an' held it off at the end of her reach, an' looked it +all over, with her face gettin' even redder if it could. Fin'ly she +says, in a voice 'tween a whisper 'n a choke: + +"'What'd you pay fer the thing?' + +"'Fifteen dollars,' I says. + +"'Fifteen _dollars_?' she says. + +"'Yes,' I says, 'don't ye like it?' Wa'al," said David, "she never said +a word. She drawed in her arm an' took holt of the bunnit with her left +hand, an' fust she pulled off one thing an' dropped it on the floor, fur +off as she c'd reach, an' then another, an' then another, an' then, by +gum! she went at it with both hands jest as fast as she could work 'em, +an' in less time 'n I'm tellin' it to ye she picked the thing cleaner 'n +any chicken you ever see, an' when she got down to the carkis she +squeezed it up between her two hands, give it a wring an' a twist like +it was a wet dish towel, an' flung it slap in my face. Then she made a +half turn, throwin' back her head an' grabbin' into her hair, an' give +the awfullest screechin' laugh--one screech after another that you c'd +'a' heard a mile--an' then throwed herself face down on the bed, +screamin' an' kickin'. Wa'al, sir, if I wa'n't at my wits' end, you c'n +have my watch an' chain. + +"She wouldn't let me touch her no way, but, as luck had it, it was one +o' the times when we had a hired girl, an' hearin' the noise she come +gallopin' up the stairs. She wa'n't a young girl, an' she had a face +humbly 'nough to keep her awake nights, but she had some sense, +an'--'You'd bether run fer the docther,' she says, when she see the +state my wife was in. You better believe I done the heat of my life," +said David, "an' more luck, the doctor was home an' jest finishin' his +tea. His house an' office wa'n't but two three blocks off, an' in about +a few minutes me an' him an' his bag was leggin' it fer my house, though +I noticed he didn't seem to be 'n as much of a twitter 's I was. He ast +me more or less questions, an' jest as we got to the house he says: + +"'Has your wife had any thin' to 'larm or shock her this evenin'?' + +"'Nothin' 't I know on,' I says, ''cept I bought her a new bunnit that +didn't seem to come quite up to her idees.' At that," remarked Mr. +Harum, "he give me a funny look, an' we went in an' upstairs. + +"The hired girl," he proceeded, "had got her quieted down some, but when +we went in she looked up, an' seein' me, set up another screech, an' he +told me to go downstairs an' he'd come down putty soon, an' after a +while he did. + +"'Wa'al?' I says. + +"'She's quiet fer the present,' he says, takin' a pad o' paper out o' +his pocket, an' writin' on it. + +"'Do you know Mis' Jones, your next-door neighbor?' he says. I allowed +'t I had a speakin' acquaintance with her. + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'fust, you step in an' tell her I'm here an' want to +see her, and ast her if she won't come right along; an' then you go down +to my office an' have these things sent up; an' then,' he says, 'you go +down town an' send this'--handin' me a note that he'd wrote an' put in +an envelope--'up to the hospital--better send it up with a hack, or, +better yet, go yourself,' he says, 'an' hurry. You can't be no use +here,' he says. 'I'll stay, but I want a nurse here in an hour, an' less +if possible.' I was putty well scared," said David, "by all that, an' I +says, 'Lord,' I says, 'is she as bad off as that? What is it ails her?' + +"'Don't you know?' says the doc, givin' me a queer look. + +"'No,' I says, 'she hain't ben fust rate fer a spell back, but I +couldn't git nothin' out of her what was the matter, an' don't know what +pertic'ler thing ails her now, unless it's that dum'd bunnit,' I says. + +"At that the doctor laughed a little, kind as if he couldn't help it. + +"'I don't think that was hully to blame,' he says; 'may have hurried +matters up a little--somethin' that was liable to happen any time in the +next two months.' + +"'You don't mean it?' I says. + +"'Yes,' he says. 'Now you git out as fast as you can. Wait a minute,' he +says. 'How old is your wife?' + +"'F'm what she told me 'fore we was married,' I says, 'she's +thirty-one.' + +"'Oh!' he says, raisin' his eyebrows. 'All right; hurry up, now,' + +"I dusted around putty lively, an' inside of an hour was back with the +nurse, an 'jest after we got inside the door--" David paused +thoughtfully for a moment and then, lowering his tone a little, "jest as +we got inside the front door, a door upstairs opened an' I heard a +little 'Waa! waa!' like it was the leetlist kind of a new lamb--an' I +tell you," said David, with a little quaver in his voice, and looking +straight over the off horse's ears, "nothin' 't I ever heard before nor +since ever fetched me, right where I _lived_, as that did. The nurse, +she made a dive fer the stairs, wavin' me back with her hand, an' +I--wa'al--I went into the settin' room, an--wa'al--ne' mind. + +"I dunno how long I set there list'nin' to 'em movin' 'round overhead, +an' wonderin' what was goin' on; but fin'ly I heard a step on the stair +an' I went out into the entry, an' it was Mis' Jones. 'How be they?' I +says. + +"'We don't quite know yet,' she says. 'The little boy is a nice formed +little feller,' she says, 'an' them childern very often grow up, but he +is _very little_,' she says. + +"'An' how 'bout my wife?' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' she says, 'we don't know jest yet, but she is quiet now, an' +we'll hope fer the best. If you want me,' she says, 'I'll come any time, +night or day, but I must go now. The doctor will stay all night, an' the +nurse will stay till you c'n git some one to take her place,' an' she +went home, an'," declared David, "you've hearn tell of the 'salt of the +earth,' an' if that woman wa'n't more on't than a hoss c'n draw down +hill, the' ain't no such thing." + +"Did they live?" asked John after a brief silence, conscious of the +bluntness of his question, but curious as to the sequel. + +"The child did," replied David; "not to grow up, but till he was 'twixt +six an' seven; but my wife never left her bed, though she lived three +four weeks. She never seemed to take no int'rist in the little feller, +nor nothin' else much; but one day--it was Sunday, long to the last--she +seemed a little more chipper 'n usual. I was settin' with her, an' I +said to her how much better she seemed to be, tryin' to chirk her up. + +"'No,' she says, 'I ain't goin' to live.' + +"'Don't ye say that,' I says. + +"'No,' she says, 'I ain't, an' I don't care.' + +"I didn't know jest what to say, an' she spoke agin: + +"'I want to tell you, Dave,' she says, 'that you've ben good an' kind to +me.' + +"'I've tried to,' I says, 'an' Lizy,' I says, 'I'll never fergive myself +about that bunnit, long 's I live.' + +"'That hadn't really nothin' to do with it,' she says, 'an' you meant +all right, though,' she says, almost in a whisper, an' the' came across +her face, not a smile exac'ly, but somethin' like a little riffle on a +piece o' still water, 'that bunnit _was_ enough to kill most +_any_body.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +John leaned out of the buggy and looked back along the road, as if +deeply interested in observing something which had attracted his +attention, and David's face worked oddly for a moment. + +Turning south in the direction of the village, they began the descent of +a steep hill, and Mr. Harum, careful of loose stones, gave all his +attention to his driving. Our friend, respecting his vigilance, forebore +to say anything which might distract his attention until they reached +level ground, and then, "You never married again?" he queried. + +"No," was, the reply. "My matrymonial experience was 'brief an' to the +p'int,' as the sayin' is." + +"And yet," urged John, "you were a young man, and I should have +supposed----" + +"Wa'al," said David, breaking in and emitting his chuckling laugh, "I +allow 't mebbe I sometimes thought on't, an' once, about ten year after +what I ben tellin' ye, I putty much made up my mind to try another +hitch-up. The' was a woman that I seen quite a good deal of, an' liked +putty well, an' I had some grounds fer thinkin' 't she wouldn't show me +the door if I was to ask her. In fact, I made up my mind I would take +the chances, an' one night I put on my best bib an' tucker an' started +fer her house. I had to go 'cross the town to where she lived, an' the +farther I walked the fiercer I got--havin' made up my mind--so 't putty +soon I was travelin' 's if I was 'fraid some other feller'd git there +'head o' me. Wa'al, it was Sat'day night, an' the stores was all open, +an' the streets was full o' people, an' I had to pull up in the crowd a +little, an' I don't know how it happened in pertic'ler, but fust thing I +knew I run slap into a woman with a ban'box, an' when I looked 'round, +there was a mil'nery store in full blast an' winders full o' bunnits. +Wa'al, sir, do you know what I done? Ye don't. Wa'al, the' was a hoss +car passin' that run three mile out in the country in a diff'rent +direction f'm where I started fer, an' I up an' got onto that car, an' +rode the length o' that road, an' got off an' _walked back_--an' I never +went near her house f'm that day to this, an' that," said David, "was +the nearest I ever come to havin' another pardner to my joys an' +sorro's." + +"That was pretty near, though," said John, laughing. + +"Wa'al," said David, "mebbe Prov'dence might 'a' had some other plan fer +stoppin' me 'fore I smashed the hull rig, if I hadn't run into the +mil'nery shop, but as it was, that fetched me to a stan'still, an' I +never started to run agin." + +They drove on for a few minutes in silence, which John broke at last by +saying, "I have been wondering how you got on after your wife died and +left you with a little child." + +"That was where Mis' Jones come in," said David. "Of course I got the +best nurse I could, an' Mis' Jones 'd run in two three times ev'ry day +an' see 't things was goin' on as right 's they could; but it come on +that I had to be away f'm home a good deal, an' fin'ly, come fall, I got +the Joneses to move into a bigger house, where I could have a room, an' +fixed it up with Mis' Jones to take charge o' the little feller right +along. She hadn't but one child, a girl of about thirteen, an' had lost +two little ones, an' so between havin' took to my little mite of a thing +f'm the fust, an' my makin' it wuth her while, she was willin', an' we +went on that way till--the' wa'n't no further occasion fur 's he was +concerned, though I lived with them a spell longer when I was at home, +which wa'n't very often, an' after he died I was gone fer a good while. +But before that time, when I was at home, I had him with me all the time +I could manage. With good care he'd growed up nice an' bright, an' as +big as the average, an' smarter 'n a steel trap. He liked bein' with me +better 'n anybody else, and when I c'd manage to have him I couldn't +bear to have him out o' my sight. Wa'al, as I told you, he got to be +most seven year old. I'd had to go out to Chicago, an' one day I got a +telegraph sayin' he was putty sick--an' I took the fust train East. It +was 'long in March, an' we had a breakdown, an' run into an awful +snowstorm, an' one thing another, an' I lost twelve or fifteen hours. It +seemed to me that them two days was longer 'n my hull life, but I fin'ly +did git home about nine o'clock in the mornin'. When I got to the house +Mis' Jones was on the lookout fer me, an' the door opened as I run up +the stoop, an' I see by her face that I was too late. 'Oh, David, +David!' she says (she'd never called me David before), puttin' her hands +on my shoulders. + +"'When?' I says. + +"''Bout midnight,' she says. + +"'Did he suffer much?' I says. + +"'No,' she says, 'I don't think so; but he was out of his head most of +the time after the fust day, an' I guess all the time the last +twenty-four hours.' + +"'Do you think he'd 'a' knowed me?' I says. 'Did he say anythin'?' an' +at that," said David, "she looked at me. She wa'n't cryin' when I come +in, though she had ben; but at that her face all broke up. 'I don't +know,' she says. 'He kept sayin' things, an' 'bout all we could +understand was "Daddy, daddy,"' an' then she throwed her apern over her +face, an'----" + +David tipped his hat a little farther over his eyes, though, like many +if not most "horsey" men, he usually wore it rather far down, and +leaning over, twirled the whip in the socket between his two fingers and +thumb. John studied the stitched ornamentation of the dashboard until +the reins were pushed into his hands. But it was not for long. David +straightened himself, and, without turning his head, resumed them as if +that were a matter of course. + +"Day after the fun'ral," he went on, "I says to Mis' Jones, 'I'm goin' +back out West,' I says, 'an' I can't say how long I shall be gone--long +enough, anyway,' I says, 'to git it into my head that when I come back +the' won't be no little feller to jump up an' 'round my neck when I come +into the house; but, long or short, I'll come back some time, an' +meanwhile, as fur 's things between you an' me air, they're to go on +jest the same, an' more 'n that, do you think you'll remember him some?' +I says. + +"'As long as I live,' she says, 'jest like my own.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'long 's you remember him, he'll be, in a way, livin' +to ye, an' as long 's that I allow to pay fer his keep an' tendin' jest +the same as I have, _an'_,' I says, 'if you don't let me you ain't no +friend o' mine, an' you _ben_ a _good_ one.' Wa'al, she squimmidged +some, but I wouldn't let her say 'No.' 'I've 'ranged it all with my +pardner an' other ways,' I says, 'an' more 'n that, if you git into any +kind of a scrape an' I don't happen to be got at, you go to him an' git +what you want.'" + +"I hope she lived and prospered," said John fervently. + +"She lived twenty year," said David, "an' I wish she was livin' now. I +never drawed a check on her account without feelin' 't I was doin' +somethin' for my little boy. + +"The's a good many diff'rent sorts an' kinds o' sorro'," he said, after +a moment, "that's in some ways kind o' kin to each other, but I guess +losin' a child 's a specie by itself. Of course I passed the achin', +smartin' point years ago, but it's somethin' you can't fergit--that is, +you can't help feelin' about it, because it ain't only what the child +_was_ to you, but what you keep thinkin' he'd 'a' ben growin' more an' +more to _be_ to you. When I lost my little boy I didn't only lose him as +he was, but I ben losin' him over an' agin all these years. What he'd +'a' ben when he was _so_ old; an' what when he'd got to be a big boy; +an' what he'd 'a' ben when he went mebbe to collidge; an' what he'd 'a' +ben afterward, an' up to _now_. Of course the times when a man stuffs +his face down into the pillers nights, passes, after a while; but while +the's some sorro's that the happenin' o' things helps ye to fergit, I +guess the's some that the happenin' o' things keeps ye rememberin', an' +losin' a child 's one on 'em." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + +It was the latter part of John's fifth winter in Homeville. The business +of the office had largely increased. The new manufactories which had +been established did their banking with Mr. Harum, and the older +concerns, including nearly all the merchants in the village, had +transferred their accounts from Syrchester banks to David's. The callow +Hopkins had fledged and developed into a competent all-'round man, able +to do anything in the office, and there was a new "skeezicks" +discharging Peleg's former functions. Considerable impetus had been +given to the business of the town by the new road whose rails had been +laid the previous summer. There had been a strong and acrimonious +controversy over the route which the road should take into and through +the village. There was the party of the "nabobs" (as they were +characterized by Mr. Harum) and their following, and the party of the +"village people," and the former had carried their point; but now the +road was an accomplished fact, and most of the bitterness which had been +engendered had died away. Yet the struggle was still matter for talk. + +"Did I ever tell you," said David, as he and his cashier were sitting in +the rear room of the bank, "how Lawyer Staples come to switch round in +that there railroad jangle last spring?" + +"I remember," said John, "that you told me he had deserted his party, +and you laughed a little at the time, but you did not tell me how it +came about." + +"I kind o' thought I told ye," said David. + +"No," said John, "I am quite sure you did not." + +"Wa'al," said Mr. Harum, "the' was, as you know, the Tenaker-Rogers +crowd wantin' one thing, an' the Purse-Babbit lot bound to have the +other, an' run the road under the other fellers' noses. Staples was +workin' tooth an' nail fer the Purse crowd, an' bein' a good deal of a +politician, he was helpin' 'em a good deal. In fact, he was about their +best card. I wa'n't takin' much hand in the matter either way, though my +feelin's was with the Tenaker party. I know 't would come to a point +where some money 'd prob'ly have to be used, an' I made up my mind I +wouldn't do much drivin' myself unless I had to, an' not then till the +last quarter of the heat. Wa'al, it got to lookin' like a putty even +thing. What little show I had made was if anythin' on the Purse side. +One day Tenaker come in to see me an' wanted to know flat-footed which +side the fence I was on. 'Wa'al,' I says, 'I've ben settin' up fer +shapes to be kind o' on the fence, but I don't mind sayin', betwixt you +an' me, that the bulk o' my heft is a-saggin' your way; but I hain't +took no active part, an' Purse an' them thinks I'm goin' to be on their +side when it comes to a pinch.' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'it's goin' to be a putty close thing, an' we're +goin' to need all the help we c'n git.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess that's so, but fer the present I reckon I +c'n do ye more good by keepin' in the shade. Are you folks prepared to +spend a little money?' I says. + +"'Yes,' he says, 'if it comes to that.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'it putty most gen'ally does come to that, don't it? +Now, the's one feller that's doin' ye more harm than some others.' + +"'You mean Staples?' he says. + +"'Yes,' I says, 'I mean Staples. He don't really care a hill o' white +beans which way the road comes in, but he thinks he's on the pop'lar +side. Now,' I says, 'I don't know as it'll be nec'sary to use money with +him, an' I don't say 't you could, anyway, but mebbe his yawp c'n be +stopped. I'll have a quiet word with him,' I says, 'an' see you agin.' +So," continued Mr. Harum, "the next night the' was quite a lot of 'em in +the bar of the new hotel, an' Staples was haranguin' away the best he +knowed how, an' bime by I nodded him off to one side, an' we went across +the hall into the settin' room. + +"'I see you feel putty strong 'bout this bus'nis,' I says. + +"'Yes, sir, it's a matter of princ'ple with me,' he says, knockin' his +fist down onto the table. + +"'How does the outcome on't look to ye?' I says. 'Goin' to be a putty +close race, ain't it?' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, ''tween you an' me, I reckon it is.' + +"'That's the way it looks to me,' I says, 'an' more'n that, the other +fellers are ready to spend some money at a pinch.' + +"'They be, be they?' he says. + +"'Yes, sir,' I says, 'an' we've got to meet 'em halfway. Now,' I says, +takin' a paper out o' my pocket, 'what I wanted to say to you is this: +You ben ruther more prom'nent in this matter than most anybody--fur's +talkin' goes--but I'm consid'ably int'risted. The's got to be some money +raised, an' I'm ready,' I says, 'to put down as much as you be up to a +couple o' hunderd, an' I'll take the paper 'round to the rest; but,' I +says, unfoldin' it, 'I think you'd ought to head the list, an' I'll come +next.' Wa'al," said David with a chuckle and a shake of the head, "you'd +ought to have seen his jaw go down. He wriggled 'round in his chair, an' +looked ten diff'rent ways fer Sunday. + +"'What do you say?' I says, lookin' square at him, ''ll you make it a +couple a hunderd?' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I guess I couldn't go 's fur 's that, an' I wouldn't +like to head the list anyway.' + +"'All right,' I says, 'I'll head it. Will you say one-fifty?' + +"'No,' he says, pullin' his whiskers, 'I guess not.' + +"'A hunderd?' I says, an' he shook his head. + +"'Fifty,' I says, 'an' I'll go a hunderd,' an at that he got out his +hank'chif an' blowed his nose, an' took his time to it. 'Wa'al,' I says, +'what _do_ ye say?' + +"'Wa'al,' he says, 'I ain't quite prepared to give ye 'n answer +to-night. Fact on't is,' he says, 'it don't make a cent's wuth o' +diff'rence to me person'ly which way the dum'd road comes in, an' I +don't jest this minute see why I should spend any money in it.' + +"'There's the _princ'ple_ o' the thing,' I says. + +"'Yes,' he says, gettin' out of his chair, 'of course, there's the +princ'ple of the thing, an'--wa'al, I'll think it over an' see you +agin,' he says, lookin' at his watch. 'I got to go now.' + +"Wa'al, the next night," proceeded Mr. Harum, "I went down to the hotel +agin, an' the' was about the same crowd, but no Staples. The' wa'n't +much goin' on, an' Purse, in pertic'ler, was lookin' putty down in the +mouth. 'Where's Staples?' I says. + +"'Wa'al,' says Purse, 'he said mebbe he'd come to-night, an' mebbe he +couldn't. Said it wouldn't make much diff'rence; an' anyhow he was goin' +out o' town up to Syrchester fer a few days. I don't know what's come +over the feller,' says Purse. 'I told him the time was gittin' short an' +we'd have to git in our best licks, an' he said he guessed he'd done +about all 't he could, an' in fact,' says Purse, 'he seemed to 'a' lost +int'rist in the hull thing.'" + +"What did you say?" John asked. + +"Wa'al," said David with a grin, "Purse went on to allow 't he guessed +somebody's pocketbook had ben talkin', but I didn't say much of +anythin', an' putty soon come away. Two three days after," he continued, +"I see Tenaker agin. 'I hear Staples has gone out o' town,' he says, +'an' I hear, too,' he says, 'that he's kind o' soured on the hull +thing--didn't care much how it did come out.' + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'when he comes back you c'n use your own judgment +about havin' a little interview with him. Mebbe somethin' 's made him +think the's two sides to this thing. But anyway,' I says, 'I guess he +won't do no more hollerin'.' + +"'How's that?' says Tenaker. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I guess I'll have to tell ye a little story. Mebbe +you've heard it before, but it seems to be to the point. Once on a +time,' I says, 'the' was a big church meetin' that had lasted three +days, an' the last evenin' the' was consid'able excitement. The prayin' +an' singin' had warmed most on 'em up putty well, an' one o' the most +movin' of the speakers was tellin' 'em what was what. The' was a big +crowd, an' while most on 'em come to be edified, the' was quite a lot in +the back part of the place that was ready fer anythin'. Wa'al, it +happened that standin' mixed up in that lot was a feller named--we'll +call him Smith, to be sure of him--an' Smith was jest runnin' over with +power, an' ev'ry little while when somethin' the speaker said touched +him on the funny bone he'd out with an "A--men! _Yes_, Lord!" in a voice +like a fact'ry whistle. Wa'al, after a little the' was some snickerin' +an' gigglin' an' scroughin' an' hustlin' in the back part, an' even some +of the serioustest up in front would kind o' smile, an' the moderator +leaned over an' says to one of the bretherin on the platform, "Brother +Jones," he says, "can't you git down to the back of the hall an' say +somethin' to quiet Brother Smith? Smith's a good man, an' a pious man," +the moderator says, "but he's very excitable, an' I'm 'fraid he'll git +the boys to goin' back there an' disturb the meetin'." So Jones he +worked his way back to where Smith was, an' the moderator watched him go +up to Smith and jest speak to him 'bout ten seconds; an' after that +Smith never peeped once. After the meetin' was over, the moderator says +to Jones, "Brother Jones," he says, "what did you say to Brother Smith +to-night that shut him up so quick?" "I ast him fer a dollar for For'n +Missions," says Brother Jones, 'an', wa'al,' I says to Tenaker, 'that's +what I done to Staples.'" + +"Did Mr. Tenaker see the point?" asked John, laughing. + +"He laughed a little," said David, "but didn't quite ketch on till I +told him about the subscription paper, an' then he like to split." + +"Suppose Staples had taken you up," suggested John. + +"Wa'al," said David, "I didn't think I was takin' many chances. If, in +the fust place, I hadn't knowed Staples as well 's I did, the Smith +fam'ly, so fur 's my experience goes, has got more members 'n any other +fam'ly on top of the earth." At this point a boy brought in a telegram. +David opened it, gave a side glance at his companion, and, taking out +his pocketbook, put the dispatch therein. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + +The next morning David called John into the rear room. "Busy?" he asked. + +"No," said John. "Nothing that can't wait." + +"Set down," said Mr. Harum, drawing a chair to the fire. He looked up +with his characteristic grin. "Ever own a hog?" he said. + +"No," said John, smiling. + +"Ever feel like ownin' one?" + +"I don't remember ever having any cravings in that direction." + +"Like pork?" asked Mr. Harum. + +"In moderation," was the reply. David produced from his pocketbook the +dispatch received the day before and handed it to the young man at his +side. "Read that," he said. + +John looked at it and handed it back. + +"It doesn't convey any idea to my mind," he said. + +"What?" said David, "you don't know what 'Bangs Galilee' means? nor who +'Raisin' is?" + +"You'll have to ask me an easier one," said John, smiling. + +David sat for a moment in silence, and then, "How much money have you +got?" he asked. + +"Well," was the reply, "with what I had and what I have saved since I +came I could get together about five thousand dollars, I think." + +"Is it where you c'n put your hands on't?" + +John took some slips of paper from his pocketbook and handed them to +David. + +"H'm, h'm," said the latter. "Wa'al, I owe ye quite a little bunch o' +money, don't I? Forty-five hunderd! Wa'al! Couldn't you 'a' done better +'n to keep this here at four per cent?" + +"Well," said John, "perhaps so, and perhaps not. I preferred to do this +at all events." + +"Thought the old man was _safe_ anyway, didn't ye?" said David in a tone +which showed that he was highly pleased. + +"Yes," said John. + +"Is this all?" asked David. + +"There is some interest on those certificates, and I have some balance +in my account," was the reply; "and then, you know, I have some very +valuable securities--a beautiful line of mining stocks, and that +promising Pennsylvania property." + +At the mention of the last-named asset David looked at him for an +instant as if about to speak, but if so he changed his mind. He sat for +a moment fingering the yellow paper which carried the mystic words. +Presently he said, opening the message out, "That's from an old friend +of mine out to Chicago. He come from this part of the country, an' we +was young fellers together thirty years ago. I've had a good many deals +with him and through him, an' he never give me a wrong steer, fur 's I +know. That is, I never done as he told me without comin' out all right, +though he's give me a good many pointers I never did nothin' about. +'Tain't nec'sary to name no names, but 'Bangs Galilee' means 'buy pork,' +an' as I've ben watchin' the market fer quite a spell myself, an' +standard pork 's a good deal lower 'n it costs to pack it, I've made up +my mind to buy a few thousan' barrels fer fam'ly use. It's a handy thing +to have in the house," declared Mr. Harum, "an' I thought mebbe it +wouldn't be a bad thing fer you to have a little. It looks cheap to me," +he added, "an' mebbe bime-by what you don't eat you c'n sell." + +"Well," said John, laughing, "you see me at table every day and know +what my appetite is like. How much pork do you think I could take care +of?" + +"Wa'al, at the present price," said David, "I think about four thousan' +barrels would give ye enough to eat fer a spell, an' mebbe leave ye a +few barrels to dispose of if you should happen to strike a feller later +on that wanted it wuss 'n you did." + +John opened his eyes a little. "I should only have a margin of a dollar +and a quarter," he said. + +"Wa'al, I've got a notion that that'll carry ye," said David. "It may go +lower 'n what it is now. I never bought anythin' yet that didn't drop +some, an' I guess nobody but a fool ever did buy at the bottom more'n +once; but I've had an idee for some time that it was about bottom, an' +this here telegraph wouldn't 'a' ben sent if the feller that sent it +didn't think so too, an' I've had some other cor'spondence with him." +Mr. Harum paused and laughed a little. + +"I was jest thinkin'," he continued, "of what the Irishman said about +Stofford. Never ben there, have ye? Wa'al, it's a place eight nine mile +f'm here, an' the hills 'round are so steep that when you're goin' up +you c'n look right back under the buggy by jest leanin' over the edge +of the dash. I was drivin' 'round there once, an' I met an Irishman with +a big drove o' hogs. + +"'Hello, Pat!' I says, 'where 'd all them hogs come from?' + +"'Stofford,' he says. + +"'Wa'al,' I says, 'I wouldn't 'a' thought the' was so many hogs _in_ +Stofford.' + +"'Oh, be gobs!' he says, 'sure they're _all_ hogs in Stofford;' an'," +declared David, "the bears ben sellin' that pork up in Chicago as if the +hull everlastin' West was _all_ hogs." + +"It's very tempting," said John thoughtfully. + +"Wa'al," said David, "I don't want to tempt ye exac'ly, an' certain I +don't want to urge ye. The' ain't no sure things but death an' taxes, as +the sayin' is, but buyin' pork at these prices is buyin' somethin' +that's got value, an' you can't wipe it out. In other words, it's buyin' +a warranted article at a price consid'ably lower 'n it c'n be produced +for, an' though it may go lower, if a man c'n _stick_, it's bound to +level up in the long run." + +Our friend sat for some minutes apparently looking into the fire, but he +was not conscious of seeing anything at all. Finally he rose, went over +to Mr. Harum's desk, figured the interest on the certificates up to the +first of January, indorsed them, and filling up a check for the balance +of the amount in question, handed the check and certificate to David. + +"Think you'll go it, eh?" said the latter. + +"Yes," said John; "but if I take the quantity you suggest, I shall have +nothing to remargin the trade in case the market goes below a certain +point." + +"I've thought of that," replied David, "an' was goin' to say to you that +I'd carry the trade down as fur as your money would go, in case more +margins had to be called." + +"Very well," said John. "And will you look after the whole matter for +me?" + +"All right," said David. + +John thanked him and returned to the front room. + + * * * * * + +There were times in the months which followed when our friend had reason +to wish that all swine had perished with those whom Shylock said "your +prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into;" and the news of the world +in general was of secondary importance compared with the market reports. +After the purchase pork dropped off a little, and hung about the lower +figure for some time. Then it began to advance by degrees until the +quotation was a dollar above the purchase price. + +John's impulse was to sell, but David made no sign. The market held firm +for a while, even going a little higher. Then it began to drop rather +more rapidly than it had advanced, to about what the pork had cost, and +for a long period fluctuated only a few cents one way or the other. This +was followed by a steady decline to the extent of half-a-dollar, and, as +the reports came, it "looked like going lower," which it did. In fact, +there came a day when it was so "low," and so much more "looked like +going lower" than ever (as such things usually do when the "bottom" is +pretty nearly reached), that our friend had not the courage to examine +the market reports for the next two days, and simply tried to keep the +subject out of his mind. On the morning of the third day the Syrchester +paper was brought in about ten o'clock, as usual, and laid on Mr. +Harum's desk. John shivered a little, and for some time refrained from +looking at it. At last, more by impulse than intention, he went into the +back room and glanced at the first page without taking the paper in his +hands. One of the press dispatches was headed: "Great Excitement on +Chicago Board of Trade: Pork Market reported Cornered: Bears on the +Run," and more of the same sort, which struck our friend as being the +most profitable, instructive, and delightful literature that he had ever +come across. David had been in Syrchester the two days previous, +returning the evening before. Just then he came into the office, and +John handed him the paper. + +"Wa'al," he said, holding it off at arm's length, and then putting on +his glasses, "them fellers that thought they was _all_ hogs up West, are +havin' a change of heart, are they? I reckoned they would 'fore they got +through with it. It's ben ruther a long pull, though, eh?" he said, +looking at John with a grin. + +"Yes," said our friend, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. + +"Things looked ruther colicky the last two three days, eh?" suggested +David. "Did you think 'the jig was up an' the monkey was in the box?'" + +"Rather," said John. "The fact is," he admitted, "I am ashamed to say +that for a few days back I haven't looked at a quotation. I suppose you +must have carried me to some extent. How much was it?" + +"Wa'al," said David, "I kept the trade margined, of course, an' if we'd +sold out at the bottom you'd have owed me somewhere along a thousan' or +fifteen hunderd; but," he added, "it was only in the slump, an' didn't +last long, an' anyway I cal'lated to carry that pork to where it would +'a' ketched fire. I wa'n't worried none, an' you didn't let on to be, +an' so I didn't say anythin'." + +"What do you think about it now?" asked John. + +"My opinion is now," replied Mr. Harum, "that it's goin' to putty near +where it belongs, an' mebbe higher, an' them 's my advices. We can sell +now at some profit, an' of course the bears 'll jump on agin as it goes +up, an' the other fellers 'll take the profits f'm time to time. If I +was where I could watch the market, I'd mebbe try to make a turn in 't +'casionally, but I guess as 't is we'd better set down an' let her take +her own gait. I don't mean to try an' git the top price--I'm alwus +willin' to let the other feller make a little--but we've waited fer +quite a spell, an' as it's goin' our way, we might 's well wait a little +longer." + +"All right," said John, "and I'm very much obliged to you." + +"Sho, sho!" said David. + +It was not until August, however, that the deal was finally closed out. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +The summer was drawing to a close. The season, so far as the social part +of it was concerned, had been what John had grown accustomed to in +previous years, and there were few changes in or among the people whom +he had come to know very well, save those which a few years make in +young people: some increase of importance in demeanor on the part of the +young men whose razors were coming into requisition; and the changes +from short to long skirts, from braids, pig-tails, and flowing-manes to +more elaborate coiffures on the part of the young women. The most +notable event had been the reopening of the Verjoos house, which had +been closed for two summers, and the return of the family, followed by +the appearance of a young man whom Miss Clara had met abroad, and who +represented himself as the acknowledged _fiance_ of that young woman. It +need hardly be said that discussions of the event, and upon the +appearance, manners, prospects, etc., of that fortunate gentleman had +formed a very considerable part of the talk of the season among the +summer people; and, indeed, interest in the affair had permeated all +grades and classes of society. + + * * * * * + +It was some six weeks after the settlement of the transaction in "pork" +that David and John were driving together in the afternoon as they had +so often done in the last five years. They had got to that point of +understanding where neither felt constrained to talk for the purpose of +keeping up conversation, and often in their long drives there was little +said by either of them. The young man was never what is called "a great +talker," and Mr. Harum did not always "git goin'." On this occasion they +had gone along for some time, smoking in silence, each man absorbed in +his thoughts. Finally David turned to his companion. + +"Do you know that Dutchman Claricy Verjoos is goin' to marry?" he asked. + +"Yes," replied John, laughing; "I have met him a number of times. But he +isn't a Dutchman. What gave you that idea?" + +"I heard it was over in Germany she run across him," said David. + +"I believe that is so, but he isn't a German. He is from Philadelphia, +and is a friend of the Bradways." + +"What kind of a feller is he? Good enough for her?" + +"Well," said John, smiling, "in the sense in which that question is +usually taken, I should say yes. He has good looks, good manners, a good +deal of money, I am told, and it is said that Miss Clara--which is the +main point, after all--is very much in love with him." + +"H'm," said David after a moment. "How do you git along with the Verjoos +girls? Was Claricy's ears pointed all right when you seen her fust after +she come home?" + +"Oh, yes!" replied John, smiling, "she and her sister were perfectly +pleasant and cordial, and Miss Verjoos and I are on very friendly +terms." + +"I was thinkin'," said David, "that you an' Claricy might be got to +likin' each other, an' mebbe--" + +"I don't think there could ever have been the smallest chance of it," +declared John hastily. + +"Take the lines a minute," said David, handing them to his companion +after stopping the horses. "The nigh one's picked up a stone, I guess," +and he got out to investigate. "The river road," he remarked as he +climbed back into the buggy after removing the stone from the horse's +foot, "is about the puttiest road 'round here, but I don't drive it +oftener jest on account of them dum'd loose stuns." He sucked the air +through his pursed-up lips, producing a little squeaking sound, and the +horses started forward. Presently he turned to John: + +"Did you ever think of gettin' married?" he asked. + +"Well," said our friend with a little hesitation, "I don't remember that +I ever did, very definitely." + +"Somebody 't you knew 'fore you come up here?" said David, jumping at a +conclusion. + +"Yes," said John, smiling a little at the question. + +"Wouldn't she have ye?" queried David, who stuck at no trifles when in +pursuit of information. + +John laughed. "I never asked her," he replied, in truth a little +surprised at his own willingness to be questioned. + +"Did ye cal'late to when the time come right?" pursued Mr. Harum. + +Of this part of his history John had, of course, never spoken to David. +There had been a time when, if not resenting the attempt upon his +confidence, he would have made it plain that he did not wish to discuss +the matter, and the old wound still gave him twinges. But he had not +only come to know his questioner very well, but to be much attached to +him. He knew, too, that the elder man would ask him nothing save in the +way of kindness, for he had had a hundred proofs of that; and now, so +far from feeling reluctant to take his companion into his confidence, he +rather welcomed the idea. He was, withal, a bit curious to ascertain the +drift of the inquiry, knowing that David, though sometimes working in +devious ways, rarely started without an intention. And so he answered +the question and what followed as he might have told his story to a +woman. + +"An' didn't you never git no note, nor message, nor word of any kind?" +asked David. + +"No." + +"Nor hain't ever heard a word about her f'm that day to this?" + +"No." + +"Nor hain't ever tried to?" + +"No," said John. "What would have been the use?" + +"Prov'dence seemed to 've made a putty clean sweep in your matters that +spring, didn't it?" + +"It seemed so to me," said John. + +Nothing more was said for a minute or two. Mr. Harum appeared to have +abandoned the pursuit of the subject of his questions. At last he said: + +"You ben here most five years." + +"Very nearly," John replied. + +"Ben putty contented, on the hull?" + +"I have grown to be," said John. "Indeed, it's hard to realize at times +that I haven't always lived in Homeville. I remember my former life as +if it were something I have read in a book. There was a John Lenox in +it, but he seems to me sometimes more like a character in a story than +myself." + +"An' yet," said David, turning toward him, "if you was to go back to it, +this last five years 'd git to be that way to ye a good deal quicker. +Don't ye think so?" + +"Perhaps so," replied John. "Yes," he added thoughtfully, "it is +possible." + +"I guess on the hull, though," remarked Mr. Harum, "you done better up +here in the country 'n you might some 'ers else--" + +"Oh, yes," said John sincerely, "thanks to you, I have indeed, and--" + +"--an'--ne' mind about me--you got quite a little bunch o' money +together now. I was thinkin' 't mebbe you might feel 't you needn't to +stay here no longer if you didn't want to." + +The young man turned to the speaker inquiringly, but Mr. Harum's face +was straight to the front, and betrayed nothing. + +"It wouldn't be no more 'n natural," he went on, "an' mebbe it would be +best for ye. You're too good a man to spend all your days workin' fer +Dave Harum, an' I've had it in my mind fer some time--somethin' like +that pork deal--to make you a little independent in case anythin' should +happen, an'--gen'ally. I couldn't give ye no money 'cause you wouldn't +'a' took it even if I'd wanted to, but now you got it, why----" + +"I feel very much as if you had given it to me," protested the young +man. + +David put up his hand. "No, no," he said, "all 't I did was to propose +the thing to ye, an' to put up a little money fer two three days. I +didn't take no chances, an' it's all right, an' it's your'n, an' it +makes ye to a certain extent independent of Homeville." + +"I don't quite see it so," said John. + +"Wa'al," said David, turning to him, "if you'd had as much five years +ago you wouldn't 'a' come here, would ye?" + +John was silent. + +"What I was leadin' up to," resumed Mr. Harum after a moment, "is this: +I ben thinkin' about it fer some time, but I haven't wanted to speak to +ye about it before. In fact, I might 'a' put it off some longer if +things wa'n't as they are, but the fact o' the matter is that I'm goin' +to take down my sign." + +John looked at him in undisguised amazement, not unmixed with +consternation. + +"Yes," said David, obviously avoiding the other's eye, "'David Harum, +Banker,' is goin' to come down. I'm gettin' to be an' old man," he went +on, "an' what with some investments I've got, an' a hoss-trade once in a +while, I guess I c'n manage to keep the fire goin' in the kitchin stove +fer Polly an' me, an' the' ain't no reason why I sh'd keep my sign up +much of any longer. Of course," he said, "if I was to go on as I be now +I'd want ye to stay jest as you are; but, as I was sayin', you're to a +consid'able extent independent. You hain't no speciul ties to keep ye, +an' you ought anyway, as I said before, to be doin' better for yourself +than jest drawin' pay in a country bank." + +One of the most impressive morals drawn from the fairy tales of our +childhood, and indeed from the literature and experience of our later +periods of life, is that the fulfilment of wishes is often attended by +the most unwelcome results. There had been a great many times when to +our friend the possibility of being able to bid farewell to Homeville +had seemed the most desirable of things, but confronted with the idea as +a reality--for what other construction could he put upon David's words +except that they amounted practically to a dismissal, though a most kind +one?--he found himself simply in dismay. + +"I suppose," he said after a few moments, "that by 'taking down your +sign' you mean going out of business--" + +"Figger o' speech," explained David. + +"--and your determination is not only a great surprise to me, but +grieves me very much. I am very sorry to hear it--more sorry than I can +tell you. As you remind me, if I leave Homeville I shall not go almost +penniless as I came, but I shall leave with great regret, and, +indeed--Ah, well--" he broke off with a wave of his hands. + +"What was you goin' to say?" asked David, after a moment, his eyes on +the horizon. + +"I can't say very much more," replied the young man, "than that I am +very sorry. There have been times," he added, "as you may understand, +when I have been restless and discouraged for a while, particularly at +first; but I can see now that, on the whole, I have been far from +unhappy here. Your house has grown to be more a real home than any I +have ever known, and you and your sister are like my own people. What +you say, that I ought not to look forward to spending my life behind +the counter of a village bank on a salary, may be true; but I am not, at +present at least, a very ambitious person, nor, I am afraid, a very +clever one in the way of getting on in the world; and the idea of +breaking out for myself, even if that were all to be considered, is not +a cheerful one. I am afraid all this sounds rather selfish to you, when, +as I can see, you have deferred your plans for my sake, and after all +else that you have done for me." + +"I guess I sha'n't lay it up agin ye," said David quietly. + +They drove along in silence for a while. + +"May I ask," said John, at length, "when you intend to 'take down your +sign,' as you put it?" + +"Whenever you say the word," declared David, with a chuckle and a side +glance at his companion. John turned in bewilderment. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +"Wa'al," said David with another short laugh, "fur 's the sign 's +concerned, I s'pose we _could_ stick a new one over it, but I guess it +might 's well come down; but we'll settle that matter later on." + +John still looked at the speaker in utter perplexity, until the latter +broke out into a laugh. + +"Got any idee what's goin' onto the new sign?" he asked. + +"You don't mean----" + +"Yes, I do," declared Mr. Harum, "an' my notion 's this, an' don't you +say aye, yes, nor no till I git through," and he laid his left hand +restrainingly on John's knee. + +"The new sign 'll read 'Harum & Comp'ny,' or 'Harum & Lenox,' jest as +you elect. You c'n put in what money you got an' I'll put in as much +more, which 'll make cap'tal enough in gen'ral, an' any extry money +that's needed--wa'al, up to a certain point, I guess I c'n manage. Now +putty much all the new bus'nis has come in through you, an' practically +you got the hull thing in your hands. You'll do the work about 's you're +doin' now, an' you'll draw the same sal'ry; an' after that's paid we'll +go snucks on anythin' that's left--that _is_," added David with a +chuckle, "if you feel that you c'n _stan'_ it in Homeville." + + * * * * * + +"I wish you was married to one of our Homeville girls, though," declared +Mr. Harum later on as they drove homeward. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +Since the whooping-cough and measles of childhood the junior partner of +Harum & Company had never to his recollection had a day's illness in his +life, and he fought the attack which came upon him about the first week +in December with a sort of incredulous disgust, until one morning when +he did not appear at breakfast. He spent the next week in bed, and at +the end of that time, while he was able to be about, it was in a languid +and spiritless fashion, and he was shaken and exasperated by a +persistent cough. The season was and had been unusually inclement even +for that region, where the thermometer sometimes changes fifty degrees +in thirty-six hours; and at the time of his release from his room there +was a period of successive changes of temperature from thawing to zero +and below, a characteristic of the winter climate of Homeville and its +vicinity. Dr. Hayes exhibited the inevitable quinine, iron, and all the +tonics in his pharmacopoeia, with cough mixtures and sundry, but in +vain. Aunt Polly pressed bottles of sovereign decoctions and infusions +upon him--which were received with thanks and neglected with the +blackest ingratitude--and exhausted not only the markets of Homeville, +but her own and Sairy's culinary resources (no mean ones, by the way) +to tempt the appetite which would not respond. One week followed another +without any improvement in his condition; and indeed as time went on he +fell into a condition of irritable listlessness which filled his partner +with concern. + +"What's the matter with him, Doc?" said David to the physician. "He +don't seem to take no more int'rist than a foundered hoss. Can't ye do +nothin' for him?" + +"Not much use dosin' him," replied the doctor. "Pull out all right, may +be, come warm weather. Big strong fellow, but this cussed influenzy, or +grip, as they call it, sometimes hits them hardest." + +"Wa'al, warm weather 's some way off," remarked Mr. Harum, "an' he +coughs enough to tear his head off sometimes." + +The doctor nodded. "Ought to clear out somewhere," he said. "Don't like +that cough myself." + +"What do you mean?" asked David. + +"Ought to go 'way for a spell," said the doctor; "quit working, and get +a change of climate." + +"Have you told him so?" asked Mr. Harum. + +"Yes," replied the doctor; "said he couldn't get away." + +"H'm'm!" said David thoughtfully, pinching his lower lip between his +thumb and finger. + +A day or two after the foregoing interview, John came in and laid an +open letter in front of David, who was at his desk, and dropped +languidly into a chair without speaking. Mr. Harum read the letter, +smiled a little, and turning in his chair, took off his glasses and +looked at the young man, who was staring abstractedly at the floor. + +"I ben rather expectin' you'd git somethin' like this. What be you goin' +to do about it?" + +"I don't know," replied John. "I don't like the idea of leasing the +property in any case, and certainly not on the terms they offer; but it +is lying idle, and I'm paying taxes on it----" + +"Wa'al, as I said, I ben expectin' fer some time they'd be after ye in +some shape. You got this this mornin'?" + +"Yes." + +"I expect you'd sell the prop'ty if you got a good chance, wouldn't ye?" + +"With the utmost pleasure," said John emphatically. + +"Wa'al, I've got a notion they'll buy it of ye," said David, "if it's +handled right. I wouldn't lease it if it was mine an' I wanted to sell +it, an' yet, in the long run, you might git more out of it--an' then +agin you mightn't," he added. + +"I don't know anything about it," said John, putting his handkerchief to +his mouth in a fit of coughing. David looked at him with a frown. + +"I ben aware fer some time that the' was a movement on foot in your +direction," he said. "You know I told ye that I'd ben int'ristid in the +oil bus'nis once on a time; an' I hain't never quite lost my int'rist, +though it hain't ben a very active one lately, an' some fellers down +there have kep' me posted some. The' 's ben oil found near where you're +located, an' the prospectin' points your way. The hull thing has ben +kep' as close as possible, an' the holes has ben plugged, but the oil is +there somewhere. Now it's like this: If you lease on shares an' they +strike the oil on your prop'ty, mebbe it'll bring you more money; but +they might strike, an' agin they mightn't. Sometimes you git a payin' +well an' a dry hole only a few hunderd feet apart. Nevertheless they +want to drill your prop'ty. I know who the parties is. These fellers +that wrote this letter are simply actin' for 'em." + +The speaker was interrupted by another fit of coughing, which left the +sufferer very red in the face, and elicited from him the word which is +always greeted with laughter in a theater. + +"Say," said David, after a moment, in which he looked anxiously at his +companion, "I don't like that cough o' your'n." + +"I don't thoroughly enjoy it myself," was the rejoinder. + +"Seems to be kind o' growin' on ye, don't it?" + +"I don't know," said John. + +"I was talkin' with Doc Hayes about ye," said David, "an' he allowed +you'd ought to have your shoes off an' run loose a spell." + +John smiled a little, but did not reply. + +"Spoke to you about it, didn't he?" continued David. + +"Yes." + +"An' you told him you couldn't git away?" + +"Yes." + +"Didn't tell him you wouldn't go if you could, did ye?" + +"I only told him I couldn't go," said John. + +David sat for a moment thoughtfully tapping the desk with his +eyeglasses, and then said with his characteristic chuckle: + +"I had a letter f'm Chet Timson yestidy." + +John looked up at him, failing to see the connection. + +"Yes," said David, "he's out fer a job, an' the way he writes I guess +the dander's putty well out of him. I reckon the' hain't ben nothin' +much but hay in _his_ manger fer quite a spell," remarked Mr. Harum. + +"H'm!" said John, raising his brows, conscious of a humane but very +faint interest in Mr. Timson's affairs. Mr. Harum got out a cigar, and, +lighting it, gave a puff or two, and continued with what struck the +younger man as a perfectly irrelevant question. It really seemed to him +as if his senior were making conversation. + +"How's Peleg doin' these days?" was the query. + +"Very well," was the reply. + +"C'n do most anythin' 't's nec'sary, can't he?" + +A brief interruption followed upon the entrance of a man, who, after +saying good-morning, laid a note on David's desk, asking for the money +on it. Mr. Harum handed it back, indicating John with a motion of his +thumb. + +The latter took it, looked at the face and back, marked his initials on +it with a pencil, and the man went out to the counter. + +"If you was fixed so 't you could git away fer a spell," said David a +moment or two after the customer's departure, "where would you like to +go?" + +"I have not thought about it," said John rather listlessly. + +"Wa'al, s'pose you think about it a little now, if you hain't got no +pressin' engagement. Bus'nis don't seem to be very rushin' this +mornin'." + +"Why?" said John. + +"Because," said David impressively, "you're goin' somewhere right off, +quick 's you c'n git ready, an' you may 's well be makin' up your mind +where." + +John looked up in surprise. "I don't want to go away," he said, "and if +I did, how could I leave the office?" + +"No," responded Mr. Harum, "you don't want to make a move of any kind +that you don't actually have to, an' that's the reason fer makin' one. +F'm what the doc said, an' f'm what I c'n see, you got to git out o' +this dum'd climate," waving his hand toward the window, against which +the sleet was beating, "fer a spell; an' as fur 's the office goes, Chet +Timson 'd be tickled to death to come on an' help out while you're away, +an' I guess 'mongst us we c'n mosey along some gait. I ain't _quite_ to +the bone-yard yet myself," he added with a grin. + +The younger man sat for a moment or two with brows contracted, and +pulling thoughtfully at his moustache. + +"There is that matter," he said, pointing to the letter on the desk. + +"Wa'al," said David, "the' ain't no tearin' hurry 'bout that; an' any +way, I was goin' to make you a suggestion to put the matter into my +hands to some extent." + +"Will you take it?" said John quickly. "That is exactly what I should +wish in any case." + +"If you want I should," replied Mr. Harum. "Would you want to give full +power attorney, or jest have me say 't I was instructed to act for ye?" + +"I think a better way would be to put the property in your name +altogether," said John. "Don't you think so?" + +"Wa'al," said David, thoughtfully, after a moment, "I hadn't thought of +that, but mebbe I _could_ handle the matter better if you was to do +that. I know the parties, an' if the' was any bluffin' to be done either +side, mebbe it would be better if they thought I was playin' my own +hand." + +At that point Peleg appeared and asked Mr. Lenox a question which took +the latter to the teller's counter. David sat for some time drumming on +his desk with the fingers of both hands. A succession of violent coughs +came from the front room. His mouth and brows contracted in a wince, and +rising, he put on his coat and hat and went slowly out of the bank. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + +The Vaterland was advertised to sail at one o'clock, and it wanted but +fifteen or twenty minutes of the hour. After assuring himself that his +belongings were all together in his state-room, John made his way to the +upper deck and leaning against the rail, watched the bustle of +embarkation, somewhat interested in the people standing about, among +whom it was difficult in instances to distinguish the passengers from +those who were present to say farewell. Near him at the moment were two +people, apparently man and wife, of middle age and rather distinguished +appearance, to whom presently approached, with some evidence of hurry +and with outstretched hand, a very well dressed and pleasant looking +man. + +"Ah, here you are, Mrs. Ruggles," John heard him say as he shook hands. + +Then followed some commonplaces of good wishes and farewells, and in +reply to a question which John did not catch, he heard the lady +addressed as Mrs. Ruggles say, "Oh, didn't you see her? We left her on +the lower deck a few minutes ago. Ah, here she comes." + +The man turned and advanced a step to meet the person in question. +John's eyes involuntarily followed the movement, and as he saw her +approach his heart contracted sharply: it was Mary Blake. He turned +away quickly, and as the collar of his ulster was about his face, for +the air of the January day was very keen, he thought that she had not +recognized him. A moment later he went aft around the deck-house, and +going forward to the smoking-room, seated himself therein, and took the +passenger list out of his pocket. He had already scanned it rather +cursorily, having but the smallest expectation of coming upon a familiar +name, yet feeling sure that, had hers been there, it could not have +escaped him. Nevertheless, he now ran his eye over the columns with +eager scrutiny, and the hands which held the paper shook a little. + +There was no name in the least like Blake. It occurred to him that by +some chance or error hers might have been omitted, when his eye caught +the following: + + William Ruggles New York. + Mrs. Ruggles " " + Mrs. Edward Ruggles " " + +It was plain to him then. She was obviously traveling with the people +whom she had just joined on deck, and it was equally plain that she was +Mrs. Edward Ruggles. When he looked up the ship was out in the river. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + +John had been late in applying for his passage, and in consequence, the +ship being very full, had had to take what berth he could get, which +happened to be in the second cabin. The occupants of these quarters, +however, were not rated as second-class passengers. The Vaterland took +none such on her outward voyages, and all were on the same footing as to +the fare and the freedom of the ship. The captain and the orchestra +appeared at dinner in the second saloon on alternate nights, and the +only disadvantage in the location was that it was very far aft; unless +it could be considered a drawback that the furnishings were of plain +wood and plush instead of carving, gilding, and stamped leather. In +fact, as the voyage proceeded, our friend decided that the after-deck +was pleasanter than the one amidships, and the cozy second-class +smoking-room more agreeable than the large and gorgeous one forward. + +Consequently, for a while he rarely went across the bridge which spanned +the opening between the two decks. It may be that he had a certain +amount of reluctance to encounter Mrs. Edward Ruggles. + +The roof of the second cabin deck-house was, when there was not too much +wind, a favorite place with him. It was not much frequented, as most of +those who spent their time on deck apparently preferred a place nearer +amidships. He was sitting there on the morning of the fifth day out, +looking idly over the sea, with an occasional glance at the people who +were walking on the promenade-deck below, or leaning on the rail which +bounded it. He turned at a slight sound behind him, and rose with his +hat in his hand. The flush in his face, as he took the hand which was +offered him, reflected the color in the face of the owner, but the +grayish brown eyes, which he remembered so well, looked into his, a +little curiously, perhaps, but frankly and kindly. She was the first to +speak. + +"How do you do, Mr. Lenox?" she said. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Ruggles?" said John, throwing up his hand as, at +the moment of his reply, a puff of wind blew the cape of his mackintosh +over his head. They both laughed a little (this was their greeting after +nearly six years), and sat down. + +"What a nice place!" she said, looking about her. + +"Yes," said John; "I sit here a good deal when it isn't too windy." + +"I have been wondering why I did not get a sight of you," she said. "I +saw your name in the passenger list. Have you been ill?" + +"I'm in the second cabin," he said, smiling. + +She looked at him a little incredulously, and he explained. + +"Ah, yes," she said, "I saw your name, but as you did not appear in the +dining saloon, I thought you must either be ill or that you did not +sail. Did you know that I was on board?" she asked. + +It was rather an embarrassing question. + +"I have been intending," he replied rather lamely, "to make myself known +to you--that is, to--well, make my presence on board known to you. I got +just a glimpse of you before we sailed, when you came up to speak to a +man who had been saying good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Ruggles. I heard him +speak their name, and looking over the passenger list I identified you +as Mrs. Edward Ruggles." + +"Ah," she said, looking away for an instant, "I did not know that you +had seen me, and I wondered how you came to address me as Mrs. Ruggles +just now." + +"That was how," said John; and then, after a moment, "it seems rather +odd, doesn't it, that we should be renewing an acquaintance on an ocean +steamer as we did once before, so many years ago? and that the first bit +of intelligence that I have had of you in all the years since I saw you +last should come to me through the passenger list?" + +"Did you ever try to get any?" she asked. "I have always thought it very +strange that we should never have heard anything about you." + +"I went to the house once, some weeks after you had gone," said John, +"but the man in charge was out, and the maid could tell me nothing." + +"A note I wrote you at the time of your father's death," she said, "we +found in my small nephew's overcoat pocket after we had been some time +in California; but I wrote a second one before we left New York, telling +you of our intended departure, and where we were going." + +"I never received it," he said. Neither spoke for a while, and then: + +"Tell me of your sister and brother-in-law," he said. + +"My sister is at present living in Cambridge, where Jack is at college," +was the reply; "but poor Julius died two years ago." + +"Ah," said John, "I am grieved to hear of Mr. Carling's death. I liked +him very much." + +"He liked you very much," she said, "and often spoke of you." + +There was another period of silence, so long, indeed, as to be somewhat +embarrassing. None of the thoughts which followed each other in John's +mind was of the sort which he felt like broaching. He realized that the +situation was getting awkward, and that consciousness added to the +confusion of his ideas. But if his companion shared his embarrassment, +neither her face nor her manner betrayed it as at last she said, +turning, and looking frankly at him: + +"You seem very little changed. Tell me about yourself. Tell me something +of your life in the last six years." + +During the rest of the voyage they were together for a part of every +day, sometimes with the company of Mrs. William Ruggles, but more often +without it, as her husband claimed much of her attention and rarely came +on deck; and John, from time to time, gave his companion pretty much the +whole history of his later career. But with regard to her own life, and, +as he noticed, especially the two years since the death of her +brother-in-law, she was distinctly reticent. She never spoke of her +marriage or her husband, and after one or two faintly tentative +allusions, John forebore to touch upon those subjects, and was driven to +conclude that her experience had not been a happy one. Indeed, in their +intercourse there were times when she appeared distrait and even moody; +but on the whole she seemed to him to be just as he had known and loved +her years ago; and all the feeling that he had had for her then broke +forth afresh in spite of himself--in spite of the fact that, as he told +himself, it was more hopeless than ever: absolutely so, indeed. + +It was the last night of their voyage together. The Ruggleses were to +leave the ship the next morning at Algiers, where they intended to +remain for some time. + +"Would you mind going to the after-deck?" he asked. "These people +walking about fidget me," he added rather irritably. + +She rose, and they made their way aft. John drew a couple of chairs near +to the rail. "I don't care to sit down for the present," she said, and +they stood looking out at sea for a while in silence. + +"Do you remember," said John at last, "a night six years ago when we +stood together, at the end of the voyage, leaning over the rail like +this?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"Does this remind you of it?" he asked. + +"I was thinking of it," she said. + +"Do you remember the last night I was at your house?" he asked, looking +straight out over the moonlit water. + +"Yes," she said again. + +"Did you know that night what was in my heart to say to you?" + +There was no answer. + +"May I tell you now?" he asked, giving a side glance at her profile, +which in the moonlight showed very white. + +"Do you think you ought?" she answered in a low voice, "or that I ought +to listen to you?" + +"I know," he exclaimed. "You think that as a married woman you should +not listen, and that knowing you to be one I should not speak. If it +were to ask anything of you I would not. It is for the first and last +time. To-morrow we part again, and for all time, I suppose. I have +carried the words that were on my lips that night all these years in my +heart. I know I can have no response--I expect none; but it can not harm +you if I tell you that I loved you then, and have----" + +She put up her hand in protest. + +"You must not go on, Mr. Lenox," she said, turning to him, "and I must +leave you." + +"Are you very angry with me?" he asked humbly. + +She turned her face to the sea again and gave a sad little laugh. + +"Not so much as I ought to be," she answered; "but you yourself have +given the reason why you should not say such things, and why I should +not listen, and why I ought to say good-night." + +"Ah, yes," he said bitterly; "of course you are right, and this is to be +the end." + +She turned and looked at him for a moment. "You will never again speak +to me as you have to-night, will you?" she asked. + +"I should not have said what I did had I not thought I should never see +you again after to-morrow," said John, "and I am not likely to do that, +am I?" + +"If I could be sure," she said hesitatingly, and as if to herself. + +"Well," said John eagerly. She stood with her eyes downcast for a +moment, one hand resting on the rail, and then she looked up. + +"We expect to stay in Algiers about two months," she said, "and then we +are going to Naples to visit some friends for a few days, about the time +you told me you thought you might be there. Perhaps it would be better +if we said good-bye to-night; but if after we get home you are to spend +your days in Homeville and I mine in New York, we shall not be likely to +meet, and, except on this side of the ocean, we may, as you say, never +see each other again. So, if you wish, you may come to see me in Naples +if you happen to be there when we are. I am sure after to-night that I +may trust you, may I not? But," she added, "perhaps you would not care. +I am treating you very frankly; but from your standpoint you would +expect or excuse more frankness than if I were a young girl." + +"I care very much," he declared, "and it will be a happiness to me to +see you on any footing, and you may trust me never to break bounds +again." She made a motion as if to depart. + +"Don't go just yet," he said pleadingly; "there is now no reason why you +should for a while, is there? Let us sit here in this gorgeous night a +little longer, and let me smoke a cigar." + +At the moment he was undergoing a revulsion of feeling. His state of +mind was like that of an improvident debtor who, while knowing that the +note must be paid some time, does not quite realize it for a while after +an extension. At last the cigar was finished. There had been but little +said between them. + +"I really must go," she said, and he walked with her across the hanging +bridge and down the deck to the gangway door. + +"Where shall I address you to let you know when we shall be in Naples?" +she asked as they were about to separate. + +"Care of Cook & Son," he said. "You will find the address in Baedeker." + +He saw her the next morning long enough for a touch of the hand and a +good-bye before the bobbing, tubby little boat with its Arab crew took +the Ruggleses on board. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + +How John Lenox tried to kill time during the following two months, and +how time retaliated during the process, it is needless to set forth. It +may not, however, be wholly irrelevant to note that his cough had +gradually disappeared, and that his appetite had become good enough to +carry him through the average table d'hote dinner. On the morning after +his arrival at Naples he found a cable dispatch at the office of Cook & +Son, as follows: "Sixty cash, forty stock. Stock good. Harum." + +"God bless the dear old boy!" said John fervently. The Pennsylvania +property was sold at last; and if "stock good" was true, the dispatch +informed him that he was, if not a rich man for modern days, still, as +David would have put it, "wuth consid'able." No man, I take it, is very +likely to receive such a piece of news without satisfaction; but if our +friend's first sensation was one of gratification, the thought which +followed had a drop of bitterness in it. "If I could only have had it +before!" he said to himself; and indeed many of the disappointments of +life, if not the greater part, come because events are unpunctual. They +have a way of arriving sometimes too early, or worse, too late. + +Another circumstance detracted from his satisfaction: a note he +expected did not appear among the other communications waiting him at +the bankers, and his mind was occupied for the while with various +conjectures as to the reason, none of which was satisfactory. Perhaps +she had changed her mind. Perhaps--a score of things! Well, there was +nothing for it but to be as patient as possible and await events. He +remembered that she had said she was to visit some friends by the name +of Hartleigh, and she had told him the name of their villa, but for the +moment he did not remember it. In any case he did not know the +Hartleighs, and if she had changed her mind--as was possibly indicated +by the omission to send him word--well----! He shrugged his shoulders, +mechanically lighted a cigarette, and strolled down and out of the +Piazza Martiri and across to the Largo della Vittoria. He had a +half-formed idea of walking back through the Villa Nazionale, spending +an hour at the Aquarium, and then to his hotel for luncheon. It occurred +to him at the moment that there was a steamer from Genoa on the Monday +following, that he was tired of wandering about aimlessly and alone, and +that there was really no reason why he should not take the said steamer +and go home. Occupied with these reflections, he absently observed, just +opposite to him across the way, a pair of large bay horses in front of a +handsome landau. A coachman in livery was on the box, and a small +footman, very much coated and silk-hatted, was standing about; and, as +he looked, two ladies came out of the arched entrance to the court of +the building before which the equipage was halted, and the small footman +sprang to the carriage door. + +One of the ladies was a stranger to him, but the other was Mrs. William +Ruggles; and John, seeing that he had been recognized, at once crossed +over to the carriage; and presently, having accepted an invitation to +breakfast, found himself sitting opposite them on his way to the Villa +Violante. The conversation during the drive up to the Vomero need not be +detailed. Mrs. Hartleigh arrived at the opinion that our friend was +rather a dull person. Mrs. Ruggles, as he had found out, was usually +rather taciturn. Neither is it necessary to say very much of the +breakfast, nor of the people assembled. + +It appeared that several guests had departed the previous day, and the +people at table consisted only of Mr. and Mrs. Ruggles, Mary, Mr. and +Mrs. Hartleigh and their two daughters, and John, whose conversation was +mostly with his host, and was rather desultory. In fact, there was +during the meal a perceptible air of something like disquietude. Mr. +Ruggles in particular said almost nothing, and wore an appearance of +what seemed like anxiety. Once he turned to his host: "When ought I to +get an answer to that cable, Hartleigh? to-day, do you think?" + +"Yes, I should say so without doubt," was the reply, "if it's answered +promptly, and in fact there's plenty of time. Remember that we are about +six hours earlier than New York by the clock, and it's only about seven +in the morning over there." + + * * * * * + +Coffee was served on the balustraded platform of the flight of marble +steps leading down to the grounds below. + +"Mary," said Mrs. Hartleigh, when cigarettes had been offered, "don't +you want to show Mr. Lenox something of La Violante?" + +"I shall take you to my favorite place," she said, as they descended the +steps together. + +The southern front of the grounds of the Villa Violante is bounded and +upheld by a wall of tufa fifty feet in height and some four hundred feet +long. About midway of its length a semicircular bench of marble, with a +rail, is built out over one of the buttresses. From this point is +visible the whole bay and harbor of Naples, and about one third of the +city lies in sight, five hundred feet below. To the left one sees +Vesuvius and the Sant' Angelo chain, which the eye follows to Sorrento. +Straight out in front stands Capri, and to the right the curve of the +bay, ending at Posilipo. The two, John and his companion, halted near +the bench, and leaned upon the parapet of the wall for a while in +silence. From the streets below rose no rumble of traffic, no sound of +hoof or wheel; but up through three thousand feet of distance came from +here and there the voices of street-venders, the clang of a bell, and +ever and anon the pathetic supplication of a donkey. Absolute quiet +prevailed where they stood, save for these upcoming sounds. The April +sun, deliciously warm, drew a smoky odor from the hedge of box with +which the parapet walk was bordered, in and out of which darted small +green lizards with the quickness of little fishes. + +John drew a long breath. + +"I don't believe there is another such view in the world," he said. "I +do not wonder that this is your favorite spot." + +"Yes," she said, "you should see the grounds--the whole place is +superb--but this is the glory of it all, and I have brought you +straight here because I wanted to see it with you, and this may be the +only opportunity." + +"What do you mean?" he asked apprehensively. + +"You heard Mr. Ruggles's question about the cable dispatch?" she said. + +"Yes." + +"Well," she said, "our plans have been very much upset by some things he +has heard from home. We came on from Algiers ten days earlier than we +had intended, and if the reply to Mr. Ruggles's cable is unfavorable, we +are likely to depart for Genoa to-morrow and take the steamer for home +on Monday. The reason why I did not send a note to your bankers," she +added, "was that we came on the same boat that I intended to write by; +and Mr. Hartleigh's man has inquired for you every day at Cook's so that +Mr. Hartleigh might know of your coming and call upon you." + +John gave a little exclamation of dismay. Her face was very still as she +gazed out over the sea with half-closed eyes. He caught the scent of the +violets in the bosom of her white dress. + +"Let us sit down," she said at last. "I have something I wish to say to +you." + +He made no rejoinder as they seated themselves, and during the moment or +two of silence in which she seemed to be meditating how to begin, he sat +bending forward, holding his stick with both hands between his knees, +absently prodding holes in the gravel. + +"I think," she began, "that if I did not believe the chances were for +our going to-morrow, I would not say it to-day." John bit his lip and +gave the gravel a more vigorous punch. "But I have felt that I must say +it to you some time before we saw the last of each other, whenever that +time should be." + +"Is it anything about what happened on board ship?" he asked in a low +voice. + +"Yes," she replied, "it concerns all that took place on board ship, or +nearly all, and I have had many misgivings about it. I am afraid that I +did wrong, and I am afraid, too, that in your secret heart you would +admit it." + +"No, never!" he exclaimed. "If there was any wrong done, it was wholly +of my own doing. I was alone to blame. I ought to have remembered that +you were married, and perhaps--yes, I did remember it in a way, but I +could not realize it. I had never seen or heard of your husband, or +heard of your marriage. He was a perfectly unreal person to me, and +you--you seemed only the Mary Blake that I had known, and as I had known +you. I said what I did that night upon an impulse which was as +unpremeditated as it was sudden. I don't see how you were wrong. You +couldn't have foreseen what took place--and----" + +"Have you not been sorry for what took place?" she asked, with her eyes +on the ground. "Have you not thought the less of me since?" + +He turned and looked at her. There was a little smile upon her lips and +on her downcast eyes. + +"No, by Heaven!" he exclaimed desperately, "I have not, and I am not +sorry. Whether I ought to have said what I did or not, it was true, and +I wanted you to know----" + +He broke off as she turned to him with a smile and a blush. The smile +was almost a laugh. + +"But, John," she said, "I am not Mrs. Edward Ruggles. I am Mary Blake." + + * * * * * + +The parapet was fifty feet above the terrace. The hedge of box was an +impervious screen. + + * * * * * + +Well, and then, after a little of that sort of thing, they both began +hurriedly to admire the view again, for some one was coming. But +it was only one of the gardeners, who did not understand +English; and confidence being once more restored, they fell to +discussing--everything. + +"Do you think you could live in Homeville, dear?" asked John after a +while. + +"I suppose I shall have to, shall I not?" said Mary. "And are you, too, +really happy, John?" + +John instantly proved to her that he was. "But it almost makes me +unhappy," he added, "to think how nearly we have missed each other. If I +had only known in the beginning that you were not Mrs. Edward Ruggles!" + +Mary laughed joyously. The mistake which a moment before had seemed +almost tragic now appeared delightfully funny. + +"The explanation is painfully simple," she answered. "Mrs. Edward +Ruggles--the real one--did expect to come on the Vaterland, whereas I +did not. But the day before the steamer sailed she was summoned to +Andover by the serious illness of her only son, who is at school there. +I took her ticket, got ready overnight--I like to start on these +unpremeditated journeys--and here I am." John put his arm about her to +make sure of this, and kept it there--lest he should forget. "When we +met on the steamer and I saw the error you had made I was tempted--and +yielded--to let you go on uncorrected. But," she added, looking lovingly +up into John's eyes, "I'm glad you found out your mistake at last." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + +A fortnight later Mr. Harum sat at his desk in the office of Harum & Co. +There were a number of letters for him, but the one he opened first bore +a foreign stamp, and was postmarked "Napoli." That he was deeply +interested in the contents of this epistle was manifest from the +beginning, not only from the expression of his face, but from the +frequent "wa'al, wa'als" which were elicited as he went on; but interest +grew into excitement as he neared the close, and culminated as he read +the last few lines. + +"Scat my CATS!" he cried, and, grabbing his hat and the letter, he +bolted out of the back door in the direction of the house, leaving the +rest of his correspondence to be digested--any time. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + +I might, in conclusion, tell how John's further life in Homeville was of +comparatively short duration; how David died of injuries received in a +runaway accident; how John found himself the sole executor of his late +partner's estate, and, save for a life provision for Mrs. Bixbee, the +only legatee, and rich enough (if indeed with his own and his wife's +money he had not been so before) to live wherever he pleased. But as +heretofore I have confined myself strictly to facts, I am, to be +consistent, constrained to abide by them now. Indeed, I am too +conscientious to do otherwise, notwithstanding the temptation to make +what might be a more artistic ending to my story. David is not only +living, but appears almost no older than when we first knew him, and is +still just as likely to "git goin'" on occasion. Even "old Jinny" is +still with us, though her master does most of his "joggin' 'round" +behind a younger horse. Whatever Mr. Harum's testamentary intentions may +be, or even whether he has made a will or not, nobody knows but himself +and his attorney. Aunt Polly--well, there is a little more of her than +when we first made her acquaintance, say twenty pounds. + +John and his wife live in a house which they built on the shore of the +lake. It is a settled thing that David and his sister dine with them +every Sunday. Mrs. Bixbee at first looked a little askance at the wine +on the table, but she does not object to it now. Being a "son o' +temp'rence," she has never been induced to taste any champagne, but on +one occasion she was persuaded to take the smallest sip of claret. +"Wa'al," she remarked with a wry face, "I guess the' can't be much sin +or danger 'n drinkin' anythin' 't tastes the way _that_ does." + +She and Mrs. Lenox took to each other from the first, and the latter has +quite supplanted (and more) Miss Claricy (Mrs. Elton) with David. In +fact, he said to our friend one day during the first year of the +marriage, "Say, John, I ain't sure but what we'll have to hitch that +wife o' your'n on the off side." + +I had nearly forgotten one person whose conversation has yet to be +recorded in print, but which is considered very interesting by at least +four people. His name is David Lenox. + +I think that's all. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID HARUM*** + + +******* This file should be named 17617.txt or 17617.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/6/1/17617 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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