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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:52:54 -0700 |
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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/18259-8.txt b/18259-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4b6304 --- /dev/null +++ b/18259-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9269 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gentle Julia, by Booth Tarkington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Gentle Julia + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Illustrator: C. Allan Gilbert and Worth Brehm + +Release Date: April 26, 2006 [EBook #18259] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENTLE JULIA *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: Gentle Julia] + +GENTLE JULIA + +BY +BOOTH TARKINGTON + +AUTHOR OF PENROD, PENROD AND SAM, +THE TURMOIL, ETC. + +ILLUSTRATED BY +C. ALLAN GILBERT +and +WORTH BREHM + +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + + * * * * * + +COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + +COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY P. F. COLLIER AND SON COMPANY +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY THE PICTORIAL REVIEW COMPANY + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES +AT +THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. + + * * * * * + +TO M. L. K. + + * * * * * + +GENTLE JULIA + +"Rising to the point of order, this one said that since the morgue +was not yet established as the central monument and inspiration of +our settlement, and true philosophy was as well expounded in the +convivial manner as in the miserable, he claimed for himself, not +the license, but the right, to sing a ballad, if he chose, upon even +so solemn a matter as the misuse of the town pump by witches." + + * * * * * + + + + +GENTLE JULIA + +CHAPTER ONE + + +Superciliousness is not safe after all, because a person who forms the +habit of wearing it may some day find his lower lip grown permanently +projected beyond the upper, so that he can't get it back, and must go +through life looking like the King of Spain. This was once foretold as a +probable culmination of Florence Atwater's still plastic profile, if +Florence didn't change her way of thinking; and upon Florence's +remarking dreamily that the King of Spain was an awf'ly han'some man, +her mother retorted: "But not for a girl!" She meant, of course, that a +girl who looked too much like the King of Spain would not be handsome, +but her daughter decided to misunderstand her. + +"Why, mamma, he's my Very Ideal! I'd marry him to-morrow!" + +Mrs. Atwater paused in her darning, and let the stocking collapse +flaccidly into the work-basket in her lap. "Not at barely thirteen, +would you?" she said. "It seems to me you're just a shade too young to +be marrying a man who's already got a wife and several children. Where +did you pick up that 'I'd-marry-him-to-morrow,' Florence?" + +"Oh, I hear that everywhere!" returned the damsel, lightly. "Everybody +says things like that. I heard Aunt Julia say it. I heard Kitty Silver +say it." + +"About the King of Spain?" Mrs. Atwater inquired. + +"I don't know who they were saying it about," said Florence, "but they +were saying it. I don't mean they were saying it together; I heard one +say it one time and the other say it some other time. I think Kitty +Silver was saying it about some coloured man. She proba'ly wouldn't want +to marry any white man; at least I don't expect she would. She's _been_ +married to a couple of coloured men, anyhow; and she was married twice +to one of 'em, and the other one died in between. Anyhow, that's what +she told me. She weighed over two hunderd pounds the first time she was +married, and she weighed over two hunderd-and-seventy the last time she +was married to the first one over again, but she says she don't know +how much she weighed when she was married to the one in between. She +says she never got weighed all the time she was married to that one. Did +Kitty Silver ever tell you that, mamma?" + +"Yes, often!" Mrs. Atwater replied. "I don't think it's very +entertaining; and it's not what we were talking about. I was trying to +tell you----" + +"I know," Florence interrupted. "You said I'd get my face so's my +underlip wouldn't go back where it ought to, if I didn't quit turning up +my nose at people I think are beneath contemp'. I guess the best thing +would be to just feel that way without letting on by my face, and then +there wouldn't be any danger." + +"No," said Mrs. Atwater. "That's not what I meant. You mustn't let your +feelings get _their_ nose turned up, or their underlip out, either, +because feelings can grow warped just as well as----" + +But her remarks had already caused her daughter to follow a trail of +thought divergent from the main road along which the mother feebly +struggled to progress. "Mamma," said Florence, "do you b'lieve it's true +if a person swallows an apple-seed or a lemon-seed or a watermelon-seed, +f'r instance, do you think they'd have a tree grow up inside of 'em? +Henry Rooter said it would, yesterday." + +Mrs. Atwater looked a little anxious. "Did you swallow some sort of +seed?" she asked. + +"It was only some grape-seeds, mamma; and you needn't think I got to +take anything for it, because I've swallowed a million, I guess, in my +time!" + +"In your time?" her mother repeated, seemingly mystified. + +"Yes, and so have you and papa," Florence went on. "I've seen you when +you ate grapes. Henry said maybe not, about grapes, because I told him +all what I've just been telling you, mamma, how I must have swallowed a +million, in my time, and he said grape-seeds weren't big enough to get a +good holt, but he said if I was to swallow an apple-seed a tree would +start up, and in a year or two, maybe, it would grow up so't I couldn't +get my mouth shut on account the branches." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Henry said another boy told _him_, but he said you could ask anybody +and they'd tell you it was true. Henry said this boy that told him's +uncle died of it when he was eleven years old, and this boy knew a grown +woman that was pretty sick from it right now. I expect Henry wasn't +telling such a falsehood about it, mamma, but proba'ly this boy did, +because I didn't believe it for a minute! Henry Rooter says he never +told a lie _yet_, in his whole life, mamma, and he wasn't going to begin +now." She paused for a moment, then added: "I don't believe a word he +says!" + +She continued to meditate disapprovingly upon Henry Rooter. "Old thing!" +she murmured gloomily, for she had indeed known moments of apprehension +concerning the grape-seeds. "Nothing but an old thing--what he is!" she +repeated inaudibly. + +"Florence," said Mrs. Atwater, "don't you want to slip over to grandpa's +and ask Aunt Julia if she has a very large darning needle? And don't +forget not to look supercilious when you meet people on the way. Even +your grandfather has been noticing it, and he was the one that spoke of +it to me. Don't forget!" + +"Yes'm." + +Florence went out of the house somewhat moodily, but afternoon sunshine +enlivened her; and, opening the picket gate, she stepped forth with a +fair renewal of her chosen manner toward the public, though just at that +moment no public was in sight. Miss Atwater's underlip resumed the +position for which her mother had predicted that regal Spanish fixity, +and her eyebrows and nose were all three perceptibly elevated. At the +same time, her eyelids were half lowered, while the corners of her mouth +somewhat deepened, as by a veiled mirth, so that this well-dressed child +strolled down the shady sidewalk wearing an expression not merely of +high-bred contempt but also of mysterious derision. It was an expression +that should have put any pedestrian in his place, and it seems a pity +that the long street before her appeared to be empty of human life. No +one even so much as glanced from a window of any of the comfortable +houses, set back at the end of their "front walks" and basking amid +pleasant lawns; for, naturally, this was the "best residence street" in +the town, since all the Atwaters and other relatives of Florence dwelt +there. Happily, an old gentleman turned a corner before she had gone a +hundred yards, and, as he turned in her direction, it became certain +that they would meet. He was a stranger--that is to say, he was unknown +to Florence--and he was well dressed; while his appearance of age +(proba'ly at least forty or sixty or something) indicated that he might +have sense enough to be interested in other interesting persons. + +An extraordinary change took place upon the surface of Florence Atwater: +all superciliousness and derision of the world vanished; her eyes opened +wide, and into them came a look at once far-away and intently fixed. +Also, a frown of concentration appeared upon her brow, and her lips +moved silently, but with rapidity, as if she repeated to herself +something of almost tragic import. Florence had recently read a +newspaper account of the earlier struggles of a now successful actress: +As a girl, this determined genius went about the streets repeating the +lines of various roles to herself--constantly rehearsing, in fact, upon +the public thoroughfares, so carried away was she by her intended +profession and so set upon becoming famous. This was what Florence was +doing now, except that she rehearsed no rôle in particular, and the +words formed by her lips were neither sequential nor consequential, +being, in fact, the following: "Oh, the darkness ... never, never, +never! ... you couldn't ... he wouldn't ... Ah, mother! ... Where the +river swings so slowly ... Ah, _no_!" Nevertheless, she was doing all +she could for the elderly stranger, and as they came closer, +encountered, and passed on, she had the definite impression that he did +indeed take her to be a struggling young actress who would some day be +famous--and then he might see her on a night of triumph and recognize +her as the girl he had passed on the street, that day, so long ago! But +by this time, the episode was concluded; the footsteps of him for whom +she was performing had become inaudible behind her, and she began to +forget him; which was as well, since he went out of her life then, and +the two never met again. The struggling young actress disappeared, and +the previous superiority was resumed. It became elaborately emphasized +as a boy of her own age emerged from the "side yard" of a house at the +next corner and came into her view. + +The boy caught sight of Florence in plenty of time to observe this +emphasis, which was all too obviously produced by her sensations at +sight of himself; and, after staring at her for a moment, he allowed his +own expression to become one of painful fatigue. Then he slowly swung +about, as if to return into that side-yard obscurity whence he had come; +making clear by this pantomime that he reciprocally found the sight of +her insufferable. In truth, he did; for he was not only her neighbour +but her first-cousin as well, and a short month older, though taller +than she--tall beyond his years, taller than need be, in fact, and still +in knickerbockers. However, his parents may not have been mistaken in +the matter, for it was plain that he looked as well in knickerbockers as +he could have looked in anything. He had no visible beauty, though it +was possible to hope for him that by the time he reached manhood he +would be more tightly put together than he seemed at present; and indeed +he himself appeared to have some consciousness of insecurity in the +fastenings of his members, for it was his habit (observable even now as +he turned to avoid Miss Atwater) to haul at himself, to sag and hitch +about inside his clothes, and to corkscrew his neck against the swathing +of his collar. And yet there were times, as the most affectionate of his +aunts had remarked, when, for a moment or so, he appeared to be almost +knowing; and, seeing him walking before her, she had almost taken him +for a young man; and sometimes he said something in a settled kind of +way that was almost adult. This fondest aunt went on to add, however, +that of course, the next minute after one of these fleeting spells, he +was sure to be overtaken by his more accustomed moods, when his eye +would again fix itself with fundamental aimlessness upon nothing. In +brief, he was at the age when he spent most of his time changing his +mind about things, or, rather, when his mind spent most of its time +changing him about things; and this was what happened now. + +After turning his back on the hateful sight well known to him as his +cousin Florence at her freshest, he turned again, came forth from his +place of residence, and joining her upon the pavement, walked beside +her, accompanying her without greeting or inquiry. His expression of +fatigue, indicating her insufferableness, had not abated; neither had +her air of being a duchess looking at bugs. + +"You _are_ a pretty one!" he said; but his intention was perceived to be +far indeed from his words. + +"Oh, _am_ I, Mister Herbert Atwater?" Florence responded. "I'm _awf'ly_ +glad _you_ think so!" + +"I mean about what Henry Rooter said," her cousin explained. "Henry +Rooter told me he made you believe you were goin' to have a grapevine +climbin' up from inside of you because you ate some grapes with the +seeds in 'em. He says you thought you'd haf to get a carpenter to build +a little arbour so you could swallow it for the grapevine to grow on. He +says----" + +Florence had become an angry pink. "That little Henry Rooter is the +worst falsehooder in this town; and I never believed a word he said in +his life! Anyway, what affairs is it of yours, I'd like you to please be +so kind and obliging for to tell me, Mister Herbert Illingsworth +Atwater, Exquire!" + +"What affairs?" Herbert echoed in plaintive satire. "What affairs is it +of mine? That's just the trouble! It's _got_ to be my affairs because +you're my first-cousin. My goodness _I_ didn't have anything to do with +you being my cousin, did I?" + +"Well, _I_ didn't!" + +"That's neither here nor there," said Herbert. "What _I_ want to know +is, how long you goin' to keep this up?" + +"Keep what up?" + +"I mean, how do you think I like havin' somebody like Henry Rooter +comin' round me tellin' what they made a cousin of mine believe, and +more than thirteen years old, goin' on fourteen ever since about a month +ago!" + +Florence shouted: "Oh, for goodness' _sakes_!" then moderated the volume +but not the intensity of her tone. "Kindly reply to _this_. Whoever +asked you to come and take a walk with me to-day?" + +Herbert protested to heaven. "Why, I wouldn't take a walk with you if +every policeman in this town tried to make me! I wouldn't take a walk +with you if they brought a million horses and--" + +"I wouldn't take a walk with _you_," Florence interrupted, "if they +brought a million million horses and cows and camels and--" + +"No, you wouldn't," Herbert said. "Not if _I_ could help it!" + +But by this time Florence had regained her derisive superciliousness. +"There's a few things you _could_ help," she said; and the incautious +Herbert challenged her with the inquiry she desired. + +"What could I help?" + +"I should think you could help bumpin' into me every second when I'm +takin' a walk on my own affairs, and walk along on your own side of the +sidewalk, anyway, and not be so awkward a person has to keep trippin' +over you about every time I try to take a step!" + +Herbert withdrew temporarily to his own side of the pavement. "Who?" he +demanded hotly. "_Who_ says I'm awkward?" + +"All the fam'ly," Miss Atwater returned, with a light but infuriating +laugh. "You bump into 'em sideways and keep gettin' half in front of +'em whenever they try to take a step, and then when it looks as if +they'd pretty near fall over you--" + +"You look here!" + +"And besides all that," Florence went on, undisturbed, "why, you +generally keep kind of snorting, or somep'n, and then making all those +noises in your neck. You were doin' it at grandpa's last Sunday dinner +because every time there wasn't anybody talking, why, everybody could +hear you plain as everything, and you ought to've seen grandpa look at +you! He looked as if you'd set him crazy if you didn't quit that +chuttering and cluckling!" + +Herbert's expression partook of a furious astonishment. "I don't any +such thing!" he burst out. "I guess I wouldn't talk much about last +Sunday dinner, if I was _you_ neither. Who got caught eatin' off the ice +cream freezer spoon out on the back porch, if you please? Yes, and I +guess you better study a little grammar, while you're about it. There's +no such words in the English language as 'cluckling' and 'chuttering.'" + +"I don't care what language they're in," the stubborn Florence insisted. +"It's what you do, just the same: cluckling and chuttering!" + +Herbert's manners went to pieces. "Oh, dry up!" he bellowed. + +"That's a _nice_ way to talk! So gentlemanly----" + +"Well, you try be a lady, then!" + +"'Try!'" Florence echoed. "Well, after that, I'll just politely thank you +to dry up, yourself, Mister Herbert Atwater!" + +At this Herbert became moody. "Oh, pfuff!" he said; and for some moments +walked in silence. Then he asked: "Where you goin', Florence?" + +The damsel paused at a gate opening upon a broad lawn evenly divided by +a brick walk that led to the white-painted wooden veranda of an ample +and honest old brick house. "Righ' there to grandpa's, since you haf to +know!" she said. "And thank you for your delightful comp'ny which I +never asked for, if you care to hear the truth for once in your life!" + +Herbert meditated. "Well, I got nothin' else to do, as I know of," he +said. "Let's go around to the back door so's to see if Kitty Silver's +got anything." + +Then, not amiably, but at least inconsequently, they passed inside the +gate together. Their brows were fairly unclouded; no special marks of +conflict remained; for they had met and conversed in a manner customary +rather than unusual. + +They followed a branch of the brick walk and passed round the south side +of the house, where a small orchard of apple-trees showed generous +promise. Hundreds of gay little round apples among the leaves glanced +the high lights to and fro on their polished green cheeks as a breeze +hopped through the yard, while the shade beneath trembled with +coquettishly moving disks of sunshine like golden plates. A pattern of +orange light and blue shadow was laid like a fanciful plaid over the +lattice and the wide, slightly sagging steps of the elderly "back +porch"; and here, taking her ease upon these steps, sat a middle-aged +coloured woman of continental proportions. Beyond all contest, she was +the largest coloured woman in that town, though her height was not +unusual, and she had a rather small face. That is to say, as Florence +had once explained to her, her face was small but the other parts of her +head were terribly wide. Beside her was a circular brown basket, of a +type suggesting arts-and-crafts; it was made with a cover, and there was +a bow of brown silk upon the handle. + +"What you been up to to-day, Kitty Silver?" Herbert asked genially. +"Any thing special?" For this was the sequel to his "so's we can see if +Kitty Silver's got anything." But Mrs. Silver discouraged him. + +"No, I ain't," she replied. "I ain't, an' I ain't goin' to." + +"I thought you pretty near always made cookies on Tuesday," he said. + +"Well, I ain't _this_ Tuesday," said Kitty Silver. "I ain't, and I ain't +goin' to. You might dess well g'on home ri' now. I ain't, an' I ain't +goin' to." + +Docility was no element of Mrs. Silver's present mood, and Herbert's +hopeful eyes became blank, as his gaze wandered from her head to the +brown basket beside her. The basket did not interest him; the ribbon +gave it a quality almost at once excluding it from his consciousness. On +the contrary, the ribbon had drawn Florence's attention, and she stared +at the basket eagerly. + +"What you got there, Kitty Silver?" she asked. + +"What I got where?" + +"In that basket." + +"Nemmine what I got 'n 'at basket," said Mrs. Silver crossly, but added +inconsistently: "I dess _wish_ somebody ast me what I got 'n 'at basket! +_I_ ain't no cat-washwoman fer _no_body!" + +"Cats!" Florence cried. "Are there cats in that basket, Kitty Silver? +Let's look at 'em!" + +The lid of the basket, lifted by the eager, slim hand of Miss Atwater, +rose to disclose two cats of an age slightly beyond kittenhood. They +were of a breed unfamiliar to Florence, and she did not obey the impulse +that usually makes a girl seize upon any young cat at sight and caress +it. Instead, she looked at them with some perplexity, and after a moment +inquired: "Are they really cats, Kitty Silver, do you b'lieve?" + +"Cats what she done tole _me_," the coloured woman replied. "You betta +shet lid down, you don' wan' 'em run away, 'cause they ain't yoosta +livin' 'n 'at basket yit; an' no matter whut kine o' cats they is or +they isn't, _one_ thing true: they _wile_ cats!" + +"But what makes their hair so long?" Florence asked. "I never saw cats +with hair a couple inches long like that." + +"Miss Julia say they Berjum cats." + +"What?" + +"I ain't tellin' no mo'n she tole me. You' aunt say they Berjum cats." + +"Persian," said Herbert. "That's nothing. I've seen plenty Persian cats. +My goodness, I should think you'd seen a Persian cat at yow age. +Thirteen goin' on fourteen!" + +"Well, I _have_ seen Persian cats plenty times, I guess," Florence said. +"I thought Persian cats were white, and these are kind of gray." + +At this Kitty Silver permitted herself to utter an embittered laugh. +"You wrong!" she said. "These cats, they white; yes'm!" + +"Why, they aren't either! They're gray as----" + +"No'm," said Mrs. Silver. "They plum spang white, else you' Aunt Julia +gone out her mind; me or her, one. I say: 'Miss Julia, them gray cats.' +'White,' she say. 'Them two cats is white cats,' she say. 'Them cats +been crated,' she say. 'They been livin' in a crate on a dirty express +train fer th'ee fo' days,' she say. 'Them cats gone got all smoke' up +thataway,' she say. 'No'm, Miss Julia,' I say, 'No'm, Miss Julia, they +ain't _no_ train,' I say, 'they ain't _no_ train kin take an' smoke two +white cats up like these cats so's they hair is gray clean plum up to +they hide.' You betta put the lid down, I tell you!" + +Florence complied, just in time to prevent one of the young cats from +leaping out of the basket, but she did not fasten the cover. Instead, +she knelt, and, allowing a space of half an inch to intervene between +the basket and the rim of the cover, peered within at the occupants. "I +believe the one to this side's a he," she said. "It's got greenisher +eyes than the other one; that's the way you can always tell. I b'lieve +this one's a he and the other one's a she." + +"I ain't stedyin' about no he an' she!" + +"What did Aunt Julia say?" Florence asked. + +"Whut you' Aunt Julia say when?" + +"When you told her these were gray cats and not white cats?" + +"She tole me take an' clean 'em," said Kitty Silver. "She say, she say +she want 'em clean' up spick an' spang befo' Mista Sammerses git here to +call an' see 'em." And she added morosely: "I ain't no cat-washwoman!" + +"She wants you to bathe 'em?" Florence inquired, but Kitty Silver did +not reply immediately. She breathed audibly, with a strange effect upon +vasty outward portions of her, and then gave an incomparably dulcet +imitation of her own voice, as she interpreted her use of it during the +recent interview. + +'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say--'Miss Julia, ma'am, my bizniss cookin' +vittles,' I say. 'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I tole her, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, I +cook fer you' pa, an' cook fer you' fam'ly year in, year out, an' I hope +an' pursue, whiles some might make complaint, I take whatever I find, +an' I leave whatever I find. No'm, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say--'no'm, +Miss Julia, ma'am, I ain't no cat-washwoman!'" + +"What did Aunt Julia say then?" + +"She say, she say: 'Di'n I tell you take them cats downstairs an' clean +'em?' she say. I ain't _no_body's cat-washwoman!" + +Florence was becoming more and more interested. "I should think that +would be kind of fun," she said. "To be a cat-washwoman. _I_ wouldn't +mind that at all: I'd kind of like it. I expect if you was a +cat-washwoman, Kitty Silver, you'd be pretty near the only one was in +the world. I wonder if they do have 'em any place, cat-washwomen." + +"I don' know if they got 'em some place," said Kitty Silver, "an' I +don't know if they ain't got 'em no place; but I bet if they do got 'em +any place, it's some place else from here!" + +Florence looked thoughtful. "Who was it you said is going to call this +evening and see 'em?" + +"Mista Sammerses." + +"She means Newland Sanders," Herbert explained. "Aunt Julia says all her +callers that ever came to this house in their lives, Kitty Silver never +got the name right of a single one of 'em!" + +"Newland Sanders is the one with the little moustache," Florence said. +"Is that the one you mean by 'Sammerses,' Kitty Silver?" + +"Mista Sammerses who you' Aunt Julia tole _me_," Mrs. Silver responded +stubbornly. "He ain't got no moustache whut you kin look at--dess some +blackish whut don' reach out mo'n halfway todes the bofe ends of his +mouf." + +"Well," said Florence, "was Mr. Sanders the one gave her these Persian +cats, Kitty Silver?" + +"I reckon." Mrs. Silver breathed audibly again, and her expression was +strongly resentful. "When she go fer a walk 'long with any them callers +she stop an' make a big fuss over any li'l ole dog or cat an' I don't +know whut all, an' after they done buy her all the candy from all the +candy sto's in the livin' worl', an' all the flowers from all the +greenhouses they is, it's a wonder some of 'em ain't sen' her a mule fer +a present, 'cause seem like to me they done sen' her mos' every kine of +animal they is! Firs' come Airydale dog you' grampaw tuck an' give away +to the milkman; 'n'en come two mo' pups; I don't know whut they is, +'cause they bofe had dess sense enough to run away after you' grampaw +try learn 'em how much he ain't like no pups; an' nex' come them two +canaries hangin' in the dinin'-room now, an' nex'--di'n' I holler so's +they could a-hear me all way down town? Di'n' I walk in my kitchen one +mawnin' right slam in the face of ole warty allagatuh three foot long +a-lookin' at me over the aidge o' my kitchen sink?" + +"It was Mr. Clairdyce gave her that," said Florence. "He'd been to +Florida; but she didn't care for it very much, and she didn't make any +fuss at all when grandpa got the florist to take it. Grandpa hates +animals." + +"He don' hate 'em no wuss'n whut I do," said Kitty Silver. "An' he ain't +got to ketch 'em lookin' at him outen of his kitchen sink--an' he ain't +fixin' to be no cat-washwoman neither!" + +"_Are_ you fixing to?" Florence asked quickly. "You don't need to do it, +Kitty Silver. I'd be willing to, and so'd Herbert. Wouldn't you, +Herbert?" + +Herbert deliberated within himself, then brightened. "I'd just as soon," +he said. "I'd kind of like to see how a cat acts when it's getting +bathed." + +"I think it would be spesh'ly inter'sting to wash Persian cats," +Florence added, with increasing enthusiasm. "I never washed a cat in my +life." + +"Neither have I," said Herbert. "I always thought they did it +themselves." + +Kitty Silver sniffed. "Ain't I says so to you' Aunt Julia? She done tole +me, 'No,' she say. She say, she say Berjum cats ain't wash they self; +they got to take an' git somebody else to wash 'em!" + +"If we're goin' to bathe 'em," said Florence, "we ought to know their +names, so's we can tell 'em to hold still and everything. You can't do +much with an animal unless you know their name. Did Aunt Julia tell you +these cats' names, Kitty Silver?" + +"She say they name Feef an' Meemuh. Yes'm! Feef an' Meemuh! Whut kine o' +name is Feef an' Meemuh fer cat name!" + +"Oh, those are lovely names!" Florence assured her, and, turning to +Herbert, explained: "She means Fifi and Mimi." + +"Feef an' Meemuh," said Kitty Silver. "Them name don' suit me, an' them +long-hair cats don' suit me neither." Here she lifted the cover of the +basket a little, and gazed nervously within. "Look at there!" she said. +"Look at the way they lookin' at me! Don't you look at _me_ thataway, +you Feef an' Meemuh!" She clapped the lid down and fastened it. "Fixin' +to jump out an' grab me, was you?" + +"I guess, maybe," said Florence, "maybe I better go ask Aunt Julia if I +and Herbert can't wash 'em. I guess I better go _ask_ her anyhow." And +she ran up the steps and skipped into the house by way of the kitchen. A +moment later she appeared in the open doorway of a room upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +It was a pretty room, lightly scented with the pink geraniums and blue +lobelia and coral fuchsias that poised, urgent with colour, in the +window-boxes at the open windows. Sunshine paused delicately just +inside, where forms of pale-blue birds and lavender flowers curled up +and down the cretonne curtains; and a tempered, respectful light fell +upon a cushioned _chaise longue_; for there fluffily reclined, in +garments of tender fabric and gentle colours, the prettiest +twenty-year-old girl in that creditably supplied town. + +It must be said that no stranger would have taken Florence at first +glance to be her niece, though everybody admitted that Florence's hair +was pretty. ("I'll say _that_ for her," was the family way of putting +it.). Florence did not care for her hair herself; it was dark and thick +and long, like her Aunt Julia's; but Florence--even in the realistic +presence of a mirror--preferred to think of herself as an ashen blonde, +and also as about a foot taller than she was. Persistence kept this +picture habitually in her mind, which, of course, helps to explain her +feeling that she was justified in wearing that manner of +superciliousness deplored by her mother. More middle-aged gentlemen than +are suspected believe that they look like the waspen youths in the +magazine advertisements of clothes; and this impression of theirs +accounts (as with Florence) for much that is seemingly inexplicable in +their behaviour. + +Florence's Aunt Julia was reading an exquisitely made little book, which +bore her initials stamped in gold upon the cover; and it had evidently +reached her by a recent delivery of the mail, for wrappings bearing +cancelled stamps lay upon the floor beside the _chaise longue_. It was a +special sort of book, since its interior was not printed, but all +laboriously written with pen and ink--poems, in truth, containing more +references to a lady named Julia than have appeared in any other poems +since Herrick's. So warmly interested in the reading as to be rather +pink, though not always with entire approval, this Julia nevertheless, +at the sound of footsteps, closed the book and placed it beneath one of +the cushions assisting the _chaise longue_ to make her position a +comfortable one. Her greeting was not enthusiastic. + +"What do you want, Florence?" + +"I was going to ask you if Herbert and me--I mean: Was it Noble Dill +gave you Fifi and Mimi, Aunt Julia?" + +"Noble Dill? No." + +"I wish it was," Florence said. "I'd like these cats better if they were +from Noble Dill." + +"Why?" Julia inquired. "Why are you so partial to Mr. Noble Dill?" + +"I think he's _so_ much the most inter'sting looking of all that come to +see you. Are you _sure_ it wasn't Noble Dill gave you these cats, Aunt +Julia?" + +A look of weariness became plainly visible upon Miss Julia Atwater's +charming face. "I do wish you'd hurry and grow up, Florence," she said. + +"I do, too! What for, Aunt Julia?" + +"So there'd be somebody else in the family of an eligible age. I really +think it's an outrageous position to be in," Julia continued, with +languid vehemence--"to be the only girl between thirteen and forty-one +in a large connection of near relatives, including children, who all +seem to think they haven't anything to think of but Who comes to see +her, and Who came to see her yesterday, and Who was here the day before, +and Who's coming to-morrow, and Who's she going to marry! You really +ought to grow up and help me out, because I'm getting tired of it. No. +It wasn't Noble Dill but Mr. Newland Sanders that sent me Fifi and +Mimi--and I want you to keep away from 'em." + +"Why?" asked Florence. + +"Because they're very rare cats, and you aren't ordinarily a very +careful sort of person, Florence, if you don't mind my saying so. +Besides, if I let you go near them, the next thing Herbert would be over +here mussing around, and he can't go near _anything_ without ruining it! +It's just in him; he can't help it." + +Florence looked thoughtful for a brief moment; then she asked: "Did +Newland Sanders send 'em with the names already to them?" + +"No," said Julia, emphasizing the patience of her tone somewhat. "I +named them after they got here. Mr. Sanders hasn't seen them yet. He had +them shipped to me. He's coming this evening. Anything more to-day, +Florence?" + +"Well, I was thinking," said Florence. "What do you think grandpa'll +think about these cats?" + +"I don't believe there'll be any more outrages," Julia returned, and her +dark eyes showed a moment's animation. "I told him at breakfast that +the Reign of Terror was ended, and he and everybody else had to keep +away from Fifi and Mimi. Is that about all, Florence?" + +"You let Kitty Silver go near 'em, though. She says she's fixing to wash +'em." + +Julia smiled faintly. "I thought she would! I had to go so far as to +tell her that as long as I'm housekeeper in my father's house she'd do +what I say or find some other place. She behaved outrageously and +pretended to believe the natural colour of Fifi and Mimi is gray!" + +"I expect," said Florence, after pondering seriously for a little +while--"I expect it would take quite some time to dry them." + +"No doubt. But I'd rather you didn't assist. I'd rather you weren't even +around looking on, Florence." + +A shade fell upon her niece's face at this. "Why, Aunt Julia, I couldn't +do any harm to Fifi and Mimi just _lookin'_ at 'em, could I?" + +Julia laughed. "That's the trouble; you never do 'just look' at anything +you're interested in, and, if you don't mind my saying so, you've got +rather a record, dear! Now, don't you care: you can find lots of other +pleasant things to do at home--or over at Herbert's, or Aunt Fanny's. +You run along now and----" + +"Well----" Florence said, moving as if to depart. + +"You might as well go out by the front door, child," Julia suggested, +with a little watchful urgency. "You come over some day when Fifi and +Mimi have got used to the place, and you can look at them all you want +to." + +"Well, I just----" + +But as Florence seemed disposed still to linger, her aunt's manner +became more severe, and she half rose from her reclining position. + +"No, I really mean it! Fifi and Mimi are royal-bred Persian cats with a +wonderful pedigree, and I don't know how much trouble and expense it +cost Mr. Sanders to get them for me. They're entirely different from +ordinary cats; they're very fine and queer, and if anything happens to +them, after all the trouble papa's made over other presents I've had, +I'll go straight to a sanitarium! No, Florence, you keep away from the +kitchen to-day, and I'd like to hear the front door as you go out." + +"Well," said Florence; "I do wish if these cats are as fine as all that, +it was Noble Dill that gave 'em to you. I'd like these cats lots better +if _he_ gave 'em to you, wouldn't you?" + +"No, I wouldn't." + +"Well----" Florence said again, and departed. + +Twenty is an unsuspicious age, except when it fears that its dignity or +grace may be threatened from without; and it might have been a "bad +sign" in revelation of Julia Atwater's character if she had failed to +accept the muffled metallic clash of the front door's closing as a token +that her niece had taken a complete departure for home. A supplemental +confirmation came a moment later, fainter but no less conclusive: the +distant slamming of the front gate; and it made a clear picture of an +obedient Florence on her homeward way. Peace came upon Julia: she read +in her book, while at times she dropped a languid, graceful arm, and, +with the pretty hand at the slimmer end of it, groped in a dark shelter +beneath her couch to make a selection, merely by her well-experienced +sense of touch, from a frilled white box that lay in concealment there. +Then, bringing forth a crystalline violet become scented sugar, or a bit +of fruit translucent in hardened sirup, she would delicately set it on +the way to that attractive dissolution hoped for it by the wistful +donor--and all without removing her shadowy eyes from the little volume +and its patient struggle for dignified rhymes with "Julia." Florence +was no longer in her beautiful relative's thoughts. + +Florence was idly in the thoughts, however, of Mrs. Balche, the +next-door neighbour to the south. Happening to glance from a bay-window, +she negligently marked how the child walked to the front gate, opened +it, paused for a moment's meditation, then hurled the gate to a vigorous +closure, herself remaining within its protection. "Odd!" Mrs. Balche +murmured. + +Having thus eloquently closed the gate, Florence slowly turned and moved +toward the rear of the house, quickening her steps as she went, until at +a run she disappeared from the scope of Mrs. Balche's gaze, cut off by +the intervening foliage of Mr. Atwater's small orchard. Mrs. Balche felt +no great interest; nevertheless, she paused at the sound of a boy's +voice, half husky, half shrill, in an early stage of change. "What she +say, Flor'nce? D'she say we could?" But there came a warning "_Hush +up_!" from Florence, and then, in a lowered tone, the boy's voice said: +"Look here; these are mighty funny-actin' cats. I think they're kind of +crazy or somep'n. Kitty Silver's fixed a washtub full o' suds for us." + +Mrs. Balche was reminded of her own cat, and went to give it a little +cream. Mrs. Balche was a retired widow, without children, and too timid +to like dogs; but after a suitable interval, following the loss of her +husband, she accepted from a friend the gift of a white kitten, and +named it Violet. It may be said that Mrs. Balche, having few interests +in life, and being of a sequestering nature, lived for Violet, and that +so much devotion was not good for the latter's health. In his youth, +after having shown sufficient spirit to lose an eye during a sporting +absence of three nights and days, Violet was not again permitted enough +freedom of action to repeat this disloyalty; though, now, in his +advanced middle-age, he had been fed to such a state that he seldom +cared to move, other than by a slow, sneering wavement of the tail when +friendly words were addressed to him; and consequently, as he seemed +beyond all capacity or desire to run away, or to run at all, Mrs. Balche +allowed him complete liberty of action. + +She found him asleep upon her "back porch," and placed beside him a +saucer of cream, the second since his luncheon. Then she watched him +affectionately as he opened his eye, turned toward the saucer his noble +Henry-the-Eighth head with its great furred jowls, and began the process +of rising for more food, which was all that ever seemed even feebly to +rouse his mind. When he had risen, there was little space between him +anywhere and the floor. + +Violet took his cream without enthusiasm, pausing at times and turning +his head away. In fact, he persisted only out of an incorrigible +sensuality, and finally withdrew a pace or two, leaving creamy traces +still upon the saucer. With a multitude of fond words his kind mistress +drew his attention to these, whereupon, making a visible effort, he +returned and disposed of them. + +"Dat's de 'itty darlin'," she said, stooping to stroke him. "Eat um all +up nice clean. Dood for ole sweet sin!" She continued to stroke him, and +Violet half closed his eye, but not with love or serenity, for he +simultaneously gestured with his tail, meaning to say: "Oh, do take your +hands off o' me!" Then he opened the eye and paid a little attention to +sounds from the neighbouring yard. A high fence, shrubberies, and +foliage concealed that yard from the view of Violet, but the sounds were +eloquent to him, since they were those made by members of his own +general species when threatening atrocities. The accent may have been +foreign, but Violet caught perfectly the sense of what was being said, +and instinctively he muttered reciprocal curses within himself. + +"What a matta, honey?" his companion inquired sympathetically. "Ess, bad +people f'ighten poor Violet!" + +From beyond the fence came the murmurings of a boy and a girl in hushed +but urgent conversation; and with these sounds there mingled watery +agitations, splashings and the like, as well as those low vocalizings +that Violet had recognized; but suddenly there were muffled explosions, +like fireworks choked in feather beds; and the human voices grew +uncontrollably somewhat louder, so that their import was +distinguishable. "_Ow!_" "Hush up, can't you? You want to bring the +whole town to--_ow!_" "Hush up yourself!" "Oh, _goodness_!" "Look out! +Don't let her----" "Well, look what she's _doin'_ to me, can't you?" +"For Heavenses' sakes, catch holt and----_Ow!_" + +Then came a husky voice, inevitably that of a horrified coloured person +hastening from a distance: "Oh, my soul!" There was a scurrying, and the +girl was heard in furious yet hoarsely guarded vehemence: "Bring the +clo'es prop! Bring the clo'es prop! We can poke that one down from the +garage, anyway. _Oh, my goodness, look at 'er go!_" + +Mrs. Balche shook her head. "Naughty children!" she said, as she picked +up the saucer and went to the kitchen door, which she held open for +Violet to enter. "Want to come with mamma?" + +But Violet had lost even the faint interest in life he had shown a few +moments earlier. He settled himself to another stupor in the sun. + +"Well, well," Mrs. Balche said indulgently. "Afterwhile shall have some +more nice keem." + + * * * * * + +Sunset was beginning to be hinted, two hours later, when, in another +quarter of the town, a little girl of seven or eight, at play on the +domestic side of an alley gate, became aware of an older girl regarding +her fixedly over the top of the gate. The little girl felt embarrassed +and paused in her gayeties, enfolding in her arms her pet and playmate. +"Howdy' do," said the stranger, in a serious tone. "What'll you take for +that cat?" + +The little girl made no reply, and the stranger, opening the gate, came +into the yard. She looked weary, rather bedraggled, yet hurried: her air +was predominantly one of anxiety. "I'll give you a quarter for that +cat," she said. "I want an all-white cat, but this one's only got that +one gray spot over its eye, and I don't believe there's an all-white +cat left in town, leastways that anybody's willing to part with. I'll +give you twenty-five cents for it. I haven't got it with me, but I'll +promise to give it to you day after to-morrow." + +The little girl still made no reply, but continued to stare, her eyes +widening, and the caller spoke with desperation. + +"See here," she said, "I _got_ to have a whitish cat! That'n isn't worth +more'n a quarter, but I'll give you thirty-five cents for her, money +down, day after to-morrow." + +At this, the frightened child set the cat upon the ground and fled into +the house. Florence Atwater was left alone; that is to say, she was the +only human being in the yard, or in sight. Nevertheless, a human voice +spoke, not far behind her. It came through a knot-hole in the fence, and +it was a voice almost of passion. + +"_You grab it!_" + +Florence stood in silence, motionless; there was a solemnity about her. +The voice exhorted. "My goodness!" it said. "She didn't say she +_wouldn't_ sell it, did she? You can bring her the money like you said +you would, can't you? I got _mine_, didn't I, almost without any +trouble at all! My Heavens! Ain't Kitty Silver pretty near crazy? Just +think of the position we've put her into! I tell you, you _got_ to!" + +But now Florence moved. She moved slowly at first: then with more +decision and rapidity. + + * * * * * + +That evening's dusk had deepened into blue night when the two cousins, +each with a scant, uneasy dinner eaten, met by appointment in the alley +behind their mutual grandfather's place of residence, and, having +climbed the back fence, approached the kitchen. Suddenly Florence lifted +her right hand, and took between thumb and forefinger a lock of hair +upon the back of Herbert's head. + +"Well, for Heavenses' sakes!" he burst out, justifiably protesting. + +"Hush!" Florence warned him. "Kitty Silver's talkin' to somebody in +there. It might be Aunt Julia! C'm'ere!" + +She led him to a position beneath an open window of the kitchen. Here +they sat upon the ground, with their backs against the stone foundation +of the house, and listened to voices and the clink of dishes being +washed. + +"She's got another ole coloured darky woman in there with her," said +Florence. "It's a woman belongs to her church and comes to see her 'most +every evening. Listen; she's telling her about it. I bet we could get +the real truth of it maybe better this way than if we went in and asked +her right out. Anyway, it isn't eavesdropping if you listen when people +are talkin' about you, yourself. It's only wrong when it isn't any of +your own bus--" + +"For Heavenses' sakes hush _up_!" her cousin remonstrated. "Listen!" + +"'No'm, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say"--thus came the voice of Mrs. +Silver--"'no'm, Miss Julia, ma'am. Them the same two cats you han' me, +Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say. 'Leas'wise,' I say, 'them the two same cats +whut was in nat closed-up brown basket when I open it up an' take an' +fix to wash 'em. Somebody might 'a' took an' change 'em 'fo' they got to +_me_,' I say, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, but all the change happen to 'em sence +they been in charge of _me_, that's the gray whut come off 'em whiles I +washin' 'em an' dryin' 'em in corn meal and flannel. I dunno how much +_washin'_ 'em change 'em, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say, ''cause how much +they change or ain't change, that's fer you to say and me not to jedge,' +I say." + +"Lan' o' misery!" cried the visitor, chuckling delightedly. "I wonder +how you done kep' you face, Miss Kitty. What Miss Julia say?" + +A loud, irresponsible outburst of mirth on the part of Mrs. Silver +followed. When she could again control herself, she replied more +definitely. "Miss Julia say, she say she ain't never hear no sech +outragelous sto'y in her life! She _tuck_ on! Hallelujah! An' all time, +Miz Johnson, I give you my word, I stannin' there holdin' nat basket, +carryin' on up hill an' down dale how them the same two Berjum cats +Mista Sammerses sen' her: an' trouble enough dess ten'in' to that +basket, lemme say to you, Miz Johnson, as anybody kin tell you whutever +tried to take care o' two cats whut ain't yoosta each other in the same +basket. An' every blessed minute I stannin' there, can't I hear that ole +Miz Blatch nex' do', out in her back yod an' her front yod, an' plum out +in the street, hollerin': 'Kitty? Kitty? Kitty?' '_Yes!_' Miss Julia +say, she say, 'Fine sto'y!' she say. 'Them two cats you claim my Berjum +cats, they got short hair, an' they ain't the same age an' they ain't +even nowheres near the same _size_,' she say. 'One of 'em's as fat as +_bofe_ them Berjum cats,' she say: 'an' it's on'y got one eye,' she say. +'Well, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say--'_one_ thing; they come out white, +all 'cept dess around that there skinnier one's eye,' I say: 'dess the +same you tell me they goin' to,' I say. 'You right about _that_ much, +ma'am!' I say." + +"Oh, me!" Mrs. Johnson moaned, worn with applausive laughter. "What she +respon' then?" + +"I set that basket down," said Kitty Silver, "an' I start fer the do', +whiles she unfasten the lid fer to take one mo' look at 'em, I reckon: +but open window mighty close by, an' nat skinny white cat make one jump, +an' after li'l while I lookin' out thishere window an' see that ole fat +Miz Blatch's tom, waddlin' crost the yod todes home." + +"What she doin' now?" Mrs. Johnson inquired. + +"Who? Miss Julia? She settin' out on the front po'che talkin' to Mista +Sammerses." + +"My name! How she goin' fix it with _him_, after all thishere +dishcumaraddle?" + +"Who? Miss Julia? Leave her alone, honey! She take an' begin talk so +fas' an' talk so sweet, no young man ain't goin' to ricklect he ever +give her no cats, not till he's gone an' halfway home! But I ain't tole +you the en' of it, Miz Johnson, an' the en' of it's the bes' part whut +happen." + +"What's that, Miss Kitty?" + +"Look!" said Mrs. Silver. "Mista Atwater gone in yonder, after I come +out, an' ast whut all them goin's-on about. Well suh, an' di'n' he come +walkin' out in my kitchen an' slip me two bright spang new silbuh +dolluhs right in my han'?" + +"My name!" + +"Yessuh!" said Mrs. Silver triumphantly. And in the darkness outside the +window Florence drew a deep breath. "I'd of felt just awful about this," +she said, "if Noble Dill had given Aunt Julia those Persian cats." + +"Why?" Herbert inquired, puzzled by her way of looking at things. "I +don't see why it would make it any worse _who_ gave 'em to her." + +"Well, it would," Florence said. "But anyway, I think we did rather +wrong. Did you notice what Kitty Silver said about what grandpa did?" + +"Well?" + +"I think we ought to tell him our share of it," Florence returned +thoughtfully. "I don't want to go to bed to-night with all this on my +mind, and I'm going to find grandpa right now and confess every bit of +it to him." + +Herbert hopefully decided to go with her. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +Julia, like Herbert, had been a little puzzled by Florence's expression +of a partiality for the young man, Noble Dill; it was not customary for +anybody to confess a weakness for him. However, the aunt dismissed the +subject from her mind, as other matters pressed sharply upon her +attention; she had more worries than most people guessed. + +The responsibilities of a lady who is almost officially the prettiest +person in a town persistently claiming sixty-five thousand inhabitants +are often heavier than the world suspects, and there were moments when +Julia found the position so trying that she would have preferred to +resign. She was a warm-hearted, appreciative girl, naturally unable to +close her eyes to sterling merit wherever it appeared: and it was not +without warrant that she complained of her relatives. The whole family, +including the children, she said, regaled themselves with her private +affairs as a substitute for theatre-going. But one day, a week after the +irretrievable disappearance of Fifi and Mimi, she went so far as to +admit a note of unconscious confession into her protest that she was +getting pretty tired of being mistaken for a three-ring circus! Such was +her despairing expression, and the confession lies in her use of the +word "three." + +The misleading moderation of "three" was pointed out to her by her +niece, whose mind at once violently seized upon the word and divested it +of context--a process both feminine and instinctive, for this child was +already beginning to be feminine. "Three!" she said. "Why, Aunt Julia, +you must be crazy! There's Newland Sanders and Noble Dill and that old +widower, Ridgley, that grandpa hates so, and Mister Clairdyce and George +Plum and the two new ones from out of town that Aunt Fanny Patterson +said you had at church Sunday morning--Herbert said he didn't like one +of 'em's looks much, Aunt Julia. And there's Parker Kent Usher and that +funny-lookin' one with the little piece of whiskers under his underlip +that Noble Dill got so mad at when they were calling, and Uncle Joe +laughed about, and I don't know who all! Anyhow, there's an awful lot +more than three, Aunt Julia." + +Julia looked down with little favour upon the talkative caller. Florence +was seated upon the shady steps of the veranda, and Julia, dressed for a +walk, occupied a wicker chair above her. "Julia, dressed for a +walk"--how scant the words! It was a summer walk that Julia had dressed +for: and she was all too dashingly a picture of coolness on a hot day: a +brunette in murmurous white, though her little hat was a film of +blackest blue, and thus also in belt and parasol she had almost matched +the colour of her eyes. Probably no human-made fabric could have come +nearer to matching them, though she had once met a great traveller--at +least he went far enough in his search for comparisons--who told her +that the Czarina of Russia had owned a deep sapphire of precisely the +colour, but the Czarina's was the only sapphire yet discovered that had +it. One of Newland Sanders's longest Poems-to-Julia was entitled "Black +Sapphires." + +Julia's harmonies in black sapphire were uncalled for. If she really had +been as kind as she was too often capable of looking, she would have +fastened patches over both eyes--one patch would have been useless--and +she would have worn flat shoes and patronized a dressmaker with genius +enough to misrepresent her. But Julia was not great enough for such +generosities: she should have been locked up till she passed sixty; her +sufferings deserve no pity. + +And yet an attack of the mumps during the winter had brought Julia more +sympathy than the epidemic of typhoid fever in the Old Ladies' Infirmary +brought all of the nine old ladies who were under treatment there. Julia +was confined to her room for almost a month, during which a florist's +wagon seemed permanent before the house: and a confectioner's frequently +stood beside the florist's. Young Florence, an immune who had known the +mumps in infancy, became an almost constant attendant upon the patient, +with the result that the niece contracted an illness briefer than the +aunt's, but more than equalling it in poignancy, caused by the poor +child's economic struggle against waste. Florence's convalescence took +place in her own home without any inquiries whatever from the outer +world, but Julia's was spent in great part at the telephone. Even a poem +was repeated to her by the instrument: + + How the world blooms anew + To think that you + Can speak again, + Can hear + The words of men + And the dear + Own voice of you. + +This was Newland Sanders. He was just out of college, a reviewer, a +poet, and once, momentarily, an atheist. It was Newland who was present +and said such a remarkable thing when Julia had the accident to her +thumb-nail in closing the double doors between the living-room and the +library, where her peculiar old father sat reading. "To see you suffer," +Newland said passionately as she nursed her injury:--"to see you in +pain, that is the one thing in the universe which I feel beyond all my +capacities. Do you know, when you are made to suffer pain, then I feel +that there is no God!" + +This strong declaration struck Herbert as one of the most impressive +things he had ever heard, though he could not account for its being said +to any aunt of his. Herbert had just dropped in without the formality of +ringing the bell, and had paused in the hall, outside the open door of +the living-room. He considered the matter, after Newland had spoken, and +concluded to return to his own place of residence without disturbing +anybody at his grandfather's. At home he found his mother and father +entertaining one of his uncles, one of his aunts, two of his +great-uncles, one of his great-aunts, and one of his grown-up cousins, +at cards: and he proved to be warranted in believing that they would all +like to know what he had heard. Newland's statement became quite +celebrated throughout the family: and Julia, who had perceived almost a +sacred something in his original fervour, changed her mind after hearing +the words musingly repeated, over and over, by her fat old Uncle Joe. + +Florence thought proper to remind her of this to-day, after Julia's +protest containing the too moderately confessional word "three." + +"If you don't want to be such a circus," the niece continued, reasoning +perfectly, "I don't see what you always keep leadin' all of 'em on all +the time just the same for." + +"Who've you heard saying that, Florence?" her aunt demanded. + +"Aunt Fanny Patterson," Florence replied absently. "F'r instance, Aunt +Julia, I don't see what you want to go walking with Newland Sanders for, +when you said yourself you wished he was dead, or somep'n, after there +got to be so muck talk in the family and everywhere about his sayin' all +that about the Bible when you hurt your thumb. All the family----" + +Julia sighed profoundly. "I wish 'all the family' would try to think +about themselves for just a little while! There's entirely too little +self-centredness among my relatives to suit me!" + +"Why, it's only because you're related to me that _I_ pay the very +_slightest_ attention to what goes on here," Florence protested. "It's +my own grandfather's house, isn't it? Well, if you didn't live here, and +if you wasn't my own grandfather's daughter, Aunt Julia, I wouldn't ever +pay the _very_ slightest attention to you! Anyway, I don't _much_ +criticize all these people that keep calling on you--anyway not half as +much as Herbert does. Herbert thinks he always hass to act so critical, +now his voice is changing." + +"At your age," said Julia, "my mind was on my schoolbooks." + +"Why, Aunt Julia!" Florence exclaimed in frank surprise. "Grandpa says +just the opposite from that. I've heard him say, time and time and time +again, you always _were_ this way, ever since you were four years old." + +"What way?" asked her aunt. + +"Like you are now, Aunt Julia. Grandpa says by the time you were +fourteen it got so bad he had to get a new front gate, the way they +leaned on it. He says he hoped when you grew up he'd get a little peace +in his own house, but he says it's worse, and never for one minute the +livelong day can he----" + +"I know," Julia interrupted. "He talks like a Christian Martyr and +behaves like Nero. I might warn you to keep away from him, by the way, +Florence. He says that either you or Herbert was over here yesterday and +used his spectacles to cut a magazine with, and broke them. I wouldn't +be around here much if I were you until he's got over it." + +"It must have been Herbert broke 'em," said Florence promptly. + +"Papa thinks it was you. Kitty Silver told him it was." + +"Mean ole reptile!" said Florence, alluding to Mrs. Silver; then she +added serenely, "Well, grandpa don't get home till five o'clock, and +it's only about a quarter of two now. Aunt Julia, what are you waitin' +around here for?" + +"I told you; I'm going walking." + +"I mean: Who with?" + +Miss Atwater permitted herself a light moan. "With Mr. Sanders and Mr. +Ridgely, Florence." + +Florence's eyes grew large and eager. "Why, Aunt Julia, I thought those +two didn't speak to each other any more!" + +"They don't," Julia assented in a lifeless voice. "It just happened that +Mr. Sanders and Mr. Ridgley and Mr. Dill, all three, asked me to take a +walk this afternoon at two o'clock." + +"But Noble Dill isn't going?" + +"No," said Julia. "I was fortunate enough to remember that I'd already +promised someone else when he asked me. That's what I didn't remember +when Mr. Ridgely asked me." + +"I'd have gone with Noble Dill," Florence said firmly. "Noble Dill is my +Very Ideal! I'd marry him to-morrow." + +"It seems to me," her aunt remarked, "I heard your mother telling +somebody the other day that you had said the same thing about the King +of Spain." + +Florence laughed. "Oh, that was only a passing fancy," she said lightly. +"Aunt Julia, what's Newland Sanders supposed to do?" + +"I think he hasn't entered any business or profession yet." + +"I bet he couldn't," her niece declared. "What's that old Ridgely +supposed to be? Just a widower?" + +"Never mind!" + +"And that George Plum's supposed to do something or other around Uncle +Joe's ole bank, isn't he?" Florence continued. + +"'Supposed'!" Julia protested. "What is all this 'supposed to be'? Where +did you catch that horrible habit? You know the whole family worries +over your superciliousness, Florence; but until now I've always thought +it was just the way your face felt easiest. If it's going to break out +in your talk, too, it's time you began to cure yourself of it." + +"Oh, it doesn't hurt anything!" Florence made careless response, and, as +she saw the thin figure of young Mr. Sanders approaching in the +distance, "Look!" she cried, pointing. "Why, he doesn't even _compare_ +to Noble Dill!" + +"Don't point at people!" + +"Well, he's nothing much to point at!" She lowered her finger. "It's no +depredation to me, Aunt Julia, to give up pointing at Newland Sanders. +Atch'ly, I wouldn't give Noble Dill's little finger for a hunderd and +fifty Newland Sanderses!" + +Julia smiled faintly as she watched Mr. Sanders, who seemed not yet to +be aware of her, because he thought it would be better to reach the gate +and lift his hat just there. "What _has_ brought on all this tenderness +in favour of Mr. Dill, Florence?" + +Her niece's eyes, concentrated in thought, then became dreamy. "I like +him because he's so uncouth," she said. "I think he's the uncouthest of +any person I ever saw." + +"'Uncouth'?" + +"Yes," said Florence. "Herbert said I was uncouth, and I looked it up in +the ditchanary. It said, 'Rare, exquisite, elegant, unknown, obs, +unfamiliar, strange,' and a whole lot else. I never did know a word that +means so much, I guess. What's 'obs' mean, Aunt Julia?" + +"Hush!" said Julia, rising, for Mr. Sanders had made a little startled +movement as he reached the gate and caught sight of her; and now, straw +hat in hand, he was coming up the brick walk that led to the veranda. +His eyes were fixed upon Julia with an intensity that seemed to affect +his breathing; there was a hushedness about him. And Florence, in +fascination, watched Julia's expression and posture take on those little +changes that always seemed demanded of her by the approach of a young or +youngish man, or a nicely dressed old one. By almost imperceptible +processes the commonplace moment became dramatic at once. + +"You!" said Newland in a low voice. + +And Julia, with an implication as flattering as the gesture was +graceful, did not wait till he was within reach, but suddenly extended +her welcoming hand at arm's length. He sprang forward convulsively and +grasped it, as if forever. + +"You see my little niece?" Julia said. "I think you know her." + +"Know her?" Mr. Sanders repeated; then roused his faculties and gave +Florence a few fingers dangling coldly after their recent emotion. +"Florence. Oh, yes, Florence." + +Florence had not risen, but remained seated upon the steps, her look and +air committed to that mood of which so much complaint had been made. +"How do you do," she said. "There's Mr. Ridgely." + +"Where?" Newland asked loudly. + +"Comin' in at the gate," said Florence. "He's goin' walkin' with you, +too." + +In this crisis, Mr. Sanders's feeling was obviously one of startled +anguish. He turned to Julia. + +"Why, this is terrible!" he said. "You told me----" + +"Sh!" she warned him; and whispered hastily, all in a breath: +"_Couldn't-be-helped-explain-next-time-I-see-you._" Then she advanced a +gracious step to meet the newcomer. + +But the superciliousness of Florence visibly increased with this advent: +Mr. Ridgely was easily old enough to be her grandfather, yet she seemed +to wish it evident that she would not have cared for him even in that +capacity. He was, in truth, one of those widowers who feel younger than +ever, and behave as they feel. Since his loss he had shown the greatest +willingness to forego whatever advantages age and experience had given +him over the descendants of his old friends and colleagues, and his +cheerfulness as well as his susceptibility to all that was charming had +begun to make him so famous in the town that some of his contemporaries +seemed to know scarce another topic. And Julia had a kinder heart, as +her father bitterly complained, than most girls. + +The widower came, holding out to her a votive cluster of violets, a +pink rose among them, their stems wrapped in purple; and upon the lapel +of his jovial flannel coat were other violets about a pink rosebud. + +"How pretty of you!" said Julia, taking the offering; and as she pinned +it at her waist, she added rather nervously, "I believe you know Mr. +Sanders; he is going with us." + +She was warranted in believing the gentlemen to be acquainted, because +no longer ago than the previous week they both had stated, in her +presence and simultaneously, that any further communication between them +would be omitted for life. Julia realized, of course, that Mr. Ridgely +must find the present meeting as trying as Newland did, and, to help him +bear it, she contrived to make him hear the hurried whisper: +"_Couldn't-be-helped-explain-some-day._" + +Then with a laugh not altogether assured, she took up her parasol. +"Shall we be starting?" she inquired. + +"Here's Noble Dill," said Florence, "I guess he's goin' to try to go +walkin' with you, too, Aunt Julia." + +Julia turned, for in fact the gate at that moment clicked behind the +nervously advancing form of Noble Dill. He came with, a bravado that +was merely pitiable and he tried to snap his Orduma cigarette away with +thumb and forefinger in a careless fashion, only to see it publicly +disappear through an open cellar window of the house. + +"I hope there's no excelsior down there," said Newland Sanders. "A good +many houses have burned to the ground just that way." + +"It fell on the cement floor," Florence reported, peering into the +window. "It'll go out pretty soon." + +"Then I suppose we might as well do the same thing," said Newland, +addressing Julia first and Mr. Dill second. "Miss Atwater and I are just +starting for a walk." + +Mr. Ridgely also addressed the new arrival. "Miss Atwater and I are just +starting for a walk." + +"You see, Noble," said the kind-hearted Julia, "I did tell you I had +another engagement." + +"I came by here," Mr. Dill began in a tone commingling timidity, love, +and a fatal stubbornness; "I came by here--I mean I just happened to be +passing--and I thought if it was a walking-_party_, well, why not go +along? That's the way it struck me." He paused, coughing for courage and +trying to look easily genial, but not succeeding; then he added, "Well, +as I say, that's the way it struck me--as it were. I suppose we might as +well be starting." + +"Yes, we might," Newland Sanders said quickly; and he placed himself at +Julia's left, seizing upon her parasol and opening it with +determination. + +Mr. Ridgely had kept himself closely at the lady's right. "You were +mistaken, my boy," he said, falsely benevolent. "It isn't a +party--though there's Miss Florence, Noble. Nobody's asked her to go +walking to-day!" + +Now, Florence took this satire literally. She jumped up and said +brightly: "I just as soon! Let's _do_ have a walking-party. I just as +soon walk with Mr. Dill as anybody, and we can all keep together, kind +of." With that, she stepped confidently to the side of her selected +escort, who appeared to be at a loss how to avert her kindness. + +There was a moment of hesitation, during which a malevolent pleasure +slightly disfigured the countenances of the two gentlemen with Julia; +but when Florence pointed to a house across the street and remarked, +"There's Great-Uncle Milford and Aunt C'nelia; they been lookin' out of +their second guestroom window about half an hour," Julia uttered an +exclamation. + +"Murder!" she said, and moved with decision toward the gate. "Let's go!" + +Thus the little procession started, Mr. Sanders and the sprightly +widower at Beauty's side, with Florence and Mr. Dill so close behind +that, before they had gone a block, Newland found it necessary to warn +this rear rank that the heels of his new shoes were not part of the +pavement. After that the rear rank, a little abashed, consented to fall +back some paces. Julia's heightened colour, meanwhile, was little abated +by some slight episodes attending the progress of the walking-party. Her +Aunt Fanny Patterson, rocking upon a veranda, rose and evidently called +to someone within the house, whereupon she was joined by her invalid +sister, Aunt Harriet, with a trained nurse and two elderly domestics, a +solemnly whispering audience. And in the front yard of "the Henry +Atwater house," at the next corner, Herbert underwent a genuine +bedazzlement, but he affected more. His violent gaze dwelt upon +Florence, and he permitted his legs slowly to crumple under him, until, +just as the party came nearest him, he lay prostrate upon his back in a +swoon. Afterward he rose and for a time followed in a burlesque manner; +then decided to return home. + +"Old heathen!" said Florence, glancing back over her shoulder as he +disappeared from view. + +Mr. Dill was startled from a reverie inspired by the back of Julia's +head. "'Heathen'?" he said, in plaintive inquiry. + +"I meant Herbert," Florence informed him. "Cousin Herbert Atwater. He +was following us, walking Dutch." + +"'Cousin Herbert Atwater'?" said Noble dreamily. "'Dutch'?" + +"He won't any more," said Florence. "He always hass to show off, now his +voice is changing." She spoke, and she also walked, with dignity--a +rather dashing kind of dignity, which was what Herbert's eccentricity of +gait intended to point out injuriously. In fact, never before had +Florence been so impressed with herself; never before, indeed, had she +been a member of a grown-up non-family party; never before had she gone +walking with an actual adult young man for her escort; and she felt that +she owed it to her position to appear in as brilliant an aspect as +possible. She managed to give herself a rhythmical, switching motion, +causing her kneelength skirt to swing from side to side--a pomp that +brought her a great deal of satisfaction as she now and then caught the +effect by twisting her neck enough to see down behind, over her +shoulder. + +But her poise was temporarily threatened when the walking-party passed +her own house. Her mother happened to be sitting near an open window +upstairs, and, after gazing forth with warm interest at Julia and her +two outwalkers, Mrs. Atwater's astonished eyes fell upon Florence taking +care of the overflow. Florence bowed graciously. + +"Florence!" her mother called down from the window: whereupon both +Florence and her Aunt Julia were instantly apprehensive, for Mrs. George +Atwater's lack of tact was a legend in the family. "Florence! Where on +earth are you going?" + +"Never mind!" Florence thought best to respond. "Never mind!" + +"You'd better come _in_," Mrs. Atwater called, her voice necessarily +louder as the party moved onward. + +"Never mind!" Florence called back. + +Mrs. Atwater leaned out of the window. "Where are you going? Come back +and get your _hat_. You'll get a _sunstroke_!" + +Florence was able to conceal her indignation, and merely waved a hand +in airy dismissal as they passed from Mrs. Atwater's sight, leaving her +still shouting. + +The daughter smiled negligently and shrugged her shoulders. "She'll get +over it!" she said. + +"Who?" + +"My mother. She was the one makin' all that noise," said Florence. +"Sometimes I do what she says: sometimes I don't. It's all accordings to +the way I feel." She looked up in her companion's face, and her +expression became politely fond as she thought how uncouth he was, for +in Florence's eye Noble Dill was truly rare, exquisite, and unfamiliar; +and she believed that he was obs, too, whatever that meant. She often +thought about him, and no longer ago than yesterday she had told Kitty +Silver that she couldn't see "how Aunt Julia could _look_ at anybody +else!" + +Florence's selection of Noble Dill for the bright favourite of her +dreams was one of her own mysteries. Noble was not beautiful, neither +did he present to the ordinary eye of man anything especially rare, +exquisite, unfamiliar, or even so distinguished as to be obsolete. He +was about twenty-two, but not one of those book-read sportsmen of that +age, confident in clothes and manner, easy travellers and debonair; +that is to say, Noble was not of the worldly type twenty-two. True, he +had graduated from the High-school before entering his father's Real +Estate and Insurance office, but his geographical experiences (in +particular) had been limited to three or four railway excursions, at +special rates, to such points of interest as Mammoth Cave and Petoskey, +Michigan. His other experiences were not more sparkling, and except for +the emotions within him, he was in all the qualities of his mind as well +as in his bodily contours and the apparel sheltering the latter, the +most commonplace person in Florence's visible world. The inner areas of +the first and second fingers of his left hand bore cigarette stains, +seemingly indelible: the first and second fingers of his right hand were +strongly ornamented in a like manner; tokens proving him ambidextrous to +but a limited extent, however. Moreover, his garments and garnitures +were not comparable to those of either Newland Sanders or that dapper +antique, Mr. Ridgely. Noble's straw hat might have brightened under the +treatment of lemon juice or other restorative; his scarf was folded to +hide a spot that worked steadily toward a complete visibility, and some +recent efforts upon his trousers with a tepid iron, in his bedchamber +at home, counteracted but feebly that tendency of cloth to sculpture +itself in hummocks upon repeated pressure of the human knee. + +All in all, nothing except the expression of Noble's face and the +somewhat ill-chosen pansy in his buttonhole hinted of the remarkable. +Yet even here was a thing for which he was not responsible himself; it +was altogether the work of Julia. What her work was, in the case of +Noble Dill, may be expressed in a word--a word used not only by the +whole Atwater family connection, in completely expressing Noble's +condition, but by Noble's own family connection as well. This complete +word was "awful." + +Florence was the one exception on the Atwater side: she was far, far +from thinking or speaking of Noble Dill in that way, although, until she +looked up "uncouth" in Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, she had not +found suitable means to describe him. And now, as she walked at his +side, she found her sensations to be nothing short of thrilling. For it +must be borne in mind that this was her first and wholly unexpected +outburst into society; the experience was that of an obscure aerolite +suddenly become a noble meteor. She longed to say or do something +magnificent--something strange and exhilarating, in keeping with her new +station in life. + +It was this longing, and by no means a confirmed unveracity, that +prompted her to amplify her comments upon her own filial independence. +"Oh, I guess I pretty near never do anything I don't want to," she said. +"I kind of run the house to suit myself. I guess if the truth had to be +told, I just about run the whole Atwater family, when it comes to that!" + +The statement was so noticeable that it succeeded in turning Noble's +attention from the back of Julia's head. "You do?" he said. "Well, that +seems queer," he added absently. + +"Oh, I don't know!" she laughed. In her increasing exaltation things +appeared actually to be as she wished them to be; an atmosphere both +queenly and adventurous seemed to invest her, and any remnants of human +caution in her were assuaged by the circumstance that her Aunt Julia's +attention was subject to the strong demands necessarily imposed upon +anybody taking a walk between two gentlemen who do not "speak" to each +other. "Oh, I don't know," said Florence. "The family's used to it by +this time, I guess. The way I do things, they haf to be, I guess. When +they don't like it I don't say much for a while, then I just----" She +paused, waiting for her imagination to supply a sequel to the drama just +sketched. "Well, I guess they kind of find out they better step around +pretty lively," she concluded darkly. "They don't bother around _too_ +much!" + +"I suppose not," said Noble, his vacancy and credulity continuing to +dovetail perfectly. + +"You bet not!" the exuberant Florence thought proper to suggest as a +preferable expression. And then she had an inspiration to enliven his +dreamy interest in her conversation. "Grandpa, he's the one I kind of +run most of all of 'em. He's about fifty or sixty, and so he hasn't got +too much sense. What I mean, he hasn't got too much sense _left_, you +know. So I haf to sort of take holt every now and then." She lowered her +voice a little, some faint whisper of discretion reaching her inward +ear. "Aunt Julia can't do a thing with him. I guess that's maybe the +reason she kind of depen's on me so much; or anyway somep'n like that. +You know, f'r instance, I had to help talk grandpa into lettin' her send +to New York for her things. Aunt Julia gets all her things in New York." + +Undeniably, Mr. Dill's interest flickered up. "_Things_?" he repeated +inquiringly. "Her things?" + +"Yes. Everything she wears, you know." + +"Oh, yes." + +"What I was goin' to tell you," Florence continued, "you know grandpa +just about hates everybody. Anyhow, he'd like to have some peace and +quiet once in a while in his own house, he says, instead of all this +moil and turmoil, and because the doctor said all the matter with her +was she eats too much candy, and they keep sendin' more all the +time--and there's somep'n the trouble with grandpa: it makes him sick to +smell violets: he had it ever since he was a little boy, and he can't +help it; and he hates animals, and they keep sendin' her Airedales and +Persian kittens, and then there was that alligator came from Florida and +upset Kitty Silver terribly--and so, you see, grandpa just hates the +whole everlasting business." + +Mr. Dill nodded and spoke with conviction: "He's absolutely right; +absolutely!" + +"Well, some ways he is," said Florence; and she added confidentially: +"The trouble is, he seems to think you're about as bad as any of 'em." + +"What?" + +"_Well_!" Florence exclaimed, with upward gestures both of eye and of +hand, to signify what she left untold of Mr. Atwater's orations upon +his favourite subject: Noble Dill. "It's torrable!" she added. + +Noble breathed heavily, but a thought struggled in him and a brightening +appeared upon him. "You mean----" he began. "Do you mean it's terrible +for your Aunt Julia? Do you mean his injustice about me makes her feel +terribly?" + +"No," said Florence. "No: I mean the way he goes on about everybody. But +Aunt Julia's kind of used to it. And anyhow you needn't worry about him +'long as I'm on your side. He won't do anything much to you if I say not +to. Hardly anything at all." And then, with almost a tenderness, as she +marked the visibly insufficient reassurance of her companion, she said +handsomely: "He won't say a word. I'll tell him not to." + +Noble was dazed; no novelty, for he had been dazed almost continually +during the past seven months, since a night when dancing with Julia, +whom he had known all his life, he "noticed for the first time what she +looked like." (This was his mother's description.) Somewhere, he vaguely +recalled, he had read of the extraordinary influence possessed by +certain angelic kinds of children; he knew, too, what favourite +grandchildren can do with grandfathers. The effect upon him was +altogether base; he immediately sought by flattery to increase and +retain Florence's kindness. "I always _thought_ you seemed to know more +than most girls of your age," he began. + +It was a great afternoon for Florence. From time to time she glanced +over her shoulder at the switching skirt, and increased its radius of +action, though this probably required more exercise, compared to the +extent of ground covered, than any lady member of a walking-party had +ever before taken, merely as a pedestrian. Meanwhile, she chattered on, +but found time to listen to the pleasant things said to her by her +companion; and though most of these were, in truth, rather vague, she +was won to him more than he knew. Henceforth she was to be his champion +indeed, sometimes with greater energy than he would need. + +... The two were left alone together by Julia's gate when the walk (as +short as Julia dared to make it) was over. + +"Well," Florence said, "I've had quite a nice time. I hope you enjoyed +yourself nicely, too, Mr. Dill." Then her eye rose to the overhanging +branch of a shade-tree near them. "Would you like to see me chin +myself?" she asked, stepping beneath the branch. "I bet I could +skin-the-cat on that limb! Would you like to see me do it?" + +"I would _so_!" the flatterer enthused. + +She became thoughtful, remembering that she was now a lady who took +walks with grown gentlemen. "I can, but I won't," she said. "I used to +do lots of things like that. I used to whenever I felt like it. I could +chin myself four times and Herbert only three. I was lots better than +Herbert when I used to do all kinds of things like that." + +"Were you?" + +She laughed as in a musing retrospect of times gone by. "I guess I used +to be a pretty queer kind of a girl in those days," she said. "Well--I +s'pose we ought to say good-bye for the present, so to speak, Mr. Dill." + +"I'm afraid so." + +"Well----" She stood looking at him expectantly, but he said nothing +more. "Well, good-bye for the present, Mr. Dill," she said again, and, +turning, walked away with dignity. But a moment later she forgot all +about her skirt and scampered. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Mrs. Dill, Noble's mother, talked of organizing a Young Men's Mothers' +Club against Julia, nevertheless she acknowledged that in one solitary +way Noble was being improved by the experience. His two previous attacks +of love (one at twelve, and the other at eighteen) had been incomparably +lighter, and the changes in him, noted at home, merely a slight general +irritability and a lack of domestic punctuality due to too much +punctuality elsewhere. But, when his Julia Atwater trouble came, the +very first symptom he manifested was a strange new effort to become +beautiful; his mother even discovered that he sometimes worked with +pumice stone upon the cigarette stains on his fingers. + +The most curious thing about his condition was that for a long time he +took it for granted that his family did not know what was the matter +with him; and this shows as nothing else could the meekness and tact of +the Dills; for, excluding bad cooks and the dangerously insane, the +persons most disturbing to the serenity of households are young lovers. +But the world has had to accommodate itself to them because young lovers +cannot possibly accommodate themselves to the world. For the young lover +there is no general life of the species; for him the universe is a +delicate blush under a single bonnet. He has but an irritated perception +of every vital thing in nature except the vital thing under this bonnet; +all else is trivial intrusion. But whatever does concern the centrifugal +bonnet, whatever concerns it in the remotest--ah, _then_ he springs to +life! So Noble Dill sat through a Sunday dinner at home, seemingly +drugged to a torpor, while the family talk went on about him; but when +his father, in the course of some remarks upon politics, happened to +mention the name of the county-treasurer, Charles J. Patterson, Noble's +startled attention to the conversation was so conspicuous as to be +disconcerting. Mrs. Dill signalled with her head that comment should be +omitted, and Mr. Dill became, for the moment, one factor in a fairly +clear example of telepathic communication, for it is impossible to +believe that his wife's almost imperceptible gesture was what caused +him to remember that Charles J. Patterson was Julia Atwater's uncle. + +That name, Charles J. Patterson, coming thus upon Noble's ear, was like +an unexpected shrine on the wayside where plods the fanatic pilgrim; and +yet Mr. Patterson was the most casual of Julia's uncles-by-marriage: he +neither had nor desired any effect upon her destiny. To Noble he seemed +a being ineffably privileged and fateful, and something of the same +quality invested the wooden gateposts in front of Julia's house; +invested everything that had to do with her. What he felt about her +father, that august old danger, himself, was not only the uncalled-for +affection inevitable toward Julia's next of kin, but also a kind of +horror due to the irresponsible and awful power possessed by a sacred +girl's parent. Florence's offer of protection had not entirely reassured +the young lover, and, in sum, Noble loved Mr. Atwater, but often, in his +reveries, when he had rescued him from drowning or being burned to +death, he preferred to picture the peculiar old man's injuries as +ultimately fatal. + +For the other Atwaters his feeling held less of apprehension, more of +tenderness; and whenever he saw one of them he became deferential and a +little short of breath. Thus, on a sunny afternoon, having been home to +lunch after his morning labour downtown, he paused in passing young +Herbert's place of residence and timidly began a conversation with this +glamoured nephew. It happened that during the course of the morning +Herbert had chosen a life career for himself; he had decided to become a +scientific specialist, an entomologist; and he was now on his knees +studying the manners and customs of the bug inhabitants of the lawn +before the house, employing for his purpose a large magnifying lens, or +"reading glass." (His discovery of this implement in the attic, +coincidentally with his reading a recent "Sunday Supplement" article on +bugs, had led to his sudden choice of a vocation.) + +"Did somebody--ah, have any of the family lost anything, Herbert?" Noble +asked in a gentle voice, speaking across the fence. + +Herbert did not look up, nor did he relax the scientific frown upon his +brow. "No," he said. "They always _are_ losin' things, espesh'ly Aunt +Julia, when she comes over here, or anywheres else; but I wouldn't waste +_my_ time lookin' for any old earrings or such. I got more important +things to do on my hands." + +"_Has_ your Aunt Julia lost an earring, Herbert?" + +"Her? Well, she nearly always _has_ lost somep'n or other, but that +isn't bother'n' _me_ any. I got better things to do with my time." +Herbert spoke without interrupting his occupation or relaxing his +forehead. "Nacher'l history is a _little_ more important to the +inhabitants of our universe than a lot o' worthless jew'lry, I guess," +he continued; and his pride in discovering that he could say things like +this was so great that his frown gave way temporarily to a look of +pleased surprise, then came back again to express an importance much +increased. He rose, approached the fence, and condescended to lean upon +it. "I don't guess there's one person in a thousand," he said, "that +knows what they _ought_ to know about our inseck friends." + +"No," Mr. Dill agreed readily. "I guess that's so. I guess you're right +about that, Herbert. When did your Aunt Julia lose the earring, +Herbert?" + +"I d' know," said Herbert. "Now, you take my own father and mother: What +do they know? Well, mighty little. They may have had to learn a little +teeny bit about insecks when they were in school, but whatever little it +was they went and forgot it proba'ly long before they were married. +Well, that's no way. F'r instance, you take a pinchin' bug: What do you +suppose my father and mother know about its position in the inseck +world?" + +"Well----" said Noble uneasily. "Well----" He coughed, and hastened to +add: "But as I was saying, if she lost her earring somewhere in your +yard, or----" + +The scientific boy evidently did not follow this line of thought, for he +interrupted: "Why, they wouldn't know a thing about it, and a pinchin' +bug isn't one of the highest insecks at all. Ants are way up compared to +most pinchin' bugs. Ants are way up anyway. Now, you take an ant----" He +paused. "Well, everybody ought to know a lot more'n they do about ants. +It takes time, and you got to study 'em the right way, and of course +there's lots of people wouldn't know how to do it. I'm goin' to get a +book I been readin' about. It's called 'The Ant.'" + +For a moment Noble was confused; he followed his young friend's +discourse but hazily, and Herbert pronounced the word "ant" precisely as +he pronounced the word "aunt." The result was that Noble began to say +something rather dreamy concerning the book just mentioned, but, +realizing that he was being misunderstood, he changed his murmur into a +cough, and inquired: + +"When was she over here, Herbert?" + +"Who?" + +"Your Aunt Julia." + +"Yesterday evening," said Herbert. "Now, f'r instance, you take a common +lightning-bug----" + +"Did she lose it, then?" + +"Lose what?" + +"Her earring." + +"I d' know," said Herbert. "You take the common lightning-bug or, as +it's called in some countries, the firefly----" + +He continued, quoting and misquoting the entomological authority of the +recent "Sunday Supplement"; but his friend on the other side of the +fence was inattentive to the lecture. Noble's mind was occupied with a +wonder; he had realized, though dimly, that here was he, trying to make +starry Julia the subject of a conversation with a person who had the +dear privilege of being closely related to her--and preferred to talk +about bugs. + +Herbert talked at considerable length about lightning-bugs, but as his +voice happened rather precociously to be already in a state of +adolescent change, the sound was not soothing; yet Noble lingered. +Nephews were queer, but this one was Julia's, and he finally mentioned +her again, as incidental to lightning-bugs; whereupon the mere hearer of +sounds became instantly a listener to words. + +"Well, and then I says," Herbert continued;--"I says: 'It's phosphorus, +Aunt Julia.' I guess there's hardly anybody in the world doesn't know +more than Aunt Julia, except about dresses and parasols and every other +useless thing under the sun. She says: 'My! I always thought it was +sulphur!' Said nobody ever _told_ her it wasn't sulphur! I asked her: I +said: 'You mean to sit there and tell me you don't know the difference?' +And she says: 'I don't care one way or the other,' she says. She said +she just as soon a lightning-bug made his light with sulphur as with +phosphorus; it didn't make any difference to her, she says, and they +could go ahead and make their light any way they wanted, _she_ wouldn't +interfere! I had a whole hatful of 'em, and she told me not to take 'em +into their house, because grandpa hates insecks as much as he does +animals and violets, and she said they never owned a microscope or a +magnifying-glass in their lives, and wouldn't let me hunt for one. All +in the world she knows is how to sit on the front porch and say: 'Oh +you don't mean _that!_' to somebody like Newland Sanders or that ole +widower!" + +"When?" Noble asked impulsively. "When did she say that?" + +"Oh, I d' know," said Herbert. "I expect she proba'ly says it to +somebody or other about every evening there is." + +"She does?" + +"Florence says so," Herbert informed him carelessly. "Florence goes over +to grandpa's after dark and sits on the ground up against the porch and +listens." + +Noble first looked startled then uneasily reminiscent. "I don't believe +Florence ought to do that," he said gravely. + +"_I_ wouldn't do it!" Herbert was emphatic. + +"That's right, Herbert. I'm glad you wouldn't." + +"No, sir," the manly boy declared. "You wouldn't never catch _me_ takin' +my death o' cold sittin' on the damp grass in the night air just to +listen to a lot o' tooty-tooty about 'I've named a star for you,' and +all such. You wouldn't catch me----" + +Noble partly concealed a sudden anguish. "Who?" he interrupted. "Who did +she say _that_ to?" + +"She didn't. They say it to her, and she says? 'Oh, you don't mean +that!' and of course then they haf to go on and say some more. Florence +says----" He checked himself. "Oh, I forgot! I promised Florence I +wouldn't tell anything about all this." + +"It's safe," Noble assured him quickly. "I'm quite a friend of +Florence's and it's absolutely safe with me. I won't speak of it to +anybody, Herbert. Who was it told her he'd named a star for her?" + +"It was the way some ole poem began. Newland Sanders wrote it. Florence +found it under Aunt Julia's sofa-cushions and read it all through, but +_I_ wouldn't wade through all that tooty-tooty for a million dollars, +and I told her to put it back before Aunt Julia noticed. Well, about +every day he writes her a fresh one, and then in the evening he stays +later than the rest, and reads 'em to her--and you ought to hear grandpa +when _he_ gets to talkin' about it!" + +"He's perfectly right," said Noble. "Perfectly! What does he say when he +talks about it, Herbert?" + +"Oh, he says all this and that; and then he kind of mutters around, and +you can't tell just what all the words are exactly, so't he can deny it +if any o' the family accuses him of swearing or anything." And Herbert +added casually: "He was kind of goin' on like that about you, night +before last." + +"About _me_! Why, what could he say about _me_?" + +"Oh, all this and that." + +"But what did he find to say?" + +"Well, he heard her tellin' you how you oughtn't to smoke so many +cigarettes and all about how it was killin' you, and you sayin' you +guessed it wouldn't matter if you _did_ die, and Aunt Julia sayin' 'Oh, +you don't mean that,' and all this and such and so on, you know. He can +hear anything on the porch pretty good from the lib'ary; and Florence +told me about that, besides, because she was sittin' in the grass and +all. She told Great-Uncle Joe and Aunt Hattie about it, too." + +"My heavens!" Noble gasped, as for the first time he realized to what +trumpeting publicity that seemingly hushed and moonlit bower, sacred to +Julia, had been given over. He gulped, flushed, repeated "My heavens!" +and then was able to add, with a feeble suggestion of lightness: "I +suppose your grandfather understood it was just a sort of joke, didn't +he?" + +"No," said Herbert, and continued in a friendly way, for he was +flattered by Noble's interest in his remarks, and began to feel a +liking for him. "No. He said Aunt Julia only talked like that because +she couldn't think of anything else to say, and it was wearin' him out. +He said all the good it did was to make you smoke more to make her think +how reckless you were; but the worst part of it was, he'd be the only +one to suffer, because it blows all through the house and he's got to +sit in it. He said he just could stand the smell of _some_ cigarettes, +but if you burned any more o' yours on his porch he was goin' to ask +your father to raise your salary for collectin' real-estate rents, so't +you'd feel able to buy some real tobacco. He----" + +But the flushed listener felt that he had heard as much as he was called +upon to bear; and he interrupted, in a voice almost out of control, to +say that he must be "getting on downtown." His young friend, diverted +from bugs, showed the greatest willingness to continue the narrative +indefinitely, evidently being in possession of copious material; but +Noble turned to depart. An afterthought detained him. "Where was it she +lost her earring?" + +"Who?" + +"Your Aunt Julia." + +"Why, _I_ didn't say she lost any earring," Herbert returned. "I said +she always _was_ losin' 'em: I didn't say she did." + +"Then you didn't mean----" + +"No," said Herbert, "_I_ haven't heard of her losin' anything at all, +lately." Here he added: "Well, grandpa kept goin' on about you, and he +told her----Well, so long!" And gazed after the departing Mr. Dill in +some surprise at the abruptness of the latter's leave-taking. Then, +wondering how the back of Noble's neck could have got itself so fiery +sunburnt, Herbert returned to his researches in the grass. + + * * * * * + +The peaceful street, shady and fragrant with summer, was so quiet that +the footfalls of the striding Noble were like an interruption of +coughing in a silent church. As he seethed adown the warm sidewalk the +soles of his shoes smote the pavement, for mentally he was walking not +upon cement but upon Mr. Atwater. + +Unconsciously his pace presently became slower for a more concentrated +brooding upon this slanderous old man who took advantage of his position +to poison his daughter's mind against the only one of her suitors who +cared in the highest way. And upon this there came an infinitesimal +consolation in the midst of anguish, for he thought of what Herbert had +told him about Mr. Newland Sanders's poems to Julia, and he had a strong +conviction that one time or another Mr. Atwater must have spoken even +more disparagingly of these poems and their author than he had of Orduma +cigarettes and their smoker. Perhaps the old man was not altogether +vile. + +This charitable moment passed. He recalled the little moonlit drama on +the embowered veranda, when Julia, in her voice of plucked harp strings, +told him that he smoked too much, and he had said it didn't matter; +nobody would care much if he died--and Julia said gently that his mother +would, and other people, too; he mustn't talk so recklessly. Out of this +the old eavesdropper had viciously represented him to be a poser, not +really reckless at all; had insulted his cigarettes and his salary. +Well, Noble would show him! He had doubts about being able to show Mr. +Atwater anything important connected with the cigarettes or the salary, +but he _could_ prove how reckless he was. With that, a vision formed +before him: he saw Julia and her father standing spellbound at a +crossing while a smiling youth stood directly between the rails in the +middle of the street and let a charging trolley-car destroy him--not +instantly, for he would live long enough to whisper, as the stricken +pair bent over him: "Now, Julia, which do you believe: your father, or +me?" And then with a slight, dying sneer: "Well, Mr. Atwater, is _this_ +reckless enough to suit you?" + + * * * * * + +Town squirrels flitted along their high paths in the shade-tree branches +above the embittered young lover, and he noticed them not at all, which +was but little less than he noticed the elderly human couple who +observed him from a side-yard as he passed by. Mr. and Mrs. Burgess had +been happily married for fifty-three years and four months. Mr. Burgess +lay in a hammock between two maple trees, and was soothingly swung by +means of a string connecting the hammock and the rocking-chair in which +sat Mrs Burgess, acting as a mild motor for both the chair and the +hammock. "That's Noble Dill walking along the sidewalk," Mrs. Burgess +said, interpreting for her husband's failing eyes. "I bowed to him, but +he hardly seemed to see us and just barely lifted his hat. He needn't be +cross with _us_ because some other young man's probably taking Julia +Atwater out driving!" + +"Yes, he need!" Mr. Burgess declared. "A boy in his condition needs to +be cross with everything. Sometimes they get so cross they go and drink +liquor. Don't you remember?" + +She laughed. "I remember once!" she assented, and laughed again. + +"Why, it's a terrible time of life," her husband went on. "Poets and +suchlike always take on about young love as if it were a charming and +romantic experience, but really it's just a series of mortifications. +The young lover is always wanting to do something dashing and romantic +and Sir Walter Raleigh-like, but in ordinary times about the wildest +thing he can do, if he can afford it, is to learn to run a Ford. And he +can't stand a word of criticism; he can't stand being made the least +little bit of fun of; and yet all the while his state of mind lays him +particularly open to all the things he can't stand. He can't stand +anything, and he has to stand everything. Why, it's a _horrible_ time of +life, mamma!" + +"Yes, it is," she assented placidly. "I'm glad we don't have to go +through it again, Freddie; though you're only eighty-two, and with a +girl like Julia Atwater around nobody ought to be sure." + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +Although Noble had saluted the old couple so crossly, thus unconsciously +making them, as he made the sidewalk, proxy for Mr. Atwater, so to +speak, yet the sight of them penetrated his outer layers of +preoccupation and had an effect upon him. In the midst of his suffering +his imagination paused for a shudder: What miserable old gray shadows +those two were! Thank Heaven he and Julia could never be like that! And +in the haze that rose before his mind's eye he saw himself leading Julia +through years of adventure in far parts of the world: there were +glimpses of himself fighting grotesque figures on the edge of Himalayan +precipices at dawn, while Julia knelt by the tent on the glacier and +prayed for him. He saw head-waiters bowing him and Julia to tables in +"strange, foreign cafés," and when they were seated, and he had ordered +dishes that amazed her, he would say in a low voice: "Don't look now, +but do you see that heavy-shouldered man with the insignia, sitting +with that adventuress and those eight officers who are really his +guards? Don't be alarmed, Julia, but I am here to _get_ that man! +Perhaps you remember what your father once said of me? Now, when what I +have to do here is done, perhaps you may wish to write home and mention +a few things to that old man!" And then a boy's changing voice seemed to +sound again close by: "He said he just could stand the smell of _some_ +cigarettes, but if you burned any more o' yours on his porch----" And +Noble came back miserably to town again. + +From an upper window of a new stucco house two maidens of nineteen +peered down at him. The shade of a striped awning protected the window +from the strong sun and the maidens from the sight of man--the latter +protection being especially fortunate, since they were preparing to take +a conversational afternoon nap, were robed with little substance, and +their heads appeared to be antlered; for they caught sight of Noble just +as they were preparing to put silk-and-lace things they called "caps" on +their heads. + +"Who's that?" the visiting one asked. + +"It's Noble Dill; he's kind of one of the crowd." + +"Is he nice?" + +"Oh, sort of. Kind of shambles around." + +"Looks like last year's straw hat to me," the visiting one giggled. + +"Oh, he tries to dress--lately, that is--but he never did know how." + +"Looks mad about something." + +"Yes. He's one of the ones in love with that Julia Atwater I told you +about." + +"Has he got any chance with her?" + +"Noble Dill? Mercy!" + +"Is he much in love with her?" + +"'Much'? _Murder!_" + +The visiting one turned from the window and yawned. "Come on: let's lie +down and talk about some of the nice ones!" + +The second house beyond this was--it was the house of Julia! + +And what a glamour of summer light lay upon it because it was the house +of Julia! The texture of the sunshine came under a spell here; glowing +flakes of amber were afloat; a powder of opals and rubies fell silently +adrizzle through the trees. The very air changed, beating faintly with a +fairy music, for breathing it was breathing sorcery: elfin symphonies +went tinkling through it. The grass in the next yard to Julia's was +just grass, but every blade of grass in her yard was cut of jewels. + +Julia's house was also the house of that person who through some +ungovernable horseplay of destiny happened to be her father: and this +gave the enchanted spot a background of lurking cyclone--no one could +tell at what instant there might rise above the roseate pleasance a +funnel-shaped cloud. With young Herbert's injurious narrative fresh in +his mind, Noble quickened his steps; but as he reached the farther fence +post, marking the southward limit of Mr. Atwater's property, he halted +short, startled beautifully. Through the open front door, just passed, a +voice had called his name; a voice of such arresting sweetness that his +breath stopped, like his feet. + +"Oh, Noble!" it called again. + +He turned back, and any one who might have seen his face then would have +known what was the matter with him, and must have been only the more +sure of it because his mouth was open. The next instant the adequate +reason for his disorder came lightly through the open door and down to +the gate. + +Julia was kind, much too kind! She had heard that her Aunt Harriet and +her Uncle Joe were frequently describing Mr. Atwater's most recent +explosion to other members of the extensive Atwater family league; and +though she had not discovered how Aunt Harriet and Uncle Joe had +obtained their material, yet, in Julia's way of wording her thoughts, an +account of the episode was "all over town," and she was almost certain +that by this time Noble Dill had heard it. And so, lest he should +suffer, the too-gentle creature seized the first opportunity to cheer +him up. That was the most harmful thing about Julia; when anybody liked +her--even Noble Dill--she couldn't bear to have him worried. She was the +sympathetic princess who wouldn't have her puppy's tail chopped off all +at once, but only a little at a time. + +"I just happened to see you going by," she said, and then, with an +astounding perfection of seriousness, she added the question: "Did you +_mind_ my calling to you and stopping you, Noble?" + +He leaned, drooping, upon the gatepost, seeming to yearn toward it; his +expression was such that this gatepost need not have been surprised if +Noble had knelt to it. + +"Why, no," he said hoarsely. "No, I don't have to be back at the office +any particular time. No." + +"I just wanted to ask you----" She hesitated. "Well, it really doesn't +amount to anything--it's nothing so important I couldn't have spoken to +you about it some other time." + +"Well," said Noble, and then on the spur of the moment he continued +darkly: "There might not be any other time." + +"How do you mean, Noble?" + +He smiled faintly. "I'm thinking of going away." This was true; +nevertheless, it was the first time he had thought of it. "Going away," +he repeated in a murmur. "From this old town." + +A shadowy, sweet reproach came upon Julia's eyes. "You mean--for good, +Noble?" she asked in a low voice, although no one knew better than she +what trouble such performances often cost her, later. "Noble, you don't +mean----" + +He made a vocal sound conveying recklessness, something resembling a +reckless laugh. "I might go--any day! Just as it happens to strike me." + +"But where to, Noble?" + +"I don't----Well, maybe to China." + +"China!" she cried in amazement. "Why, Noble Dill!" + +"There's lots of openings in China," he said. "A white man can get a +commission in the Chinese army any day." + +"And so," she said, "you mean you'd rather be an officer in the Chinese +army than stay--here?" With that, she bit her lip and averted her face +for an instant, then turned to him again, quite calm. Julia could not +help doing these things; she was born that way, and no punishment +changed her. + +"Julia----" the dazzled Noble began, but he stopped with this beginning, +his voice seeming to have exhausted itself upon the name. + +"When do you think you'll start?" she asked. + +His voice returned. "I don't know _just_ when," he said; and he began to +feel a little too much committed to this sudden plan of departure, and +to wonder how it had come about. "I--I haven't set any day--exactly." + +"Have you talked it over with your mother yet, Noble?" + +"Not yet--exactly," he said, and was conscious of a distaste for China +as something unpleasant and imminent. "I thought I'd wait till--till it +was certain I _would_ go." + +"When will that be, Noble?" And in spite of herself, Julia spoke in the +tone of one who controls herself to ask in calmness: "Is my name on the +list for the guillotine?" + +"Well," he said, "it'll be as soon as I've made up my mind to go. I +probably won't go before then; not till I've made up my mind to." + +"But you might do that any day, mightn't you?" + +Noble began to feel relieved; he seemed to have hit upon a way out. +"Yes; and then I'd be gone," he said firmly. "But probably I wouldn't go +at all unless I decided to." This seemed to save him from China, and he +added recklessly: "I guess I wouldn't be missed much around this old +town if I did go." + +"Yes, you would," Julia said quickly. "Your family'd miss you--and so +would everybody." + +"Julia, _you_ wouldn't----" + +She laughed lightly. "Of course I should, and so would papa." + +Noble released the gatepost and appeared to slant backward. "What?" + +"Papa was talking about you this very morning at breakfast," she said; +and she spoke the truth. "He said he _dreamed_ about you last night." + +"He did?" + +Julia nodded sunnily. "He dreamed that you and he were the very greatest +friends!" This also was true, so far as it went; she only omitted to +state that Mr. Atwater had gone on to classify his dream as a nightmare. +"There!" she cried. "Why, of course he'd miss you--he'd miss you as much +as he'd miss any friend of mine that comes here." + +Noble felt a sudden rush of tenderness toward Mr. Atwater; it is always +possible to misjudge a man for a few hasty words. And Julia went on +quickly: + +"I never saw anybody like you, Noble Dill!" she exclaimed. "I don't +suppose there's anybody in the United States except you that would be +capable of doing things like going off to be an officer in the Chinese +army--all just any minute like this. I've always declared you were about +the most reckless man I know!" + +Noble shook his head. "No," he said judicially. "I'm not reckless; it's +just that I don't care what happens." + +Julia became grave. "Don't you?" + +"To me," he said hurriedly. "I mean I don't care what happens to myself. +I mean that's more the way I am than just reckless." + +She was content to let his analysis stand, though she shook her head, as +if knowing herself to be wiser than he about his recklessness. A +cheerfulness came upon them; and the Chinese question seemed to have +been settled by these indirect processes;--in fact, neither of them ever +mentioned it again. "I mustn't keep you," she said, "especially when you +ought to be getting on downtown to business, but----Oh!" She gave the +little cry of a forgetful person reminded. "I almost forgot what I ran +out to ask you!" + +"What was it, Julia?" Noble spoke huskily, in a low voice. "What is it +you want me to do, Julia?" + +She gave a little fluttering laugh, half timid, half confiding. "You +know how funny papa is about tobacco smoke?" (But she hurried on without +waiting for an answer.) "Well, he is. He's the funniest old thing; he +doesn't like _any_ kind very much except his own special cheroot things. +He growls about every other kind, but the cigars Mr. _Ridgely_ smokes +when he comes here, papa really _does_ make a fuss over! And, you see, I +don't like to say 'No' when Mr. Ridgely asks if he can smoke, because it +always makes men so uncomfortable if they can't when they're sitting on +a veranda, so I wondered if I could just tactfully get him to buy +something different from his cigars?--and I thought the best thing would +be to suggest those cigarettes you always have, Noble. They're the ones +papa makes the _least_ fuss about and seems to stand the best--next to +his own, he seems to like them the most, I mean--but I'd forgotten the +name of them. That's what I ran out to ask you." + +"Orduma," said Noble. "Orduma Egyptian Cigarettes." + +"Would you mind giving me one--just to show Mr. Ridgely?" + +Noble gave her an Orduma cigarette. + +"Oh, thank you!" she said gratefully. "I mustn't keep you another +minute, because I know your father wouldn't know _what_ to do at the +office without you! Thank you so much for this!" She turned and walked +quickly halfway up the path, then paused, looking back over her +shoulder. "I'll only show it to him, Noble," she said. "I won't give it +to him!" + +She bit her lip as if she had said more than she should have; shook her +head as in self-chiding; then laughed, and in a flash touched the tiny +white cylinder to her lips, waved it to him;--then ran to the veranda +and up the steps and into the house. She felt satisfied that she had set +matters right, this kind Julia! + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +Before she thus set matters right with Noble he had been unhappy and his +condition had been bad; now he was happy, but his condition was worse. +In truth, he was much, much too happy; nothing rational remained in his +mind. No elfin orchestra seemed to buzz in his ears as he went down the +street, but a loud, triumphing brass band. His unathletic chest was +inflated; he heaved up with joy; and a little child, playing on the next +corner, turned and followed him for some distance, trying to imitate his +proud, singular walk. Restored to too much pride, Noble became also much +too humane; he thought of Mr. Atwater's dream, and felt almost a +motherly need to cherish and protect him, to be indeed his friend. There +was a warm spot in Noble's chest, produced in part by a yearning toward +that splendid old man. Noble had a good home, sixty-six dollars in the +bank and a dollar and forty cents in his pockets; he would have given +all for a chance to show Mr. Atwater how well he understood him now, at +last, and how deeply he appreciated his favour. + +Students of alcoholic intoxication have observed that in their cups +commonplace people, and not geniuses, do the most unusual things. So +with all other intoxications. Noble Dill was indeed no genius, and some +friend should have kept an eye upon him to-day; he was not himself. All +afternoon in a mood of tropic sunrise he collected rents, or with glad +vagueness consented instantly to their postponement. "I've come about +the rent again," he said beamingly to one delinquent tenant of his +father's best client; and turned and walked away, humming a waltz-song, +while the man was still coughing as a preliminary to argument. + +Late in the afternoon, as the entranced collector sat musing alone near +a window in his father's office, his exalted mood was not affected by +the falling of a preternatural darkness over the town, nor was he roused +to action by any perception of the fact that the other clerks and the +members of the firm had gone home an hour ago; that the clock showed him +his own duty to lock up the office and not keep his mother "waiting +dinner"; and that he would be caught in a most outrageous thunderstorm +if he didn't hurry. No; he sat, smiling fondly, by the open window, and +at times made a fragmentary gesture as of some heroic or benevolent +impulse in rehearsal. + +Meanwhile, paunchy with wind and wetness, unmannerly clouds came smoking +out of the blackened west. Rumbling, they drew on. Then from cloud to +cloud dizzy amazements of white fire staggered, crackled and boomed on +to the assault; the doors of the winds were opened; the tanks of deluge +were unbottomed; and the storm took the town. So, presently, Noble +noticed that it was raining and decided to go home. + +With an idea that he was fulfilling his customary duties, he locked the +doors of the two inner rooms, dropped the keys gently into a +wastebasket, and passing by an umbrella which stood in a corner, went +out to the corridor, and thence stepped into the street of whooping +rain. + +Here he became so practical as to turn up his collar; and, substantially +aided by the wind at his back, he was not long in leaving the purlieus +of commerce behind him for Julia's Street. Other people lived on this +street--he did, himself, for that matter; and, in fact, it was the +longest street in the town; moreover, it had an official name with +which the word "Julia" was entirely unconnected; but for Noble Dill (and +probably for Newland Sanders and for some others in age from nineteen to +sixty) it was "Julia's Street" and no other. + +It was a tumultuous street as Noble splashed along the sidewalk. +Incredibly elastic, the shade-trees were practising calisthenics, though +now and then one outdid itself and lost a branch; thunder and lightning +romped like loosed scandal; rain hissed upon the pavement and capered +ankle-high. It was a storm that asked to be left to itself for a time, +after giving fair warning that the request would be made; and Noble and +the only other pedestrian in sight had themselves to blame for getting +caught. + +This other pedestrian was some forty or fifty yards in advance of Noble +and moved in the same direction at about the same gait. He wore an old +overcoat, running with water; the brim of his straw hat sagged about his +head, so that he appeared to be wearing a bucket; he was a sodden and +pathetic figure. Noble himself was as sodden; his hands were wet in his +very pockets; his elbows seemed to spout; yet he spared a generous pity +for the desolate figure struggling on before him. + +All at once Noble's heart did something queer within his wet bosom. He +recognized that figure, and he was not mistaken. Except the One figure, +and those of his own father and mother and three sisters, this was the +shape that Noble would most infallibly recognize anywhere in the world +and under any conditions. In spite of the dusk and the riot of the +storm, Noble knew that none other than Mr. Atwater splashed before him. + +He dismissed a project for seizing upon a fallen branch and running +forward to walk beside Mr. Atwater and hold the branch over his +venerated head. All the branches were too wet; and Noble feared that Mr. +Atwater might think the picture odd and decline to be thus protected. +Yet he felt that something ought to be done to shelter Julia's father +and perhaps save him from pneumonia; surely there was some simple, +helpful, dashing thing that ordinary people couldn't think of, but that +Noble could. He would do it and not stay to be thanked. And then, +to-morrow evening, not sooner, he would go to Julia and smile and say; +"Your father didn't get too wet, I hope, after all?" And Julia: "Oh, +Noble, he's talked of you all day long as his 'new Sir Walter +Raleigh'!" + +Suddenly will-o'-the-wisp opportunity flickered before him, and in his +high mood he paused not at all to consider it, but insanely chased it. +He had just reached a crossing, and down the cross street, walking away +from Noble, was the dim figure of a man carrying an umbrella. It was +just perceptible that he was a fat man, struggling with seeming +feebleness in the wind and making poor progress. Mr. Atwater, moving up +Julia's Street, was out of sight from the cross street where struggled +the fat man. + +Noble ran swiftly down the cross street, jerked the umbrella from the +fat man's grasp; ran back, with hoarse sounds dying out behind him in +the riotous dusk; turned the corner, sped after Mr. Atwater, overtook +him, and thrust the umbrella upon him. Then, not pausing the shortest +instant for thanks or even recognition, the impulsive boy sped onward, +proud and joyous in the storm, leaving his beneficiary far behind him. + +In his young enthusiasm he had indeed done something for Mr. Atwater. In +fact, Noble's kindness had done as much for Mr. Atwater as Julia's +gentleness had done for Noble, but how much both Julia and Noble had +done was not revealed in full until the next evening. + +That was a warm and moonshiny night of air unusually dry, and yet +Florence sneezed frequently as she sat upon the "side porch" at the +house of her Great-Aunt Carrie and her Great-Uncle Joseph. Florence had +a cold in the head, though how it got to her head was a process involved +in the mysterious ways of colds, since Florence's was easily to be +connected with Herbert's remark that he wouldn't ever be caught takin' +his death o' cold sittin' on the damp grass in the night air just to +listen to a lot o' tooty-tooty. It appeared from Florence's narrative to +those interested listeners, Aunt Carrie and Uncle Joseph, that she had +been sitting on the grass in the night air when both air and grass were +extraordinarily damp. In brief, she had been at her post soon after the +storm cleared on the preceding evening, but she had heard no +tooty-tooty; her overhearings were of sterner stuff. + +"Well, what did Julia say _then_?" Aunt Carrie asked eagerly. + +"She said she'd go up and lock herself in her room and stuff cushions +over her ears if grandpa didn't quit makin' such a fuss." + +"And what did he say?" + +"He made more rumpus than ever," said Florence. "He went on and on, and +told the whole thing over and over again; he seemed like he couldn't +tell it enough, and every time he told it his voice got higher and +higher till it was kind of squealy. He said he'd had his raincoat on and +he didn't want an umberella anyhow, and hadn't ever carried one a single +time in fourteen years! And he took on about Noble Dill and all this and +that about how you _bet_ he knew who it was! He said he could tell Noble +Dill in the dark any time by his cigarette smell, and, anyway, it wasn't +too dark so's he couldn't see his skimpy little shoulders, and anyway he +saw his face. And he said Noble didn't _hand_ him the umberella; he +stuck it all down over him like he was somep'n on fire he wanted to put +out; and before he could get out of it and throw it away this ole fat +man that it belonged to and was chasin' Noble, he ran up to grandpa from +behind and took hold of him, or somep'n, and they slipped, and got to +fussin' against each other; and then after a while they got up and +grandpa saw it was somebody he knew and told him for Heaven's sake why +didn't he take his ole umberella and go on home; and so he did, because +it was raining, and I guess he proba'ly had to give up; he couldn't +out-talk grandpa." + +"No," said Uncle Joe. "He couldn't, whoever he was. But what happened +about Noble Dill?" + +Florence paused to accumulate and explode a sneeze, then responded +pleasantly: "He said he was goin' to kill him. He said he often and +often wanted to, and now he _was_. That's the reason I guess Aunt Julia +wrote that note this morning." + +"What note?" Aunt Carrie inquired. "You haven't told us of that." + +"I was over there before noon," said Florence, "and Aunt Julia gave me a +quarter and said she'd write a note for me to take to Noble Dill's house +when he came home for lunch, and give it to him. She kind of slipped it +to me, because grandpa came in there, pokin' around, while she was just +finishin' writin' it. She didn't put any envelope on it even, and she +never said a single thing to _me_ about its bein' private or my not +readin' it if I wanted to, or anything." + +"Of course you didn't," said Aunt Carrie. "You didn't, did you, +Florence?" + +"Why, she didn't _say_ not to," Florence protested, surprised. "It +wasn't even in an envelope." + +Mr. Joseph Atwater coughed. "I hardly think we ought to ask what the +note said, even if Florence was--well, indiscreet enough to read it." + +"No," said his wife. "I hardly think so either. It didn't say anything +important anyhow, probably." + +"It began, 'Dear Noble,'" said Florence promptly. "Dear Noble'; that's +the way it began. It said how grandpa was just all upset to think he'd +accepted an umberella from him when Noble didn't have another one for +himself like that, and grandpa was so embarrassed to think he'd let +Noble do so much for him, and everything, he just didn't know _what_ to +do, and proba'ly it would be tactful if he wouldn't come to the house +till grandpa got over being embarrassed and everything. She said not to +come till she let him know." + +"Did you notice Noble when he read it?" asked Aunt Carrie. + +"Yessir! And would you believe it; he just looked _too_ happy!" Florence +made answer, not wholly comprehending with what truth. + +"I'll bet," said Uncle Joseph;--"I'll bet a thousand dollars that if +Julia told Noble Dill he was six feet tall, Noble would go and order his +next suit of clothes to fit a six-foot man." + +And his wife complemented this with a generalization, simple, yet of a +significance too little recognized. "They don't see a thing!" she said. +"The young men that buzz around a girl's house don't see a _thing_ of +what goes on there! Inside, I mean." + +Yet at that very moment a young man was seeing something inside a girl's +house a little way down that same street. That same street was Julia's +Street and the house was Julia's. Inside the house, in the library, sat +Mr. Atwater, trying to read a work by Thomas Carlyle, while a rhythmic +murmur came annoyingly from the veranda. The young man, watching him +attentively, saw him lift his head and sniff the air with suspicion, but +the watcher took this pantomime to be an expression of distaste for +certain versifyings, and sharing that distaste, approved. Mr. Atwater +sniffed again, threw down his book and strode out to the veranda. There +sat dark-haired Julia in a silver dress, and near by, Newland Sanders +read a long young poem from the manuscript. + +"Who is smoking out here?" Mr. Atwater inquired in a dead voice. + +"Nobody, sir," said Newland with eagerness. "_I_ don't smoke. I have +never touched tobacco in any form in my life." + +Mr. Atwater sniffed once more, found purity; and returned to the +library. But here the air seemed faintly impregnated with Orduma +cigarettes. "Curious!" he said as he composed himself once more to +read--and presently the odour seemed to wear away and vanish. Mr. +Atwater was relieved; the last thing he could have wished was to be +haunted by Noble Dill. + +Yet for that while he was. Too honourable to follow such an example as +Florence's, Noble, of course, would not spy or eavesdrop near the +veranda where Julia sat, but he thought there could be no harm in +watching Mr. Atwater read. Looking at Mr. Atwater was at least the next +thing to looking at Julia. And so, out in the night, Noble was seated +upon the top of the side fence, looking through the library window at +Mr. Atwater. + +After a while Noble lit another Orduma cigarette and puffed strongly to +start it. The smoke was almost invisible in the moonlight, but the night +breeze, stirring gently, wafted it toward the house, where the open +window made an inward draft and carried it heartily about the library. + +Noble was surprised to see Mr. Atwater rise suddenly to his feet. He +smote his brow, put out the light, and stamped upstairs to his own room. + +His purpose to retire was understood when the watcher saw a light in the +bedroom window overhead. Noble thought of the good, peculiar old man +now disrobing there, and he smiled to himself at a whimsical thought: +What form would Mr. Atwater's embarrassment take, what would be his +feeling, and what would he do, if he knew that Noble was there now, +beneath his window and thinking of him? + +In the moonlight Noble sat upon the fence, and smoked Orduma cigarettes, +and looked up with affection at the bright window of Mr. Atwater's +bedchamber. Abruptly the light in that window went out. + +"Saying his prayers now," said Noble. "I wonder if----" But, not to be +vain, he laughed at himself and left the thought unfinished. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +A week later, on a hot July afternoon, Miss Florence Atwater, recovered +from her cold, stood in the shady back yard of her place of residence +and yawned more extensively than any one would have believed possible, +judging by her face in repose. Three of her friends, congenial in age +and sex, were out of town for the summer; two had been ascertained, by +telephonic inquiries, to be taking commanded siestas; and neither the +other one nor Florence had yet forgotten that yesterday, although they +were too religious to commit themselves to a refusal to meet as sisters +in the Great Beyond, they had taken the expurgated oath that by +Everything they would never speak to each other again so long as they +both should live. + +Florence was at the end of her resources. She had sought distraction in +experimental cookery; but, having scorched a finger, and having been +told by the cook that a person's own kitchen wasn't worth the price at +eleven dollars a week if it had to git all smelled up with broiled +rubber when the femometer stood at ninety-sevvum degrees in the shade, +the experimenter abusedly turned her back on the morose woman and went +out to the back yard for a little peace. + +After an interval of torpor, she decided to go and see what Herbert was +doing--a move not short of desperation, on account of Herbert's new +manner toward her. For a week Herbert had steadily pursued his +scientific career, and he seemed to feel that in it he had attained a +distinction beyond the reach of Florence. What made it ridiculous for +her to hope was, of course, the fact that she was a girl, and Herbert +had explained this to her in a cold, unpleasant way; for it is true that +what is called "feminism" must be acquired by men, and is not a +condition, or taste, natural to them. At thirteen it has not been +acquired. + +She found him at home. He was importantly engaged in a room in the +cellar, where were loosely stored all manner of incapacitated household +devices; two broken clothes-wringers, a crippled and rusted +sewing-machine, an ice-cream freezer in like condition, a cracked and +discarded marble mantelpiece, chipped porcelain and chinaware of all +sorts, rusted stove lids and flatirons, half a dozen dead mops and +brooms. This was the laboratory, and here, in congenial solitude, +Herbert conducted his investigations. That is to say, until Florence +arrived he was undisturbed by human intrusion, but he was not alone--far +from it! There was, in fact, almost too much life in the place. + +Where the light fell clearest from the cobwebby windows at the ground +level overhead, he had placed a long deal table, once a helpmate in the +kitchen, but now a colourless antique on three legs and two starch +boxes. Upon the table were seven or eight glass jars, formerly used for +preserves and pickles, and a dozen jelly glasses (with only streaks and +bits of jelly in them now) and five or six small round pasteboard +pill-boxes. The jars were covered, some with their own patent tops, +others with shingles or bits of board, and one with a brick. The jelly +glasses stood inverted, and were inhabited; so were the preserve jars +and pickle jars; and so were the pill-boxes, which evidently contained +star boarders, for they were pierced with "breathing holes," and one of +them, standing upon its side like a little wheel, now and then moved in +a faint, ghostly manner as if about to start rolling on its own +account--whereupon Herbert glanced up and addressed it sternly, though +somewhat inconsistently: "You shut up!" + +In the display of so much experimental paraphernalia, there may have +been a hint that Herbert's was a scientific nature craving rather +quantity than quality; his collection certainly possessed the virtue of +multitudinousness, if that be a virtue; and the birds in the +neighbourhood must have been undergoing a great deal of disappointment. +In brief, as many bugs as Herbert now owned have seldom been seen in the +custody of any private individual. And nearly all of them were alive, +energetic and swearing, though several of the preserve jars had been +imperfectly drained of their heavy syrups, and in one of them a great +many spiders seemed to be having, of the whole collection, the poorest +time; being pretty well mired down and yet still subject to +disagreements among themselves. The habits of this group, under such +unusual surroundings, formed the subject of Herbert's special study at +the moment of Florence's arrival. He was seated at the table and +frowning with science as he observed the unfortunates through that +magnifying-glass, his discovery of which was responsible for their +present condition and his own choice of a career. + +Florence paused in the doorway, but he gave no sign of recognition, +unless his intensified preoccupation was a sign, and Florence, +perceiving what line of conduct he meant to adopt, instinctively +selected a reciprocal one for herself. "Herbert Atwater, you ought to be +punished! I'm goin' to tell your father and mother." + +"You g'way," Herbert returned, unmoved; and, without condescending to +give her a glance, he set down the magnifying-glass, and with a pencil +wrote something profoundly entomological in a soiled memorandum book +upon the table. "Run away, Flor'nce. Run away somewheres and play." + +Florence approached. "'Play'!" she echoed tartly. "I should think _you_ +wouldn't talk much about 'playin',' the way you're teasing those poor, +poor little bugs!" + +"'Teasing'!" Herbert exclaimed: "That shows! That shows!" + +"Shows what?" + +"How much you know!" He became despondent about her. "See here, +Florence; it does look to me as though at your age a person ought to +know anyway enough not to disturb me when I'm expairamenting, and +everything. I should think----" + +But she did not prove so meek as to await the conclusion of his +remonstrance. "I never saw anything as wicked in my whole born days! +What did any of those poor, poor little bugs ever do to _you_, I'd like +to know, you got to go and confine 'em like this! And look how dirty +your hands are!" + +This final charge, wandering so far from her previous specifications of +his guilt, was purely automatic and conventional; Florence often +interjected it during the course of any cousinly discussion, whatever +the subject in dispute, and she had not even glanced at Herbert's hands +to assure herself that the accusation was warranted. But, as usual, the +facts supported her; and they also supported Herbert in his immediate +mechanical retort: "So're yours!" + +"Not either!" But here Florence, after instinctively placing her hands +behind her, brought forth the right one to point, and simultaneously +uttered a loud cry: "Oh, _look_ at your hands!" For now she did look at +Herbert's hands, and was amazed. + +"Well, what of it?" + +"They're all lumpy!" she cried, and, as her gaze rose to his cheek, her +finger followed her eyes and pointed to strange appearances there. "Look +at your _face_!" + +"Well, what of it?" he demanded, his tone not entirely free from +braggadocio. "A girl can't make expairaments the way I do, because if +one of these good ole bumblebees or hornets of mine was to give 'em a +little sting, once in a while, while they was catchin' 'em and puttin' +'em in a jar, all they'd know how to do'd be to holler and run home to +their mamma. Nobody with any gumption minds a few little stings after +you put mud on 'em." + +"I guess it serves you right," Florence said, "for persecutin' these +poor, poor little bugs." + +Herbert became plaintive. "Look here, Florence; I do wish you'd go on +back home where you belong." + +But Florence did not reply; instead she picked up the magnifying-glass, +and, gazing through it at a pickle jar of mixed beetles, caterpillars, +angleworms, and potato bugs, permitted herself to shudder. "Vile +things!" she said. + +"They are not, either!" Herbert retorted hotly. "They're about the +finest insecks that you or anybody else ever saw, and you ought to be +ashamed----" + +"I ought?" his cousin cried. "Well, I should think you're the one ought +to be ashamed, if anybody ought! Down here in the cellar playin' with +all these vile bugs that ought to be given their liberty, or thrown +down the sewer, or somep'n!" Again, as she peered through the lens, she +shuddered. "Vile----" + +"Florence," he said sternly, "you lay down that magnifying-glass." + +"Why?" + +"Because you don't know how to handle it. A magnifying-glass has got to +be handled in just the right way, and you couldn't learn if you tried a +thousand years. That's a mighty fine magnifying-glass, and I don't +intend to have it ruined." + +"Why, just lookin' through it can't spoil it, can it?" she inquired, +surprised. + +"You lay it down," said Herbert darkly. "Lookin' through it the wrong +way isn't going to do it any _good_." + +"Why, how could just _lookin'_ through it----" + +"Lookin' through it the wrong way isn't goin' to _help_ it any, I tell +you!" he insisted. "You're old enough to know that, and I'm not goin' to +have my magnifying-glass spoiled and all my insecks wasted just because +of a mere whin of yours!" + +"A what?" + +"A mere whin, I said!" + +"What's a whin?" + +"Never you mind," said Herbert ominously. "You'll proba'ly find out some +day when you aren't expectin' to!" + +Undeniably, Florence was somewhat impressed: she replaced the +magnifying-glass upon the table and picked up the notebook. + +"You lay that down, too," said Herbert instantly. + +"Oh, maybe it's somep'n you're _'shamed_ to----" + +"Go on and read it, then," he said, suddenly changing his mind, for he +was confident that she would find matter here that might cause her to +appreciate at least a little of her own inferiority. + +"'Nots'," Florence began. "'Nots'----" + +"Notes!" he corrected her fiercely. + +"'Notes'," she read. "'Notes on our inseck friends. The spidder----'" + +"_Spider!_" + +"'The spider spends his time mostly in cobwebs which he digilently spins +between posts and catches flies to eat them. They are different coloured +and sizes and have legs in pairs. Spiders also spin their webs in +corners or in weeds or on a fence and sometimes in the grass. They are +more able to get about quicker than catapillars or fishing worms, but +cannot fly such as pinching bugs, lightning bugs, and birds because +having no wings, nor jump as far as the grass hoper----'" + +"Grasshopper!" Herbert shouted. + +"I'm readin' it the way it's spelled," Florence explained. "Anyway, it +don't make much sense." + +Herbert was at least enough of an author to be furious. "Lay it down!" +he said bitterly. "And go on back home to your dolls." + +"Dolls certainly would be _cleaner_ than vile bugs," Florence retorted, +tossing the book upon the table. "But in regards to that, I haven't had +any," she went on, airily--"not for years and years and years and----" + +He interrupted her, his voice again plaintive. "See here, Florence, how +do you expect me to get my _work_ done, with you everlastin'ly talkin' +and goin' on around here like this? Can't you see I've got somep'n +pretty important on my hands?" + +Florence became thoughtful. "I never did see as many bugs before, all +together this way," she said. "What you goin' to do with 'em, Herbert?" + +"I'm makin' my expairaments." + +But her thoughtfulness increased. "It seems to me," she said +slowly:--"Herbert, it seems to me there must be some awful inter'sting +thing we could do with so many bugs all together like this." + +"'We'!" he cried. "My goodness, whose insecks do you think these insecks +are?" + +"I just know there's somep'n," she went on, following her own line of +thought, and indifferent to his outburst. "There's somep'n we could do +with 'em that we'd never forget, if we could only think of it." + +In spite of himself, Herbert was interested. "Well, what?" he asked. +"What could we do with 'em we'd never forget?" + +In her eyes there was a far-away light as of a seeress groping. "I don't +just know exackly, but I know there's _somep'n_--if we could only think +of it--if we could just----" And her voice became inaudible, as in +dreamy concentration she seated herself upon the discarded ice-cream +freezer, and rested her elbows upon her knees and her chin upon the +palms of her hands. + +In silence then, she thought and thought. Herbert also was silent, for +he, too, was trying to think, not knowing that already he had proved +himself to be wax in her hands, and that he was destined further to show +himself thus malleable. Like many and many another of his sex, he never +for an instant suspected that he spent the greater part of his time +carrying out ideas implanted within him by a lady-friend. Florence was +ever the imaginative one of those two, a maiden of unexpected fancies +and inexplicable conceptions, a mind of quicksilver and mist. There was +within her the seedling of a creative artist, and as she sat there, on +the ice-cream freezer in Herbert's cellar, with the slowly growing +roseate glow of deep preoccupation upon her, she looked strangely sweet +and good, and even almost pretty. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +"Do you s'pose," she said, at last, in a musing voice: "Herbert, do you +s'pose maybe there's some poor family's children somewheres that haven't +got any playthings or anything and we could take all these----" + +But here Herbert proved unsympathetic. "I'm not goin' to give my insecks +to any poor people's children," he said emphatically. "I don't care how +poor they are!" + +"Well, I thought maybe just as a surprise----" + +"I won't do it. I had mighty hard work to catch this c'lection, and I'm +not goin' to give it away to anybody, I don't care how surprised they'd +be! Anyway, I'd never get any thanks for it; they wouldn't know how to +handle 'em, and they'd get all stung up: and what'd be the use, anyhow? +I don't see how _that's_ goin' to be somep'n so interesting we'd never +forget it." + +"No," she said. "I guess it wouldn't. I just thought it would be kind of +a bellnevolent thing to do." + +This word disturbed Herbert, but he did not feel altogether secure in +his own impression that "benovvalent" was the proper rendition of what +she meant, and so refrained from criticism. Their musing was resumed. + +"There's one thing I do wish," Florence said suddenly, after a time. "I +wish we could find some way to use the c'lection that would be useful +for Noble Dill." + +Now, at this, her cousin's face showed simple amazement. "What on earth +you talkin' about?" + +"Noble Dill," she said dreamily. "He's the only one I like that comes to +see Aunt Julia. Anyway, I like him the most." + +"I bet Aunt Julia don't!" + +"I don't care: he's the one _I_ wish she'd get married to." + +Herbert was astounded. "Noble Dill? Why, I heard mamma and Aunt Hattie +and Uncle Joe talkin' about him yesterday." + +"What'd they say?" + +"Most of the time," said Herbert, "they just laughed. They said Noble +Dill was the very last person in this town Aunt Julia'd ever dream o' +marryin'. They said he wasn't anything: they said he wasn't handsome +and he wasn't distingrished-looking----" + +"I think he is," Florence interposed. "I think he's _very_ +distingrished-looking." + +"Well, they said he wasn't, and they know more'n you do. Why, Noble Dill +isn't hardly any taller'n I am myself, and he hasn't got any muscle +partickyourly. Aunt Julia wouldn't look at him!" + +"She does, too! My goodness, how could he sit on the porch, right in +front of her, for two or three hours at a time, without her lookin' at +him?" + +"I don't care," Herbert insisted stubbornly. "_They_ said Aunt Julia +wouldn't. They said she was the worst flirt had ever been in the whole +family and Noble Dill had the worst case they ever saw, but she wouldn't +ever look at him, and if she did she'd be crazy." + +"Well, anyway," said Florence, "I think he's the nicest of all that goes +to see her, and I wish we could use this c'lection some way that would +be nice for him." + +Herbert renewed his protest. "How many times I got to tell you I had a +hard enough time catchin' this c'lection, day in and day out, from +before daylight till after dark, and then fixin' 'em all up like this +and everything! I don't prapose to waste 'em just to suit Noble Dill, +and I'm not goin' to give 'em away either. If anybody wanted to buy 'em +and offered a good fair price, money down, why, I----" + +"_That's_ it, Herbert!" his lady-cousin exclaimed with sudden +excitement. "Let's sell 'em!" She jumped up, her eyes bright. "I bet we +could get maybe five dollars for 'em. We can pour the ones that are in +the jars that haven't got tops and the ones in the jelly glasses and +pill-boxes--we can pour all those into the jars that have got tops, and +put the tops on again, and that'd just about fill those jars--and then +we could put 'em in a basket and take 'em out and sell 'em!" + +"Where could we sell 'em?" Herbert inquired, not convinced. + +"At the fish store!" she cried. "Everybody uses bugs and worms for bait +when they go fishing, don't they? I bet the fish man'll buy all the +worms we got, even if he wouldn't buy anything else. I bet he'll buy all +the others, too! I bet he never saw as much good bait as this all at one +time in his whole life! I bet he'll give us five dollars--maybe more!" + +Herbert was dazzled; the thought of this market was a +revelation--nothing could have been more plausible. Considered as bait, +the c'lection at once seemed to acquire a practical and financial value +which it lacked, purely as a c'lection. And with that the amateur and +scientist disappeared, giving way to the person of affairs. "'Give _us_ +five dollars'?" he said, in this capacity, and for deeper effect he used +a rhetorical expression: "Who do you think is the owner of all this fish +bait, may I ask you, pray?" + +"Yes, you _may_, pray!" was his cousin's instant and supercilious +retort. "Pray where would you ever of got any five dollars from any fish +man, if it hadn't been for me, pray? Pray, didn't I first sajest our +doing somep'n with the bugs we'd never forget, and if the fish man gives +us five dollars for 'em won't we remember it all our lives, pray? And, +pray, what part did you think up of all this, pray? Not one single +thing, and if you don't divide even with me, I'll run ahead and tell the +fish man the whole c'lection has been in bottles that had old medicine +and poison in 'em--and then where'll _you_ be, pray?" + +It is to be doubted that Florence possessed the cold-blooded capacities +with which this impromptu in diplomacy seemed to invest her: probably +she would never have gone so far. But the words sufficed; and Herbert +was so perfectly intimidated that he was even unresentful. "Well, you +can have your ole two dollars and a half, whether you got a right to it +or not," he said. "But you got to carry the basket." + +"No," said Florence. "This has got to be done right, Herbert. We're +partners now and everything's got to be divided just exackly even. I'll +carry the basket half the way and you carry it the other half." + +"Well----" he grumbled, consenting. + +"That's the only right way," she said sunnily. "You carry it till we get +to the fish man's, and I'll carry it all the way back." + +But even Herbert could perceive the inequality here. "It'll be empty +then," he protested. + +"Fair's fair and wrong's wrong," she returned firmly. "I spoke first to +carry it on the way home, and the one that speaks first gets it!" + +"Look here!" + +"Herbert, we got to get all these bugs fixed up and ready," she urged. +"We don't want to waste the whole afternoon just talkin' about it, do +we? Besides, Herbert, on the way home you'll have two dollars and a half +in your pocket, or anyway as much as you have left, if you buy some +soda and candy and things, and you'll feel so fine then you won't mind +whether you're carrying the basket or not." + +The picture she now suggested to Herbert's mind was of himself carrying +the basket both to the fish man and from the fish man: and he found +himself anxious to protest, yet helpless in a maze of perplexity. "But +wait a minute," he began. "You said----" + +"Let's don't waste another minute," she interrupted briskly. "I +shouldn't wonder it was after four o'clock by this time, and we both +need money. Hurry, Herbert!" + +"But didn't you say----" He paused to rub his head. "You said I'd feel +so good I wouldn't mind if I--if----" + +"No. I said, 'Hurry'!" + +"Well----" And though he felt that a subtle injustice lurked somewhere, +he was unable to think the matter out clearly into its composing +elements, and gave up trying. Nevertheless, as he obeyed her, and began +to "hurry," there remained with him an impression that by some foggy and +underhand process he had been committed to acquiescence in an unfair +division of labour. + +In this he was not mistaken. An hour later he and Florence were on their +way home from the fish man's place of business, and Herbert, having +carried the basket thither, was now carrying it thence. Moreover, his +burden was precisely as heavy on this homeward leg of the course as it +had been on that terminating at the fish store, for, covered by a +discreet newspaper, the preserve and pickle jars still remained within +the basket, their crowding and indignant contents intact. The fish man +had explained in terms derisive, but plain, the difference between a +fish man and a fisherman. He had maintained his definitions of the two +economic functions in spite of persistent arguments on the part of the +bait-dealers, and in the face of reductions that finally removed ninety +per cent. of their asking price. He wouldn't give fifty cents, or ten +cents, or one cent, he said: and he couldn't furnish the address of +anybody else that would. His fish came by express, he declared, again +and again: and the only people he knew that did any fishing were mainly +coloured, and dug their own bait; and though these might possibly be +willing to accept the angle worms as a gift, they would probably incline +to resent a generosity including so many spiders, not to speak of the +dangerous winged members of the c'lection. On account of these latter, +he jocosely professed himself to be anxious lest the tops of some of the +jars might work loose--and altogether he was the most disheartening man +they had ever met. + +Anticlimax was never the stimulant of amiability, and, after an +altercation on the pavement just outside of the store, during which the +derisive fish man continually called to them to go on and take that +there basket out of the neighbourhood, the cousins moved morbidly away, +and walked for a time in silence. + +They brooded. Herbert was even more embittered with Florence than he was +with the fish man, and Florence found life full of unexpectedness; it +had been so clear to her that the fish man would say: "Why, certainly. +Here's five dollars; two dollars and a half for each of you. Would you +care to have the jars back?" The facts, so contrary, seemed to wear the +aspect of deliberate malice, and she felt ill-used, especially as she +had several physical grievances, due to her assistance in pouring part +of the c'lection into the jars with tops. In spite of every precaution +three or four of the liveliest items had made their escape, during this +pouring, and had behaved resentfully. Florence bore one result on the +back of her left hand, two others on the thumb and second finger of her +right hand, and another, naturally the most conspicuous, on the point of +her chin. These had all been painful, in spite of mud poultices, but, +excited by the anticipation of a kindly smiling fish man, and occupied +with plans for getting Herbert to spend part of his two dollars and a +half for mutual refreshment, she had borne up cheerfully. Now, +comprehending that she had suffered in vain, she suffered anew, and +hated bugs, all fish men, and the world. + +It was Herbert who broke the silence and renewed the altercation. "How +far you expeck me to go on luggin' this ole basket?" he demanded +bitterly. "All the way home?" + +"I don't care how far," she informed him. "You can throw it away if you +want to. It's certainly no propaty of mine, thank you!" + +"Look here, didn't you promise you'd carry it home?" + +"I said I _spoke_ to. I didn't say I _would_ carry it." + +"Well, I'd like to know the dif----" + +But Florence cut him off. "I'll tell you the difference, since you're so +anxious to know the truth, Mister Herbert Atwater! The difference is +just this: you had no biznuss to meddle with those vile ole bugs in the +first place, and get me all stung up so't I shouldn't wonder I'd haf to +have the doctor, time I get home, and if I do I'm goin' to tell mamma +all about it and make her send the bill to your father. I want you to +know I _hurt_!" + +"My goodness!" Herbert burst out. "Don't you s'pose _I_ hurt any? I +guess you don't hurt any worse than----" + +She stopped him: "Listen!" + +From down the street there came a brazen clamouring for the right of +way; it grew imperiously louder, and there were clatterings and +whizzings of metallic bodies at speed, while little blurs and +glistenings in the distance grew swiftly larger, taking shape as a fire +engine and a hose-cart. Then, round the near-by corner, came perilously +steering the long "hook-and-ladder wagon"; it made the turn and went by, +with its firemen imperturbable on the running boards. + +"Fire!" Florence cried joyfully. "Let's go!" And, pausing no instant, +she made off up the street, shouting at the top of her voice: "_Fire! +Fire! Fire! Fire!_" + +Herbert followed. He was not so swift a runner as she, though this he +never submitted to a test admitted to be fair and conclusive; and he +found her demonstration of superiority particularly offensive now, as +she called back over her shoulder: "Why don't you keep up with me? Can't +you keep up?" + +"I'd _show_ you!" he panted. "If I didn't haf to lug this ole basket, +I'd leave you a mile behind mighty quick." + +"Well, why'n't you drop it, then?" + +"You s'pose I'm goin' to throw my c'lection away after all the trouble I +been _through_ with it?" + +She slackened her gait, dropping back beside him. "Well, then, if you +think you could keep up with me if you didn't have it, why'n't you leave +it somewhere, and come back and get it after the fire's over?" + +"No place to leave it." + +She laughed, and pointed. "Why'n't you leave it at grandpa's?" + +"Will you wait for me and start fair?" + +"Come on!" They obliqued across the street, still running forward, and +at their grandfather's gate Herbert turned in and sped toward the house. + +"Take it around to the kitchen and give it to Kitty Silver," Florence +called. "Tell Kitty Silver to take care of it for you." + +But Herbert was in no mind to follow her advice; a glance over his +shoulder showed that Florence was taking another unfair advantage of +him. "You wait!" he shouted. "You stand still till I get back there! You +got half a mile start a'ready! You wait till we can start even!" + +But Florence was skipping lightly away and she caroled over her +shoulder, waving her hand in mocking farewell as she began to run: + + "Ole Mister Slowpoke can't catch me! + Ole Mister Slowpoke couldn't catch a flea!" + +"I'll show you!" he bellowed, and, not to lose more time, he dashed up +the steps of the deserted veranda, thrust his basket deep underneath a +wicker settee, and ran violently after his elusive cousin. + +She kept a tantalizing distance between them, but when they reached the +fire it was such a grand one they forgot all their differences--and also +all about the basket. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +Noble Dill came from his father's house, after dinner that evening, a +youth in blossom, like the shrubberies and garden beds in the dim yards +up and down Julia's Street. All cooled and bathed and in new clothes of +white, he took his thrilled walk through the deep summer twilight, on +his way to that ineffable Front Porch where sat Julia, misty in the +dusk. The girlish little new moon had perished naďvely out of the sky; +the final pinkness of the west was gone; blue evening held the quiet +world; and overhead, between the branches of the maple trees, were +powdered all those bright pin points of light that were to twinkle on +generations of young lovers after Noble Dill, each one, like Noble, +walking the same fragrant path in summer twilights to see the Prettiest +Girl of All. + +Now and then there came to the faintly throbbing ears of the pedestrian +a murmur of voices from lawns where citizens sat cooling after the day's +labour, or a tinkle of laughter from where maidens dull (not being +Julia) sat on verandas vacant of beauty and glamour. For these poor +things, Noble felt a wondering and disdainful pity; he pitied everything +in the world that was not on the way to starry Julia. + +Eight nights had passed since he, himself, had seen her, but to-day she +had replied (over the telephone) that Mr. Atwater seemed to have settled +down again, and she believed it might be no breach of tact for Noble to +call that evening--especially as she would be on the veranda, and he +needn't ring the bell. Would she be alone--for once? It was improbable, +yet it could be hoped. + +But as he came hoping up the street, another already sat beside Julia, +sharing with her the wicker settee on the dim porch, and this was the +horn-rimmed young poet. Newland had, as usual, a new poem with him; and +as others had proved of late that they could sit on Julia's veranda as +long as he could, he had seized the first opportunity to familiarize her +with this latest work. + +The veranda was dark, and to go indoors to the light might have involved +too close a juxtaposition to peculiar old Mr. Atwater who was in the +library; but the resourceful Newland, foreseeing everything, had +brought with him a small pocket flashlight to illumine his manuscript. +"It's _vers libre_, of course," he said as he moved the flashlight over +the sheets of scribbled paper. "I think I told you I was beginning to +give all the old forms up. It's the one new movement, and I felt I ought +to master it." + +"Of course," she said sympathetically, though with a little nervousness. +"Be just a wee bit careful with the flashlight--about turning it toward +the window, I mean--and read in your nice low voice. I always like +poetry best when it's almost whispered. I think it sounds more musical +that way, I mean." + +Newland obeyed. His voice was hushed and profoundly appreciative of the +music in itself and in his poem, as he read: + + "I--And Love! + Lush white lilies line the pool + Like laces limned on looking-glasses! + I tread the lilies underfoot, + Careless how they love me! + Still white maidens woo me, + Win me not! + But thou! + Thou art a cornflower + Sapphire-eyed! + I bend! + Cornflower, I ask a question. + O flower, speak----" + +Julia spoke. "I'm afraid," she said, while Newland's spirit filled with +a bitterness extraordinary even in an interrupted poet;--"I'm afraid +it's Mr. Dill coming up the walk. We'll have to postpone----" She rose +and went to the steps to greet the approaching guest. "How nice of you +to come!" + +Noble, remaining on the lowest step, clung to her hand in a fever. "Nice +to come!" he said hoarsely. "It's eight days--eight days--eight days +since----" + +"Mr. Sanders is here," she said. "It's so dark on this big veranda +people can hardly see each other. Come up and sit with us. I don't have +to introduce you two men to each other." + +She did not, indeed. They said "H'lo, Dill" and "H'lo Sanders" in a +manner of such slighting superiority that only the utmost familiarity +could have bred a contempt so magnificent. Then, when the three were +seated, Mr. Sanders thought well to add: "How's rent collecting these +days, Dill? Still hustling around among those darky shanties over in +Bucktown?" + +In the dark Noble moved convulsively, but contrived to affect a light +laugh, or a sound meant for one, as he replied, in a voice not entirely +under control: "How's the ole poetry, Sanders?" + +"What?" Newland demanded sharply. "What did you say?" + +"I said: 'How's the ole poetry?' Do you read it to all your relations +the way you used to?" + +"See here, Dill!" + +"Well, what you want, Sanders?" + +"You try to talk about things you understand," said Newland. "You better +keep your mind on collecting four dollars a week from some poor coloured +widow, and don't----" + +"I'd _rather_ keep my mind on that!" Noble was inspired to retort. "Your +Aunt Georgina told my mother that ever since you began thinkin' you +could write poetry the life your family led was just----" + +Newland interrupted. He knew the improper thing his Aunt Georgina had +said, and he was again, and doubly, infuriated by the prospect of its +repetition here. He began fiercely: + +"Dill, you see here----" + +"Your Aunt Georgina said----" + +Both voices had risen. Plainly it was time for someone to say: +"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" Julia glanced anxiously through the darkness of +the room beyond the open window beside her, to where the light of the +library lamp shone upon a door ajar; and she was the more nervous +because Noble, to give the effect of coolness, had lit an Orduma +cigarette. + +She laughed amiably, as if the two young gentlemen were as amiable as +she. "I've thought of something," she said. "Let's take the settee and +some chairs down on the lawn where we can sit and see the moon." + +"There isn't any," Noble remarked vacantly. + +"Let's go, anyhow," she said cheerily. "Come on." + +Her purpose was effected; the belligerents were diverted, and Noble +lifted the light wicker settee. "I'll carry this," he said. "It's no +trouble. Sanders can carry a chair--I guess he'd be equal to that much." +He stumbled, dropped the settee, and lifted a basket, its contents +covered with a newspaper. "Somebody must have----" + +"What is it?" + +"It's a basket," said Noble. + +"How curious!" + +Julia peered through the darkness. "I wonder who could have left that +market basket out _here_. I suppose----" She paused. "Our cook does do +more idiotic things than--I'll go ask her if it's ours." + +She stepped quickly into the house, leaving two concentrations of +inimical silence behind her, but she returned almost immediately, +followed by Kitty Silver. + +"It's no use to argue," Julia was saying as they came. "You did your +marketing and simply and plainly left it out there because you were too +shiftless to----" + +"No'm," Mrs. Silver protested in a high voice of defensive complaint. +"No'm, Miss Julia, I ain' lef no baskit on _no_ front po'che! I got jus' +th'ee markit baskits in the livin' worl' an' they ev'y las' one an' all +sittin' right where I kin lay my han's on 'em behime my back do'. No'm, +Miss Julia, I take my solemn oaf I ain' lef no----" But here she +debouched upon the porch, and in spite of the darkness perceived herself +to be in the presence of distinguished callers. "Pahdon me," she said +loftily, her tone altering at once, "I beg leaf to insis' I better take +thishere baskit back to my kitchen an' see whut-all's insiden of it." + +With an elegant gesture she received the basket from Noble Dill and took +the handle over her ample forearm. "Hum!" she said. "Thishere ole basket +kine o' heavy, too. I wunner whut-all she _is_ got in her!" And she +groped within the basket, beneath the newspaper. + +Now, it was the breath of Kitty Silver's life to linger, when she could, +in a high atmosphere; and she was a powerful gossip, exorbitantly +interested in her young mistress's affairs and all callers. Therefore it +was beyond her not to seize upon any excuse that might detain her for +any time whatever in her present surroundings. + +"Pusserve jugs," she said. "Pusserve or pickle. Cain't tell which." + +"You can in the kitchen," Julia said, with pointed suggestion. "Of +course you can't in the dark." + +But still Mrs. Silver snatched at the fleeting moment and did not go. +"Tell by smellin' 'em," she murmured, seemingly to herself. + +With ease she unscrewed the top of one of the jars; then held the open +jar to her nose. "Don't smell to me exackly like no pusserves," she +said. "Nor yit like no pickles. Don't smell to me----" She hesitated, +sniffed the jar again, and then inquired in a voice quickly grown +anxious: "Whut _is_ all thishere in thishere jug? Seem like to _me_----" + +But here she interrupted herself to utter a muffled exclamation, not +coherent. Instantly she added some words suitable to religious +observances, but in a voice of passion. At the same time, with a fine +gesture, she hurled the jar and the basket from her, and both came in +contact with the wall, not far away, with a sound of breakage. + +"Why, what----" Julia began. "Kitty Silver, are you crazy?" + +But Kitty Silver was moving hurriedly toward the open front door, where +appeared, at that moment, Mr. Atwater in his most irascible state of +peculiarity. + +He began: "What was that heathenish----" + +Shouting, Mrs. Silver jostled by him, and, though she disappeared into +the house, a trail of calamitous uproar marked her passage to the +kitchen. + +"What thing has happened?" Mr. Atwater demanded. "Is she----?" + +His daughter interrupted him. + +"_Oh_!" was all she said, and sped by him like a bit of blown +thistledown, into the house. He grasped at her as she passed him; then +suddenly he made other gestures, and, like Kitty Silver, used Jacobean +phrases. But now there were no auditors, for Noble Dill and Newland +Sanders, after thoughtlessly following a mutual and natural impulse to +step over and examine the fallen basket, had both gone out to the +street, where they lingered a while, then decided to go home. + +... Later, that evening, Florence and Herbert remembered the c'lection; +so they came for it, a mistake. Discovering the fragments upon the +veranda, they made the much more important mistake of entering the house +to demand an explanation, which they received immediately. It was +delivered with so much vigour, indeed, that Florence was surprised and +hurt. And yet, the most important of her dreamy wishes of the afternoon +had been fulfilled: the c'lection had been useful to Noble Dill, for Mr. +Atwater had smelled the smell of an Orduma cigarette and was just on the +point of coming out to say some harsh things, when the c'lection +interfered. And as Florence was really responsible for its having been +in a position to interfere, so to say, she had actually in a manner +protected her protégé and also shown some of that power of which she had +boasted when she told him that sometimes she made members of her family +"step around pretty lively." + +Another of her wishes appeared to be on the way to fulfilment, too. She +had hoped that something memorable might be done with the c'lection, and +the interview with her grandfather, her Aunt Julia, and Kitty Silver +seemed to leave this beyond doubt. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +Now August came, that florid lazy month when mid-summer dawdles along in +trailing greeneries, and the day is like some jocund pagan, all flushed +and asleep, with dripping beard rosy in a wine bowl of fat vine leaves. +Yet, in this languorous time there may befall a brisker night, cool and +lively as an intrusive boy--a night made for dancing. On such a night a +hasty thought might put it as desirable that all the world should be +twenty-two years old and in love, like Noble Dill. + +Upon the white bed in his room, as he dressed, lay the flat black +silhouettes of his short evening coat and trousers, side by side, trim +from new pressing; and whenever he looked at them Noble felt rich, tall, +distinguished, and dramatic. It is a mistake, as most literary legends +are mistakes, to assume that girls are the only people subject to +before-the-party exhilaration. At such times a girl is often in the +anxious yet determined mood of a runner before a foot race, or she may +be merely hopeful; some are merry and some are grim, but arithmetical +calculation of some sort, whether glorious or uneasy, is busy in their +eyes as they pin and pat before their mirrors. To behold romance gone +light-headed, turn to the humbler sort of man-creature under +twenty-three. Alone in his room, he may enact for you scenes of flowery +grace and most capricious gallantry, rehearsals as unconscious as the +curtsies of field daisies in a breeze. He has neither doubt nor +certainty of his charm; he has no arithmetic at all, and is often so +free of calculation that he does not even pull down the shades at his +windows. + +Unfortunately for the neighbours, and even for passers-by, since Noble's +room had a window visible from the street, his prophetic mother had +closed his shutters before he began to dress. Thus she deprived honest +folk of what surely must have been to them the innocent pleasure of +seeing a very young man in light but complete underwear, lifting from +his head a Panama hat, new that day, in a series of courteous +salutations. At times, during this same stage of his toilet, they might +have had even more entertainment:--before putting on his socks Noble +"one-stepped" for several minutes, still retaining upon his head the +new hat. This was a hat of double value to him; not only was it pleasant +to behold in his mirror, but it was engaged in solidifying for the +evening the arrangement of his hair. + +It may be admitted that he was a little giddy, for the dance was +Julia's. Mr. Atwater had been summoned to New York on a blessed business +that would keep him a fortnight, and his daughter, alert to the first +flash of opportunity, had almost instantly summoned musicians, florists, +a caterer, and set plans before them. Coincidentally, Noble had chanced +to see Mr. Atwater driving down Julia's Street that morning, a +travelling bag beside him, and, immediately putting aside for the day +all business cares, hurried to the traveller's house. Thus he +forestalled, for the time being, that competition which helped to make +caring for Julia so continuous a strain upon whatever organ is the seat +of the anxieties. Kind Julia, busy as she was, agreed to dance the first +dance with him, and the last--those being considered of such +significance that he would be entitled to the perquisites of a special +cavalier; for instance, a seat beside her during the serving of the +customary light repast. In such high fortune, no wonder he was a little +giddy as he dressed! + +The process of clothing himself was disconnected, being broken by +various enacted fancies and interludes. Having approached the length of +one sock toward the completion of his toilet, he absently dropped the +other upon the floor, and danced again; his expression and attitude +signifying that he clasped a revered partner. Releasing her from this +respectful confinement, he offered the invisible lady a gracious arm and +walked up and down the room with a stateliness tempered to rhythm, a +cakewalk of strange refinement. Phrases seemed to be running in his +head, impromptus symbolic of the touching and romantic, for he spoke +them half aloud hi a wistful yet uplifted manner. "Oh, years!" he said. +"Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare!" Then he added, in a deeper +voice: + +"For life is but a golden dream so sweetly." + +Other whimsies came forth from him as the dressing slowly continued, +though one might easily be at fault in attempting to fathom what was his +thought when, during the passage of his right foot through the +corresponding leg of his trousers, he exclaimed commandingly: + +"Now, Jocko, for the stirrup cup!" + +Jack boots and a faithful squire, probably. + +During the long and dreamy session with his neck gear he went back to +the softer _motif_: + + "Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare! + For life is but a golden dream so sweetly." + +Then, pausing abruptly to look at his coat, so smoothly folded upon the +bed, he addressed it: "O noblest sample of the tailor's dext'rous art!" + +This was too much courtesy, for the coat was "ready-made," and looked +nobler upon the bed than upon its owner. In fact, it was by no means a +dext'rous sample; but evidently Noble believed in it with a high and +satisfying faith; and he repeated his compliment to it as he put it on: + +"Come, noblest sample of the tailor's art; I'll don thee!" + +During these processes he had been repeatedly summoned to descend to the +family dinner, and finally his mother came lamenting and called up from +the front hall that "everything" was "all getting cold!" + +But by this time he was on his way, and though he went back to leave his +hat in his room, unwilling to confide it to the hat-rack below, he +presently made his appearance in the dining-room and took his seat at +the table. This mere sitting, however, appeared to be his whole +conception of dining; he seemed as unaware of his mother's urging food +upon him as if he had been a Noble Dill of waxwork. Several tunes he +lifted a fork and set it down without guiding it to its accustomed +destination. Food was far from his thoughts or desires, and if he really +perceived its presence at all, it appeared to him as something vaguely +ignoble upon the horizon. + +But he was able to partake of coffee; drank two cups feverishly, his +hand visibly unsteady; and when his mother pointed out this confirmation +of many prophecies that cigarettes would ruin him, he asked if anybody +had noticed whether or not it was cloudy outdoors. At that his father +looked despondent, for the open windows of the dining-room revealed an +evening of fragrant clarity. + +"I see, I see," Noble returned pettishly when the fine state of this +closely adjacent weather was pointed out to him by his old-maid sister. +"It wouldn't be raining, of course. Not on a night like this." He jumped +up. "It's time for me to go." + +Mrs. Dill laughed. "It's only a little after seven. Julia won't be +through her own dinner yet. You mustn't----" + +But with a tremulous smile, Noble shook his head and hurriedly left the +room. He went upstairs for his hat, and while there pinned a geranium +blossom upon his lapel, for it may be admitted that in boutonničres his +taste was as yet unformed. + +Coming down again, he took a stick under his arm and was about to set +forth when he noticed a little drift of talcum powder upon one of his +patent leather shoes. After carefully removing this accretion and adding +a brighter lustre to the shoe by means of friction against the back of +his ankle, he decided to return to his room and brush the affected +portion of his trousers. Here a new reverie arrested him; he stood with +the brush in his hand for some time; then, not having used it, he +dropped it gently upon the bed, lit an Orduma cigarette, descended, and +went forth to the quiet street. + +As he walked along Julia's Street toward Julia's Party, there was +something in his mien and look more dramatic than mere sprightliness; +and when he came within sight of the ineffable house and saw its many +lights shining before him, he breathed with profundity, half halting. +Again he murmured: + + "Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare! + For life is but a golden dream so sweetly." + +At the gate he hesitated. Perhaps--perhaps he was a little early. It +might be better to walk round the block. + +He executed this parade, and again hesitated at the gate. He could see +into the brightly lighted hall, beyond the open double doors; and it +contained nothing except its usual furniture. Once more he walked round +the block. The hall was again in the same condition. Again he went on. + +When he had been thrice round the block after that, he discovered human +beings in the hall; they were Florence, in a gala costume, and +Florence's mother, evidently arrived to be assistants at the party, for, +with the helpful advice of a coloured manservant, they were arranging +some bunches of flowers on two hall tables. Their leisurely manner +somewhat emphasized the air of earliness that hung about the place, and +Noble thought it better to continue to walk round the block. The third +time after that, when he completed his circuit, the musicians were just +arriving, and their silhouettes, headed by that of the burdened bass +fiddler, staggered against the light of the glowing doorway like a +fantasia of giant beetles. Noble felt that it would be better to let +them get settled, and therefore walked round the block again. + +Not far from the corner above Julia's, as he passed, a hoarse and +unctuous voice, issuing out of an undistinguishable lawn, called his +name: "Noble! Noble Dill!" And when Noble paused, Julia's Uncle Joseph +came waddling forth from the dimness and rested his monstrous arms upon +the top of the fence, where a street light revealed them as +shirt-sleeved and equipped with a palm-leaf fan. + +"What _is_ the matter, Noble?" Mr. Atwater inquired earnestly. + +"Matter?" Noble repeated. "Matter?" + +"We're kind of upset," said Mr. Atwater. "My wife and I been just +sittin' out here in our front yard, not doing any harm to anybody, and +here it's nine times we've counted you passing the place--always going +the same way!" He spoke as with complaint, a man with a grievance. "It's +kind of ghostlike," he added. "We'd give a good deal to know what _you_ +make of it." + +Noble was nonplussed. "Why----" he said. "Why----" + +"How do you get _back_? That's the mystery!" said Mr. Atwater. "You're +always walkin' down street and never up. You know my wife's never been +too strong a woman, Noble, and all this isn't doing her any good. +Besides, we sort of figured out that you ought really to be at Julia's +dance this evening." + +"I am," said Noble nervously. "I mean that's where I'm going. I'm going +there. I'm going there." + +"That's what's upsetting us so!" the fat man exclaimed. "You keep on +going there! Just when we've decided you must _be_ there, at last, here +you come, going there again. Well, don't let me detain you. But if you +do decide to go in, some time, Noble, I'm afraid you aren't going to be +able to do much dancing." + +Noble, who had begun to walk on, halted in sudden panic. Did this +sinister fear of Mr. Atwater's mean that, as an uncle, he had heard +Julia was suddenly ill? + +"Why won't I?" he asked quickly. "Is anything----" + +"Your poor feet!" said Mr. Atwater, withdrawing. "Good-night, Noble." + +The youth went on, somewhat disturbed; it seemed to him that this uncle, +though Julia's, was either going queer in the head or had chosen a poor +occasion to be facetious. Next time, probably, it would be better to +walk round the block below this. But it was no longer advisable to walk +round any block. When he came to the happy gateway, the tuning of +instruments and a fanfare of voices sounded from within the house; girls +in light wraps were fluttering through the hall with young men; it was +"time for the party!" And Noble went in. + +Throughout the accomplishment of the entrance he made, his outside and +his inside were directly contradictory. His inside was almost +fluttering: there might have been a nest of nervous young birds in his +chest; but as he went upstairs to the "gentlemen's dressing-room," to +leave his hat and stick, this flopping and scrambling within him was +never to be guessed from his outside. His outside was unsympathetic, +even stately; he greeted his fellow guests with negligent hauteur, while +his glance seemed to say: "Only peasantry here!" + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +The stairway was crowded as he descended; and as he looked down upon the +heads and shoulders of the throng below, in Julia's hall, the thought +came to him that since he had the first and last dances and supper +engaged with Julia, the hostess, this was almost the next thing to being +the host. It was a pleasing thought, and a slight graciousness now +flavoured his salutations. + +At the foot of the stairs he became part of the file of young people who +were moving into one of the large rooms where Julia stood to "receive." +And then, between two heads before him, he caught a first glimpse of +her;--and all the young birds fluttering in his chest burst into song; +his heart fainted, his head ballooned, his feet seemed to dangle from +him at the ends of two strings. + +There glowed sapphire-eyed Julia; never had she been prettier. + +The group closed, shutting out the vision, and he found himself able to +dry his brow and get back his breath before moving forward in a cold +and aristocratic attitude. Then he became incapable of any attitude--he +was before her, and she greeted him. A buzzing of the universe confused +him: he would have stood forever, but pressure from behind pushed him +on; and so, enveloped in a scented cloud, he passed into a corner. He +tried to remember what he had said to her, but could not; perhaps it +would have discouraged him to know that all he had said was, "Well!" + +Now there rattled out a challenge of drums; loud music struck upon the +air. Starting instantly to go to Julia, Noble's left leg first received +the electric impulse and crossed his laggard right; but he was no pacer, +and thus stumbled upon himself and plunged. Still convulsive, he came +headlong before her, and was the only person near who remained unaware +that his dispersal of an intervening group had the appearance of extreme +unconventionality. Noble knew nothing except that this was his dance +with Her. + +Then heaven played with him. She came close and touched him exquisitely. +She placed a lovely hand upon his shoulder, her other lovely cool hand +in one of his. The air filled with bursting stars. + +They danced. + +Noble was conscious of her within his clasping arm, but conscious of her +as nothing human. The fluffy white bodice pressed by his hand seemed to +be that of some angel doll; the charming shoulder that sometimes touched +his was made of a divine mist. Only the pretty head, close to his, was +actual; the black-sapphire eyes gave him a little blue-black glance, now +and then, and seemed to laugh. + +In truth, they did, though Julia's lips remained demure. So far as Noble +was able to comprehend what he was doing, he was floating rhythmically +to a faint, far music; but he was almost unconscious, especially from +the knees down. But to the eye of observers incapable of perceiving that +Noble was floating, it appeared that he was out of step most of the +time, and danced rather hoppingly. However, these mannerisms were no +novelty with him, and it cannot be denied that girls at dances usually +hurried impulsively away to speak to somebody when they saw him coming. +One such creature even went so far as to whisper to Julia now, during a +collision: "How'd you get caught?" + +Julia was loyal; she gave no sign of comprehension, but valiantly swung +onward with Noble, bumped and bumping everywhere, in spite of the most +extraordinary and graceful dexterity on her part. + +"That's one reason she's such a terrible belle," a damsel whispered to +another. + +"What is?" + +"The way she'll be just as nice to anybody like Noble Dill as she is to +anybody," said the first. "Look at her now: she won't laugh at him a +bit, though everybody else is." + +"Well, I wouldn't laugh either," said the other. "Not in Julia's +position. I'd be too busy being afraid." + +"What of?" + +"Of getting a sprained ankle!" + +It is well that telepathy remains, as a science, lethargic. Speculation +sets before us the prospect of a Life Beyond in which every thought is +communicated without the intervention of speech: a state wherein all +neighbours and neighbourhoods would promptly be dispersed and few +friendships long endure, one fears. If to Noble Dill's active +consciousness had penetrated merely the things thought about him and his +dancing, in this one short period of time before the music for that +dance stopped, he might easily have been understood if he had hurried +forth, obtained explosives, and blown up the place, himself indeed +included. As matters providentially were in reality, when the music +stopped he stood confounded: he thought the dance had just begun. + +His mouth remained open until the necessary gestures of articulation +intermittently closed it as he said: "_Oh!_ That was _divine_!" + +Too-gentle Julia agreed. + +"You said I could have part of some in between the first and last," he +reminded her. "Can I have the first part of the next?" + +She laughed. "I'm afraid not. The next is Mr. Clairdyce's and I really +_promised_ him I wouldn't give _any_ of his away or let anybody cut in." + +"Well, then," said Noble, frowning a little, "would you be willing for +me to cut in on the third?" + +"I'm afraid not. That's Newland Sanders', and I promised him the same +thing." + +"Well, the one after that?" + +"No, that one's Mr. Clairdyce's, too." + +"It _is_?" Noble was greatly disturbed. + +"Yes." + +"Two that quick with old Baldy Clairdyce!" he exclaimed, raising his +voice, but unaware of the fervour with which he spoke. "Two with that +old----" + +"_Sh_, Noble," she said, though she laughed. "He isn't really old; he's +just middle-aged, and only the least bit bald, just enough to be +distinguished-looking." + +"Well, you know what _I_ think of him!" he returned with a vehemence not +moderated. "_I_ don't think he's distinguished-looking; I think he's +simply and plainly a regular old----" + +"_Sh!_" Julia warned him again. "He's standing with some people just +behind us," she added. + +"Well, then," said Noble, "can I cut in on the next one after that?" + +She consulted a surreptitious little card. "I'm afraid you'll have to +wait till quite a little later on, Noble. That one is poor Mr. +Ridgely's. I promised him I wouldn't----" + +"Then can I cut in on the next one after that?" + +"It's Mr. Clairdyce's," said Julia--and she blushed. + +"My goodness!" said Noble. "Oh, my goodness!" + +"_Sh!_ I'm afraid people----" + +"Let's go out on the porch," said Noble, whose manner had suddenly +become desperate. "Let's go out and get some air where we can talk this +thing over." + +"I'm afraid I'd better not just now," she returned, glancing over her +shoulder. "You see, all the people aren't here yet." + +"You've got an aunt here," said Noble, "and a sister-in-law and a little +niece: I saw 'em. They can----" + +"I'm afraid I'd better stay indoors just now," she said persuasively. +"We can talk here just as well." + +"We can't!" he insisted feverishly. "We can't, Julia! I've got something +to say, Julia. Julia, you gave me the first dance and the last dance, +and of course sitting together at supper, or whatever there is, and you +know as well as I do that means it's just the same as if you weren't +giving this party but it was somewhere else and I took you to it, and +it's always understood you _never_ dance more with anybody else than the +one you went with, when you go with that person to a place, because +that's the rights of it; and other towns it's just the same way; they do +that way there, just the same as here; they do that way everywhere, +because nobody else has got a right to cut in and dance more with you +than the one you go with, when you goes to a place with that one. Julia, +don't you see that's the regular way it is, and the only fair way it +ought to be?" + +"What?" + +"Weren't you even _listening_?" he cried. + +"Yes, indeed, but----" + +"Julia," he said desperately, "let's go out on the porch. I want to +explain just the way I feel. Let's go out on the porch, Julia. If we +stay here, somebody's just bound to interrupt us any minute before I can +explain the way I----" + +But the prophecy was fulfilled even before it was concluded. A group of +loudly chattering girls and their escorts of the moment bore down upon +Julia, and shattered the tęte-ŕ-tęte. Dislodged from Julia's side by a +large and eager girl, whom he had hated ever since she was six years old +and he five, Noble found himself staggering in a kind of suburb; for the +large girl's disregard of him, as she shouldered in, was actually +physical, and too powerful for him to resist. She wished to put her +coarse arm round Julia's waist, it appeared, and the whole group burbled +and clamoured: the party was _perfictly_ glorious; so was the waxed +floor; so was Julia, my _dear_, so was the music, the weather, and the +din they made! + +Noble felt that his rights were being outraged. Until the next dance +began, every moment of her time was legally his--yet all he could even +see of her was the top of her head. And the minutes were flying. + +He stood on tiptoe, thrust his head forward over the large girl's odious +shoulder, and shouted: "Julia! Let's go out on the porch!" + +No one seemed to hear him. + +"Julia----" + +_Boom!_ Rackety-_Boom_! The drummer walloped his drums; a saxophone +squawked, and fiddles squealed. Hereupon appeared a tall authoritative +man, at least thirty-two years old, and all swelled up with himself, as +interpreted by Noble and several other friends of Julia's--though this, +according to quite a number of people (all feminine) was only another +way of saying that he was a person of commanding presence. He wore a +fully developed moustache, an easy smile, clothes offensively knowing; +and his hair began to show that scarcity which Julia felt gave him +distinction--a curious theory, but natural to her age. What really did +give this Clairdyce some air of distinction, however, was the calmness +with which he walked through the group that had dislodged Noble Dill, +and the assurance with which he put his arm about Julia and swept her +away in the dance. + +Noble was left alone in the middle of the floor, but not for long. +Couples charged him, and he betook himself to the wall. The party, for +him, was already ruined. + +Sometimes, as he stood against the wall, there would be swirled to him, +out of all the comminglements of other scents, a faint, faint hint of +heliotrope and then Julia would be borne masterfully by, her flying +skirts just touching him. And sometimes, out of the medley of all other +sounds, there would reach his ear a little laugh like a run of lightly +plucked harp strings, and he would see her shining dark hair above her +partner's shoulder as they swept again near him for an instant. And +always, though she herself might be concealed from him, he could only +too painfully mark where she danced: the overtopping head of the tall +Clairdyce was never lost to view. The face on the front part of that +disliked head wore continuously a confident smile, which had a bad +effect on Noble. It seemed to him desecration that a man with so gross a +smile should be allowed to dance with Julia. And that she should smile +back at her partner, and with such terrible kindness--as Noble twice saw +her smile--this was like a calamity happening to her white soul without +her knowing it. If she should ever marry that man--well, it would be +the old story: May and December! Noble shuddered, and the drums, the +fiddles, the bass fiddle, and the saxophone seemed to have an evil +sound. + +When the music stopped he caromed hastily through the room toward Julia, +but she was in a thicket of her guests when he arrived, and for several +moments Mr. Clairdyce's broad back kept intervening--almost +intentionally, it seemed. When Noble tried to place himself in a +position to attract Julia's attention, this back moved, too, and Noble's +nose but pressed black cloth. And the noise everybody made was so +baffling that, in order to be heard, Julia herself was shouting. Finally +Noble contrived to squirm round the obtrusive back, and protruded his +strained face among all the flushed and laughing ones. + +"Julia, I got to----" he began. + +But this was just at the climax of a story that three people were +telling at the same time, Julia being one of them, and he received +little attention. + +"Julia," he said hoarsely; "I got something I want to _tell_ you +about----" + +He raised his voice: "Julia, come on! Let's go out on the _porch_!" + +Nobody even knew that he was there. Nevertheless, the tall and solid +Clairdyce was conscious of him, but only, it proved, as one is conscious +of something to rest upon. His elbow, a little elevated, was at the +height of Noble's shoulder, and this heavy elbow, without its owner's +direct or active cognizance, found for itself a comfortable support. +Then, as the story reached its conclusion, this old Clairdyce joined the +general mirth so heartily as to find himself quite overcome, and he +allowed most of his weight to depend upon the supported elbow. Noble +sank like feathers. + +"Here! What you doin'?" he said hotly. "I'll thank you to keep off o' +me!" + +Old Baldy recovered his balance without being aware what had threatened +it, while his elbow, apparently of its own volition, groped for its +former pedestal. Noble evaded it, and pushed forward. + +"Julia," he said. "I _got_ to say some----" + +But the accursed music began again, and horn-rimmed Newland Sanders +already had his arm about her waist. They disappeared into the ruck of +dancers. + +"Well, by George!" said Noble. "By George, I'm goin' to _do_ +something!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +He went outdoors and smoked Orduma cigarettes, one after the other. +Dances and intermissions succeeded each other but Noble had "enough of +_that_, for one while!" So he muttered. + +And remembering how Julia had told him that he was killing himself with +cigarettes, "All right," he said now, as he bitterly lighted his fifth +at the spark of the fourth;--"I hope I will!" + +"Lot o' difference it'd make!" he said, as he lighted the eighth of a +series that must, all told, have contained nearly as much tobacco as a +cigar. And, leaning back against the trunk of one of the big old walnut +trees in the yard, he gazed toward the house, where the open window +nearest him splashed with colour like a bright and crowded aquarium. "To +_her_, anyway!" he added, with a slight remorse, remembering that his +mother had frequently shown him evidences of affection. + +Yes, his mother would care, and his father and sisters would be upset, +but Julia--when the friends of the family were asked to walk by for a +last look, would she be one? What optimism remained to him presented a +sketch of Julia, in black, borne from the room in the arms of girl +friends who tried in vain to hush her; but he was unable to give this +more hopeful fragment an air of great reality. Much more probably, when +word came to her that he had smoked himself to death, she would be a +bride, dancing at Niagara Falls with her bald old husband--and she would +only laugh and pause to toss a faded rose out of the window, and then go +right on dancing. But perhaps, some day, when tears had taught her the +real meaning of life with such a man---- + +"You--_wow_!" + +Noble jumped. From the darkness of the yard beside the house there came +a grievous howl, distressful to the spinal marrow, a sound of animal +pain. It was repeated even more passionately, and another voice was also +heard, one both hoarsely bass and falsetto in the articulation of a +single syllable. "_Ouch!_" There were sounds of violent scuffing, and +the bass-falsetto voice cried: "What's that you _stuck_ me with?" and +another: "Drag her! Drag her back by her feet!" + +These alarms came from the almost impenetrable shadows of the small +orchard beside the house; and from the same quarter was heard the +repeated contact of a heavy body, seemingly wooden or metallic, with the +ground; but high over this there rose a shrieking: "Help! Help! Oh, +_hay_-yulp!" This voice was girlish. "Hay-_yulp_!" + +Noble dashed into the orchard, and at once fell prostrate upon what +seemed a log, but proved to be a large and solidly packed ice-cream +freezer lying on its side. + +Dark forms scrambled over the fence and vanished, but as Noble got to +his feet he was joined by a dim and smallish figure in white--though +more light would have disclosed a pink sash girdling its middle. It was +the figure of Miss Florence Atwater, seething with furious agitations. + +"Vile thieves!" she panted. + +"Who?" Noble asked, brushing at his knees, while Florence made some +really necessary adjustments of her own attire. "Who were they?" + +"It was my own cousin, Herbert, and that nasty little Henry Rooter and +their gang. Herbert thinks he hass to act perfectly horrable all the +time, now his voice is changing!" said Florence, her emotion not abated. +"Tried to steal this whole ice-cream freezer off the back porch and +sneak it over the fence and eat it! I stuck a pretty long pin in Herbert +and two more of 'em, every bit as far as it would go." And in the +extremity of her indignation, she added: "The dirty robbers!" + +"Did they hurt you?" + +"You bet your life they didn't!" the child responded. "Tried to drag me +back to the house! By the feet! I guess I gave 'em enough o' _that_!" + +Then, tugging the prostrate freezer into an upright position, she +exclaimed darkly: "I expect I gave ole Mister Herbert and some of the +others of 'em just a few kicks they won't be in such a hurry to forget!" +And in spite of his own gloomy condition, Noble was able, upon thinking +over matters, to spare some commiseration for Herbert and his friend, +that nasty little Henry Rooter and their gang. They seemed to have been +at a disadvantage. + +"I suppose I'd better carry the freezer back to the kitchen porch," he +said. "Somebody may want it." + +"'Somebody'!" Florence exclaimed. "Why, there's only two of these big +freezers, and if I hadn't happened to suspeck somep'n and be layin' for +those vile thieves, half the party wouldn't get _any_!" And as an +afterthought, when Noble had pantingly restored the heavy freezer to its +place by the kitchen door, she said: "Or else they'd had to have such +little saucers of it nobody would of been any way _like_ satisfied, and +prob'ly all the fam'ly that's here assisting would of had to go without +any at all. That'd 'a' been the worst of it!" + +She opened the kitchen door, and to those within explained loudly what +dangers had been averted, directing that both freezers be placed indoors +under guard; then she rejoined Noble, who was walking slowly back to the +front yard. + +"I guess it's pretty lucky you happened to be hangin' around out here," +she said. "I guess that's about the luckiest thing ever happened to me. +The way it looks to me, I guess you saved my life. If you hadn't chased +'em away, I wouldn't been a bit surprised if that gang would killed me!" + +"Oh, no!" said Noble. "They wouldn't----" + +"You don't know 'em like I do," the romantic child assured him. "I know +that gang pretty well, and I wouldn't been a bit surprised. I wouldn't +been!" + +"But----" + +She tossed her head, signifying recklessness. + +"Guess 'twouldn't make much difference to anybody particular, whether +they did or not," said this strange Florence. + +Noble regarded her with astonishment; they had reached the front yard, +and paused under the trees where the darkness was mitigated by the light +from the shining windows. "Why, you oughtn't to talk that way, +Florence," he said. "Think of your mamma and papa and your--and your +Aunt Julia." + +She tossed her head again. "Pooh! They'd all of 'em just say: 'Good +ribbons to bad rubbish,' I guess!" However, she seemed far from +despondent about this; in fact, she was naturally pleased with her +position as a young girl saved from the power of ruffians by a rescuer +who was her Very Ideal. "I bet if I died, they wouldn't even have a +funeral," she said cheerfully. "They'd proba'ly just leave me lay." + +The curiosities of the human mind are found not in high adventure: they +are everywhere in the commonplace. Never for a moment did it strike +Noble Dill that Florence's turn to the morbid bore any resemblance to +his recent visions of his own funeral. He failed to perceive that the +two phenomena were produced out of the same laboratory jar and were +probably largely chemical, at that. + +"Why, Florence!" he exclaimed. "That's a dreadful way to feel. I'm sure +your--your Aunt Julia loves you." + +"Oh, well," Florence returned lightly;--"maybe she does. I don't care +whether she does or not." And now she made a deduction, the profundity +of which his condition made him unable to perceive. "It makes less +difference to anybody whether their aunts love 'em or not than whether +pretty near anybody else at all does." + +"But not your Aunt _Julia_" he urged. "Your Aunt _Julia_----" + +"I don't care whether she does than any other aunt I got," said +Florence. "All of 'em's just aunts, and that's all there is to it." + +"But, Florence, your Aunt _Julia_----" + +"She's nothin' in the world but my _aunt_," Florence insisted, and her +emphasis showed that she was trying hard to make him understand. "She's +just the same as all of 'em. I don't get anything more from her than I +do from any the rest of 'em." + +Her auditor was dumfounded, but not by Florence's morals. The +cold-blooded calculation upon which her family affections seemed to be +founded, this aboriginal straightforwardness of hers, passed over him. +What shocked him was her appearing to see Julia as all of a piece with a +general lot of ordinary aunts. Helplessly, he muttered again: + +"But your Aunt _Julia_----" + +"There she is now," said Florence, pointing to the window nearest them. +"They've stopped dancing for a while so's that ole Mister Clairdyce can +get a chance to sing somep'n. Mamma told me he was goin' to." + +Dashing chords sounded from a piano invisible to Noble and his +companion; the windows exhibited groups of deferentially expectant young +people; and then a powerful barytone began a love song. From the yard +the singer could not be seen, but Julia could be: she stood in the +demurest attitude; and no one needed to behold the vocalist to know that +the scoundrel was looking pointedly and romantically at her. + + "Dee-urra-face that holds soswee tasmile for me, + Wairyew nah tmine how darrrk the worrrl dwooed be!" + +To Noble, suffering at every pore, this was less a song than a +bellowing; and in truth the confident Mr. Clairdyce did "let his voice +out," for he was seldom more exhilarated than when he shook the ceiling. +The volume of sound he released upon his climaxes was impressive, and +the way he slid up to them had a great effect, not indoors alone, but +upon Florence, enraptured out under the trees. + +"Oh, isn't it be-_you_-tiful!" she murmured. + +Her humid eyes were fixed upon Noble, who was unconscious of the honour. +Florence was susceptible to anything purporting to be music, and this +song moved her. Throughout its delivery from Mr. Clairdyce's unseen +chest, her large eyes dwelt upon Noble, and it is not at all impossible +that she was applying the tender words to him, just as the vehement +Clairdyce was patently addressing them to Julia. On he sang, while +Noble, staring glassily at the demure lady, made a picture of himself +leaping unexpectedly through the window, striding to the noisy barytone, +striking him down, and after stamping on him several times, explaining: +"There! That's for your insolence to our hostess!" But he did not +actually permit himself these solaces; he only clenched and unclenched +his fingers several times, and continued to listen. + + "Geev a-mee yewr ra-smile, + The luv va-ligh TIN yew rise, + Life cooed not hold a fairrerr paradise. + Geev a-mee the righ to luv va-yew all the wile, + My worrlda for AIV-vorr, + The sunshigh NUV vyewr-ra-smile!" + +The conclusion was thunderous, and as a great noise under such +circumstances is an automatic stimulant of enthusiasm, the applause was +thunderous too. Several girls were unable to subdue their outcries of +"Charming!" and "_Won_-derf'l!"--not even after Mr. Clairdyce had begun +to sing the same song as an encore. + +When this was concluded, a sigh, long and deep, was heard under the +trees. It came from Florence. Her eyes, wanly gleaming, like young +oysters in the faint light, were still fixed on Noble; and there can be +little doubt that just now there was at least one person in the world, +besides his mother, who saw him in a glamour as something rare, obs, +exquisite, and elegant. "I think that was the most be-_you_-tiful thing +I ever heard!" she said; and then, noting a stir within the house, she +became practical. "They're starting refreshments," she said. "We better +hurry in, Mr. Dill, so's to get good places. Thanks to me, there's +plenty to go round." + +She moved toward the house, but, observing that he did not accompany +her, paused and looked back. "Aren't you goin' to come in, Mr. Dill?" + +"I guess not. Don't tell any one I'm out here." + +"I won't. But aren't you goin' to come in for----" + +He shook his head. "No, I'm going to wait out here a while longer." + +"But," she said, "it's _refreshments_!" + +"I don't want any. I--I'm going to smoke some more, instead." + +She looked at him wistfully, then even more wistfully toward the house. +Evidently she was of a divided mind: her feeling for Noble fought with +her feeling for "refreshments." Such a struggle could not endure for +long: a whiff of coffee conjured her nose, and a sound of clinking china +witched her ear. "Well," she said, "I guess I ought to have some +nourishment," and betook herself hurriedly into the house. + +Noble lit another Orduma. He would follow the line of conduct he had +marked out for himself: he would not take his place by Julia for the +supper interval--perhaps that breach of etiquette would "show" her. He +could see her no longer--she had moved out of range--but he imagined +her, asking everywhere: "Hasn't _any_ one seen Mr. Dill?" And he thought +of her as biting her lip nervously, perhaps, and replying absently to +sallies and quips--perhaps even having to run upstairs to her own room +to dash something sparkling from her eyes, and, maybe, to look angrily +in her glass for an instant and exclaim, "Fool!" For Julia was proud, +and not used to be treated in this way. + +He felt the least bit soothed, and, lightly flicking the ash from his +Orduma with his little finger, an act indicating some measure of +restored composure, he strolled to the other side of the house and +brought other fields of vision into view through other windows. Abruptly +his stroll came to an end. + +There sat Julia, flushed and joyous, finishing her supper in company +with old Baldy Clairdyce, Newland Sanders, George Plum, seven or eight +other young gentlemen, and some inconsidered adhering girls--the +horrible barytone sitting closest of all to Julia. Moreover, upon that +very moment the orchestra, in the hall beyond, thought fit to pay the +recent vocalist a sickening compliment, and began to play "The Sunshine +of Your Smile." + +Thereupon, with Julia herself first taking up the air in a dulcet +soprano, all of the party, including the people in the other rooms, sang +the dreadful song in chorus, the beaming Clairdyce exerting such +demoniac power as to be heard tremendously over all other voices. He had +risen for this effort, and to Noble, below the window, everything in his +mouth was visible. + +The lone listener had a bitter thought, though it was a longing, rather +than a thought. For the first time in his life he wished that he had +adopted the profession of dentistry. + + "Geev a-mee the righ to luv va-yew ALL the wile, + My worrrlda for AIV-vorr, + The sunshigh NUV vyewr-ra-smile!" + +The musicians swung into dance music; old Baldy closed the exhibition +with an operatic gesture (for which alone, if for nothing else, at least +one watcher thought the showy gentleman deserved hanging), and this +odious gesture concluded with a seizure of Julia's hand. She sprang up +eagerly; he whirled her away, and the whole place fluctuated in the +dance once more. + +"Well, now," said Noble, between his teeth--"now, I _am_ goin' to do +something!" + +He turned his back upon that painful house, walked out to the front +gate, opened it, passed through, and looked southward. Not quite two +blocks away there shone the lights of a corner drug store, still open to +custom though the hour was nearing midnight. He walked straight to the +door of this place, which stood ajar, but paused before entering, and +looked long and nervously at the middle-aged proprietor who was +unconscious of his regard, and lounged in a chair, drowsily stroking a +cat upon his lap. Noble walked in. + +"Good evening," said the proprietor, rising and brushing himself +languidly. "Cat hairs," he said apologetically. "Sheddin', I reckon." +Then, as he went behind the counter, he inquired: "How's the party goin' +off?" + +"It's--it's----" Noble hesitated. "I stepped in to--to----" + +The druggist opened a glass case. "Aw right," he said, blinking, and +tossed upon the counter a package of Orduma cigarettes. "Old Atwater'd +have convulsions, I reckon," he remarked, "if he had to lay awake and +listen to all that noise. Price ain't changed," he added, referring +humorously to the purchase he mistakenly supposed Noble wished to make. +"F'teen cents, same as yesterday and the day before." + +Noble placed the sum upon the counter. "I--I was thinking----" He +gulped. + +"Huh?" said the druggist placidly, for he was too sleepy to perceive the +strangeness of his customer's manner. + +Noble lighted an Orduma with an unsteady hand, leaned upon the counter, +and inquired in a voice that he strove to make casual: "Is--is the soda +fountain still running this late?" + +"Sure." + +"I didn't know," said Noble. "I suppose you have more calls for soda +water than you do for--for--for real liquor?" + +The druggist laughed. "Funny thing: I reckon we don't have more'n half +the calls for real liquor than what we used to before we went dry." + +Noble breathed deeply. "I s'pose you probably sell quite a good deal of +it though, at that. By the glass, I mean--such as a glass of something +kind of strong--like--like whiskey. That is, I sort of supposed so. I +mean I thought I'd ask you about this." + +"No," said the druggist, yawning. "It never did pay well--not on this +corner, anyhow. Once there used to be a little money in it, but not +much." He roused himself somewhat. "Well, it's about twelve. Anything +you wanted 'cept them Ordumas before I close up?" + +Noble gulped again. He had grown pale. "_I_ want----" he said abruptly, +then his heart seemed to fail him. "I want a glass of----" Once more he +stopped and swallowed. His shoulders drooped, and he walked across to +the soda fountain. "Well," he said, "I'll take a chocolate sundae." + +The thought of going back to Julia's party was unendurable, yet a return +was necessary on account of his new hat, the abandonment of which he did +not for a moment consider. But about half way, as he walked slowly +along, he noticed an old horse-block at the curbstone, and sat down +there. He could hear the music at Julia's, sometimes loud and close at +hand, sometimes seeming to be almost a mile away. "All right!" he said, +so bitter had he grown. "Dance! Go on and _dance_!" + +... When finally he reëntered Julia's gate, he shuffled up the walk, his +head drooping, and ascended the steps and crossed the veranda and the +threshold of the front door in the same manner. + +Julia stood before him. + +"Noble _Dill_!" she exclaimed. + +As for Noble, his dry throat refused its office; he felt that he might +never be able to speak to Julia again, even if he tried. + +"Where in the world have you been all evening?" she cried. + +"Why, Jew-Julia!" he quavered. "Did you notice that I was gone?" + +"Did I 'notice'!" she said. "You never came near me all evening after +the first dance! Not even at supper!" + +"You wouldn't--you didn't----" he faltered. "You wouldn't do anything +all evening except dance with that old Clairdyce and listen to him +trying to sing." + +But Julia would let no one suffer if she could help it; and she could +always help Noble. She made her eyes mysterious and used a voice of +honey and roses. "You don't think I'd _rather_ have danced with him, do +you, Noble?" + +Immediately sparks seemed to crackle about his head. He started. + +"What?" he said. + +The scent of heliotrope enveloped him; she laughed her silver +harp-strings laugh, and lifted her arms toward the dazzled young man. +"It's the last dance," she said. "Don't you want to dance it with me?" + +Then to the spectators it seemed that Noble Dill went hopping upon a +waxed floor and upon Julia's little slippers; he was bumped and bumping +everywhere; but in reality he floated in Elysian ether, immeasurably +distant from earth, his hand just touching the bodice of an angelic +doll. + +Then, on his way home, a little later, with his new hat on the back of +his head, his stick swinging from his hand, and a semi-fragrant Orduma +between his lips, his condition was precisely as sweet as the condition +in which he had walked to the party. + +No echoes of "The Sunshine of Your Smile" cursed his memory--that +lover's little memory fresh washed in heliotrope--and when his mother +came to his door, after he got home, and asked him if he'd had "a nice +time at the party," he said: + +"Just glorious!" and believed it. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +It was a pretty morning, two weeks after Julia's Dance; and blue and +lavender shadows, frayed with mid-summer sunshine, waggled gayly across +the grass beneath the trees of the tiny orchard, but trembled with +timidity as they hurried over the abnormal surfaces of Mrs. Silver as +she sat upon the steps of the "back porch." Her right hand held in +security one end of a leather leash; the other end of the leash was +fastened to a new collar about the neck of an odd and fascinating dog. +Seated upon the brick walk at her feet, he was regarding her with a +gravity that seemed to discomfort her. She was unable to meet his gaze, +and constantly averted her own whenever it furtively descended to his. +In fact, her expression and manner were singular, denoting +embarrassment, personal hatred, and a subtle bedazzlement. She could not +look at him, yet could not keep herself from looking at him. There was +something here that arose out of the depths of natural character; it was +intrinsic in the two personalities, that is to say; and was in addition +to the bitterness consequent upon a public experience, just past, which +had been brought upon Mrs. Silver partly by the dog's appearance (in +particular the style and colour of his hair) and partly by his +unprecedented actions in her company upon the highway. + +She addressed him angrily, yet with a profound uneasiness. + +"Dog!" she said. "You ain't feelin' as skittish as whut you did, li'l +while ago, is you? My glory! I dess would like to lay my han' to you' +hide once, Mister! I take an' lam you this livin' minute if I right sho' +you wouldn't take an' bite me." + +She jerked the leash vindictively, upon which the dog at once "sat up" +on his haunches, put his forepaws together above his nose, in an +attitude of prayer, and looked at her inscrutably from under the great +bang of hair that fell like a black chrysanthemum over his forehead. +Beneath this woolly lambrequin his eyes were visible as two garnet +sparks of which the coloured woman was only too nervously aware. She +gasped. + +"Look-a-here, dog, who's went an' ast you to take an' pray fer 'em?" + +He remained motionless and devout. + +"My goo'niss!" she said to him. "If you goin' keep on thisaway whut you +_is_ been, I'm goin' to up an' go way from here, ri' now!" Then she said +a remarkable thing. "Listen here, Mister! I ain' never los' no gran' +child, an' I ain' goin' 'dop' no stranger fer one, neither!" + +The explanation rests upon the looks and manners of him whom she +addressed. This dog was of a kind at the top of dog kingdoms. His size +was neither insignificant nor great; probably his weight would have been +between a fourth and a third of a St. Bernard's. He had the finest head +for adroit thinking that is known among dogs; and he had an athletic +body, the forepart muffled and lost in a mass of corded black fleece, +but the rest of him sharply clipped from the chest aft; and his trim, +slim legs were clipped, though tufts were left at his ankles, and at the +tip of his short tail, with two upon his hips, like fanciful buttons of +an imaginary jacket; for thus have such dogs been clipped to a fashion +proper and comfortable for them ever since (and no doubt long before) an +Imperial Roman sculptor so chiselled one in bas-relief. In brief, this +dog, who caused Kitty Silver so much disquietude, as she sat upon the +back steps at Mr. Atwater's, belonged to that species of which no +Frenchman ever sees a specimen without smiling and murmuring: +"_Caniche!_" He was that golden-hearted little clown of all the world, a +French Poodle. + +To arrive at what underlay Mrs. Silver's declaration that she had never +lost a grandchild and had no intention of adopting a stranger in the +place of one, it should be first understood that in many respects she +was a civilized person. The quality of savagery, barbarism, or +civilization in a tribe may be tested by the relations it +characteristically maintains with domestic animals; and tribes that eat +dogs are often inferior to those inclined to ceremonial cannibalism. +Likewise, the civilization, barbarism, or savagery of an individual may +be estimated by the same test, which sometimes gives us evidence of +sporadic reversions to mud. Such reversions are the stomach priests: +whatever does not minister to their own bodily inwards is a "parasite." +Dogs are "parasites"; they should not live, because to fat and eat them +somehow appears uncongenial. "Kill Dogs and Feed Pigs," they write to +the papers, and, with a Velasquez available, would burn it rather than +go chilly. "Kill dogs, feed pigs, and let _me_ eat the pigs!" they cry, +even under no great stress, these stern economists who have not noticed +how wasteful the Creator is proved to be if He made themselves. They +take the strictly intestinal view of life. It is not intelligent; +parasite bacilli will get them in the end. + +Mrs. Silver was not of these. True, she sometimes professed herself +averse to all "animals," but this meant nothing more than her +unwillingness to have her work increased by their introduction into the +Atwater household. No; the appearance of the dog had stirred something +queer and fundamental within her. All coloured people look startled the +first time they see a French Poodle, but there is a difference. Most +coloured men do not really worry much about being coloured, but many +coloured women do. In the expression of a coloured man, when he looks at +a black and woolly French Poodle, there is something fonder and more +indulgent than there is in the expression of a coloured woman when she +looks at one. In fact, when some coloured women see a French Poodle they +have the air of being insulted. + +Now, when Kitty Silver had first set eyes on this poodle, an hour +earlier, she looked, and plainly was, dumfounded. Never in her life had +she seen a creature so black, so incredibly black, or with hair so +kinky, so incredibly kinky. Julia had not observed Mrs. Silver closely +nor paused to wonder what thoughts were rousing in her mind, but bade +her take the poodle forth for exercise outdoors and keep him strictly +upon the leash. Without protest, though wearing a unique expression, +Kitty obeyed; she walked round the block with this mystifying dog; and +during the promenade had taken place the episode that so upset her +nerves. + +She had given a little jerk to the leash, speaking sharply to the poodle +in reproach for some lingering near a wonderful sidewalk smell, +imperceptible to any one except himself. Instantly the creature rose and +walked beside her on his hind legs. He continued to parade in this +manner, rapidly, but nevertheless as if casually, without any apparent +inconvenience; and Mrs. Silver, never having seen a dog do such a thing +before, for more than a yard or so, and then only under the pressure of +many inducements, was unfavourably impressed. In fact, she had +definitely a symptom of M. Maeterlinck's awed feeling when he found +himself left alone with the talking horses: "With _whom_ was she?" + +"Look-a-here, dog!" she said breathlessly. "Who you tryin' to skeer? +_You_ ain't no person!" + +And then a blow fell. It came from an elderly but ever undignified woman +of her own race, who paused, across the street, and stood teetering from +side to side in joyful agitation, as she watched the approach of Mrs. +Silver with her woolly little companion beside her. When this smaller +silhouette in ink suddenly walked upright, the observer's mouth fell +open, and there was reason to hope that it might remain so, in silence, +especially as several other pedestrians had stopped to watch the +poodle's uncalled-for exhibition. But all at once the elderly rowdy saw +fit to become uproarious. + +"Hoopsee!" she shouted. "Oooh, _Gran'ma_!" + + * * * * * + +And so, when the poodle "sat up," unbid, to pray, while Kitty Silver +rested upon the back steps, on her return from the excursion, she +fiercely informed him that she had never lost a grandchild and that she +would not adopt a stranger in place of one; her implication being that +he, a stranger, had been suggested for the position and considered +himself eligible for it. + +He continued to pray, not relaxing a hair. + +"Listen to me, dog," said Kitty Silver. "Is you a dog, or isn't you a +dog? Whut _is_ you, anyway?" + +But immediately she withdrew the question. "I ain't astin' you!" she +exclaimed superstitiously. "If you isn't no dog, don't you take an' tell +me whut you is: you take an' keep it to you'se'f, 'cause I don' want to +listen to it!" + +For the garnet eyes beneath the great black chrysanthemum indeed seemed +to hint that their owner was about to use human language in a human +voice. Instead, however, he appeared to be content with his little +exhibition, allowed his forepaws to return to the ground, and looked at +her with his head wistfully tilted to one side. This reassured her and +even somewhat won her. There stirred within her that curious sense of +relationship evoked from the first by his suggestive appearance; +fondness was being born, and an admiration that was in a way a form of +Narcissism. She addressed him in a mollified voice: + +"Whut you want now? Don' tell me you' hungry, 'cause you awready done et +two dog biskit an' big saucer milk. Whut you stick you' ole black face +crossways at _me_ fer, honey?" + +But just then the dog rose to look pointedly toward the corner of the +house. "Somebody's coming," he meant. + +"Who you spectin', li'l dog?" Mrs. Silver inquired. + +Florence and Herbert came round the house, Herbert trifling with a +tennis ball and carrying a racket under his arm. Florence was peeling an +orange. + +"For Heavenses' sakes!" Florence cried. "Kitty Silver, where on earth'd +this dog come from?" + +"B'long you' Aunt Julia." + +"When'd she get him?" + +"Dess to-day." + +"Who gave him to her?" + +"She ain't sayin'." + +"You mean she won't tell?" + +"She ain't sayin'," Kitty Silver repeated. "I ast her. I say, I say: +'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, who ever sen' you sech a +unlandish-lookin' dog?' I say. All she say when I ast her: 'Nemmine!' +she say, dess thataway. 'Nemmine!' she say. I reckon she ain't goin' +tell nobody who give her this dog." + +"He's certainly a mighty queer-lookin' dog," said Herbert. "I've seen a +few like that, but I can't remember where. What kind is he, Kitty +Silver?" + +"Miss Julia tell me he a poogle dog." + +"A poodle," Florence corrected her, and then turned to Herbert in +supercilious astonishment. "A French Poodle! My goodness! I should think +you were old enough to know that much, anyway--goin' on fourteen years +old!" + +"Well, I did know it," he declared. "I kind of knew it, anyhow; but I +sort of forgot it for once. Do you know if he bites, Kitty Silver?" + +She was noncommittal. "He ain't bit nobody yit." + +"I don't believe he'll bite," said Florence. "I bet he likes me. He +looks like he was taking a fancy to me, Kitty Silver. What's his name?" + +"Gammire." + +"What?" + +"Gammire." + +"What a funny name! Are you sure, Kitty Silver?" + +"Gammire whut you' Aunt Julia tole _me_," Mrs. Silver insisted. "You kin +go on in the house an' ast her; she'll tell you the same." + +"Well, anyway, I'm not afraid of him," said Florence; and she stepped +closer to the poodle, extending her hand to caress him. Then she shouted +as the dog, at her gesture, rose to his hind legs, and, as far as the +leash permitted, walked forward to meet her. She flung her arms about +him rapturously. + +"Oh, the lovely thing!" she cried. "He walks on his hind legs! Why, he's +crazy about me!" + +"Let him go," said Herbert. "I bet he don't like you any more than he +does anybody else. Leave go of him, and I bet he shows he likes me +better than he does you." + +But when Florence released him, Gammire caressed them both impartially. +He leaped upon one, then upon the other, and then upon Kitty Silver with +a cordiality that almost unseated her. + +"Let him off the leash," Florence cried. "He won't run away, 'cause the +gates are shut. Let him loose and see what he'll do." + +Mrs. Silver snapped the catch of the leash, and Gammire departed in the +likeness of a ragged black streak. With his large and eccentric ears +flapping back in the wind and his afterpart hunched in, he ran round and +round the little orchard like a dog gone wild. Altogether a comedian, +when he heard children shrieking with laughter, he circled the more +wildly; then all upon an unexpected instant came to a dead halt, facing +his audience, his nose on the ground between his two forepaws, his +hindquarters high and unstooping. And, seeing they laughed at this, too, +he gave them enough of it, then came back to Kitty Silver and sat by +her feet, a spiral of pink tongue hanging from a wide-open mouth roofed +with black. + +Florence resumed the peeling of her orange. + +"Who do you _think_ gave Gammire to Aunt Julia?" she asked. + +"I ain't stedyin' about it." + +"Yes, but who do you _guess_?" + +"I ain't----" + +"Well, but if you had to be burned to death or guess somebody, who would +you guess?" + +"I haf to git burn' up," said Kitty Silver. "Ev'y las' caller whut comes +here _is_ give her some doggone animal awready. Mista Sammerses, he give +her them two Berjum cats, an' ole Mister Ridgways whut los' his wife, he +give you' Aunt Julia them two canaries that tuck an' hopped out the cage +an' then out the window, las' week, one day, when you' grampaw was alone +in the room with 'em; an' Mista George Plummers, he give her that +Airydale dog you' grampaw tuck an' give to the milkman; an' Mista +Ushers, he give her them two pups whut you' grampaw tuck an' skeer off +the place soon as he laid eyes on 'em, an' thishere Mista Clairidge, he +give her that ole live allagatuh from Florida whut I foun' lookin' at +me over the aidge o' my kitchen sink--ugly ole thing!--an' you' grampaw +tuck an' give it to the greenhouse man. Ain't none nem ge'lmun goin' try +an' give her no _mo'_ animals, I bet! So how anybody goin' guess who +sen' her thishere Gammire? Nobody lef' whut ain't awready sen' her one +an' had the gift spile." + +"Yes, there is," said Florence. + +"Who?" + +"Noble Dill." + +"That there li'l young Mista Dills?" Kitty Silver cried. "Listen me! +Thishere dog 'spensive dog." + +"I don't care; I bet Noble Dill gave him to her." + +Mrs. Silver hooted. "Go way! That there young li'l Mista Dills, he ain' +nev' did show no class, no way nor no time. He be hunderd year ole b'fo' +you see him in autamobile whut b'long to him. Look at a way some nem +fine big rich men like Mista Clairidge an' Mista Ridgways take an' th'ow +they money aroun'! New necktie ev'y time you see 'em; new straw hat +right spang the firs' warm day. Ring do' bell. I say, I say: 'Walk right +in, Mista Ridgways.' Slip me dollah bill dess like that! Mista Sammerses +an' Mista Plummers, an' some nem others, they all show class. Look Mista +Sammerses' spectickles made turtle back; fancy turtle, too. I ast Miss +Julia; she tell me they fancy turtle. Gol' rim spectickles ain't in it; +no ma'am! Mista Sammerses' spectickles--jes' them rims on his +spectickles alone--I bet they cos' mo'n all whut thishere young li'l +Mista Dills got on him from his toes up an' his skin out. I bet Mista +Plummers th'ow mo' money aroun' dess fer gittin' his pants press' than +whut Mista Dills afford to spen' to buy his'n in the firs' place! He +lose his struggle, 'cause you' Aunt Julia, she out fer the big class. +Thishere Gammire, he dog cos' money; he show class same you' Aunt Julia. +Ain't neither one of 'em got to waste they time on nobody whut can't +show no mo' class than thishere li'l young dish-cumbobbery Mista Dills!" + +"I don't care," Florence said stubbornly. "He could of saved up and +saved up, and if he saved up long enough he could of got enough money to +buy a dog like Gammire, because you can get money enough for anything if +you're willing to save up long enough. Anyway, I bet he's the one gave +him to her." + +Herbert joined Kitty Silver in laughter. "Florence is always talkin' +about Noble Dill," he said. "She's sort of crazy, anyway, though." + +[Illustration: _"Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He +bawled, 'She made it up! It's somep'n she made up herself! She----'"_] + +"It runs in the family," Florence retorted, automatically. "I caught it +from my cousins. Anyhow, I don't think there's a single one of any that +wants to marry Aunt Julia that's got the slightest co'parison to Noble +Dill. I admire him because he's so uncouth." + +"He so who?" Kitty Silver inquired. + +"Uncouth." + +"Yes'm," said Mrs. Silver. + +"It's in the ditchanary," Florence explained. "It means rare, elegant, +exquisite, obs, unknown, and a whole lot else." + +"It does not," Herbert interposed. "It means kind of countrified." + +"You go look in the ditchanary," his cousin said severely. "Then, maybe, +you'll know what you're talkin' about just for once. Anyhow, I _do_ like +Noble Dill, and I bet so does Aunt Julia." + +Kitty Silver shook her head. "He lose his struggle, honey! Miss Julia, +she out fer the big class. She ain't stedyin' about him 'cept maybe dess +to let him run her erran's. She treat 'em all mighty nice, 'cause the +mo' come shovin' an' pushin' each other aroun', class or no class, why, +the mo' harder that big class got to work to git her--an' the mo' she +got after her the mo' keeps a-comin'. But thishere young li'l Mista +Dills, I kine o' got strong notion he liable not come no mo' 'tall!" Her +tone had become one of reminiscent amusement, which culminated in a +burst of laughter. "Whee!" she concluded. "After las' night, I reckon +thishere Mista Dills better keep away from the place--yes'm!" + +Florence looked thoughtful, and for the time said nothing. It was +Herbert who asked: "Why'd Noble Dill better stay away from here?" + +"You' grampaw," Mrs. Silver said, shaking her head. "You' grampaw!" + +"What about grandpa?" said Herbert. "What'd he do last night?" + +"'Do'? Oh, me!" Then Mrs. Silver uttered sounds like the lowing of kine, +whereby she meant to indicate her inability to describe Mr. Atwater's +performance. "Well, ma'am," she said, in the low and husky voice of +simulated exhaustion, "all I got to say: you' grampaw beat hisse'f! He +beat hisse'f!" + +"How d'you mean? How could he----" + +"He beat hisse'f! He dess out-talk hisse'f! No, ma'am; I done hear him +many an' many an' many's the time, but las' night he beat hisse'f." + +"What about?" + +"Nothin' in the wide worl' but dess thishere young li'l Noble Dills whut +we talkin' about this livin' minute." + +"What started him?" + +"Whut _start_ him?" Mrs. Silver echoed with sudden loudness. "My +goo'niss! He _b'en_ started ev' since the very firs' time he ev' lay +eyes on him prancin' up the front walk to call on Miss Julia. You' +grampaw don' like none nem callers, but he everlas'n'ly did up an' take +a true spite on thishere li'l Dills!" + +"I mean," said Herbert, "what started him last night?" + +"Them cigareets," said Kitty Silver. "Them cigareets whut thishere Noble +Dills smoke whiles he settin' out on the front po'che callin' on you' +Aunt Julia. You' grampaw mighty funny man about smellin'! You know's +well's I do he don't even like the smell o' violet. Well, ma'am, if he +can't stan' _violet_, how in the name o' misery he goin' stan' the smell +nem cigareets thishere Dills smoke? I can't hardly stan' 'em myse'f. +When he light one on the front po'che, she sif' all through the house, +an' come slidin' right the whole way out to my kitchen, an' _bim_! she +take me in the nose! You' grampaw awready tole Miss Julia time an' time +again if that li'l Dills light dess one mo' on his front po'che he goin' +to walk out there an' do some harm! Co'se she nev' tuck an' pay no +'tention, 'cause Miss Julia, she nev' pay no 'tention to nobody; an' she +like caller have nice time--she ain' goin' tell 'em you' grampaw make +such a fuss. 'Yes, 'deed, kine frien',' she say, she say, when they ast +her: 'Miss Julia, ma'am,' they say, 'I like please strike a match fer to +light my cigareet if you please, ma'am.' She say: 'Light as many as you +please, kine frien',' she say, she say. She say: 'Smell o' cigareet dess +deligh'ful li'l smell,' she say. 'Go 'head an' smoke all you kin stan',' +she say, ''cause I want you injoy you'se'f when you pay call on me,' she +say. Well, so thishere young li'l Dills settin' there puffin' an' +blowin' his ches' out and in, an' feelin' all nice 'cause it about the +firs' time this livin' summer he catch you' Aunt Julia alone to hisse'f +fer while--an' all time the house dess fillin' up, an' draf' blowin' +straight at you' grampaw whur he settin' in his liberry. Ma'am, he sen' +me out an' tell her come in, he got message mighty important fer to +speak to her. So she tell thishere Dills wait a minute, an' walk in the +liberry. Oh, ladies!" + +"What'd he say?" Herbert asked eagerly. + +"He di'n' say nothin'," Mrs. Silver replied eloquently. "He hollered." + +"What did he holler?" + +"He want know di'n' he never tell her thishere Dills can't smoke no mo' +cigareets on his property, an' di'n' he tell her he was'n' goin' allow +him on the place if he did? He say she got to go back on the po'che an' +run thishere li'l Dills off home. He say he give her fair choice; she +kin run him off, or else he go on out and chase him away hisse'f. He +claim li'l Dills ain' got no biznuss roun' callin' nowhere 't all, +'cause he on'y make about eighteen dollars a week an' ain't wuth it. He +say----" + +She was confirmed in this report by an indignant interruption from +Florence. "That's just what he did say, the old thing! I heard him, +myself, and if you care to ask _me_, I'll be glad to inform you that I +think grandpa's conduck was simply insulting!" + +"'Deed it were!" said Mrs. Silver. "An' dess whut he claim hisse'f he +mean it fer! But you tell me, please, how you hear whut you' grampaw +say? He mighty noisy, but you nev' could a-hear him plumb to whur you +live." + +"I wasn't home," said Florence. "I was over here." + +"Then you mus' 'a' made you'se'f mighty skimpish, 'cause _I_ ain't seen +you!" + +"Nobody saw me. I wasn't in the house," said Florence, "I was out in +front." + +"Whurbouts 'out in front'?" + +"Well, I was sitting on the ground, up against the latticework of the +front porch." + +"Whut fur?" + +"Well, it was dark," said Florence. "I just kind of wanted to see what +might be going on." + +"An' you hear all whut you' grampaw take on about an' ev'ything?" + +"I should say so! You could of heard him _lots_ farther than where I +was." + +"Lan' o' misery!" Kitty Silver cried. "If you done hear him whur you +was, thishere li'l Dills mus' a-hear him _mighty_ plain?" + +"He did. How could he help it? He heard every word, and pretty soon he +came down off the porch and stood a minute; then he went on out the +gate, and I don't know whether he went home or not, because it was too +dark to see. But he didn't come back." + +"Yo' right he didn'!" exclaimed Mrs. Silver. "I reckon he got fo'thought +'nough fer that, anyhow! I bet he ain't nev' _goin'_ come back neither. +You' grampaw say he goin' be fix fer him, if he do." + +"Yes, that was while he was standing there," said Florence ruefully. "He +heard all that, too." + +"Miss Julia, she s'picion' he done hear somep'm 'nother, I guess," Kitty +Silver went on. "She shet the liberry do' right almos' on you' grampaw's +nose, whiles he still a-rampin', an' she slip out on the po'che, an' +take look 'roun'; then go on up to her own room. I 'uz up there, while +after that, turn' down her bed; an' she injoyin' herse'f readin' book. +She feel kine o' put out, I reckon, but she ain't stedyin' about no +young li'l Dills. She want 'em all to have nice time an' like her, but +she goin' lose this one, an' she got plenty to spare. She show too much +class fer to fret about no Dills." + +"I don't care," said Florence. "I think she ought to whether she does or +not, because I bet he was feeling just awful. And I think grandpa +behaved like an ole hoodlum." + +"That'll do," Herbert admonished her sternly. "You show some respect for +your relations, if you please." + +But his loyalty to the Atwater family had a bad effect on Florence. "Oh, +_will_ I?" she returned promptly. "Well, then, if you care to inquire +_my_ opinion, I just politely think grandpa ought to be hanged." + +"See here----" + +But Florence and Kitty Silver interrupted him simultaneously. + +"Look at _that_!" Florence cried. + +"My name!" exclaimed Kitty Silver. + +It was the strange taste of Gammire that so excited them. Florence had +peeled her orange and divided it rather fairly into three parts, but the +vehemence she exerted in speaking of her grandfather had caused her to +drop one of these upon the ground. Gammire promptly ate it, "sat up" and +adjusted his paws in prayer for more. + +"Now you listen me!" said Kitty Silver. "I ain't see no dog eat orange +in all my days, an' I ain't see nobody else whut see dog eat orange! No, +ma'am, an' I ain't nev' hear o' nobody else whut ev' see nobody whut see +dog eat orange!" + +Herbert decided to be less impressed. "Oh, I've heard of dogs that'd eat +apples," he said. "Yes, and watermelon and nuts and things." As he +spoke he played with the tennis ball upon his racket, and concluded by +striking the ball high into the air. Its course was not true; and it +descended far over toward the orchard, where Herbert ran to catch +it--but he was not quick enough. At the moment the ball left the racket +Gammire abandoned his prayers: his eyes, like a careful fielder's, +calculating and estimating, followed the swerve of the ball in the +breeze, and when it fell he was on the correct spot. He caught it. + +Herbert shouted. "He caught it on the _fly_! It must have been an +accident. Here----" And he struck the ball into the air again. It went +high--twice as high as the house--and again Gammire "judged" it; +continuously shifting his position, his careful eyes never leaving the +little white globe, until just before the last instant of its descent he +was motionless beneath it. He caught it again, and Herbert whooped. + +Gammire brought the ball to him and invited him to proceed with the +game. That there might be no mistaking his desire, Gammire "sat up" and +prayed; nor did he find Herbert anything loth. Out of nine chances +Gammire "muffed" the ball only twice, both times excusably, and +Florence once more flung her arms about the willing performer. + +"_Who_ do you s'pose trained this wonderful, darling doggie?" she cried. + +Mrs. Silver shook her marvelling head. "He mus' 'a' _come_ thataway," +she said. "I bet nobody 't all ain' train him; he do whut he want to +hisse'f. That Gammire don' ast nobody to train him." + +"Oh, goodness!" Florence said, with sudden despondency. "It's awful!" + +"Whut is?" + +"To think of as lovely a dog as this having to face grandpa!" + +"'Face' him!" Kitty Silver echoed forebodingly. "I reckon you' grampaw +do mo'n dess 'face' him." + +"That's what I mean," Florence explained. "I expect he's just brute +enough to drive him off." + +"Yes'm," said Mrs. Silver. "He git madder ev'y time somebody sen' her +new pet. You' grampaw mighty nervous man, an' everlas'n'ly do hate +animals." + +"He hasn't seen Gammire, has he?" + +"Don't look like it, do it?" said Kitty Silver. "Dog here yit." + +"Well, then I----" Florence paused, glancing at Herbert, for she had +just been visited by a pleasant idea and had no wish to share it with +him. "Is Aunt Julia in the house?" + +"She were, li'l while ago." + +"I want to see her about somep'n I ought to see her about," said +Florence. "I'll be out in a minute." + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +She ran into the house, and found Julia seated at a slim-legged desk, +writing a note. + +"Aunt Julia, it's about Gammire." + +"Gamin." + +"What?" + +"His name is Gamin." + +"Kitty Silver says his name's Gammire." + +"Yes," said Julia. "She would. His name is Gamin, though. He's a little +Parisian rascal, and his name is Gamin." + +"Well, Aunt Julia, I'd rather call him Gammire. How much did he cost?" + +"I don't know; he was brought to me only this morning, and I haven't +asked yet." + +"But I thought somebody gave him to you." + +"Yes; somebody did." + +"Well, I mean," said Florence, "how much did the person that gave him to +you pay for him?" + +Julia sighed. "I just explained, I haven't had a chance to ask." + +Florence looked hurt. "I don't mean you _would_ ask 'em right out. I +just meant: Wouldn't you be liable to kind of hint around an' give 'em a +chance to tell you how much it was? You know perfeckly well it's the way +most the fam'ly do when they give each other somep'n pretty expensive, +Christmas or birthdays, and I thought proba'ly you'd----" + +"No. I shouldn't be surprised, Florence, if nobody _ever_ got to know +how much Gamin cost." + +"Well----" Florence said, and decided to approach her purpose on a new +tack. "Who was it trained him?" + +"I understand that the person who gave him to me has played with him at +times during the few days he's been keeping him, but hasn't 'trained' +him particularly. French Poodles almost learn their own tricks if you +give them a chance. It's natural to them; they love to be little clowns +if you let them." + +"But who was this person that gave him to you?" + +Julia laughed. "It's a secret, Florence--like Gamin's price." + +At this Florence looked piqued. "Well, I guess I got _some_ manners!" +she exclaimed. "I know as well as you do, Aunt Julia, there's no +etiquette in coming right square out and asking how much it was when +somebody goes and makes you a present. I'm certainly enough of a lady to +keep my mouth shut when it's more polite to! But I don't see what harm +there is in telling who it is that gives anybody a present." + +"No harm at all," Julia murmured as she sealed the note she had written. +Then she turned smilingly to face her niece. "Only I'm not going to." + +"Well, then, Aunt Julia"--and now Florence came to her point--"what I +wanted to know is just simply the plain and simple question: Will you +give this dog Gammire to me?" + +Julia leaned forward, laughing, and suddenly clapped her hands together, +close to Florence's face. "No, I won't!" she cried. "There!" + +The niece frowned, lines of anxiety appearing upon her forehead. "Well, +why won't you?" + +"I won't do it!" + +"But, Aunt Julia, I think you ought to!" + +"Why ought I to?" + +"Because----" said Florence. "Well, it's necessary." + +"Why?" + +"Because you know as well as I do what's bound to happen to him!" + +"What is?" + +"Grandpa'll chase him off," said Florence. "He'll take after him the +minute he lays eyes on him, and scare him to death--and then he'll get +lost, and he won't be _anybody's_ dog! I should think you'd just as lief +he'd be my dog as have him chased all over town till a street car hits +him or somep'n." + +But Julia shook her head. "That hasn't happened yet." + +"It _did_ happen with every other one you ever had," Florence urged +plaintively. "He chased 'em every last one off the place, and they never +came back. You know perfectly well, Aunt Julia, grandpa's just bound to +hate this dog, and you know just exactly how he'll act about him." + +"No, I don't," said Julia. "Not just _exactly_." + +"Well, anyway, you know he'll behave awful." + +"It's probable," the aunt admitted. + +"He always does," Florence continued. "He behaves awful about everything +I ever heard about. He----" + +"I'll go pretty far with you, Florence," Julia interposed, "but we'd +better leave him a loophole. You know he's a constant attendant at +church and contributes liberally to many good causes." + +"Oh, you know what I mean! I mean he always acts horrable about +anything pleasant. Of course I know he's a _good_ man, and everything; I +just mean the way he behaves is perfeckly disgusting. So what's the use +your not givin' me this dog? You won't have him yourself as soon as +grandpa comes home to lunch in an hour or so." + +"Oh, yes, I will!" + +"Grandpa hasn't already seen him, has he?" + +"No." + +"Then what makes you say----" + +"He isn't coming home to lunch. He won't be home till five o'clock this +afternoon." + +"Well, then, about six you won't have any dog, and poor little +Gammire'll get run over by an automobile some time this very evening!" +Florence's voice became anguished in the stress of her appeal. "Aunt +Julia, _won't_ you give me this dog?" + +Julia shook her head. + +"Won't you, _please_?" + +"No, dear." + +"Aunt Julia, if it was Noble Dill gave you this dog----" + +"Florence!" her aunt exclaimed. "What in the world makes you imagine +such absurd things? Poor Mr. Dill!" + +"Well, if it was, I think you ought to give Gammire to me because I +_like_ Noble Dill, and I----" + +But here her aunt laughed again and looked at her with some curiosity. +"You still do?" she asked. "What for?" + +"Well," said Florence, swallowing, "he may be rather smallish for a man, +but he's very uncouth and distingrished-looking, and I think he doesn't +get to enjoy himself much. Grandpa talks about him so torrably +and--and----" Here, such was the unexpected depth of her feeling that +she choked, whereupon her aunt, overcome with laughter, but nevertheless +somewhat touched, sprang up and threw two pretty arms about her +charmingly. + +"You _funny_ Florence!" she cried. + +"Then will you give me Gammire?" Florence asked instantly. + +"No. We'll bring him in the house now, and you can stay for lunch." + +Florence was imperfectly consoled, but she had a thought that brightened +her a little. + +"Well, there'll be an awful time when grandpa comes home this +afternoon--but it certainly will be inter'sting!" + +She proved a true prophet, at least to the extent that when Mr. Atwater +opened his front gate that afternoon he was already in the presence of a +deeply interested audience whose observation was unknown to him. Through +the interstices of the lace curtains at an open window, the gaze of +Julia and Florence was concentrated upon him in a manner that might have +disquieted even so opinionated and peculiar a man as Mr. Atwater, had he +been aware of it; and Herbert likewise watched him fixedly from an +unseen outpost. Herbert had shown some recklessness, declaring loudly +that he intended to lounge in full view; but when the well-known form of +the ancestor was actually identified, coming up the street out of the +distance, the descendant changed his mind. The good green earth ceased +to seem secure; and Herbert climbed a tree. He surrounded himself with +the deepest foliage; and beneath him some outlying foothills of Kitty +Silver were visible, where she endeavoured to lurk in the concealment of +a lilac bush. + +Gammire was the only person in view. He sat just in the middle of the +top step of the veranda, and his air was that of an endowed and settled +institution. What passing traffic there was interested him but vaguely, +not affecting the world to which he belonged--that world being this +house and yard, of which he felt himself now, beyond all question, the +official dog. + +It had been a rather hard-working afternoon, for he had done everything +suggested to him as well as a great many other things that he thought of +himself. He had also made it clear that he had taken a fancy to +everybody, but recognized Julia to be the head of the house and of his +own universe; and though he was at the disposal of all her family and +friends, he was at her disposal first. Whithersoever she went, there +would he go also, unless she otherwise commanded. Just now she had +withdrawn, closing the door, but he understood that she intended no +permanent exclusion. Who was this newcomer at the gate? + +The newcomer came to a halt, staring intolerantly. Then he advanced, +slamming the gate behind him. "Get out o' here!" he said. "You get off +the place!" + +Gammire regarded him seriously, not moving, while Mr. Atwater cast an +eye about the lawn, seeming to search for something, and his gaze, thus +roving, was arrested by a slight movement of great areas behind a lilac +bush. It appeared that the dome of some public building had covered +itself with antique textiles and was endeavouring to hide there--a +failure. + +"Kitty Silver!" he said. "What are you doing?" + +"Suh?" + +Debouching sidewise she came into fuller view, but retired a few steps. +"Whut I doin' whur, Mista Atwater?" + +"How'd that dog get on my front steps?" + +Her face became noncommittal entirely. "Thishere dog? He just settin' +there, suh." + +"How'd he get in the yard?" + +"Mus' somebody up an' brung him in." + +"Who did it?" + +"You mean: Who up an' brung him in, suh?" + +"I mean: Who does he belong to?" + +"Mus' be Miss Julia's. I reckon he is, so fur." + +"What! She knows I don't allow dogs on the place." + +"Yessuh." + +Mr. Atwater's expression became more outraged and determined. "You mean +to say that somebody's trying to give her another dog after all I've +been through with----" + +"It look that way, suh." + +"Who did it?" + +"Miss Julia ain't sayin'; an' me, I don' know who done it no mo'n the +lilies of the valley whut toil not neither do they spins." + +In response, Mr. Atwater was guilty of exclamations lacking in courtesy; +and turning again toward Gammire, he waved his arm. "Didn't you hear me +tell you to get out of here?" + +Gammire observed the gesture, and at once "sat up," placing his forepaws +over his nose in prayer, but Mr. Atwater was the more incensed. + +"Get out of here, you woolly black scoundrel!" + +Mrs. Silver uttered a cry of injury before she perceived that she had +mistaken her employer's intention. Gammire also appeared to mistake it, +for he came down upon the lawn, rose to his full height, on his "hind +legs," and in that humanlike posture "walked" in a wide circle. He did +this with an affectation of conscientiousness thoroughly hypocritical; +for he really meant to be humorous. + +"My heavens!" Mr. Atwater cried, lamenting. "Somebody's given her one of +those things at last! I don't like _any_ kind of dog, but if there's one +dam thing on earth I _won't_ stand, it's a trick poodle!" + +And while the tactless Gammire went on, "walking" a circle round him, +Mr. Atwater's eye furiously searched the borders of the path, the lawn, +and otherwheres, for anything that might serve as missile. He had never +kicked a dog, or struck one with his hand, in his life; he had a theory +that it was always better to throw something. "Idiot poodle!" he said. + +But Gammire's tricks were not idiocy in the eyes of Mr. Atwater's +daughter, as she watched them. They had brought to her mind the tricks +of the Jongleur of Notre Dame, who had nothing to offer heaven itself, +to mollify heaven's rulers, except his entertainment of juggling and +nonsense; so that he sang his thin jocosities and played his poor tricks +before the sacred figure of the Madonna; but when the pious would have +struck him down for it, she miraculously came to life just long enough +to smile on him and show that he was right to offer his absurd best. And +thus, as Julia watched the little Jongleur upon the lawn, she saw this +was what he was doing: offering all he knew, hoping that someone might +laugh at him, and like him. And, not curiously, after all, if everything +were known, she found herself thinking of another foolish creature, who +had nothing in the world to offer anybody, except what came out of the +wistfulness of a foolish, loving heart. Then, though her lips smiled +faintly as she thought of Noble Dill, all at once a brightness trembled +along the eyelids of the Prettiest Girl in Town, and glimmered over, a +moment later, to shine upon her cheek. + +"You get out!" Mr. Atwater shouted, "D'ye hear me, you poodle?" + +He found the missile, a stone of fair diameter. He hurled it violently. + +"_There_, darn you!" + +The stone missed, and Gammire fled desperately after it. + +"You get over that fence!" Mr. Atwater cried. "You wait till I find +another rock and I'll----" + +He began to search for another stone, but, before he could find one, +Gammire returned with the first. He deposited it upon the ground at Mr. +Atwater's feet. + +"There's your rock," he said. + +Mr. Atwater looked down at him fiercely, and through the black +chrysanthemum two garnet sparks glinted waggishly. + +"Didn't you hear me tell you what I'd do if you didn't get out o' here, +you darn poodle?" + +Gammire "sat up," placed his forepaws together over his nose and +prayed. "There's your rock," he said. And he added, as clearly as if he +used a spoken language, "Let's get on with the game!" + +Mr. Atwater turned to Kitty Silver. "Does he--does he know how to speak, +or shake hands, or anything like that?" he asked. + + * * * * * + +The next morning, as the peculiar old man sat at breakfast, he said to +the lady across the table: "Look here. Who did give Gamin to us?" + +Julia bit her lip; she even cast down her eyes. + +"Well, who was it?" + +Her demureness still increased. "It was--Noble Dill." + +Mr. Atwater was silent; he looked down and caught a clownish garnet +gleam out of a blackness neighbouring his knee. "Well, see here," he +said. "Why can't you--why can't you----" + +"Why can't I what?" + +"Why can't you sit out in the yard the next time he calls here, instead +of on the porch where it blows all through the house? It's just as +pleasant to sit under the trees, isn't it?" + +"Pleasanter," said Julia. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + + +By the end of October, with the dispersal of foliage that has served all +summer long as a screen for whatever small privacy may exist between +American neighbours, we begin to perceive the rise of our autumn high +tides of gossip. At this season of the year, in our towns of moderate +size and ambition, where apartment houses have not yet condensed and at +the same time sequestered the population, one may look over back yard +beyond back yard, both up and down the street; especially if one takes +the trouble to sit for an hour or so daily, upon the top of a high fence +at about the middle of a block. + +Of course an adult who followed such a course would be thought peculiar, +no doubt he would be subject to inimical comment; but boys are +considered so inexplicable that they have gathered for themselves many +privileges denied their parents and elders, and a boy can do such a +thing as this to his full content, without anybody's thinking about it +at all. So it was that Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., sat for a +considerable time upon such a fence, after school hours, every afternoon +of the last week in October; and only one person particularly observed +him or was stimulated to any mental activity by his procedure. Even at +that, this person was affected only because she was Herbert's relative, +of an age sympathetic to his and of a sex antipathetic. + +In spite of the fact that Herbert, thus seriously disporting himself on +his father's back fence, attracted only an audience of one (and she +hostile at a rather distant window) his behaviour might well have been +thought piquant by anybody. After climbing to the top of the fence he +would produce from interior pockets a small memorandum-book and a +pencil. His expression was gravely alert, his manner more than +businesslike; yet nobody could have failed to comprehend that he was +enjoying himself, especially when his attitude became tenser, as it +frequently did. Then he would rise, balancing himself at adroit ease, +his feet one before the other on the inner rail, below the top of the +boards, and with eyes dramatically shielded beneath a scoutish palm, he +would gaze sternly in the direction of some object or movement that had +attracted his attention and then, having satisfied himself of something +or other, he would sit and decisively enter a note in his +memorandum-book. + +He was not always alone; sometimes he was joined by a friend, male, and, +though shorter than Herbert, about as old; and this companion was +inspired, it seemed, by motives precisely similar to those from which +sprang Herbert's own actions. Like Herbert he would sit upon the top of +the high fence; like Herbert he would rise at intervals, for the better +study of something this side the horizon; then, also like Herbert, he +would sit again and write firmly in a little notebook. And seldom in the +history of the world have any such sessions been invested by the +participants with so intentional an appearance of importance. + +That was what most irritated their lone observer at the somewhat distant +upstairs back window. The important importance of Herbert and his friend +was so extreme as to be all too plainly visible across four intervening +broad back yards; in fact, there was sometimes reason to suspect that +the two performers were aware of their audience and even of her goaded +condition; and that they deliberately increased the outrageousness of +their importance on her account. And upon the Saturday of that week, +when the notebook writers were upon the fence the greater part of the +afternoon, Florence's fascinated indignation became vocal. + +"Vile Things!" she said. + +Her mother, sewing beside another window of the room, looked up +inquiringly. + +"What are, Florence?" + +"Cousin Herbert and that nasty little Henry Rooter." + +"Are you watching them again?" her mother asked. + +"Yes, I am," said Florence; and added tartly, "Not because I care to, +but merely to amuse myself at their expense." + +Mrs. Atwater murmured, "Couldn't you find some other way to amuse +yourself, Florence?" + +"I don't call this amusement," the inconsistent girl responded, not +without chagrin. "Think I'd spend all my days starin' at Herbert +Illingsworth Atwater, Junior, and that nasty little Henry Rooter, and +call it _amusement_?" + +"Then why do you do it?" + +"Why do I do _what_, mamma?" Florence inquired, as in despair of Mrs. +Atwater's ever learning to put things clearly. + +"Why do you 'spend all your days' watching them? You don't seem able to +keep away from the window, and it appears to make you irritable. I +should think if they wouldn't let you play with them you'd be too +proud----" + +"Oh, good heavens, mamma!" + +"Don't use such expressions, Florence, please." + +"Well," said Florence, "I got to use _some_ expression when you accuse +me of wantin' to 'play' with those two vile things! My goodness mercy, +mamma, I don't want to 'play' with 'em! I'm more than four years old, I +guess; though you don't ever seem willing to give me credit for it. I +don't haf to 'play' all the time, mamma: and anyway, Herbert and that +nasty little Henry Rooter aren't playing, either." + +"Aren't they?" Mrs. Atwater inquired. "I thought the other day you said +you wanted them to let you play with them at being a newspaper reporter +or editor or something like that, and they were rude and told you to go +away. Wasn't that it?" + +Florence sighed. "No, mamma, it cert'nly wasn't." + +"They weren't rude to you?" + +"Yes, they cert'nly were!" + +"Well, then----" + +"Mamma, _can't_ you understand?" Florence turned from the window to +beseech Mrs. Atwater's concentration upon the matter. "It isn't +'_playing_'! I didn't want to 'play' being a reporter; _they_ ain't +'playing'----" + +"_Aren't_ playing, Florence." + +"Yes'm. They're not. Herbert's got a real printing-press; Uncle Joseph +gave it to him. It's a _real_ one, mamma, can't you understand?" + +"I'll try," said Mrs. Atwater. "You mustn't get so excited about it, +Florence." + +"I'm not!" Florence returned vehemently. "I guess it'd take more than +those two vile things and their old printing-press to get _me_ excited! +_I_ don't care what they do; it's far less than nothing to me! All _I_ +wish is they'd fall off the fence and break their vile ole necks!" + +With this manifestation of impersonal calmness, she turned again to the +window; but her mother protested. "Do quit watching those foolish boys; +you mustn't let them upset you so by their playing." + +Florence moaned. "They don't 'upset' me, mamma! They have no effects on +me by the slightest degree! And I _told_ you, mamma, they're not +'playing'." + +"Then what are they doing?" + +"Well, they're having a newspaper. They got the printing-press and an +office in Herbert's stable, and everything. They got somebody to give +'em some ole banisters and a railing from a house that was torn down +somewheres, and then they got it stuck up in the stable loft, so it runs +across with a kind of a gate in the middle of these banisters, and on +one side is the printing-press and a desk from that nasty little Henry +Rooter's mother's attic; and a table and some chairs, and a map on the +wall; and that's their newspaper office. They go out and look for what's +the news, and write it down in lead pencil; and then they go up to their +office and write it in ink; and then they print it for their newspaper." + +"But what do they do on the fence?" + +"That's where they go to watch what the news is," Florence explained +morosely. "They think they're so grand, sittin' up there, pokin' around! +They go other places, too; and they ask people. That's all they said _I_ +could be!" Here the lady's bitterness became strongly intensified. "They +said maybe I could be one o' the ones they asked if I knew anything, +sometimes, if they happened to think of it! I just respectf'ly told 'em +I'd decline to wipe my oldest shoes on 'em to save their lives!" + +Mrs. Atwater sighed. "You mustn't use such expressions, Florence." + +"I don't see why not," the daughter promptly objected. "They're a lot +more refined than the expressions they used on me!" + +"Then I'm very glad you didn't play with them." + +But at this, Florence once more gave way to filial despair. "Mamma, you +just _can't_ see through anything! I've said anyhow fifty times they +ain't--aren't--playing! They're getting up a _real_ newspaper, and have +people _buy_ it and everything. They been all over this part of town and +got every aunt and uncle they have besides their own fathers and +mothers, and some people in the neighbourhood, and Kitty Silver and two +or three other coloured people besides. They're going to charge +twenty-five cents a year, collect-in-advance because they want the money +first; and even papa gave 'em a quarter last night; he told me so." + +"How often do they intend to publish their paper, Florence?" Mrs. +Atwater inquired absently, having resumed her sewing. + +"Every week; and they're goin' to have the first one a week from +to-day." + +"What do they call it?" + +"The North End Daily Oriole. It's the silliest name I ever heard for a +newspaper; and I told 'em so. I told 'em what _I_ thought of it, I +guess!" + +"Was that the reason?" Mrs. Atwater asked. + +"Was it what reason, mamma?" + +"Was it the reason they wouldn't let you be a reporter with them?" + +"Poot!" Florence exclaimed airily. "_I_ didn't want anything to do with +their ole paper. But anyway I didn't make fun o' their callin' it 'The +North End Daily Oriole' till after they said I couldn't be in it. _Then_ +I did, you bet!" + +"Florence, don't say----" + +"Mamma, I got to say somep'n! Well, I told 'em I wouldn't be in their +ole paper if they begged me on their bented knees; and I said if they +begged me a thousand years I wouldn't be in any paper with such a crazy +name and I wouldn't tell 'em any news if I knew the President of the +United States had the scarlet fever! I just politely informed 'em they +could say what they liked, if they was dying _I_ declined so much as +wipe the oldest shoes I got on 'em!" + +"But why _wouldn't_ they let you be on the paper?" her mother insisted. + +Upon this Florence became analytical. "Just so's they could act so +important." And she added, as a consequence, "They ought to be +arrested!" + +Mrs. Atwater murmured absently, but forbore to press her inquiry; and +Florence was silent, in a brooding mood. The journalists upon the fence +had disappeared from view, during her conversation with her mother; and +presently she sighed, and quietly left the room. She went to her own +apartment, where, at a small and rather battered little white desk, +after a period of earnest reverie, she took up a pen, wet the point in +purple ink, and without great effort or any critical delayings, produced +a poem. + +It was in a sense an original poem, though like the greater number of +all literary projections, it was so strongly inspirational that the +source of its inspiration might easily become manifest to a cold-blooded +reader. Nevertheless, to the poetess herself, as she explained later in +good faith, the words just seemed to _come to_ her;--doubtless with +either genius or some form of miracle implied; for sources of +inspiration are seldom recognized by inspired writers themselves. She +had not long ago been party to a musical Sunday afternoon at her +Great-Uncle Joseph's house, where Mr. Clairdyce sang some of his songs +again and again, and her poem may have begun to coagulate within her +then. + + + THE ORGANEST + + BY FLORENCE ATWATER + + The organest was seated at his organ in a church, + In some beautiful woods of maple and birch, + He was very weary while he played upon the keys, + But he was a great organest and always played with ease, + When the soul is weary, + And the wind is dreary, + I would like to be an organest seated all day at the organ, + Whether my name might be Fairchild or Morgan, + I would play music like a vast amen, + The way it sounds in a church of men. + +Florence read her poem seven or eight times, the deepening pleasure of +her expression being evidence that repetition failed to denature this +work, but on the contrary, enhanced an appreciative surprise at its +singular merit. Finally she folded the sheet of paper with a delicate +carefulness unusual to her, and placed it in her skirt pocket; then she +went downstairs and out into the back yard. Her next action was +straightforward and anything but prudish; she climbed the high wooden +fences, one after the other, until she came to a pause at the top of +that whereon the two journalists had lately made themselves so odiously +impressive. + +Before her, if she had but taken note of them, were a lesson in history +and the markings of a profound transition in human evolution. Beside the +old frame stable was a little brick garage, obviously put to the daily +use intended by its designer. Quite as obviously the stable was +obsolete; anybody would have known from its outside that there was no +horse within it. There, visible, was the end of the pastoral age. + +All this was lost upon Florence. She sat upon the fence, her gaze +unfavourably though wistfully fixed upon a sign of no special aesthetic +merit above the stable door. + + THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE + ATWATER & ROOTER OWNERS & + PROPREITORS SUBSCRIBE NOW 25 CENTS + +The inconsistency of the word "daily" did not trouble Florence; +moreover, she had found no fault with "Oriole" until the Owners & +Propreitors had explained to her in the plainest terms known to their +vocabularies that she was excluded from the enterprise. Then, indeed, +she had been reciprocally explicit in regard not only to them and +certain personal characteristics of theirs, which she pointed out as +fundamental, but in regard to any newspaper which should deliberately +call itself an "Oriole." The partners remained superior in manner, +though unable to conceal a natural resentment; they had adopted "Oriole" +not out of a sentiment for the city of Baltimore, nor, indeed, on +account of any ornithologic interest of theirs, but as a relic left over +from an abandoned club or secret society, which they had previously +contemplated forming, its members to be called "The Orioles" for no +reason whatever. The two friends had talked of this plan at many +meetings throughout the summer, and when Mr. Joseph Atwater made his +great-nephew the unexpected present of a printing-press, and a newspaper +consequently took the place of the club, Herbert and Henry still +entertained an affection for their former scheme and decided to +perpetuate the name. They were the more sensitive to attack upon it by +an ignorant outsider and girl like Florence, and her chance of +ingratiating herself with them, if that could be now her intention, was +not a promising one. + +She descended from the fence with pronounced inelegance, and, +approaching the old double doors of the "carriage-house," which were +open, paused to listen. Sounds from above assured her that the editors +were editing--or at least that they could be found at their place of +business. Therefore, she ascended the cobwebby stairway, emerged from it +into the former hay loft, and thus made her appearance in the +printing-room of _The North End Daily Oriole_. + +Herbert, frowning with the burden of composition, sat at a table beyond +the official railing, and his partner was engaged at the press, +earnestly setting type. This latter person (whom Florence so seldom +named otherwise than as "that nasty little Henry Rooter") was of a pure, +smooth, fair-haired appearance, and strangely clean for his age and +occupation. His profile was of a symmetry he had not yet himself begun +to appreciate; his dress was scrupulous and modish; and though he was +short, nothing outward about him confirmed the more sinister of +Florence's two adjectives. Nevertheless, her poor opinion of him was +plain in her expression as she made her present intrusion upon his +working hours. He seemed to reciprocate. + +"Listen! Didn't I and Herbert tell you to keep out o' here?" he said. +"Look at her, Herbert! She's back again!" + +"You get out o' here, Florence," said Herbert, abandoning his task with +a look of pain. "How often we got to tell you we don't want you around +here when we're in our office like this?" + +"For Heaven's sake!" Henry Rooter thought fit to add. "Can't you quit +runnin' up and down our office stairs once in a while, long enough for +us to get our newspaper work done? Can't you give us a little _peace_?" + +The pinkiness of Florence's altering complexion was justified; she had +not been within a thousand miles of their old office for four days. With +some heat she stated this to be the fact, adding, "And I only came then +because I knew somebody ought to see that this stable isn't ruined. It's +my own uncle and aunt's stable, I guess, isn't it? Answer me that, if +you'll kindly please to do so!" + +"It's my father and mother's stable," Herbert asserted. "Haven't I got a +right to say who's allowed in my own father and mother's stable?" + +"You have not," the prompt Florence replied. "It's my own uncle and +aunt's stable, and I got as much right here as anybody." + +"You have not!" Henry Rooter protested hotly. "This isn't either your +ole aunt and uncle's stable." + +"_It isn't_?" + +"No, it is not! This isn't anybody's stable. It's my and Herbert's +Newspaper Building, and I guess you haven't got the face to stand there +and claim you got a right to go in a Newspaper Building and say you got +a right there when everybody tells you to stay outside of it, I guess!" + +"Oh, haven't I?" + +"No, you 'haven't--I'!" Mr. Rooter maintained bitterly. "You just walk +down town and go in any Newspaper Buildings down there and tell 'em you +got a right to stay there all day long when they tell you to get out o' +there! Just try it! That's all I ask!" + +Florence uttered a cry of derision. "And pray, whoever told you I was +bound to do everything you ask me to, Mister Henry Rooter?" And she +concluded by reverting to that hostile impulse, so ancient, which, in +despair of touching an antagonist effectively, reflects upon his +ancestors. "If you got anything you want to ask, you go ask your +grandmother!" + +"Here!" Herbert sprang to his feet. "You try and behave like a lady!" + +"Who'll make me?" she inquired. + +"You got to behave like a lady as long as you're in our Newspaper +Building, anyway," Herbert said ominously. "If you expect to come up +here after you been told five dozen times to keep out----" + +"For Heaven's sakes!" his partner interposed. "When we goin' to get our +newspaper _work_ done? She's _your_ cousin; I should think you could get +her out!" + +"Well, I'm goin' to, ain't I?" Herbert protested plaintively. "I expect +to get her out, don't I?" + +"Oh, do you?" Miss Atwater inquired, with severe mockery. "Pray, how +would you expect to accomplish it, pray?" + +Herbert looked desperate, but was unable to form a reply consistent with +a few new rules of etiquette and gallantry that he had begun to observe +during the past year or so. "Now, see here, Florence," he said. "You're +old enough to know when people tell you to keep out of a place, why, it +means they want you to stay away from there." + +Florence remained cold to this reasoning. "Oh, Poot!" she said. + +"Now, look here!" her cousin remonstrated, and went on with his +argument. "We got our newspaper work to do, and you ought to have sense +enough to know newspaper work like this newspaper work we got on _our_ +hands here isn't--well, it ain't any child's play." + +His partner appeared to approve of the expression, for he nodded +severely and then used it himself. "No, you _bet_ it isn't any child's +play!" he said. + +"No, sir," Herbert continued. "This newspaper work we got on our hands +here isn't any child's play." + +"No, sir," Henry Rooter again agreed. "Newspaper work like this isn't +any child's play at _all_!" + +"It isn't any child's play, Florence," said Herbert. "It ain't any +child's play at all, Florence. If it was just child's play or something +like that, why, it wouldn't matter so much your always pokin' up here, +and----" + +"Well," his partner interrupted judicially;--"we wouldn't want her +around, even if it _was_ child's play." + +"No, we wouldn't; that's so," Herbert agreed. "We wouldn't want you +around, anyhow, Florence." Here his tone became more plaintive. "So, for +mercy's sakes can't you go on home and give us a little rest? What you +want, anyhow?" + +"Well, I guess it's about time you was askin' me that," she said, not +unreasonably. "If you'd asked me that in the first place, instead of +actin' like you'd never been taught anything, and was only fit to +associate with hoodlums, perhaps my time is of _some_ value, myself!" + +Here the lack of rhetorical cohesion was largely counteracted by the +strong expressiveness of her tone and manner, which made clear her +position as a person of worth, dealing with the lowest of her inferiors. +She went on, not pausing: + +"I thought being as I was related to you, and all the family and +everybody else is goin' to haf to read your ole newspaper, anyway it'd +be a good thing if what was printed in it wasn't _all_ a disgrace to the +family, because the name of our family's got mixed up with this +newspaper;--so here!" + +Thus speaking, she took the poem from her pocket and with dignity held +it forth to her cousin. + +"What's that?" Herbert inquired, not moving a hand. He was but an +amateur, yet already enough of an editor to be suspicious. + +"It's a poem," Florence said. "I don't know whether I exackly ought to +have it in your ole newspaper or not, but on account of the family's +sake I guess I better. Here, take it." + +Herbert at once withdrew a few steps, placing his hands behind him. +"Listen here," he said;--"you think we got time to read a lot o' nothin' +in your ole hand-writin' that nobody can read anyhow, and then go and +toil and moil to print it on our printin'-press? I guess we got work +enough printin' what we write for our newspaper our own selves! My +goodness, Florence, I _told_ you this isn't any child's play!" + +For the moment, Florence appeared to be somewhat baffled. "Well," she +said. "Well, you better put this poem in your ole newspaper if you want +to have anyhow one thing in it that won't make everybody sick that reads +it." + +"_I_ won't do it!" Herbert said decisively. + +"What you take us for?" his partner added. + +"All right, then," Florence responded. "I'll go and tell Uncle Joseph +and he'll take this printing-press back." + +"He will not take it back. I already did tell him how you kept pokin' +around, tryin' to _run_ everything, and how we just worried our lives +out tryin' to keep you away. He said he bet it was a hard job; that's +what Uncle Joseph said! So go on, tell him anything you want to. You +don't get your ole poem in _our_ newspaper!" + +"Not if she lived to be two hunderd years old!" Henry Rooter added. +Then he had an afterthought. "Not unless she pays for it." + +"How do you mean?" Herbert asked, puzzled by this codicil. + +Now Henry's brow had become corrugated with no little professional +impressiveness. "You know what we were talkin' about this morning?" he +said. "How the right way to run our newspaper, we ought to have some +advertisements in it and everything? Well, we want money, don't we? We +could put this poem in our newspaper like an advertisement;--that is, if +Florence has got any money, we could." + +Herbert frowned. "If her ole poem isn't too long I guess we could. Here, +let's see it, Florence." And, taking the sheet of paper in his hand, he +studied the dimensions of the poem, without paining himself to read it. +"Well, I guess, maybe we can do it," he said. "How much ought we to +charge her?" + +This question sent Henry Rooter into a state of calculation, while +Florence observed him with veiled anxiety; but after a time he looked +up, his brow showing continued strain. "Do you keep a bank, +Florence--for nickels and dimes and maybe quarters, you know?" he +inquired. + +It was her cousin who impulsively replied for her. "No, she don't," he +said. + +"Not since I was about seven years old!" And Florence added sharply, +though with dignity: "Do you still make mud pies in your back yard, +pray?" + +"Now, see here!" Henry objected. "Try and be a lady anyway for a few +minutes, can't you? I got to figure out how much we got to charge you +for your ole poem, don't I?" + +"Well, then," Florence returned, "you better ask _me_ somep'n about +that, hadn't you?" + +"Well," said Henry Rooter, "have you got any money at home?" + +"No, I haven't." + +"Have you got any money with you?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"How much is it?" + +"I won't tell you." + +Henry frowned. "I guess we ought to make her pay about two dollars and a +half," he said, turning to his partner. + +Herbert became deferential; it seemed to him that he had formed a +business association with a genius, and for a moment he was dazzled; +then he remembered Florence's financial capacities, always well known +to him, and he looked depressed. Florence, herself, looked indignant. + +"Two dollars and a half!" she cried. "Why, I could buy this whole place +for two dollars and a half, printing-press, railing, and all--yes, and +you thrown in, Mister Henry Rooter!" + +"See here, Florence," Henry said earnestly. "Haven't you got two dollars +and a half?" + +"Of course she hasn't!" his partner assured him. "She never had two +dollars and a half in her life!" + +"Well, then," said Henry gloomily, "what we goin' to do about it? How +much _you_ think we ought to charge her?" + +Herbert's expression became noncommittal. "Just let me think a minute," +he said, and with his hand to his brow he stepped behind the +unsuspicious Florence. + +"I got to think," he murmured; then with the straightforwardness of his +age, he suddenly seized his damsel cousin from the rear and held her in +a tight but far from affectionate embrace, pinioning her arms. She +shrieked, "Murder!" and "Let me go!" and "Help! Hay-yulp!" + +"Look in her pocket," Herbert shouted. "She keeps her money in her skirt +pocket when she's got any. It's on the left side of her. Don't let her +kick you! Look out!" + +"I got it!" said the dexterous Henry, retreating and exhibiting coins. +"It's one dime and two nickels--twenty cents. Has she got any more +pockets?" + +"No, I haven't!" Florence fiercely informed him, as Herbert released +her. "And I guess you better hand that money back if you don't want to +be arrested for stealing!" + +But Henry was unmoved. "Twenty cents," he said calculatingly. "Well, all +right; it isn't much, but you can have your poem in our newspaper for +twenty cents, Florence. If you don't want to pay that much, why, take +your ole twenty cents and go on away." + +"Yes," said Herbert. "That's as cheap as we'll do it, Florence. Take it +or leave it." + +"Take it or leave it," Henry Rooter agreed. "That's the way to talk to +her; take it or leave it, Florence. If you don't take it you got to +leave it." + +Florence was indignant, but she decided to take it. "All right," she +said coldly. "I wouldn't pay another cent if I died for it." + +"Well, you haven't got another cent, so that's all right," Mr. Rooter +remarked; and he honourably extended an open palm toward his partner. +"Here, Herbert; you can have the dime, or the two nickels, whichever you +rather. It makes no difference to me; I'd as soon have one as the +other." + +Herbert took the two nickels, and turned to Florence. "See here, +Florence," he said, in a tone of strong complaint. "This business is all +done and paid for now. What you want to hang around here any _more_ +for?" + +"Yes, Florence," his partner faithfully seconded him, at once. "We +haven't got any more time to waste around here to-day, and so what you +want to stand around in the way and everything for? You ought to know +yourself we don't want you." + +"I'm not in the way," said Florence hotly. "Whose way am I in?" + +"Well, anyhow, if you don't go," Herbert informed her, "we'll carry you +downstairs and lock you out." + +"I'd just like to see you!" she returned, her eyes flashing. "Just you +dare to lay a finger on me again!" And she added, "Anyway, if you did, +those ole doors haven't got any lock on 'em: I'll come right back in and +walk right straight up the stairs again!" + +Herbert advanced toward her. "Now you pay attention, to me," he said. +"You've paid for your ole poem, and we got to have some peace around +here. I'm goin' straight over to your mother and ask her to come and get +you." + +Florence gave up. "What difference would _that_ make, Mister +Taddletale?" she inquired mockingly. "_I_ wouldn't be here when she +came, would I? I'll thank you to notice there's some value to my time, +myself; and I'll just politely ask you to excuse me, pray!" + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + + +With a proud air she crushingly departed, returning to her own home far +from dissatisfied with what she had accomplished. Moreover, she began to +expand with the realization of a new importance; and she was gratified +with the effect upon her parents, at dinner that evening, when she +informed them that she had written a poem, which was to be published in +the prospective first number of _The North End Daily Oriole_. + +"Written a _poem_?" said her father. "Well, I declare! Why, that's +remarkable, Florence!" + +"I'm glad the boys were nice about it," said her mother. "I should have +feared they couldn't appreciate it, after being so cross to you about +letting you have anything to do with the printing-press. They must have +thought it was a very good poem." + +"Where is the poem, Florence?" Mr. Atwater asked. "Let's read it and see +what our little girl can do when she really tries." + +Unfortunately Florence had not a copy, and when she informed her father +of this fact, he professed himself greatly disappointed as well as eager +for the first appearance of _The Oriole_, that he might felicitate +himself upon the evidence of his daughter's heretofore unsuspected +talent. Florence was herself anxious for the newspaper's début, and she +made her anxiety so clear to Atwater & Rooter, Owners & Propreitors, +every afternoon after school, during the following week, that by +Thursday further argument and repartee on their part were felt to be +indeed futile; and in order to have a little peace around there, they +carried her downstairs. At least, they defined their action as +"carrying," and, having deposited her in the yard, they were obliged to +stand guard at the doors, which they closed and contrived to hold +against her until her strength was worn out for that day. + +Florence consoled herself. During the week she dropped in on all the +members of "the family"--her grandfather, uncles and aunts and cousins, +her great-aunts and great-uncles--and in each instance, after no +protracted formal preliminaries, lightly remarked that she wrote poetry +now; her first to appear in the forthcoming _Oriole_. And when +Great-Aunt Carrie said, "Why, Florence, you're wonderful! I couldn't +write a poem to save my life. I never _could_ see how they do it," +Florence laughed, made a deprecatory little side motion with her head, +and responded, "Why, Aunt Carrie, that's nothing! It just kind of comes +to you." + +This also served as her explanation when some of her school friends +expressed their admiration, after being told the news in confidence; +though to one of the teachers she said, smiling ruefully, as in +remembrance of midnight oil, "It _does_ take work, of course!" + + * * * * * + +When opportunity offered, upon the street, she joined people she knew +(or even rather distant acquaintances) to walk with them a little way +and lead the conversation to the subject of poetry, including her own +contribution to that art. Altogether, if Florence was not in a fair way +to become a poetic celebrity it was not her own fault but entirely that +of _The North End Daily Oriole_, which was to make its appearance on +Saturday, but failed to do so on account of too much enthusiasm on the +part of Atwater & Rooter in manipulating the printing-press. It broke, +had to be repaired; and Florence, her nerves upset by the accident, +demanded her money back. This was impossible, and the postponement +proved to be but an episode; moreover, it gave her time to let more +people know of the treat that was coming. + +Among these was Noble Dill. Until the Friday following her +disappointment she had found no opportunity to acquaint her Very Ideal +with the news; and but for an encounter partly due to chance, he might +not have heard of it. A sentimental enrichment of colour in her cheeks +was the result of her catching sight of him, as she was on the point of +opening and entering her own front door, that afternoon, on her return +from school. He was passing the house, walking somewhat dreamily. + +Florence stepped into the sheltering vestibule, peeping round it with +earnest eyes to watch him as he went by; obviously he had taken no note +of her. Satisfied of this, she waited until he was at a little distance, +then ran lightly down to the gate, hurried after him and joined him. + +"Why, Mr. Dill!" she exclaimed, in her mother's most polished manner. +"How supprising to see _you_! I presume as we both happen to be walking +the same direction we might just's well keep together." + +"Surprising to see me?" Noble said vaguely. "I haven't been away +anywhere in particular, Florence." Then, at a thought, he brightened. +"I'm glad to see you, Florence. Do you know if any of your family or +relatives have heard when your Aunt Julia is coming home?" + +"Aunt Julia? She's out of town," said Florence. "She's visiting +different people she used to know when she was away at school." + +"Yes, I know," Mr. Dill returned. "But she's been gone six weeks." + +"Oh, I don't believe it's that long," Florence said casually; then with +more earnestness: "Mr. Dill, I was goin' to ask you somep'n--it's kind +of a funny question for _me_ to ask, but----" + +"Yes, she has," Noble interrupted, not aware that his remark was an +interruption. "Oh, yes, she has!" he said. "It was six weeks +day-before-yesterday afternoon. I saw your father downtown this morning, +and he said he didn't know that any of the family had heard just when +she was coming home. I thought maybe some of your relatives had a letter +from her by this afternoon's mail, perhaps." + +"I guess not," said Florence. "Mr. Dill, there was a question I thought +I'd ask you. It's kind of a funny question for _me_----" + +"Are you _sure_ nobody's heard from your Aunt Julia to-day?" Noble +insisted. + +"I guess they haven't. Mr. Dill, I was goin' to ask you----" + +"It's strange," he murmured, "I don't see how people can enjoy visits +that long. I should think they'd get anxious about what might happen at +home." + +"Oh, grandpa's all right; he says he kind of likes to have the house +nice and quiet to himself; and anyway Aunt Julia enjoys visiting," +Florence assured him. "Aunt Fanny saw a newspaper from one the places +where Aunt Julia's visiting her school room-mate. It had her picture in +it and called her 'the famous Northern Beauty'; it was down South +somewhere. Well, Mr. Dill, I was just sayin' I believe I'd ask you----" + +But a sectional rancour seemed all at once to affect the young man. "Oh, +yes. I heard about that," he said. "Your Aunt Fanny lent my mother the +newspaper. Those people in _that_ part of the country--well----" He +paused, remembering that it was only Florence he addressed; and he +withheld from utterance his opinion that the Civil War ought to be +fought all over again. "Your father said your grandfather hadn't heard +from her for several days, and even then she hadn't said when she was +coming home." + +"No, I expect she didn't," said Florence. "Mr. Dill, I was goin' to ask +you somep'n--it's kind of a queer kind of question for _me_ to ask, I +guess----" She paused. However, he did not interrupt her, seeming +preoccupied with gloom; whereupon Florence permitted herself a +deprecatory laugh, and continued, "It might be you'd answer yes, or it +might be you'd answer no; but anyway I was goin' to ask you--it's kind +of a funny question for _me_ to ask, I expect--but do you like poetry?" + +"What?" + +"Well, as things have turned out lately I guess it's kind of a funny +question, Mr. Dill, but do you like poetry?" + +Noble's expression took on a coldness; for the word brought to his mind +a thought of Newland Sanders. "Do I like poetry?" said Noble. "No, I +don't." + +Florence was momentarily discouraged; but at her age people usually +possess an invaluable faculty, which they lose later in life; and it is +a pity that they do lose it. At thirteen--especially the earlier months +of thirteen--they are still able to set aside and dismiss from their +minds almost any facts, no matter how audibly those facts have asked for +recognition. Children superbly allow themselves to become deaf, so to +speak, to undesirable circumstances; most frequently, of course, to +undesirable circumstances in the way of parental direction; so that +fathers, mothers, nurses, or governesses, not comprehending that this +mental deafness is for the time being entirely genuine, are liable to +hoarseness both of throat and temper. Thirteen is an age when the fading +of this gift or talent, one of the most beautiful of childhood, begins +to impair its helpfulness under the mistaken stress of discipline; but +Florence retained something of it. In a moment or two Noble Dill's +disaffection toward poetry was altogether as if it did not exist. + +She coughed, inclined her head a little to one side, in her mother's +manner of politeness to callers, and, repeating her deprecatory laugh, +remarked: "Well, of course it's kind of a funny question for _me_ to +ask, of course." + +"What is, Florence?" Noble inquired absently. + +"Well--what I was saying was that 'course it's sort of queer _me_ askin' +if you liked poetry, of course, on account of my _writing_ poetry the +way I do now." + +She looked up at him with a bright readiness to respond modestly to +whatever exclamation his wonder should dictate; but Noble's attention +had straggled again. + +"Has she written your mother lately?" he asked. + +Florence's expression denoted a mental condition slightly disturbed. +"No," she said. "It's goin' to be printed in _The North End Daily +Oriole_." + +"What?" + +"My poem. It's about a vast amen--anyhow, that's proba'ly the best thing +in it, I guess--and they're goin' to have it out to-morrow, or else +they'll have to settle with _me_; that's one thing certain! I'll bring +one over to your house and leave it at the door for you, Mr. Dill." + +Noble had but a confused notion of what she thus generously promised. +However, he said, "Thank you," and nodded vaguely. + +"Of course, I don't know as it's so awful good," Florence admitted +insincerely. "The family all seem to think it's something pretty much; +but I don't know if it is or not. _Really_, I don't!" + +"No," said Noble, still confused. "I suppose not." + +"I'm half way through another one I think myself'll be a good deal +better. I'm not goin' as fast with it as I did with the other one, and I +expect it'll be quite a ways ahead of this one." She again employed the +deprecatory little laugh. "I don't know how I do it, myself. The family +all think it's sort of funny I don't know how I do it, myself; but +that's the way it is. They all say if they could do it they're sure +they'd know how they did it; but I guess they're wrong. I presume if you +can do it, why, it just _comes_ to you. Don't you presume that's the way +it is, Mr. Dill?" + +"I--guess so." They had reached his gate, and he stopped. "You're sure +none of your family have heard anything to-day?" he asked anxiously. + +"From Aunt Julia? I don't think they have." + +He sighed, and opened the gate. "Well, good evening, Florence." + +"Good evening." Her eyes followed him wistfully as he passed within the +enclosure; then she turned and walked quickly toward her own home; but +at the corner of the next fence she called back over her shoulder, "I'll +leave it with your mother for you, if you're not home when I bring it." + +"What?" he shouted, from his front door. + +"I'll leave it with your _mother_." + +"Leave what?" + +"The _poem_!" + +"Oh!" said Noble. "Thanks!" + +But when his mother handed him a copy of the first issue of _The North +End Daily Oriole_, the next day, when he came home to lunch, he read it +without edification; there was nothing about Julia in it. + + THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE + + Atwater & Rooter Owners & Propreitors + + SUBSCRIBE NOW 25 Cents Per Year + + Subscriptions shloud be brought to the East etrance of Atwater + & Rooter Newspaper Building every afternoon 4.30 to 6. 25 cents. + + ======================================= + + NEWS OF THE CITY + + ---------- + + The Candidates for mayor at the election are Mr P. N. Gordon and + John T Milo. The contest is very great between these candidates. + + Holcombs chickens get in MR. Joseph Atwater's yard a god deal + lately. He says chickens are out of place in a city of this size. + + Minnie the cook of Mr. F. L. Smith's residisence goes downtown + every Thrusday afts about three her regular day for it. + + A new ditch is being dug accross the MR. Henry D. Vance backyrad. + ;Tis about dug but nobody is working there now. Patty Fairchild + received the highest mark in declamation of the 7A at Sumner School + last Friday. + + Balf's grorcey wagon ran over a cat of the Mr. Rayfort family. Geo. + the driver of the wagom stated he had not but was willing to take + it away and burg it somewheres Geo. stated regret and claimed + nothing but an accident which could not be helped and not his team + that did the damage. + + MissColfield teacher of the 7A atSumner School was reproted on the + sink list. We hope she will soon be well. + + There were several deaths in the city this week. + + Mr. Fairchild father of Patty Fairchild was on the sick list + several days and did not go to his office but is out now. + + Been Kriso the cHauffeur of the Mr. R. G. Atwater family washes + their car on Monday. In using the hose he turned water over the + fence accidently and hit Lonnie the washWOman in back of MRS. + Bruffs who called him some low names. Ben told her if he had have + been a man he wrould strike her but soon the distrubance was at an + end. There is a good deal more of other news which will be printed + in our next NO. + + Advertisements & Poems + 20 Cents Each Up. + + JOSEPH K. ATWATER & CO. + 127 South Iowa St, + Steam Pumps. + + THE Organstep + BY Florence Atwater + + The Organstep was seated at his organ in a + In some beautifil words of vagle and brir + But he was a gReat organstep and always + When the soil is weary + And the mind is drearq + I would play music like a vast amen + The way it sounds in a church of new + Subscribe NOW 25 cents Adv & Poetry + 20 cents up. Atwater & Rooter News + Paper Building 25 cents per YEAR + +Such was the first issue, complete, of _The North End Daily Oriole_. +What had happened to the poem was due partly to Atwater & Rooter's +natural lack of experience in a new and exacting trade; partly to their +enviable unconsciousness of any necessity for proof-reading; and +somewhat to their haste in getting through the final and least +interesting stage of their undertaking; for of course so far as the +printers were concerned, the poem was mere hack work anti-climax. + +And as they later declared, under fire, anybody that could make out more +than three words in five of Florence's ole handwriting was welcome to do +it. Besides, what did it matter if a little bit was left out at the end +of one or two of the lines? They couldn't be expected to run the lines +out over their margin, could they? And they never knew anything crazier +than makin' all this fuss, because: Well, what if some of it wasn't +printed just exactly right, who in the world was goin' to notice it, and +what was the difference of just a few words different in that ole poem, +anyhow? + +For by the time these explanations (so to call them) took place, +Florence was indeed makin' a fuss. Her emotion, at first, had been +happily stimulated at sight of "BY Florence Atwater." A singular +tenderness had risen in her--a tremulous sense as of something almost +sacred coming at last into its own; and she hurried to distribute, +gratis, among relatives and friends, several copies of the _Oriole_, +paying for them, too (though not without injurious argument), at the +rate of two cents a copy. But upon returning to her own home, she became +calm enough (for a moment or so) to look over the poem with attention to +details. She returned hastily to the Newspaper Building, but would have +been wiser to remain away, since all subscribers had received their +copies by the time she got there; and under the circumstances little +reparation was practicable. + +She ended her oration--or professed to end it--by declaring that she +would never have another poem in their ole vile newspaper as long as she +lived. + +"You're right about that!" Henry Rooter agreed heartily. "We wouldn't +_let_ another one in it. Not for fifty dollars! Just look at all the +trouble we took, moiling and toiling, to get your ole poem printed as +nice as we could, so it wouldn't ruin our newspaper, and then you come +over here and go on like this, and all this and that, why, I wouldn't go +through it again for a _hunderd_ dollars! We're makin' good money +anyhow, with our newspaper, Florence Atwater. You needn't think we +depend on _you_ for our living!" + +"That's so," his partner declared. "We knew you wouldn't be satisfied, +anyway, Florence. Didn't we, Henry?" + +"I should say we did!" + +"Yes, sir!" said Herbert. "Right when we were havin' the worst time +tryin' to print it and make out some o' the words, I said right then we +were just throwing away our time. I said, 'What's the use? That ole +girl's bound to raise Cain anyhow, so what's the use wastin' a whole lot +of our good time and brains like this, just to suit _her_? Whatever we +do, she's certain to come over and insult us.' Isn't that what I said, +Henry?" + +"Yes, it is; and I said then you were right, and you _are_ right!" + +"Cert'nly I am," said Herbert. "Didn't I tell you she'd be just the way +some the family say she is? A good many of 'em say she'd find fault with +the undertaker at her own funeral. That's just exactly what I said!" + +"Oh, you did?" Florence burlesqued a polite interest. "How _vir_ry +considerate of you! Then, perhaps you'll try to be a gentleman enough +for one simple moment to allow me to tell you my last remarks on this +subject. I've said enough----" + +"Oh, _have_ you?" Herbert interrupted with violent sarcasm. "Oh, no! Say +not so! Florence, say not so!" + +At this, Henry Rooter loudly shouted with applausive hilarity; whereupon +Herbert, rather surprised at his own effectiveness, naturally repeated +his waggery. + +"Say not so, Florence! Say not so! Say not so!" + +"I'll tell you one thing!" his lady cousin cried, thoroughly infuriated. +"I wish to make just one last simple remark that I would care to soil +myself with in _your_ respects, Mister Herbert Illingsworth Atwater and +Mister Henry Rooter!" + +"Oh, say not so, Florence!" they both entreated. "Say not so! Say not +so!" + +"I'll just simply state the simple truth," Florence announced. "In the +first place, you're goin' to live to see the day when you'll come and +beg me on your bented knees to have me put poems or anything I want to +in your ole newspaper, but I'll just _laugh_ at you! '_Indeed_?' I'll +say! 'So you come beggin' around _me_, do you? Ha, ha!' I'll say! 'I +guess it's a little too late for that! Why, I wouldn't----'" + +"Oh, say not so, Florence! Say not so!" + +"'_Me_ to allow you to have one of my poems?' I'll say, 'Much less than +_that_!' I'll say, 'because even if I was wearing the oldest shoes I got +in the world I wouldn't take the trouble to----'" + +Her conclusion was drowned out. "Oh, _Florence_, say not so! Say not so, +Florence! Say not so!" + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + + +The hateful entreaty still murmured in her resentful ears, that night, +as she fell asleep; and she passed into the beginnings of a dream with +her lips slightly dimpling the surface of her pillow in belated +repartee. And upon waking, though it was Sunday, her first words, half +slumbrous in the silence of the morning, were, "Vile Things!" Her +faculties became more alert during the preparation of a toilet that was +to serve not only for breakfast, but with the addition of gloves, a hat, +and a blue-velvet coat, for Church and Sunday-school as well; and she +planned a hundred vengeances. That is to say, her mind did not occupy +itself with plots possible to make real; but rather it dabbled among +those fragmentary visions that love to overlap and displace one another +upon the changeful retina of the mind's eye. + +In all of these pictures, wherein prevailingly she seemed to be some +sort of deathly powerful Queen of Poetry, the postures assumed by the +figures of Messrs. Atwater and Rooter (both in an extremity of rags) +were miserably suppliant. So she soothed herself a little--but not long. +Herbert, in the next pew, in church, and Henry in the next beyond that, +were perfect compositions in smugness. They were cold, contented, +aristocratic; and had an imperturbable understanding between themselves +(even then perceptible to the sensitive Florence) that she was a +nuisance now capably disposed of by their beautiful discovery of "Say +not so!" Florence's feelings were unbecoming to the place and occasion. + +But at four o'clock, that afternoon, she was assuaged into a milder +condition by the arrival, according to an agreement made in +Sunday-school, of the popular Miss Patty Fairchild. + +Patty was thirteen and a half; an exquisite person with gold-dusted +hair, eyes of singing blue, and an alluring air of sweet +self-consciousness. Henry Rooter and Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., +out gathering news, saw her entering Florence's gate, and immediately +forgot that they were reporters. They became silent, gradually moving +toward the house of their newspaper's sole poetess. + +Florence and Patty occupied themselves indoors for half an hour; then +went out in the yard to study a mole's tunnel that had interested +Florence recently. They followed it across the lawn at the south side of +the house, discussing the habits of moles and other matters of zoölogy; +and finally lost the track near the fence, which was here the "side +fence" and higher than their heads. Patty looked through a knot-hole to +see if the tunnel was visible in the next yard, but, without reporting +upon her observations, she turned, as if carelessly, and leaned back +against the fence, covering the knot-hole. + +"Florence," she said, in a tone softer than she had been using +heretofore;--"Florence, do you know what I think?" + +"No. Could you see any more tracks over there?" + +"Florence," said Patty;--"I was just going to tell you something, only +maybe I better not." + +"Why not?" Florence inquired. "Go on and tell me." + +"No," said Patty gently. "You might think it was silly." + +"No, I won't." + +"Yes, you _might_." + +"I promise I won't." + +"Well, then--oh, Florence I'm _sure_ you'll think it's silly!" + +"I _promised_ I wouldn't." + +"Well--I don't think I better say it." + +"Go on," Florence urged. "Patty, you _got_ to." + +"Well, then, if I got to," said Patty. "What I was going to say, +Florence: Don't you think your cousin Herbert and Henry Rooter have got +the nicest eyes of any boy in town?" + +"_Who_?" Florence was astounded. + +"I do," Patty said in her charming voice. "I think Herbert and Henry've +got the nicest eyes of any boy in town." + +"You do?" Florence cried incredulously. + +"Yes, I really do, Florence. I think Herbert Atwater and Henry Rooter +have got the nicest eyes of any boy in town." + +"Well, I never heard anything like _this_ before!" Florence declared. + +"But _don't_ you think they've got the nicest eyes of any boy in town?" +Patty insisted, appealingly. + +"I think," said Florence, "their eyes are just horrable!" + +"What?" + +"_Herbert's_ eyes," continued Florence, ardently, "are the very worst +lookin' ole squinty eyes I ever saw, and that nasty little Henry +_Rooter's_ eyes----" + +But Patty had suddenly become fidgety; she hurried away from the fence. +"Come over here, Florence," she said. "Let's go over to the other side +of the yard and talk." + +It was time for her to take some such action. Messrs. Atwater and +Rooter, seated quietly together upon a box on the other side of the +fence (though with their backs to the knot-hole), were beginning to show +signs of inward disturbance. Already flushed with the unexpected +ineffabilities overheard, their complexions had grown even pinker upon +Florence's open-hearted expressions of opinion. Slowly they turned their +heads to look at the fence, upon the other side of which stood the +maligner of their eyes. Not that they cared what _that_ ole girl +thought--but she oughtn't to be allowed to go around talking like this +and perhaps prejudicing everybody that had a kind word to say for them. + +"Come on over here, Florence," called Patty huskily, from the other side +of the yard. "Let's talk over here." + +Florence was puzzled, but consented. "What you want to talk over here +for?" she asked as she came near her friend. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Patty. "Let's go out in the front yard." + +She led the way round the house, and a moment later uttered a cry of +surprise as the firm of Atwater & Rooter, passing along the pavement, +hesitated at the gate. Their celebrated eyes showed doubt for a moment, +then a brazenness: Herbert and Henry decided to come in. + +"Isn't this the funniest thing?" cried Patty. "After what I just said +awhile ago--_you_ know, Florence. Don't you dare to tell 'em!" + +"I cert'nly won't!" her hostess promised, and, turning inhospitably to +the two callers, "What on earth you want around here?" she inquired. + +Herbert chivalrously took upon himself the duty of response. "Look here; +this is my own aunt and uncle's yard, isn't it? I guess if I want to +come in it I got a perfect right to." + +"I should say so," his partner said warmly. + +"Why, of course!" the cordial Patty agreed. "We can play some nice +Sunday games, or something. Let's sit on the porch steps and think what +to do." + +"_I_ just as soon," said Henry Rooter. "_I_ got nothin' p'ticular to +do." + +"I haven't either," said Herbert. + +Thereupon, Patty sat between them on the steps. + +"This is _per-feckly_ grand!" she cried. "Come on, Florence, aren't you +going to sit down with all the rest of us?" + +"Well, pray kindly excuse _me_!" said Miss Atwater; and she added that +she would neither sit on the same steps with Herbert Atwater and Henry +Rooter, nor, even if they entreated her with accompanying genuflections, +would she have anything else whatever to do with them. She concluded +with a reference to the oldest pair of shoes she might ever come to +possess; and withdrew to the railing of the veranda at a point farthest +from the steps; and, seated there, swinging one foot rhythmically, she +sang hymns in a tone at once plaintive and inimical. + +It was not lost upon her, however, that her withdrawal had little effect +upon her guests. They chattered gaily, and Patty devised, or remembered, +harmless little games that could be played by a few people as well as by +many; and the three participants were so congenial and noisy and made so +merry, that before long Florence was unable to avoid the impression +that whether she liked it or not she was giving quite a party. + +At times the noted eyes of Atwater & Rooter were gentled o'er with the +soft cast of enchantment, especially when Patty felt called upon to +reprove the two with little coquetries of slaps and pushes. Noted for +her sprightliness, she was never sprightlier; her pretty laughter tooted +continuously, and the gentlemen accompanied it with doting sounds so +repulsive to Florence that without being actively conscious of what she +did, she embodied the phrase, "perfeckly sickening," in the hymn she was +crooning, and repeated it over and over to the air of "Rock of Ages." + +"Now I tell you what let's play," the versatile Patty proposed, after +exhausting the pleasures of "Geography," "Ghosts" and other tests of +intellect. "Let's play 'Truth.' We'll each take a piece o' paper and a +pencil, and then each of us asks the other one some question, and we haf +to write down the answer and sign your name and fold it up so nobody can +see it except the one that asked the question, and we haf to keep it a +secret and never tell as long as we live." + +"All right," said Henry Rooter. "I'll be the one to ask you a question, +Patty." + +"No," Herbert said promptly. "I ought to be the one to ask Patty." + +"Why ought you?" Henry demanded. "Why ought you?" + +"Listen!" Patty cried, "_I_ know the way we'll do. I'll ask each of you +a question--we haf to whisper it--and each one of you'll ask me one, and +then we'll write it. That'll be simply grand!" She clapped her hands; +then checked herself. "Oh, I guess we can't either. We haven't got any +paper and pencils unless----" Here she seemed to recall her hostess. +"Oh, Florrie, dear! Run in the house and get us some paper and pencils." + +Florence gave no sign other than to increase the volume of her voice as +she sang: "Perf'ly sick'ning, clef' for me, let me _perf'_ly +sick-kin-_ning_!" + +"We got plenty," said Herbert; whereupon he and Henry produced pencils +and their professional note-books, and supplied their fair friend and +themselves with material for "Truth." "Come on, Patty, whisper me +whatever you want to." + +"No; I ought to have her whisper _me_, first," Henry Rooter objected. +"I'll write the answer to _any_ question; I don't care what it's about." + +"Well, it's got to be the _truth_, you know," Patty warned them. "We +all haf to write down just exackly the truth on our word of honour and +sign our name. Promise?" + +They promised earnestly. + +"All right," said Patty. "Now I'll whisper Henry a question first, and +then you can whisper yours to me first, Herbert." + +This seemed to fill all needs happily, and the whispering and writing +began, and continued with a coziness little to the taste of the piously +singing Florence. She altered all previous opinions of her friend Patty, +and when the latter finally closed the session on the steps, and +announced that she must go home, the hostess declined to accompany her +into the house to help her find where she had left her hat and wrap. + +"I haven't the _least_ idea where I took 'em off!" Patty declared in the +airiest manner. "If you won't come with me, Florrie, s'pose you just +call in the front door and tell your mother to get 'em for me." + +"Oh, they're _somewhere_ in there," Florence said coldly, not ceasing to +swing her foot, and not turning her head. "You can find 'em by yourself, +I presume, or if you can't I'll have our maid throw 'em out in the yard +or somep'n to-morrow." + +"Well, _thank_ you!" Miss Fairchild rejoined, as she entered the house. + +The two boys stood waiting, having in mind to go with Patty as far as +her own gate. "That's a _pretty_ way to speak to company!" Herbert +addressed his cousin with heavily marked severity. "Next time you do +anything like that I'll march straight in the house and inform your +mother of the fact." + +Florence still swung her foot and looked dreamily away. She sang, to the +air of "Rock of Ages": + +"Henry Rooter, Herbert, too--they make me sick, they make me sick, +that's what they do." + +However, they were only too well prepared with their annihilating +response. + +"Oh, say not so! Florence, say not so! _Florence!_ Say not so!" + +They even sent this same odious refrain back to her from the street, as +they departed with their lovely companion; and, so tenuous is feminine +loyalty sometimes, under these stresses, Miss Fairchild mingled her +sweet, tantalizing young soprano with their changing and cackling +falsetto. + +"Say not so, Florence! Oh, say not so! Say not so!" + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + + +They went satirically down the street, their chumminess with one another +bountifully increased by their common derision of the outsider on the +porch; and even at a distance they still contrived to make themselves +intolerable; looking back over their shoulders, at intervals, with +say-not-so expressions on their faces. Even when these faces were far +enough away to be but yellowish oval planes, their say-not-so +expressions were still bitingly eloquent. + +Now a northern breeze chilled the air, as the hateful three became +indistinguishable in the haze of autumn dusk, whereupon Florence stopped +swinging her foot, left the railing, and went morosely into the house. +And here it was her fortune to make two discoveries vital to her present +career; the first arising out of a conversation between her father and +mother in the library, where a gossipy fire of soft coal encouraged this +proper Sunday afternoon entertainment for man and wife. + +"Sit down and rest, Florence," said her mother. "I'm afraid you play too +hard when Patty and the boys are here. Do sit down quietly and rest +yourself a little while." And as Florence obeyed, Mrs. Atwater turned to +her husband, resuming: "Well, that's what _I_ said. I told Aunt Carrie I +thought the same way about it that _you_ did. Of course nobody _ever_ +knows what Julia's going to do next, and nobody needs to be surprised at +anything she does do. Ever since she came home from school, about +four-fifths of all the young men in town have been wild about her--and +so's every old bachelor, for the matter of that!" + +"Yes," Mr. Atwater added. "And every old widower, too." + +His wife warmly accepted the amendment. "And every old widower, too," +she said, nodding. "Rather! And of course Julia's just done exactly as +she pleased about everything, and naturally she's going to do as she +pleases about _this_." + +"Well, of course it's her own affair, Mollie," Mr. Atwater said mildly. +"She couldn't be expected to consult the whole Atwater family connection +before she----" + +"Oh, no," she agreed. "I don't say she could. Still, it _is_ rather +upsetting, coming so suddenly like this, when not one of the family has +ever seen him--never even heard his very name before." + +[Illustration: _"'Well, men ... I don't want to see any loafin' around +here, men. I expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week.'"_] + +"Well, that part of it isn't especially strange, Mollie. He was born and +brought up in a town three hundred miles from here. I don't see just how +we _could_ have heard his name unless he visited here or got into the +papers in some way." + +Mrs. Atwater seemed unwilling to yield a mysterious point. She rocked +decorously in her rocking-chair, shook her head, and after setting her +lips rigidly, opened them to insist that she could never change her +mind: Julia had acted very abruptly. "Why couldn't she have let her poor +father know at least a _few_ days before she did?" + +Mr. Atwater sighed. "Why, she explains in her letter that she only knew +it, herself, an hour before she wrote." + +"Her poor father!" his wife repeated commiseratingly. + +"Why, Mollie, I don't see how father's especially to be pitied." + +"Don't you?" said Mrs. Atwater. "That old man, to have to live in that +big house all alone, except a few negro servants?" + +"Why, no! About half the houses in the neighbourhood, up and down the +street, are fully occupied by close relatives of his: I doubt if he'll +be really as lonely as he'd like to be. And he's often said he'd give a +great deal if Julia had been a plain, unpopular girl. I'm strongly of +the opinion, myself, that he'll be pleased about this. Of course it may +upset him a little at first." + +"Yes; I think it will!" Mrs. Atwater shook her head forebodingly. "And +he isn't the only one it's going to upset." + +"No, he isn't," her husband admitted seriously. "That's always been the +trouble with Julia; she never could bear to seem disappointing; and so, +of course, I suppose every one of 'em has a special idea that he's +really about the top of the list with her." + +"Every last one of 'em is positive of it," said Mrs. Atwater. "That was +Julia's way with 'em!" + +"Yes, Julia's always been much too kind-hearted for other people's +good." Thus Mr. Atwater summed up Julia; and he was her brother. +Additionally, since he was the older, he had known her since her birth. + +"If you ask _me_," said his wife, "I'll really be surprised if it all +goes through without a suicide." + +"Oh, not quite suicide, perhaps," Mr. Atwater protested. "I'm glad it's +a fairly dry town though." + +She failed to fathom his simple meaning. "Why?" + +"Well, some of 'em might feel _that_ desperate at least," he explained. +"Prohibition's a safeguard for the disappointed in love." + +This phrase and a previous one stirred Florence, who had been sitting +quietly, according to request, and "resting", but not resting her +curiosity. "_Who's_ disappointed in love, papa?" she inquired with an +explosive eagerness that slightly startled her preoccupied parents. +"What _is_ all this about Aunt Julia, and grandpa goin' to live alone, +and people committing suicide and prohibition and everything? What _is_ +all this, mamma?" + +"Nothing, Florence." + +"Nothing! That's what you always say about the very most inter'sting +things that happen in the whole family! What _is_ all this, papa?" + +"It's nothing that would be interesting to little girls, Florence. +Merely some family matters." + +"My goodness!" Florence exclaimed. "I'm not a 'little girl' any more, +papa! You're _always_ forgetting my age! And if it's a family matter I +belong to the family, I guess, about as much as anybody else, don't I? +Grandpa himself isn't any _more_ one of the family than I am, I don't +care _how_ old he is!" + +This was undeniable, and her father laughed. "It's really nothing you'd +care about one way or the other," he said. + +"Well, I'd care about it if it's a secret," Florence insisted. "If it's +a secret I'd want to know it, whatever it's about." + +"Oh, it isn't a secret, particularly, I suppose. At least, it's not to +be made public for a time; it's only to be known in the family." + +"Well, didn't I just _prove_ I'm as much one o' the family as----" + +"Never mind," her father said soothingly. "I don't suppose there's any +harm in your knowing it--if you won't go telling everybody. Your Aunt +Julia has just written us that she's engaged." + +Mrs. Atwater uttered an exclamation, but she was too late to check him. + +"I'm afraid you oughtn't to have told Florence. She _isn't_ just the +most discreet----" + +"Pshaw!" he laughed. "She certainly is 'one of the family', however, and +Julia wrote that all of the family might be told. You'll not speak of it +outside the family, will you, Florence?" + +But Florence was not yet able to speak of it, even inside the family; so +surprising, sometimes, are parents' theories of what will not interest +their children. She sat staring, her mouth open, and in the uncertain +illumination of the room these symptoms of her emotional condition went +unobserved. + +"I say, you won't speak of Julia's engagement outside the family, will +you, Florence?" + +"Papa!" she gasped. "Did Aunt Julia write she was _engaged_?" + +"Yes." + +"To get _married_?" + +"It would seem so." + +"To _who_?" + +"'To whom,' Florence," her mother suggested primly. + +"Mamma!" the daughter cried. "Who's Aunt Julia engaged to get married +to? Noble Dill?" + +"Good gracious, _no_!" Mrs. Atwater exclaimed. "What an absurd idea! +It's to a young man in the place she's visiting--a stranger to all of +us. Julia only met him a few weeks ago." Here she forgot Florence, and +turned again to her husband, wearing her former expression of +experienced foreboding. + +"It's just as I said. It's exactly like Julia to do such a reckless +thing!" + +"But as we don't know anything at all about the young man," he +remonstrated, "how do you know it's reckless?" + +"How do you know he's young?" Mrs. Atwater retorted crisply. "All in the +world she said about him was that he's a lawyer. He may be a widower, +for all we know, or divorced, with seven or eight children." + +"Oh, no, Mollie!" + +"Why, he _might_!" she insisted. "For all we know, he may be a widower +for the third or fourth _time_, or divorced, with any _number_ of +children! If such a person proposed to Julia, you know yourself she'd +hate to be disappointing!" + +Her husband laughed. "I don't think she'd go so far as to actually +accept 'such a person' and write home to announce her engagement to the +family. I suppose most of her swains here have been in the habit of +proposing to her just as frequently as she was unable to prevent them +from going that far; and while I don't think she's been as discouraging +with them as she might have been, she's never really accepted any of +'em. She's never been engaged before." + +"No," Mrs. Atwater admitted. "Not to this extent! She's never quite +announced it to the family before, that is." + +"Yes; I'd hate to have Julia's job when she comes back!" Julia's brother +admitted ruefully. + +"What job?" + +"Breaking it to her admirers." + +"Oh, _she_ isn't going to do that!" + +"She'll have to, now," he said. "She'll either have to write the news to +'em, or else tell 'em, face to face, when she comes home." + +"She won't do either." + +"Why, how could she get out of it?" + +His wife smiled pityingly. "She hasn't set a time for coming home, has +she? Don't you know enough of Julia's ways to see she'll never in the +world stand up to the music? She writes that all the family can be told, +because she knows the news will leak out, here and there, in confidence, +little by little, so by the time she gets home they'll all have been +through their first spasms, and after that she hopes they'll just send +her some forgiving flowers and greet her with manly hand-clasps--and get +ready to usher at the wedding!" + +"Well," said Mr. Atwater, "I'm afraid you're right. It does seem rather +like Julia to stay away till the first of the worst is over. I'm really +sorry for some of 'em. I suppose it _will_ get whispered about, and +they'll hear it; and there are some of the poor things that might take +it pretty hard." + +"'Take it pretty hard!'" his wife echoed loudly. "There's _one_ of 'em, +at least, who'll just merely lose his reason!" + +"Which one?" + +"Noble Dill." + +At this, the slender form of Florence underwent a spasmodic seizure in +her chair, but as the fit was short and also noiseless, it passed +without being noticed. + +"Yes," said Mr. Atwater thoughtfully. "I suppose he will." + +"He certainly will!" Mrs. Atwater declared. "Noble's mother told me last +week that he'd got so he was just as liable to drop a fountain-pen in +his coffee as a lump of sugar; and when any one speaks to him he either +doesn't know it, or else jumps. When he says anything, himself, she says +they can scarcely ever make out what he's talking about. He was trying +enough before Julia went away; but since she's been gone Mrs. Dill says +he's like nothing in her experience. She says he doesn't inherit it; +Mr. Dill wasn't anything like this about her." + +Mr. Atwater smiled faintly. "Mrs. Dill wasn't anything like Julia." + +"No," said his wife. "She was quite a sensible girl. I'd hate to be in +her place now, though, when she tells Noble about _this_." + +"How can Mrs. Dill tell him, since she doesn't know it herself?" + +"Well--perhaps she ought to know it, so that she _could_ tell him. +_Somebody_ ought to tell him, and it ought to be done with the greatest +tact. It ought to be broken to him with the most delicate care and +sympathy, or the consequences----" + +"Nobody could foretell the consequences," her husband interrupted:--"no +matter how tactfully it's broken to Noble." + +"No," she said, "I suppose that's true. I think the poor thing's likely +to lose his reason unless it _is_ done tactfully, though." + +"Do you think we really ought to tell Mrs. Dill, Mollie? I mean, +seriously: Do you?" + +For some moments she considered his question, then replied, "No. It's +possible we'd be following a Christian course in doing it; but still +we're rather bound not to speak of it outside the family, and when it +does get outside the family I think we'd better not be the ones +responsible--especially since it might easily be traced to us. I think +it's usually better to keep out of things when there's any doubt." + +"Yes," he said, meditating. "I never knew any harm to come of people's +sticking to their own affairs." + +But as he and his wife became silent for a time, musing in the +firelight, their daughter's special convictions were far from coinciding +with theirs, although she, likewise, was silent--a singularity they +should have observed. So far were they from a true comprehension of her, +they were unaware that she had more than a casual, young-cousinly +interest in Julia Atwater's engagement and in those possible +consequences to Noble Dill just sketched with some intentional +exaggeration. They did not even notice her expression when Mr. Atwater +snapped on the light, in order to read; and she went quietly out of the +library and up the stairs to her own room. + + * * * * * + +On the floor, near her bed, where Patty Fairchild had left her coat and +hat, Florence made another discovery. Two small, folded slips of paper +lay there, dropped by Miss Fairchild when she put on her coat in the +darkening room. They were the replies to Patty's whispered questions in +the game on the steps--the pledged Truth, written by Henry Rooter and +Herbert Atwater on their sacred words and honours. The infatuated pair +had either overestimated Patty's caution, or else each had thought she +would so prize his little missive that she would treasure it in a tender +safety, perhaps pinned upon her blouse (at the first opportunity) over +her heart. It is positively safe to say that neither of the two +veracities would ever have been set upon paper had Herbert and Henry any +foreshadowing that Patty might be careless; and the partners would have +been seized with the utmost horror could they have conceived the +possibility of their trustful messages ever falling into the hands of +the relentless creature who now, without an instant's honourable +hesitation, unfolded and read them. + +"_Yes if I got to tell the truth I know I have got pretty eyes_," +Herbert had unfortunately written. "I _am glad you think so too Patty +because your eyes are too Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr._" + +And Mr. Henry Rooter had likewise ruined himself in a coincidental +manner: + +"_Well Patty my eyes are pretty but suppose I would like to trade with +yours because you have beautiful eyes also, sure as my name is Henry +Rooter._" + +Florence stood close to the pink-shaded electric drop-light over her +small white dressing-table, reading again and again these pathetically +honest little confidences. Her eyelids were withdrawn to an +unprecedented retirement, so remarkably she stared; while her mouth +seemed to prepare itself for the attempted reception of a bulk beyond +its capacity. And these plastic tokens, so immoderate as to be +ordinarily the consequence of nothing short of horror, were overlaid by +others, subtler and more gleaming, which wrought the true significance +of the contortion--a joy that was dumfounding. + +Her thoughts were first of Fortune's kindness in selecting her for a +favour so miraculously dovetailing into the precise need of her life; +then she considered Henry and Herbert, each at this hour probably +brushing his hair in preparation for the Sunday evening meal, and both +touchingly unconscious of the calamity now befalling them; but what +eventually engrossed her mind was a thought about Wallie Torbin. + +This Master Torbin, fourteen years of age, was in all the town the boy +most dreaded by his fellow-boys, and also by girls, including many of +both sexes who knew him only by sight--and hearing. He had no physical +endowment or attainment worth mention; but boys who could "whip him with +one hand" became sycophants in his presence; the terror he inspired was +moral. He had a special over-development of a faculty exercised clumsily +enough by most human beings, especially in their youth; in other words, +he had a genius--not, however, a genius having to do with anything +generally recognized as art or science. True, if he had been a violinist +prodigy or mathematical prodigy, he would have had some respect from his +fellows--about equal to that he might have received if he were gifted +with some pleasant deformity, such as six toes on a foot--but he would +never have enjoyed such deadly prestige as had actually come to be his. +In brief, then, Wallie Torbin had a genius for mockery. + +Almost from his babyhood he had been a child of one purpose: to increase +by burlesques the sufferings of unfortunate friends. If one of them +wept, Wallie incessantly pursued him, yelping in horrid mimicry; if one +were chastised he could not appear out-of-doors for days except to +encounter Wallie and a complete rehearsal of the recent agony. "Quit, +Papa! _Pah_-puh, quee-yet! I'll _never_ do it again, Pah-puh! Oh, +_lemme_ alone, Pah-_puh_!" + +As he grew older, his insatiate curiosity enabled him to expose +unnumbered weaknesses, indiscretions, and social misfortunes on the part +of acquaintances and schoolmates; and to every exposure his noise and +energy gave a hideous publicity: the more his victim sought privacy the +more persistently he was followed by Wallie, vociferous and attended by +hilarious spectators. But above all other things, what most stimulated +the demoniac boy to prodigies of satire was a tender episode or any +symptom connected with the dawn of love. Florence herself had suffered +at intervals throughout her eleventh summer because Wallie discovered +that Georgie Beck had sent her a valentine; and the humorist's many, +many squealings of that valentine's affectionate quatrain finally left +her unable to decide which she hated the more, Wallie or Georgie. That +was the worst of Wallie: he never "let up"; and in Florence's circle +there was no more sobering threat than, "I'll tell Wallie Torbin!" As +for Henry Rooter and Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., they would as +soon have had a Head-hunter on their trail as Wallie Torbin in the +possession of anything that could incriminate them in an implication of +love--or an acknowledgment (in their own handwriting!) of their own +beauty. + +The fabric of civilized life is interwoven with blackmail: even some of +the noblest people do favours for other people who are depended upon not +to tell somebody something that the noblest people have done. Blackmail +is born into us all, and our nurses teach us more blackmail by +threatening to tell our parents if we won't do this and that--and our +parents threaten to tell the doctor--and so we learn! Blackmail is part +of the daily life of a child. Displeased, his first resort to get his +way with other children is a threat to "tell," but by-and-by his +experience discovers the mutual benefit of honour among blackmailers. +Therefore, at eight it is no longer the ticket to threaten to tell the +teacher; and, a little later, threatening to tell any adult at all is +considered something of a breakdown in morals. Notoriously, the code is +more liable to infraction by people of the physically weaker sex, for +the very reason, of course, that their inferiority of muscle so +frequently compels such a sin, if they are to have their way. But for +Florence there was now no such temptation. Looking to the demolition of +Atwater & Rooter, an exposure before adults of the results of "Truth" +would have been an effect of the sickliest pallor compared to what might +be accomplished by a careful use of the catastrophic Wallie Torbin. + + * * * * * + +On Sunday evening it was her privileged custom to go to the house of fat +old Great-Uncle Joseph and remain until nine o'clock, in chatty +companionship with Uncle Joseph and Aunt Carrie, his wife, and a few +other relatives (including Herbert) who were in the habit of dropping in +there, on Sunday evenings. In summer, lemonade and cake were frequently +provided; in the autumn, one still found cake, and perhaps a pitcher of +clear new cider: apples were a certainty. + +This evening was glorious: there were apples and cider and cake, with +walnuts, perfectly cracked, and a large open-hearted box of candy; for +Uncle Joseph and Aunt Carrie had foreseen the coming of several more +Atwaters than usual, to talk over the new affairs of their beautiful +relative, Julia. Seldom have any relative's new affairs been more +thoroughly talked over than were Julia's that evening; though all the +time by means of symbols, since it was thought wiser that Herbert and +Florence should not yet be told of Julia's engagement; and Florence's +parents were not present to confess their indiscretion. Julia was +referred to as "the traveller"; other makeshifts were employed with the +most knowing caution, and all the while Florence merely ate inscrutably. +The more sincere Herbert was placid; the foods absorbing his attention. + +"Well, all I say is, the traveller better enjoy herself on her travels," +said Aunt Fanny, finally, as the subject appeared to be wearing toward +exhaustion. "She certainly is in for it when the voyaging is over and +she arrives in the port she sailed from, and has to show her papers. I +agree with the rest of you: she'll have a great deal to answer for, and +most of all about the shortest one. My own opinion is that the shortest +one is going to burst like a balloon." + +"The shortest one," as the demure Florence had understood from the +first, was none other than her Very Ideal. Now she looked up from the +stool where she sat with her back against a pilaster of the mantelpiece. +"Uncle Joseph," she said;--"I was just thinking. What is a person's +reason?" + +The fat gentleman, rosy with firelight and cider, finished his fifth +glass before responding. "Well, there _are_ persons I never could find +any reason for at all. 'A person's reason'? What do you mean, 'a +person's reason,' Florence?" + +"I mean: like when somebody says, 'They'll lose their reason,'" she +explained. "Has everybody got a reason, and if they have, what is it, +and how do they lose it, and what would they do then?" + +"Oh! I see!" he said. "You needn't worry. I suppose since you heard it +you've been hunting all over yourself for your reason and looking to see +if there was one hanging out of anybody else, somewhere. No; it's +something you can't see, ordinarily, Florence. Losing your reason is +just another way of saying, 'going crazy'!" + +"Oh!" she murmured, and appeared to be disturbed. + +At this, Herbert thought proper to offer a witticism for the pleasure of +the company. + +"_You_ know, Florence," he said, "it only means acting like _you_ most +always do." He applauded himself with a burst of changing laughter +ranging from a bullfrog croak to a collapsing soprano; then he added: +"Espeshually when you come around my and Henry's Newspaper Building! You +cert'nly 'lose your reason' every time you come around _that_ ole +place!" + +"Well, course I haf to act like the people that's already there," +Florence retorted, not sharply, but in a musing tone that should have +warned him. It was not her wont to use a quiet voice for repartee. +Thinking her humble, he laughed the more raucously. + +"Oh, Florence!" he besought her. "Say not so! Say not so!" + +"Children, children!" Uncle Joseph remonstrated. + +Herbert changed his tone; he became seriously plaintive. "Well, she does +act that way, Uncle Joseph! When she comes around there you'd think we +were runnin' a lunatic asylum, the way she takes on. She hollers and +bellers and squalls and squawks. The least little teeny thing she don't +like about the way we run our paper, she comes flappin' over there and +goes to screechin' around you could hear her out at the Poor House +Farm!" + +"Now, now, Herbert," his Aunt Fanny interposed. "Poor little Florence +isn't saying anything impolite to you--not right now, at any rate. Why +don't you be a little sweet to her just for once?" + +Her unfortunate expression revolted all the manliness in Herbert's +bosom. "Be a little _sweet_ to her?" he echoed with poignant +incredulity, and then in candour made plain how poorly Aunt Fanny +inspired him. "I just exackly as soon be a little sweet to an +alligator," he said. + +"Oh, oh!" said Aunt Carrie. + +"I would!" Herbert insisted. "Or a mosquito. I'd rather, to _either_ of +'em, 'cause anyway they don't make so much noise. Why, you just ought to +_hear_ her," he went on, growing more and more severe. "You ought to +just come around our Newspaper Building any afternoon you please, after +school, when Henry and I are tryin' to do our work in anyway _some_ +peace. Why, she just squawks and squalls and squ----" + +"It must be terrible," Uncle Joseph interrupted. "What do you do all +that for, Florence, every afternoon?" + +"Just for exercise," she answered dreamily; and her placidity the more +exasperated her journalist cousin. + +"She does it because she thinks _she_ ought to be runnin' our own +newspaper, my and Henry's; that's why she does it! She thinks she knows +more about how to run newspapers than anybody alive; but there's one +thing she's goin' to find out; and that is, she don't get anything +_more_ to do with my and Henry's newspaper. We wouldn't have another +single one of her ole poems in it, no matter how much she offered to +pay us! Uncle Joseph, I think you ought to _tell_ her she's got no +business around my and Henry's Newspaper Building." + +"But, Herbert," Aunt Fanny suggested;--"you might let Florence have a +little share in it of some sort. Then everything would be all right." + +"It would?" he said. "It _woo_-wud? Oh, my goodness, Aunt Fanny, I guess +you'd like to see our newspaper just utterably ruined! Why, we wouldn't +let that girl have any more to do with it than we would some horse!" + +"Oh, oh!" both Aunt Fanny and Aunt Carrie exclaimed, shocked. + +"We wouldn't," Herbert insisted. "A horse would know any amount more how +to run a newspaper than she does. Soon as we got our printing-press, we +said right then that we made up our minds Florence Atwater wasn't ever +goin' to have a single thing to do with our newspaper. If you let her +have anything to do with anything she wants to run the whole thing. But +she might just as well learn to stay away from our Newspaper Building, +because after we got her out yesterday we fixed a way so's she'll never +get in _there_ again!" + +Florence looked at him demurely. "Are you sure, Herbert?" she inquired. + +"Just you try it!" he advised her, and he laughed tauntingly. "Just come +around to-morrow and try it; that's all I ask!" + +"I cert'nly intend to," she responded with dignity. "I may have a slight +supprise for you." + +"Oh, _Florence_, say not so! Say not so, Florence! Say not so!" + +At this, she looked full upon him, and already she had something in the +nature of a surprise for him; for so powerful was the still balefulness +of her glance that he was slightly startled. "I might say not so," she +said. "I might, if I was speaking of what pretty eyes you say yourself +you know you have, Herbert." + +It staggered him. "What--what do you mean?" + +"Oh, nothin'," she replied airily. + +Herbert began to be mistrustful of the solid earth: somewhere there was +a fearful threat to his equipoise. "What you talkin' about?" he said +with an effort to speak scornfully; but his sensitive voice almost +failed him. + +"Oh, nothin'," said Florence. "Just about what pretty eyes you know you +have, and Patty's being pretty, too, and so you're glad she thinks +yours are pretty, the way _you_ do--and everything!" + +Herbert visibly gulped. He believed that Patty had betrayed him; had +betrayed the sworn confidence of "Truth!" + +"That's all I was talkin' about," Florence added. "Just about how you +knew you had such pretty eyes. Say not so, Herbert! Say not so!" + +"Look here!" he said. "When'd you see Patty again between this afternoon +and when you came over here?" + +"What makes you think I saw her?" + +"Did you telephone her?" + +"What makes you think so?" + +Once more Herbert gulped. "Well, I guess you're ready to believe +anything anybody tells you," he said, with palsied bravado. "You don't +believe everything Patty Fairchild says, do you?" + +"Why, Herbert! Doesn't she always tell the _truth_?" + +"Her? Why, half the time," poor Herbert babbled, "you can't tell whether +she's just makin' up what she says or not. If you've gone and believed +everything that ole girl told you, you haven't got even what little +sense I used to think you had!" So base we are under strain, +sometimes--so base when our good name is threatened with the truth of +us! "I wouldn't believe anything she said," he added, in a sickish +voice, "if she told me fifty times and crossed her heart!" + +"Wouldn't you if she said you _wrote down_ how pretty you knew your eyes +were, Herbert? Wouldn't you if it was on paper in your own handwriting?" + +"What's this about Herbert having 'pretty eyes'?" Uncle Joe inquired, +again bringing general attention to the young cousins; and Herbert +shuddered. This fat uncle had an unpleasant reputation as a joker. + +The nephew desperately fell back upon the hopeless device of attempting +to drown out his opponent's voice as she began to reply. He became +vociferous with scornful laughter, badly cracked. "Florence got mad!" he +shouted, mingling the purported information with hoots and cacklings. +"She got mad because I and Henry played some games with Patty and +wouldn't let her play! She's tryin' to make up stories on us to get +even. She made it up! It's all made up! She----" + +"No, no," Mr. Atwater interrupted. "Let Florence tell us. Florence, +what was it about Herbert's knowing he had 'pretty eyes'?" + +Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He bawled. "She made it +_up_! It's somep'n she made up her_self_! She----" + +"Herbert," said Uncle Joseph;--"if you don't keep quiet, I'll take back +the printing-press." + +Herbert substituted a gulp for the continuation of his noise. + +"Now, Florence," said Uncle Joseph, "tell us what you were saying about +how Herbert knows he has such 'pretty eyes'." + +Then it seemed to Herbert that a miracle befell. Florence looked up, +smiling modestly. "Oh, it wasn't anything, Uncle Joseph," she said. "I +was Just trying to tease Herbert any way I could think of." + +"Oh, was that all?" A hopeful light faded out of Uncle Joseph's large +and inexpressive face. "I thought perhaps you'd detected him in some +indiscretion." + +Florence laughed, "I was just teasin' him. It wasn't anything, Uncle +Joseph." + +Hereupon, Herbert resumed a confused breathing. Dazed, he remained +uneasy, profoundly so: and gratitude was no part of his emotion. He +well understood that in conflicts such as these Florence was never +susceptible to impulses of compassion; in fact, if there was warfare +between them, experience had taught him to be wariest when she seemed +kindest. He moved away from her, and went into another room where his +condition was one of increasing mental discomfort, though he looked over +the pictures in his great-uncle's copy of "Paradise Lost." These +illustrations, by M. Gustave Doré, failed to aid in reassuring his +troubled mind. + +When Florence left the house, he impulsively accompanied her, +maintaining a nervous silence as they walked the short distance between +Uncle Joseph's front gate and her own. There, however, he spoke. + +"Look here! You don't haf to go and believe everything that ole girl +told you, do you?" + +"No," said Florence heartily. "I don't haf to." + +"Well, look here," he urged, helpless but to repeat. "You don't haf to +believe whatever it was she went and told you, do you?" + +"What was it you think she told me, Herbert?" + +"All that guff--you know. Well, whatever it was you _said_ she told +you." + +"I didn't," said Florence. "I didn't say she told me anything at all." + +"Well, she did, didn't she?" + +"Why, no," Florence replied, lightly. "She didn't say anything to _me_. +Only I'm glad to have your _opinion_ of her, how she's such a +story-teller and all--if I ever want to tell her, and everything!" + +But Herbert had greater alarms than this, and the greater obscured the +lesser. "Look here," he said, "if she didn't tell you, how'd you know it +then?" + +"How'd I know what?" + +"That--that big story about my ever writin' I knew I had"--he gulped +again--"pretty eyes." + +"Oh, about _that_!" Florence said, and swung the gate shut between them. +"Well, I guess it's too late to tell you to-night, Herbert; but maybe if +you and that nasty little Henry Rooter do every single thing I tell you +to, and do it just _exackly_ like I tell you from this time on, why +maybe--I only say 'maybe'--well, maybe I'll tell you some day when I +feel like it." + +She ran up the path and up the veranda steps, but paused before opening +the front door, and called back to the waiting Herbert: + +"The only person I'd ever _think_ of tellin' about it before I tell you +would be a boy I know." She coughed, and added as by an afterthought, +"He'd just love to know all about it; I know he would. So, when I tell +anybody about it I'll only tell just you and this other boy." + +"What other boy?" Herbert demanded. + +And her reply, thrilling through the darkness, left him demoralized with +horror. + +"Wallie Torbin!" + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + + +The next afternoon, about four o'clock, Herbert stood gloomily at the +main entrance of Atwater & Rooter's Newspaper Building awaiting his +partner. The other entrances were not only nailed fast but massively +barricaded; and this one (consisting of the ancient carriage-house +doors, opening upon a driveway through the yard) had recently been made +effective for exclusion. A long and heavy plank leaned against the wall, +near by, ready to be set in hook-shaped iron supports fastened to the +inner sides of the doors; and when the doors were closed, with this +great plank in place, a person inside the building might seem entitled +to count upon the enjoyment of privacy, except in case of earthquake, +tornado, or fire. In fact, the size of the plank and the substantial +quality of the iron fastenings could be looked upon, from a certain +viewpoint, as a real compliment to the energy and persistence of +Florence Atwater. + +Herbert had been in no complimentary frame of mind, however, when he +devised the obstructions, nor was he now in such a frame of mind. He was +pessimistic in regard to his future, and also embarrassed in +anticipation of some explanations it would be necessary to make to his +partner. He strongly hoped that Henry's regular after-school appearance +at the Newspaper Building would precede Florence's, because these +explanations required both deliberation and tact, and he was convinced +that it would be almost impossible to make them at all if Florence got +there first. + +He understood that he was unfortunately within her power; and he saw +that it would be dangerous to place in operation for her exclusion from +the Building this new mechanism contrived with such hopeful care, and at +a cost of two dollars and twenty-five cents taken from the _Oriole's_ +treasury. What he wished Henry to believe was that for some good reason, +which Herbert had not yet been able to invent, it would be better to +show Florence a little politeness. He had a desperate hope that he might +find some diplomatic way to prevail on Henry to be as subservient to +Florence as she had seemed to demand, and he was determined to touch any +extremity of unveracity, rather than permit the details of his answer +in "Truth" to come to his partner's knowledge. Henry Rooter was not +Wallie Torbin; but in possession of material such as this he could +easily make himself intolerable. + +Therefore, it was in a flurried state of mind that Herbert waited; and +when his friend appeared, over the fence, his perturbation was not +decreased. He even failed to notice the unusual gravity of Henry's +manner. + +"Hello, Henry! I thought I wouldn't start in working till you got here. +I didn't want to haf to come all the way downstairs again to open the +door and hi'st our good ole plank up again." + +"I see," said Henry, glancing nervously at their good ole plank. "Well, +I guess Florence'll never get in _this_ good ole door--that is, she +won't if we don't let her, or something." + +This final clause would have astonished Herbert if he had been less +preoccupied with his troubles. "You bet she won't!" he said +mechanically. "She couldn't ever get in here again--if the _family_ +didn't go intafering around and give me the dickens and everything, +because they think--they _say_ they do, anyhow--they say they +think--they think----" + +He paused, disguising a little choke as a cough of scorn for the +family's thinking. + +"What did you say your family think?" Henry asked absently. + +"Well, they say we ought to let her have a share in our newspaper." +Again he paused, afraid to continue lest his hypocrisy appear so +bare-faced as to invite suspicion. "Well, maybe we _ought_," he said +finally, his eyes guiltily upon his toe, which slowly scuffed the +ground. "I don't say we ought, and I don't say we oughtn't." + +He expected at the least a sharp protest from his partner, who, on the +contrary, surprised him. "Well, that's the way _I_ look at it," Henry +said. "I don't say we ought and I don't say we oughtn't." + +And he, likewise, stared at the toe of a shoe that scuffed the ground. +Herbert felt a little better; this particular subdivision of his +difficulties seemed to be working out with unexpected ease. + +"I don't say we will and I don't say we won't," Henry added. "That's the +way I look at it. My father and mother are always talkin' to me: how I +got to be polite and everything, and I guess maybe it's time I began to +pay some 'tention to what they say. You don't have your father and +mother for always, you know, Herbert." + +Herbert's mood at once chimed with this unprecedented filial +melancholy. "No, you don't, Henry. That's what I often think about, +myself. No, sir, a fellow doesn't have his father and mother to advise +him our whole life, and you ought to do a good deal what they say while +they're still alive." + +"That's what I say," Henry agreed gloomily; and then, without any +alteration of his tone, or of the dejected thoughtfulness of his +attitude, he changed the subject in a way that painfully startled his +companion. "Have you seen Wallie Torbin to-day, Herbert?" + +"What!" + +"Have you seen Wallie Torbin to-day?" + +Herbert swallowed. "Why, what makes--what makes you ask me that, Henry?" +he said. + +"Oh, nothin'." Henry still kept his eyes upon his gloomily scuffing toe. +"I just wondered, because I didn't happen to see him in school this +afternoon when I happened to look in the door of the Eight-A when it was +open. I didn't want to know on account of anything particular. I just +happened to say that about him because I didn't have anything else to +think about just then, so I just happened to think about him, the way you +do when you haven't got anything much on your mind and might get to +thinkin' about you can't tell what. That's all the way it was; I just +happened to kind of wonder if he was around anywhere maybe." + +Henry's tone was obviously, even elaborately, sincere; and Herbert was +reassured. "Well, I didn't see him," he responded. "Maybe he's sick." + +"No, he isn't," his friend said. "Florence said she saw him chasin' his +dog down the street about noon." + +At this Herbert's uneasiness was uncomfortably renewed. "_Florence_ did? +Where'd you see Florence?" + +Mr. Rooter swallowed. "A little while ago," he said, and again +swallowed. "On the way home from school." + +"Look--look here!" Herbert was flurried to the point of panic. +"Henry--did Florence--did she go and tell you--did she tell you----?" + +"_I_ didn't hardly notice what she was talkin' about," Henry said +doggedly. "She didn't have anything to say that _I'd_ ever care two +cents about. She came up behind me and walked along with me a ways, but +I got too many things on my mind to hardly pay the least attention to +anything _she_ ever talks about. She's a girl what I think about her +the less people pay any 'tention to what she says the better off they +are." + +"That's the way with me, Henry," his partner assured him earnestly. "I +never pay any notice to what _she_ says. The way I figure it out about +_her_, Henry, everybody'd be a good deal better off if nobody ever paid +the least notice to anything she says. I never even notice what she +says, myself." + +"I don't either," said Henry. "All _I_ think about is what my father and +mother say, because I'm not goin' to have their advice all the rest o' +my life, after they're dead. If they want me to be polite, why, I'll do +it and that's all there is about it." + +"It's the same way with me, Henry. If she comes flappin' around here +blattin' and blubbin' how she's goin' to have somep'n to do with our +newspaper, why, the only reason _I'd_ ever let her would be because my +_family_ say I ought to show more politeness to her than up to now. I +wouldn't do it on any other account, Henry." + +"Neither would I. That's just the same way _I_ look at it, Herbert. If I +ever begin to treat her any better, she's got my father and mother to +thank, not me. That's the only reason _I'd_ be willing to say we better +leave the plank down and let her in, if she comes around here like she's +liable to." + +"Well," said Herbert. "_I'm_ willing. I don't want to get in trouble +with the family." + +And they mounted the stairs to their editorial, reportorial, and +printing rooms; and began to work in a manner not only preoccupied but +apprehensive. At intervals they would give each other a furtive glance, +and then seem to reflect upon their fathers' and mothers' wishes and the +troublous state of the times. Florence did not keep them waiting long, +however. + +She might have been easier to bear had her manner of arrival been less +assured. She romped up the stairs, came skipping across the old floor, +swinging her hat by a ribbon, flung open the gate in the sacred railing, +and, flouncing into the principal chair, immodestly placed her feet on +the table in front of that chair. Additionally, such was her lively +humour, she affected to light and smoke the stub of a lead pencil. +"Well, men," she said heartily, "I don't want to see any loafin' around +here, men. I expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week; yes, +sir, a pretty good newspaper, and I guess you men got to jump around a +good deal to do everything I think of, or else maybe I guess I'll have +to turn you off. I don't want to haf to do that, men." + +The blackmailed partners made no reply, on account of an inability that +was perfect for the moment. They stared at her helplessly, though not +kindly; for in their expressions the conflict between desire and policy +was almost staringly vivid. And such was their preoccupation, each with +the bitterness of his own case, that neither wondered at the other's +strange complaisance. + +Florence made it clear to them that henceforth she was the editor of +_The North End Daily Oriole_. (She said she had decided not to change +the name.) She informed them that they were to be her printers; she did +not care to get all inky and nasty herself, she said. She would, +however, do all the writing for her newspaper, and had with her a new +poem. Also, she would furnish all the news and it would be printed just +as she wrote it, and printed _nicely_, too, or else----She left the +sentence unfinished. + +Thus did this cool hand take possession of an established industry, and +in much the same fashion did she continue to manage it. There were +unsuppressible protests; there was covert anguish; there was even a +strike--but it was a short one. When the printers remained away from +their late Newspaper Building, on Wednesday afternoon, Florence had an +interview with Herbert after dinner at his own door. He explained coldly +that Henry and he had grown tired of the printing-press and had decided +to put in all their spare time building a theatre in Henry's attic; but +Florence gave him to understand that the theatre could not be; she +preferred the _Oriole_. + +Henry and Herbert had both stopped "speaking" to Patty Fairchild, for +each believed her treacherous to himself; but Florence now informed +Herbert that far from depending on mere hearsay, she had in her own +possession the confession of his knowledge that he had ocular beauty; +that she had discovered the paper where Patty had lost it; and that it +was now in a secure place, and in an envelope, upon the outside of which +was already written, "For Wallie Torbin. Kindness of Florence A." + +Herbert surrendered. + +So did Henry Rooter, a little later that evening, after a telephoned +conversation with the slave-driver. + +Therefore, the two miserable printers were back in their places the next +afternoon. They told each other that the theatre they had planned wasn't +so much after all; and anyhow your father and mother didn't last all +your life, and it was better to do what they wanted, and be polite while +they were alive. + +And on Saturday the new _Oriole_, now in every jot and item the inspired +organ of feminism, made its undeniably sensational appearance. + +A copy, neatly folded, was placed in the hand of Noble Dill, as he set +forth for his place of business, after lunching at home with his mother. +Florence was the person who placed it there; she came hurriedly from +somewhere in the neighbourhood, out of what yard or alley he did not +notice, and slipped the little oblong sheet into his lax fingers. + +"There!" she said breathlessly. "There's a good deal about you in it +this week, Mr. Dill, and I guess--I guess----" + +"What, Florence?" + +"I guess maybe you'll----" She looked up at him shyly; then, with no +more to say, turned and ran back in the direction whence she had come. +Noble walked on, not at once examining her little gift, but carrying it +absently in fingers still lax at the end of a dangling arm. There was no +life in him for anything. Julia was away. + +Away! And yet the dazzling creature looked at him from sky, from earth, +from air; looked at him with the most poignant kindness, yet always +shook her head! She had answered his first letter by a kind little note, +his second by a kinder and littler one, and his third, fourth, fifth, +and sixth by no note at all; but by the kindest message (through one of +her aunts) that she was thinking about him a great deal. And even this +was three weeks ago. Since then from Julia--nothing at all! + +But yesterday something a little stimulating had happened. On the +street, downtown, he had come face to face, momentarily, with Julia's +father; and for the first time in Noble's life Mr. Atwater nodded to him +pleasantly. Noble went on his way, elated. Was there not something +almost fatherly in this strange greeting? + +An event so singular might be interpreted in the happiest way: What had +Julia written her father, to change him so toward Noble? And Noble was +still dreamily interpreting as he walked down the street with _The North +End Daily Oriole_ idle in an idle hand. + +He found a use for that hand presently, and, having sighed, lifted it to +press it upon his brow, but did not complete the gesture. As his hand +came within the scope of his gaze, levelled on the unfathomable +distance, he observed that the fingers held a sheet of printed paper; +and he remembered Florence. Instead of pressing his brow he unfolded the +journal she had thrust upon him. As he began to read, his eye was +lustreless, his gait slack and dreary; but soon his whole demeanour +changed, it cannot be said for the better. + + THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE + + Atwater & Co., Owners & Propietors + Subscribe NOW 25 cents Per. Year. Sub- + scriptions should be brought to the East + Main Entrance of Atwater & Co., News- + paper Building every afternoon + 430 to VI 25 Cents + + POEMS + + My Soul by Florence Atwater + + When my heart is dreary + Then my soul is weary + As a bird with a broken wing + Who never again will sing + Like the sound of a vast amen + That comes from a church of men. + + When my soul is dreary + It could never be cheery + But I think of myideal + And everything seems real + Like the sound of the bright church bells peal. + + Poems by Florence Atwater will be in the paper each and every Sat. + + Advertisements 45c. each Up + + Joseph K. Atwater Co. + 127 South Iowa St. + Steam Pumps + + The News of the City + + Miss Florence Atwater of tHis City received a mark of 94 in History + Examination at the concusion of the school Term last June. + + Blue hair ribbons are in style again. + + Miss Patty Fairchild of this City has not been doing as well in + Declamation lately as formerly. + + MR. Noble Dill of this City is seldom seen on the streets of the + City without smoking a cigarette. + + Miss Julia Atwater of this City is out of the City. + + The MR. Rayfort family of this City have been presentde with the + present of a new Cat by Geo. the man employeD by Balf & CO. This + cat is perfectly baeutiful and still quit young. + + Miss Julia Atwater of this City is visiting friends in the Soth. + The family have had many letters from her that are read by each and + all of the famild. + + Mr. Noble Dill of this City is in business with his Father. + + There was quite a wind storm Thursday doing damage to shade trees + in many parts of our beautiful City. + + From Letters to the family Miss Julia Atwater of this City is + enjoying her visit in the south a greadeal. + + Miss Patty Fairchild of the 7 A of this City, will probably not + pass in ARithmetiC--unless great improvement takes place before + Examination. + + Miss Julia Atwater of this City wrote a letter to the family + stating while visiting in the SOuth she has made an engagement to + be married to MR. Crum of that City. The family do not know who + this MR. Crum is but It is said he is a widower though he has been + diVorced with a great many children. + + The new ditch of the MR. Henry D. Vance, backyard of this City is + about through now as little remain to be done and it is thought the + beighborhood will son look better. Subscribe NOW 25c. Per Year Adv. + 45c. up. Atwater & Co. Newspaper Building 25 Cents Per Years. + +It may be assumed that the last of the news items was wasted upon Noble +Dill and that he never knew of the neighbourhood improvement believed to +be imminent as a result of the final touches to the ditch of the Mr. +Henry D. Vance backyard. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + + +Throughout that afternoon adult members of the Atwater family connection +made futile efforts to secure all the copies of the week's edition of +_The North End Daily Oriole_. It could not be done. + +It was a trying time for "the family." Great Aunt Carrie said that she +had the "worst afternoon of any of 'em," because young Newland Sanders +came to her house at two and did not leave until five; all the time +counting over, one by one, the hours he'd spent with Julia since she was +seventeen and turned out, unfortunately, to be a Beauty. Newland had not +restrained himself, Aunt Carrie said, and long before he left she wished +Julia had never been born--and as for Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, +Junior, the only thing to do with him was to send him to some strict +Military School. + +Florence's father telephoned to her mother from downtown at three, and +said that Mr. George Plum and the ardent vocalist, Clairdyce, had just +left his office. They had not called in company, however, but +coincidentally; and each had a copy of _The North End Daily Oriole_, +already somewhat worn with folding and unfolding. Mr. Clairdyce's +condition was one of desperate calm, Florence's father said, but Mr. +Plum's agitation left him rather unpresentable for the street, though he +had finally gone forth with his hair just as he had rumpled it, and with +his hat in his hand. They wished the truth, they said: Was it true or +was it not true? Mr. Atwater had told them that he feared Julia was +indeed engaged, though he knew nothing of her fiancé's previous marriage +or marriages, or of the number of his children. They had responded that +they cared nothing about that. This man Crum's record was a matter of +indifference to them, they said. All they wanted to know was whether +Julia was engaged or not--and she was! + +"The odd thing to _me_," Mr. Atwater continued to his wife, "is where on +earth Herbert could have got his story about this Crum's being a +widower, and divorced, and with all those children. Do you know if +Julia's written any of the family about these things and they haven't +told the rest of us?" + +"No," said Mrs. Atwater. "I'm sure she hasn't. Every letter she's +written to any of us has passed all through the family, and I know I've +seen every one of 'em. She's never said anything about him at all, +except that he was a lawyer. I'm sure _I_ can't imagine where Herbert +got his awful information; I never thought he was the kind of boy to +just make up such things out of whole cloth." + +Florence, sitting quietly in a chair near by, with a copy of "Sesame and +Lilies" in her lap, listened to her mother's side of this conversation +with an expression of impersonal interest; and if she could have +realized how completely her parents had forgotten (naturally enough) the +details of their first rambling discussion of Julia's engagement, she +might really have felt as little alarm as she showed. + +"Well," said Mr. Atwater, "I'm glad _our_ branch of the family isn't +responsible. That's a comfort, anyhow, especially as people are reading +copies of Herbert's dreadful paper all up and down the town, my clerk +says. He tells me that over at the Unity Trust Company, where young +Murdock Hawes is cashier, they only got hold of one copy, but typewrote +it and multigraphed it, and some of 'em have already learned it by heart +to recite to poor young Hawes. He's the one who sent Julia the three +fivepound boxes of chocolates from New York all at the same time, you +remember." + +"Yes," Mrs. Atwater sighed. "Poor thing!" + +"Florence is out among the family, I suppose?" he inquired. + +"No; she's right here. She's just started to read Ruskin this afternoon. +She says she's going to begin and read all of him straight through. +That's very nice, don't you think?" + +He seemed to muse before replying. + +"I think that's very nice, at her age especially," Mrs. Atwater urged. +"Don't you?" + +"Ye-es! Oh, yes! At least I suppose so. Ah--you don't think--of course +she hasn't had anything at all to do with this?" + +"Well, I don't _see_ how she could. You know Aunt Fanny told us how +Herbert declared before them all, only last Sunday night, that Florence +should never have one thing to do with his printing-press, and said they +wouldn't even let her come near it." + +"Yes, that's a fact. I'm glad Herbert made it so clear that she can't be +implicated. I suppose the family are all pretty well down on Uncle +Joseph?" + +"Uncle Joseph is being greatly blamed," said Mrs. Atwater primly. "He +really ought to have known better than to put such an instrument as a +printing-press into the hands of an irresponsible boy of that age. Of +course it simply encouraged him to print all kinds of things. We none of +us think Uncle Joseph ever dreamed that Herbert would publish, anything +exactly like _this_, and of course Uncle Joseph says himself he never +dreamed such a thing; he's said so time and time and time again, all +afternoon. But of course he's greatly blamed." + +"I suppose there've been quite a good many of 'em over there blaming +him?" her husband inquired. + +"Yes--until he telephoned to a garage and hired a car and went for a +drive. He said he had plenty of money with him and didn't know when he'd +be back." + +"Serves him right," said Mr. Atwater. "Does anybody know where Herbert +is?" + +"Not yet!" + +"Well----" and he returned to a former theme. "I _am_ glad we aren't +implicated. Florence is right there with you, you say?" + +"Yes," Mrs. Atwater replied. "She's right here, reading. You aren't +worried about her, are you?" she added. + +"Oh, no; I'm sure it's all right. I only thought----" + +"Only thought what?" + +"Well, it _did_ strike me as curious," said Mr. Atwater; "especially +after Aunt Fanny's telling us how Herbert declared Florence could never +have a single thing to do with his paper again----" + +"Well, what?" + +"Well, here's her poem right at the top of it, and a _very_ friendly +item about her history mark of last June. It doesn't seem like Herbert +to be so complimentary to Florence, all of a sudden. Just struck me as +rather curious; that's all." + +"Why, yes," said Mrs. Atwater, "it does seem a little odd, when you +think of it." + +"Have you _asked_ Florence if she had anything to do with getting out +this week's _Oriole_?" + +"Why, no; it never occurred to me, especially after what Aunt Fanny told +us," said Mrs. Atwater. "I'll ask her now." + +But she was obliged to postpone putting the intended question. "Sesame +and Lilies" lay sweetly upon the seat of the chair that Florence had +occupied; but Florence herself had gone somewhere else. + +She had gone for a long, long ramble; and pedestrians who encountered +her, and happened to notice her expression, were interested; and as they +went on their way several of them interrupted the course of their +meditations to say to themselves that she was the most thoughtful +looking young girl they had ever seen. There was a touch of wistfulness +about her, too; as of one whose benevolence must renounce all hope of +comprehension and reward. + +Now, among those who observed her unusual expression was a gentleman of +great dimensions disposed in a closed automobile that went labouring +among mudholes in an unpaved outskirt of the town. He rapped upon the +glass before him, to get the driver's attention, and a moment later the +car drew up beside Florence, as she stood in a deep reverie at the +intersection of two roads. + +Uncle Joseph opened the door and took his cigar from his mouth. "Get in, +Florence," he said. "I'll take you for a ride." She started violently; +whereupon he restored the cigar to his mouth, puffed upon it, breathing +heavily the while as was his wont, and added, "I'm not going home. I'm +out for a nice long ride. Get in." + +"I was takin' a walk," she said dubiously. "I haf to take a whole lot of +exercise, and I ought to walk and walk and walk. I guess I ought to +keep on walkin'." + +"Get in," he said. "I'm out riding. I don't know _when_ I'll get home!" + +Florence stepped in, Uncle Joseph closed the door, and the car slowly +bumped onward. + +"You know where Herbert is?" Uncle Joseph inquired. + +"No," said Florence, in a gentle voice. + +"I do," he said. "Herbert and your friend Henry Rooter came to our house +with one of the last copies of the _Oriole_ they were distributing to +subscribers; and after I read it I kind of foresaw that the feller +responsible for their owning a printing-press was going to be in some +sort of family trouble or other. I had quite a talk with 'em and they +hinted they hadn't had much to do with this number of the paper, except +the mechanical end of it; but they wouldn't come out right full with +what they meant. They seemed to have some good reason for protecting a +third party, and said quite a good deal about their fathers and mothers +being but mortal and so on; so Henry and Herbert thought they oughtn't +to expose this third party--whoever she may happen to be. Well, I +thought they better not stay too long, because I was compromised enough +already, without being seen in their company; and I gave 'em something +to help 'em out with at the movies. You can stay at movies an awful long +time, and if you've got money enough to go to several of 'em, why, +you're fixed for pretty near as long as you please. A body ought to be +able to live a couple o' months at the movies for nine or ten dollars, I +should think." + +He was silent for a time, then asked, "I don't suppose your papa and +mamma will be worrying about you, will they, Florence?" + +"Oh, no!" she said quickly. "Not in the least! There was nothin' at all +for me to do at our house this afternoon." + +"That's good," he said, "because before we go back I was thinking some +of driving around by way of Texas." + +Florence looked at him trustfully and said nothing. It seemed to her +that he suspected something; she was not sure; but his conversation was +a little peculiar, though not in the least sinister. Indeed she was able +to make out that he had more the air of an accomplice than of a +prosecutor or a detective. Nevertheless, she was convinced that far, far +the best course for her to pursue, during the next few days, would be +one of steadfast reserve. And such a course was congenial to her mood, +which was subdued, not to say apprehensive; though she was sure her +recent conduct, if viewed sympathetically, would be found at least +Christian. The trouble was that probably it would not be viewed +sympathetically. No one would understand how carefully and tactfully she +had prepared the items of the _Oriole_ to lead suavely up to the news of +Aunt Julia's engagement and break it to Noble Dill in a manner that +would save his reason. + +Therefore, on account of this probable lack of comprehension on the part +of the family and public, it seemed to her that the only wise and good +course to follow would be to claim nothing for herself, but to allow +Herbert and Henry to remain undisturbed in full credit for publishing +the _Oriole_. This involved a disappointment, it is true; nevertheless, +she decided to bear it. + +She had looked forward to surprising "the family" delightfully. As they +fluttered in exclamation about her, she had expected to say, "Oh, the +_poem_ isn't so much, I guess--I wrote it quite a few days ago and I'm +writing a couple new ones now--but I did take quite a lot o' time and +trouble with the rest of the paper, because I had to write every single +word of it, or else let Henry and Herbert try to, and 'course they'd +just of ruined it. Oh, it isn't so much to talk about, I guess; it just +sort of _comes_ to me to do things that way." + +Thirteen attempts to exercise a great philanthropy, and every grown +person in sight, with the possible exception of Great-Uncle Joseph, goes +into wholly unanticipated fits of horror. Cause and effect have no +honest relation: Fate operates without justice or even rational +sequence; life and the universe appear to be governed, not in order and +with system, but by Chance, becoming sinister at any moment without +reason. + +And while Florence, thus a pessimist, sat beside fat Uncle Joseph during +their long, long drive, relatives of hers were indeed going into fits; +at least, so Florence would have described their gestures and +incoherences of comment. Moreover, after the movies, straight into such +a fitful scene did the luckless Herbert walk when urged homeward by +thoughts of food, at about six that evening. Henry Rooter had strongly +advised him against entering the house. + +"You better not," he said earnestly. "_Honest_, you better not, +Herbert!" + +"Well, we got apple dumplings for dinner," Herbert said, his tone +showing the strain of mental uncertainty. "Eliza told me this morning we +were goin' to have 'em. I kind of hate to go in, but I guess I better, +Henry." + +"_You_ won't see any apple dumplings," Henry predicted. + +"Well, I believe I better try it, Henry." + +"You better come home with me. My father and mother'll be perfectly +willing to have you." + +"I know that," said Herbert. "But I guess I better go in and try it, +anyhow, Henry. I didn't have anything to do with what's in the _Oriole_. +It's every last word ole Florence's doing. I haven't got any more right +to be picked on for that than a child." + +"Yes," Henry admitted. "But if you go and tell 'em so, I bet she'd get +even with you some way that would probably get _me_ in trouble, too, +before we get through with the job. _I_ wouldn't tell 'em if I was you, +Herbert!" + +"Well, I wasn't intending to," Herbert responded gloomily; and the +thought of each, unknown to the other, was the same, consisting of a +symbolic likeness of Wallie Torbin at his worst. "I _ought_ to tell on +Florence; by rights I ought," said Herbert; "but I've decided I won't. +There's no tellin' what she wouldn't do. Not that she could do anything +to _me_, particyourly----" + +"Nor me, either," his friend interposed hurriedly. "I don't worry about +anything like that! Still, if I was you I wouldn't tell. She's only a +girl, we got to remember." + +"Yes," said Herbert. "That's the way _I_ look at it, Henry; and the way +I look at it is just simply this: long as she _is_ a girl, why, simply +let her go. You can't tell what she'd do, and so what's the use to go +and tell on a girl?" + +"That's the way _I_ look at it," Henry agreed. "What's the use? If I was +in your place, I'd act just the same way you do." + +"Well," said Herbert, "I guess I better go on in the house, Henry. It's +a good while after dark." + +"You're makin' a big mistake!" Henry Rooter called after him. "_You_ +won't see any apple dumplings, I bet a hunderd dollars! You better come +on home with me." + +Herbert no more than half opened his front door before he perceived that +his friend's advice had been excellent. So clearly Herbert perceived +this, that he impulsively decided not to open the door any farther, but +on the contrary to close it and retire; and he would have done so, had +his mother not reached forth and detained him. She was, in fact, just +inside that door, standing in the hall with one of his great-aunts, one +of his aunts, two aunts-by-marriage, and an elderly unmarried cousin, +who were all just on the point of leaving. However, they changed their +minds and decided to remain, now that Herbert was among them. + +The captive's father joined them, a few minutes later, but it had +already become clear to Herbert that _The North End Daily Oriole_ was in +one sense a thing of the past, though in another sense this former owner +and proprietor was certain that he would never hear the last of it. +However, on account of the life of blackmail and slavery now led by the +members of the old régime, the _Oriole's_ extinction was far less +painful to Herbert than his father supposed; and the latter wasted a +great deal of severity, insisting that the printing-press should be +returned that very night to Uncle Joseph. Herbert's heartiest +retrospective wish was that the ole printing-press had been returned to +Uncle Joseph long ago. + +"If you can find him to give it to!" Aunt Harriet suggested. "Nobody +_knows_ where he goes when he gets the way he did this afternoon when we +were discussing it with him! I only hope he'll be back to-night!" + +"He can't stay away forever," Aunt Fanny remarked. "That garage is +charging him five dollars an hour for the automobile he's in, and surely +even Joseph will decide there's a limit to wildness _some_ time!" + +"I don't care when he comes back," Herbert's father declared grimly. +"Whenever he does he's got to take that printing-press back--and Herbert +will be let out of the house long enough to carry it over. His mother or +I will go with him." + +Herbert bore much more than this. He had seated himself on the third +step of the stairway, and maintained as much dogged silence as he could. +Once, however, they got a yelp of anguish out of him. It was when Cousin +Virginia said: "Oh, Herbert, Herbert! How could you make up that +terrible falsehood about Mr. Crum? And, _think_ of it; right on the same +page with your cousin Florence's pure little poem!" + +Herbert uttered sounds incoherent but loud, and expressive of a supreme +physical revulsion. The shocked audience readily understood that he +liked neither Cousin Virginia's chiding nor Cousin Florence's pure +little poem. + +"Shame!" said his father. + +Herbert controlled himself. It could be seen that his spirit was broken, +when Aunt Fanny mourned, shaking her head at him, smiling ruefully: + +"Oh, if boys could only be girls!" + +Herbert just looked at her. + +"The worst thing," said his father;--"that is, if there's any part of it +that's worse than another--the worst thing about it all is this rumour +about Noble Dill." + +"What about that poor thing?" Aunt Harriet asked. "We haven't heard." + +"Why, I walked up from downtown with old man Dill," said Mr. Atwater, +"and the Dill family are all very much worried. It seems that Noble +started downtown after lunch, as usual, and pretty soon he came back to +the house and he had a copy of this awful paper that little Florence had +given him, and----" + +"_Who_ gave it to him?" Aunt Fanny asked. "_Who_?" + +"Little Florence." + +"Why, that's curious," Cousin Virginia murmured. "I must telephone and +ask her mother about that." + +The brooding Herbert looked up, and there was a gleam in his dogged eye; +but he said nothing. + +"Go on," Aunt Harriet urged. "What did Noble do?" + +"Why, his mother said he just went up to his room and changed his shoes +and necktie----" + +"I thought so," Aunt Fanny whispered. "Crazy!" + +"And then," Mr. Atwater continued, "he left the house and she supposed +he'd gone down to the office; but she was uneasy, and telephoned his +father. Noble hadn't come. He didn't come all afternoon, and he didn't +go back to the house; and they telephoned around to every place he +_could_ go that they know of, and they couldn't find him or hear +anything about him at all--not anywhere." Mr. Atwater coughed, and +paused. + +"But what," Aunt Harriet cried;--"_what_ do they think's become of him?" + +"Old man Dill said they were all pretty anxious," said Mr. Atwater. +"They're afraid Noble has--they're afraid he's disappeared." + +Aunt Fanny screamed. + +Then, in perfect accord, they all turned to look at Herbert, who rose +and would have retired upstairs had he been permitted. + +As that perturbing evening wore on, word gradually reached the most +outlying members of the Atwater family connection that Noble Dill was +missing. Ordinarily, this bit of news would have caused them no severe +anxiety. Noble's person and intellect were so +commonplace--"insignificant" was the term usually preferred in his own +circle--that he was considered to be as nearly negligible as it is +charitable to consider a fellow-being. True, there was one thing that +set him apart; he was found worthy of a superlative when he fell in love +with Julia; and of course this distinction caused him to become better +known and more talked about than he had been in his earlier youth. + +However, the eccentricities of a person in such an extremity of love are +seldom valued except as comedy, and even then with no warmth of heart +for the comedian, but rather with an incredulous disdain; so it is safe +to say that under other circumstances, Noble might have been missing, +indeed, and few of the Atwaters would have missed him. But as matters +stood they worried a great deal about him, fearing that a rash act on +his part might reflect notoriety upon themselves on account of their +beautiful relative--and _The North End Daily Oriole_. And when nine +o'clock came and Mrs. Dill reported to Herbert's father, over the +telephone, that nothing had yet been heard of her son, the pressure of +those who were blaming the _Oriole_ more than they blamed Julia became +so wearing that Herbert decided he would rather spend the remaining days +of his life running away from Wallie Torbin than put in any more of such +a dog's evening as he _was_ putting in. Thus he defined it. + +He made a confession; that is to say, it was a proclamation. He +proclaimed his innocence. He began history with a description of events +distinctly subsequent to Sunday pastimes with Patty Fairchild, and +explained how he and Henry had felt that their parents would not always +be with them, and as their parents wished them to be polite, they had +resolved to be polite to Florence. Proceeding, he related in detail her +whole journalistic exploit. + +Of the matter in hand he told the perfect and absolute truth--and was +immediately refuted, confuted, and demonstrated to be a false witness by +Aunt Fanny, Aunt Carrie, and Cousin Virginia, who had all heard him +vehemently declare, no longer ago than the preceding Sunday evening, +that he and his partner had taken secure measures to prevent Florence +from ever again setting foot within the Newspaper Building. In addition, +he was quite showered with definitions; and these, though so various, +all sought to phrase but the one subject: his conduct in seeking to drag +Florence into the mire, when she was absent and could not defend +herself. Poor Florence would answer later in the evening, he was told +severely; and though her cause was thus championed against the slander, +it is true that some of her defenders felt stirrings of curiosity in +regard to Florence. In fact, there was getting to be something almost +like a cloud upon her reputation. There were several things for her to +explain;--among them, her taking it upon herself to see that Noble +received a copy of the _Oriole_, and also her sudden departure from home +and rather odd protraction of absence therefrom. It was not thought she +was in good company. Uncle Joseph had telephoned from a suburb that they +were dining at a farmhouse and would thence descend to the general +region of the movies. + +"_Nobody_ knows what that man'll do, when he decides to!" Aunt Carrie +said nervously. "Letting the poor child stay up so late! She ought to be +in bed this minute, even if it is Saturday night! Or else she ought to +be here to listen to her own bad little cousin trying to put his +terrible responsibility on her shoulders." + +One item of this description of himself the badgered Herbert could not +bear in silence, although he had just declared that since the truth was +so ill-respected among his persecutors he would open his mouth no more +until the day of his death. He passed over "bad," but furiously stated +his height in feet, inches, and fractions of inches. + +Aunt Fanny shook her head in mourning. "That may be, Herbert," she said +gently. "But you must try to realize it can't bring poor young Mr. Dill +back to his family." + +Again Herbert just looked at her. He had no indifference more profound +than that upon which her strained conception of the relation between +cause and effect seemed to touch;--from his point of view, to be missing +should be the lightest of calamities. It is true that he was concerned +with the restoration of Noble Dill to the rest of the Dills so far as +such an event might affect his own incomparable misfortunes, but not +otherwise. He regarded Noble and Noble's disappearance merely as unfair +damage to himself, and he continued to look at this sorrowing great-aunt +of his until his thoughts made his strange gaze appear to her so +hardened that she shook her head and looked away. + +"Poor young Mr. Dill!" she said. "If someone could only have been with +him and kept talking to him until he got used to the idea a little!" + +Cousin Virginia nodded comprehendingly. "Yes, it might have tided him +over," she said. "He wasn't handsome, nor impressive, of course, nor +anything like that, but he always spoke so nicely to people on the +street. I'm sure he never harmed even a kitten, poor soul!" + +"I'm sure he never did," Herbert's mother agreed gently. "Not even a +kitten. I do wonder where he is now." + +But Aunt Fanny uttered a little cry of protest. "I'm afraid we may +hear!" she said. "Any moment!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + + +These sympathetic women had unanimously set their expectation in so +romantically pessimistic a groove that the most tragic news of Noble +would have surprised them little. But if the truth of his whereabouts +could have been made known to them, as they sat thus together at what +was developing virtually into his wake, with Herbert as a compulsory +participant, they would have turned the session into a riot of +amazement. Noble was in the very last place (they would have said, when +calmer) where anybody in the world could have even madly dreamed of +looking for him! They would have been right about it. No one could have +expected to find Noble to-night inside the old, four-square brick house +of H. I. Atwater, Senior, chief of the Atwaters and father of too gentle +Julia. Moreover, Mr. Atwater himself was not at present in the house; he +had closed and locked it the day before, giving the servants a week's +vacation and telling them not to return till he sent for them; and he +had then gone out of town to look over a hominy-mill he thought of +buying. And yet, as the wake went on, there was a light in the house, +and under that light sat Noble Dill. + +Returning home, after Florence had placed the shattering paper within +his hand, Noble had changed his shoes and his tie. He was but a +mechanism; he had no motive. The shoes he put on were no better than +those he took off; the fresh tie was no lovelier than the one he had +worn; nor had it even the lucidity to be a purple one, as the banner of +grief. No; his action was, if so viewed, "crazy," as Aunt Fanny had +called it. Agitation first took this form; that was all. Love and change +of dress are so closely allied; and in happier days, when Noble had come +home from work and would see Julia in the evening, he usually changed +his clothes. No doubt there is some faint tracery here, probably too +indistinct to repay contemplation. + +When he left the house he walked rapidly downtown, and toward the end of +this one-mile journey he ran; but as he was then approaching the railway +station, no one thought him eccentric. He was, however, for when he +entered the station he went to a bench and sat looking upward for more +than ten minutes before he rose, went to a ticket window and asked for +a time-table. + +"What road?" the clerk inquired. + +"All points South," said Noble. + +He placed the time-table, still folded, in his pocket, rested an elbow +on the brass apron of the window, and would have given himself up to +reflections, though urged to move away. Several people, wishing to buy +tickets, had formed a line behind him; they perceived that Noble had +nothing more to say to the clerk, and the latter encouraged their +protests, even going so far as to inquire: "For heaven's sakes, can't +you let these folk buy their tickets?" And since Noble still did not +move: "My gosh, haven't you got no _feet_?" + +"Feet? Oh, yes," said Noble gently. "I'm going away." And went back to +his seat. + +Afterwhile, he sought to study his time-table. Ordinarily, his mind was +one of those able to decipher and comprehend railway time-tables; he had +few gifts, but this was one of them. It failed him now; so he wandered +back to the ticket-window, and, after urgent coaching, eventually took +his place at the end instead of at the head of the line that waited +there. In his turn he came again to the window, and departed from it +after a conversation with the clerk that left the latter in accord with +Aunt Fanny Atwater's commiserating adjective, though the clerk's own +pity was expressed in argot. "The poor nut!" he explained to his next +client. "Wants to buy a ticket on a train that don't pull out until ten +thirty-five to-night; and me fillin' it all out, stampin' it and +everything, what for? Turned out all his pockets and couldn't come +within eight dollars o' the price! Where you want to go?" + +Noble went back to his bench and sat there for a long time, though there +was no time, long or short, for him. He was not yet consciously +suffering; nor was he thinking at all. True, he had a dim, persistent +impulse to action--or why should he be at the station?--but for the +clearest expression of his condition it is necessary to borrow a +culinary symbol; he was jelling. But the state of shock was slowly +dispersing, while a perception of approaching anguish as slowly +increased. He was beginning to swallow nothing at intervals and the +intervals were growing shorter. + +Dusk was misting down, outdoors, when with dragging steps he came out of +the station. He looked hazily up and down the street, where the +corner-lamps and shop-windows now were lighted; and, after dreary +hesitation, he went in search of a pawn-shop, and found one. The old man +who operated it must have been a philanthropist, for Noble was so +fortunate as to secure a loan of nine dollars upon his watch. Surprised +at this, he returned to the station, and went back to the same old +bench. + +It was fully occupied, and he stood for some time looking with vague +reproach at the large family of coloured people who had taken it. He had +a feeling that he lived there and that these coloured people were +trespassers; but upon becoming aware that part of an orange was being +rubbed over his left shoe by the youngest of the children, he groaned +abruptly and found another bench. + +A little after six o'clock a clanging and commotion in the train-shed +outside, attending the arrival of a "through express," stirred him from +his torpor, and he walked heavily across the room to the same +ticket-window he had twice blocked; but there was no queue attached to +it now. He rested his elbow upon the apron and his chin upon his hand, +while the clerk waited until he should state his wishes. This was a new +clerk, who had just relieved the other. + +"Well! Well!" he said at last. + +"I'll take it now," Noble responded. + +"What'll you take now?" + +"That ticket." + +"What ticket?" + +"The same one I wanted before," Noble sighed. + +The clerk gave him a piercing look, glanced out of the window and saw +that there were no other clients, then went to a desk at the farther end +of his compartment, and took up some clerical work he had in hand. + +Noble leaned upon the apron of the window, waiting; and if he thought +anything, he thought the man was serving him. + +The high, vaulted room became resonant with voices and the blurred +echoes of mingling footsteps on the marble floor, as passengers from the +express hurried anxiously to the street, or more gaily straggled +through, shouting with friends who came to greet them; and among these +moving groups there walked a youthful fine lady noticeably enlivening to +the dullest eye. She was preceded by a brisk porter who carried two +travelling-bags of a rich sort, as well as a sack of implements for the +game of golf; and she was warm in dark furs, against which the vasty +clump of violets she wore showed dewy gleamings of blue. + +At sight of Noble Dill, more than pensive at the ticket-window, she +hesitated, then stopped and observed him. That she should observe +anybody was in a way a coincidence, for, as it happened, she was herself +the most observed person in all the place. She was veiled in two veils, +but she had been seen in the train without these, and some of her +fellow-travellers, though strangers to her, were walking near her in a +hypocritical way, hoping still not to lose sight of her, even veiled. +And although the shroudings permitted the most meagre information of her +features, what they did reveal was harmfully piquant; moreover, there +was a sweetness of figure, a disturbing grace; while nothing could +disguise her air of wearing that many violets casually as a daily +perquisite and matter of course. + +[Illustration: _"He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from the +window; the whole person of Noble Dill seemed near collapse."_] + +So this observed lady stopped and observed Noble, who in return observed +her not at all, being but semi-conscious. Looked upon thoughtfully, it +is a coincidence that we breathe; certainly it is a mighty coincidence +that we speak to one another and comprehend; for these are true marvels. +But what petty interlacings of human action so pique our sense of +the theatrical that we call them coincidences and are astonished! That +Julia should arrive during Noble's long process of buying a ticket to go +to her was stranger than that she stopped to look at him, though still +not comparable in strangeness to the fact that either of them, or any +living creature, stood upon the whirling earth;--yet when Noble Dill +comprehended what was happening he was amazed. + +She spoke to him. + +"Noble!" she said. + +He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from the window; the whole +person of Noble Dill seemed near collapse. He shook; he had no voice. + +"I just this minute got off the train," she said. "Are you going away +somewhere?" + +"No," he whispered; then obtained command of a huskiness somewhat +greater in volume. "I'm just standing here." + +"I told the porter to get me a taxicab," she said. "If you're going home +for dinner I'll drop you at your house." + +"I--I'm--I----" His articulation encountered unsurmountable +difficulties, but Julia had been with him through many such trials +aforetime. She said briskly, "I'm awfully hungry and I want to get +home. Come on--if you like?" + +He walked waveringly at her side through the station, and followed her +into the dim interior of the cab, which became fragrant of violets--an +emanation at once ineffable and poisonous. + +"I'm so glad I happened to run across you," she said, as they began to +vibrate tremulously in unison with the fierce little engine that drew +them. "I want to hear all the news. Nobody knows I'm home. I didn't +write or telegraph to a soul; and I'll be a complete surprise to father +and everybody--I don't know how pleasant a one! _You_ didn't seem so +frightfully glad to see me, Noble!" + +"Am I?" he whispered. "I mean--I mean--I mean: Didn't I?" + +"No!" she laughed. "You looked--you looked shocked! It couldn't have +been because I'm ill or anything, because I'm not; and if I were you +couldn't have told it through these two veils. Possibly I'd better take +your expression as a compliment." She paused, then asked hesitatingly, +"Shall I?" + +This was the style for which the Atwaters held Julia responsible; but +they were mistaken: she was never able to control it. Now she went +cheerily on: "Perhaps not, as you don't answer. I shouldn't be so bold! +Do you suppose anybody at all will be glad to see me?" + +"I--I----" He seemed to hope that words would come in their own good +time. + +"Noble!" she cried. "Don't be so glum!" And she touched his arm with her +muff, a fluffy contact causing within him a short convulsion, naturally +invisible. "Noble, aren't you going to tell me what's all the news?" + +"There's--some," he managed to inform her. "Some--some news." + +"What is it?" + +"It's--it's----" + +"Never mind," she said soothingly. "Get your breath; I can wait. I hope +nothing's wrong in your family, Noble." + +"No. Oh, no." + +"It isn't just my turning up unexpectedly that's upset you so, of +course," she dared to say. "Naturally, I know better than to think such +a thing as that." + +"Oh, Julia!" he said. "Oh, Julia!" + +"What is it, Noble?" + +"Noth-ing," he murmured, disjointing the word. + +"How odd you happened to be there at the station," she said, "just when +my train came in! You're sure you weren't going away anywhere?" + +"No; oh, no." + +She was thoughtful, then laughed confidentially. "You're the only person +in town that knows I'm home, Noble." + +"I'm glad," he said humbly. + +She laughed again. "I came all of a sudden--on an impulse. It's a little +idiotic. I'll tell you all about it, Noble. You see, ten or twelve days +ago I wrote the family a more or less indiscreet letter. That is, I told +them something I wanted them to be discreet about, and, of course, when +I got to thinking it over, I knew they wouldn't. You see, I wrote them +something I wanted them to keep a secret, but the more I thought about +it, the more I saw I'd better hurry back. Yesterday it got into my head +that I'd better jump on the next train for home!" + +She paused, then added, "So I did! About ten or twelve days is as long +as anybody has a right to expect the Atwater family connection to keep +the deadliest kind of a secret, isn't it?" And as he did not respond, +she explained, modestly, "Of course, it wasn't a very deadly secret; it +was really about something of only the least importance." + +The jar of this understatement restored Noble's voice to a sudden and +startling loudness. "'Only the least importance'!" he shouted. "With a +man named Crum!" + +"What!" she cried + +"Crum!" Noble insisted. "That's exactly what it said his name was!" + +"_What_ said his name was?" + +"_The North End Daily Oriole!_" + +"What in heaven's name is that?" + +"It's the children's paper, Herbert's and Florence's: your own niece and +nephew, Julia! You don't mean you deny it, do you, Julia?" + +She was in great confusion: "Do I deny what?" + +"That his name's Crum!" Noble said passionately. "That his name's Crum +and that he's a widower and he's been divorced and's got nobody knows +how many children!" + +Julia sought to collect herself. "I don't know what you're talking +about," she said. "If you mean that I happened to meet a very charming +man while I was away, and that his name happened to be Crum, I don't +know why I should go to the trouble of denying it. But if Mr. Crum has +had the experiences you say he has, it is certainly news to me! I think +someone told me he was only twenty-six years old. He looked rather +younger." + +"You 'think someone told' you!" Noble groaned. "Oh, Julia! And here it +is, all down in black and white, in my pocket!" + +"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." Julia's tone +was cold, and she drew herself up haughtily, though the gesture was +ineffective in the darkness of that quivering interior. The quivering +stopped just then, however, as the taxicab came to a rather abrupt halt +before her house. + +"Will you come in with me a moment, please?" Julia said as she got out. +"There are some things I want to ask you--and I'm sure my father hasn't +come home from downtown yet. There's no light in the front part of the +house." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + + +There was no light in any other part of the house, they discovered, +after abandoning the front door bell for an excursion to the rear. +"That's disheartening to a hungry person," Julia remarked: and then +remembered that she had a key to the front door in her purse. She opened +the door, and lighted the hall chandelier while Noble brought in her +bags from the steps where the taxicab driver had left them. + +"There's nobody home at all," Julia said thoughtfully. "Not even Gamin." + +"No. Nobody," her sad companion agreed, shaking his head. "Nobody at +all, Julia. Nobody at all." Rousing himself, he went back for the golf +tools, and with a lingering gentleness set them in a corner. Then, +dumbly, he turned to go. + +"Wait, please," said Julia. "I want to ask you a few things--especially +about what you've got 'all down in black and white' in your pocket. Will +you shut the front door, if you please, and go into the library and +turn on the lights and wait there while I look over the house and see if +I can find why it's all closed up like this?" + +Noble went into the library and found the control of the lights. She +came hurrying in after him. + +"It's chilly. The furnace seems to be off," she said. "I'll----" But +instead of declaring her intentions, she enacted them; taking a match +from a little white porcelain trough on the mantelpiece and striking it +on the heel of her glittering shoe. Then she knelt before the grate and +set the flame to paper beneath the kindling-wood and coal. "You mustn't +freeze," she said, with a thoughtful kindness that killed him; and as +she went out of the room he died again;--for she looked back over her +shoulder. + +She had pushed up her veils and this was his first sight of that +disastrous face in long empty weeks and weeks. Now he realized that all +his aching reveries upon its contours had shown but pallid likenesses; +for here was the worst thing about Julia's looks;--even her most +extravagant suitor, in absence, could not dream an image of her so +charming as he found herself when he saw her again. Thus, seeing Julia +again was always a discovery. And this glance over her shoulder as she +left a room--not a honeyed glance but rather inscrutable, yet implying +that she thought of the occupant, and might continue to think of him +while gone from him--this was one of those ways of hers that experience +could never drill out of her. + +"I'm Robinson Crusoe, Noble," she said, when she came back. "I suppose I +might as well take off my furs, though." But first she unfastened the +great bouquet she wore and tossed it upon a table. Noble was standing +close to the table, and he moved away from it hurriedly--a revulsion +that she failed to notice. She went on to explain, as she dropped her +cloak and stole upon a chair: "Papa's gone away for at least a week. +He's taken his ulster. It doesn't make any difference what the weather +is, but when he's going away for a week or longer, he always takes it +with him, except in summer. If he's only going to be gone two or three +days he takes his short overcoat. And unless I'm here when he leaves +town he always gives the servants a holiday till he gets back; so +they've gone and even taken Gamin with 'em, and I'm all alone in the +house. I can't get even Kitty Silver back until to-morrow, and then I'll +probably have to hunt from house to house among her relatives. Papa left +yesterday, because the numbers on his desk calender are pulled off up +to to-day, and that's the first thing he does when he comes down for +breakfast. So here I am, Robinson Crusoe for to-night at least." + +"I suppose," said Noble huskily, "I suppose you'll go to some of your +aunts or brothers or cousins or something." + +"No," she said. "My trunk may come up from the station almost any time, +and if I close the house they'll take it back." + +"You needn't bother about that, Julia. I'll look after it." + +"How?" + +"I could sit on the porch till it comes," he said. "I'd tell 'em you +wanted 'em to leave it." He hesitated, painfully. "I--if you want to +lock up the house I--I could wait out on the porch with your trunk, to +see that it was safe, until you come back to-morrow morning." + +She looked full at him, and he plaintively endured the examination. + +"_Noble!_" Undoubtedly she had a moment's shame that any creature should +come to such a pass for her sake. "What crazy nonsense!" she said; and +sat upon a stool before the crackling fire. "Do sit down, Noble--unless +your dinner will be waiting for you at home?" + +"No," he murmured. "They never wait for me. Don't you want me to look +after your trunk?" + +"Not by sitting all night with it on the porch!" she said. "I'm going to +stay here myself. I'm not going out; I don't want to see any of the +family to-night." + +"I thought you said you were hungry?" + +"I am; but there's enough in the pantry. I looked." + +"Well, if you don't want to see any of 'em," he suggested, "and they +know your father's away and think the house is empty, they're liable to +notice the lights and come in, and then you'd have to see 'em." + +"No, you can't see the lights of this room from the street, and I lit +the lamp at the other end of the hall. The light near the front door," +Julia added, "I put out." + +"You did?" + +"I can't see any of 'em to-night," she said resolutely. "Besides, I want +to find out what you meant by what you said in the taxicab before I do +anything else." + +"What I meant in the taxicab?" he echoed. "Oh, Julia! Julia!" + +She frowned, first at the fire, then, turning her head, at Noble. "You +seem to feel reproachful about something," she observed. + +"No, I don't. I don't feel reproachful, Julia. I don't know what I feel, +but I don't feel reproachful." + +She smiled faintly. "Don't you? Well, there's something perhaps you do +feel, and that's hungry. Will you stay to dinner with me--if I go and +get it?" + +"What?" + +"You can have dinner with me--if you want to? You can stay till ten +o'clock--if you want to? Wait!" she said, and jumped up and ran out of +the room. + +Half an hour later she came back and called softly to him from the +doorway; and he followed her to the dining-room. + +"It isn't much of a dinner, Noble," she said, a little tremulously, +being for once (though strictly as a cook) genuinely apologetic;--but +the scrambled eggs, cold lamb, salad, and coffee were quite as "much of +a dinner" as Noble wanted. To him everything on that table was hallowed, +yet excruciating. + +"Let's eat first and talk afterward," Julia proposed; but what she +meant by "talk" evidently did not exclude interchange of information +regarding weather and the health of acquaintances, for she spoke freely +upon these subjects, while Noble murmured in response and swallowed a +little of the sacred food, but more often swallowed nothing. Bitterest +of all was his thought of what this unexampled seclusion with Julia +could have meant to him, were those poisonous violets not at her +waist--for she had put them on again--and were there no Crum in the +South. Without these fatal obstructions, the present moment would have +been to him a bit of what he often thought of as "dream life"; but all +its sweetness was a hurt. + +"_Now_ we'll talk!" said Julia, when she had brought him back to the +library fire again, and they were seated before it. "Don't you want to +smoke?" He shook his head dismally, having no heart for what she +proposed. "Well, then," she said briskly, but a little ruefully, "let's +get to the bottom of things. Just what did you mean you had 'in black +and white' in your pocket?" + +Slowly Noble drew forth the historic copy of _The North End Daily +Oriole_; and with face averted, placed it in her extended hand. + +"What in the world!" she exclaimed, unfolding it; and then as its title +and statement of ownership came into view, "Oh, yes! I see. Aunt Carrie +wrote me that Uncle Joseph had given Herbert a printing-press. I suppose +Herbert's the editor?" + +"And that Rooter boy," Noble said sadly. "I think maybe your little +niece Florence has something to do with it, too." + +"'Something' to do with it? She usually has _all_ to do with anything +she gets hold of! But what's it got to do with me?" + +"You'll see!" he prophesied accurately. + +She began to read, laughing at some of the items as she went along; then +suddenly she became rigid, holding the small journal before her in a +transfixed hand. + +"Oh!" she cried. "_Oh!_" + +"That's--that's what--I meant," Noble explained. + +Julia's eyes grew dangerous. "The little fiends!" she cried. "Oh, +really, this is a long-suffering family, but it's time these outrages +were stopped!" + +She jumped up. "Isn't it frightful?" she demanded of Noble. + +"Yes, it is," he said, with a dismal fervour. "Nobody knows that better +than I do, Julia!" + +"I mean _this_!" she cried, extending the _Oriole_ toward him with a +vigorous gesture. "I mean this dreadful story about poor Mr. Crum!" + +"But it's true," he said. + +"Noble Dill!" + +"Julia?" + +"Do you dare to say you believed it?" + +He sprang up. "It isn't true?" + +"Not one word of it! I told you Mr. Crum is only twenty-six. He hasn't +been out of college more than three or four years, and it's the most +terrible slander to say he's ever been married at all!" + +Noble dropped back into his chair of misery. "I thought you meant it +wasn't true." + +"I've just told you there isn't one _word_ of tr----" + +"But you're--engaged," Noble gulped. "You're engaged to him, Julia!" + +She appeared not to hear this. "I suppose it _can_ be lived down," she +said. "To think of Uncle Joseph putting such a thing into the hands of +those awful children!" + +"But, Julia, you're eng----" + +"Noble!" she said sharply. + +"Well, you _are_ eng----" + +Julia drew herself up. "Different people mean different things by that +word," she said with severity, like an annoyed school-teacher. "There +are any number of shades of meaning to words; and if I used the word you +mention, in writing home to the family, I may have used a certain shade +and they may have thought I intended another." + +"But, Julia----" + +"Mr. Crum is a charming young man," she continued with the same +primness. "I liked him very much indeed. I liked him very, very much. I +liked him very, _very_----" + +"I understand," he interrupted. "Don't say it any more, Julia." + +"No; you don't understand! At _first_ I liked him very much--in fact, I +still do, of course--I'm sure he's one of the best and most attractive +young men in the world. I think he's a man any girl ought to be happy +with, if he were only to be considered by himself. I don't deny that. I +liked him very much indeed, and I don't deny that for several days after +he--after he proposed to me--I don't deny I thought something serious +_might_ come of it. But at that time, Noble, I hadn't--hadn't really +thought of what it meant to give up living here at home, with all the +family and everything--and friends--friends like you, Noble. I hadn't +thought what it would mean to me to give all this up. And besides, there +was something very important. At the time I wrote that letter mentioning +poor Mr. Crum to the family, Noble, I hadn't--I hadn't----" She paused, +visibly in some distress. "I hadn't----" + +"You hadn't what?" he cried. + +"I hadn't met his mother!" + +Noble leaped to his feet. "Julia! You aren't--you aren't engaged?" + +"I am not," she answered decisively. "If I ever was--in the slightest--I +certainly am not now." + +Poor Noble was transfigured. He struggled; making half-formed gestures, +speaking half-made words. A rapture glowed upon him. + +"Julia--Julia----" He choked. "Julia, promise me something. Will you +promise me something? Julia, promise to promise me something." + +"I will," she said quickly. "What do you want me to do?" + +Then he saw that it was his time to speak; that this was the moment for +him to dare everything and ask for the utmost he could hope from her. + +"Give me your word!" he said, still radiantly struggling. "Give me your +word--your word--your word and your sacred promise, Julia--that you'll +never be engaged to anybody at all!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + + +At six minutes after four o'clock on the second afternoon following +Julia's return, Noble Dill closed his own gate behind him and set forth +upon the four-minute walk that would bring him to Julia's. He wore a bit +of scarlet geranium in the buttonhole of his new light overcoat; he +flourished a new walking-stick and new grey gloves. As for his +expression, he might have been a bridegroom. + +Passing the mouth of an alley, as he swung along the street, he was +aware of a commotion, of missiles hurled and voices clashed. In this +alley there was a discord: passion and mockery were here inimically +intermingled. + +Casting _a_ glance that way, Noble could see but one person; a boy of +fourteen who looked through a crack in a board fence, steadfastly +keeping an eye to this aperture and as continuously calling through it, +holding his head to a level for this purpose, but at the same time +dancing--and dancing tauntingly, it was conveyed--with the other parts +of his body. His voice was now sweet, now piercing, and again far too +dulcet with the overkindness of burlesque; and if, as it seemed, he was +unburdening his spleen, his spleen was a powerful one and gorged. He +appeared to be in a torment of tormenting; and his success was proved by +the pounding of bricks, parts of bricks and rocks of size upon the other +side of the fence, as close to the crack as might be. + +"Oh, dolling!" he wailed, his tone poisonously amorous. "Oh, dolling +Henery! Oo's dot de mos' booful eyes in a dray bid nasty world. Henery! +Oh, _has_ I dot booful eyes, dolling Pattywatty? Yes, I _has_! I _has_ +dot pretty eyes!" His voice rose unbearably. "_Oh_, what prettiest eyes +I dot! Me and Herbie Atwater! _Oh_, my booful eyes! Oh, my _booful_----" + +But even as he reached this apex, the head, shoulders, and arms of +Herbert Atwater rose momentarily above the fence across the alley, +behind the tormentor. Herbert's expression was implacably resentful, and +so was the gesture with which he hurled an object at the comedian +preoccupied with the opposite fence. This object, upon reaching its +goal, as it did more with a splash than a thud, was revealed as a +tomato, presumably in a useless state. The taunter screamed in +astonishment, and after looking vainly for an assailant, began +necessarily to remove his coat. + +Noble, passing on, thought he recognized the boy as one of the Torbin +family, but he was not sure, and he had no idea that the episode was in +any possible manner to be connected with his own recent history. How +blindly we walk our ways! As Noble flourished down the street, there +appeared a wan face at a prison window; and the large eyes looked out +upon him wistfully. But Noble went on, as unwitting that he had to do +with this prison as that he had to do with Master Torbin's tomato. + +The face at the window was not like Charlotte Corday's, nor was the +window barred, though the prisoner knew a little solace in wondering if +she did not suggest that famous picture. For all purposes, except during +school hours, the room was certainly a cell; and the term of +imprisonment was set at three days. Uncle Joseph had been unable to +remain at the movies forever: people do have to go home eventually, +especially when accompanied by thirteen-year-old great-nieces. Florence +had finally to face the question awaiting her; and it would have been +better for her had she used less imagination in her replies. + +Yet she was not wholly despondent as her eyes followed the disappearing +figure of Noble Dill. His wholesome sprightliness was visible at any +distance; and who would not take a little pride in having been even the +mistaken instrument of saving so gay a young man from the loss of his +reason? No; Florence was not cast down. Day-after-to-morrow she would +taste Freedom again, and her profoundest regret was that after all her +Aunt Julia was not to be married. Florence had made definite plans for +the wedding, especially for the principal figure at the ceremony. This +figure, as Florence saw things, would have been that of the "Flower +Girl," naturally a niece of the bride; but she was able to dismiss the +bright dream with some philosophy. And to console her for everything, +had she not a star in her soul? Had she not discovered that she could +write poetry whenever she felt like it? + +Noble passed from her sight, but nevertheless continued his radiant +progress down Julia's Street. Life stretched before him, serene, +ineffably fragrant, unending. He saw it as a flower-strewn sequence of +calls upon Julia, walks with Julia, talks with Julia by the library +fire. Old Mr. Atwater was to be away four days longer, and Julia, that +great-hearted bride-not-to-be, had given him her promise. + +Blushing, indeed divinely, she had promised him upon her sacred word, +never so long as she lived, to be engaged to anybody at all. + + + THE END + + * * * * * + + BOOKS BY BOOTH TARKINGTON + + ALICE ADAMS + BEASLEY'S CHRISTMAS PARTY + BEAUTY AND THE JACOBIN + CHERRY + CONQUEST OF CANAAN + GENTLE JULIA + HARLEQUIN AND COLUMBINE + HIS OWN PEOPLE + IN THE ARENA + MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE + PENROD + PENROD AND SAM + RAMSEY MILHOLLAND + SEVENTEEN + THE BEAUTIFUL LADY + THE FLIRT + THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA + THE GIBSON UPRIGHT + THE GUEST OF QUESNAY + THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS + THE MAN FROM HOME + THE TURMOIL + THE TWO VANREVELS + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +1. Punctuation normalized to contemporary standards. + +2. List of "Books by Booth Tarkington" originally before frontispiece + moved to end of text. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gentle Julia, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENTLE JULIA *** + +***** This file should be named 18259-8.txt or 18259-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/5/18259/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/18259-8.zip b/18259-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..342053b --- /dev/null +++ b/18259-8.zip diff --git a/18259-h.zip b/18259-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9275634 --- /dev/null +++ b/18259-h.zip diff --git a/18259-h/18259-h.htm b/18259-h/18259-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..62faa09 --- /dev/null +++ b/18259-h/18259-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11722 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Gentle Julia, by Booth Tarkington + </title> + <link rel='coverpage' href='images/cover.jpg' /> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; font-size: 90%} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.full {width:100%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.major {width:75%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.minor {width:30%; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; } + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcapc {text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps;} + .caption {font-size: 80%; font-style: italic} + .chapter {margin-top: 4em; text-align: center; margin-bottom: 3em;} + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gentle Julia, by Booth Tarkington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Gentle Julia + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Illustrator: C. Allan Gilbert and Worth Brehm + +Release Date: April 26, 2006 [EBook #18259] + [Most recently updated: June 11, 2020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENTLE JULIA *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;"> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="Julia" title="Julia" /> +<span class="caption">Julia</span> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<table width="450" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Title Page" border="1"> + <col style="width:80%;" /> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <p style="margin-top: 5em"></p> + <span style="font-size: 200%">GENTLE JULIA</span> + <br /><br /> + BY + <br /> + <span style="font-size: 120%;">BOOTH TARKINGTON</span> + <br /><br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 70%"> + AUTHOR OF + </span> + <br /> + <span style="font-size: 90%"> + PENROD, PENROD AND SAM,<br />THE TURMOIL, <span class="smcap">Etc</span>. + </span> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 70%">ILLUSTRATED BY</span><br /> + <span style="font-size: 90%">C. ALLAN GILBERT</span><br /> + <span style="font-size: 70%">AND</span><br /> + <span style="font-size: 90%">WORTH BREHM</span><br /> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <span style="text-align:center; font-size: 120%"> + GROSSET & DUNLAP + </span> + <br /> + <span style="font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 1em">PUBLISHERS + + NEW YORK<br /><br /><br /> + </span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 75%">Made in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 85%">COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY<br /> +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY P. F. COLLIER AND SON COMPANY<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY THE PICTORIAL REVIEW COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, +GARDEN CITY, N. Y.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p class="center">TO M. L. K.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>Table of Contents</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:65%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr><td>CHAPTER ONE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_ONE">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWO</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWO">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER THREE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_THREE">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER FOUR</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_FOUR">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER FIVE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_FIVE">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER SIX</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_SIX">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER SEVEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVEN">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER EIGHT</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHT">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER NINE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_NINE">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TEN">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER ELEVEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_ELEVEN">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWELVE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWELVE">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTEEN">187</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTEEN">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_FIFTEEN">225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_SIXTEEN">251</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN">268</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN">279</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER NINETEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_NINETEEN">309</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWENTY</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY">324</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE">346</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO">360</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE">371</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p class="center">GENTLE JULIA</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 30%; font-size: 80%">"Rising +to the point of order, this one said +that since the morgue was not yet established +as the central monument and inspiration of +our settlement, and true philosophy was as +well expounded in the convivial manner as +in the miserable, he claimed for himself, not +the license, but the right, to sing a ballad, if +he chose, upon even so solemn a matter as +the misuse of the town pump by witches."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span> +<h2><a name="GENTLE_JULIA" id="GENTLE_JULIA"></a>GENTLE JULIA</h2> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_ONE" id="CHAPTER_ONE"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h3> + +<p>Superciliousness is not safe after all, because +a person who forms the habit of wearing +it may some day find his lower lip grown +permanently projected beyond the upper, so that he +can't get it back, and must go through life looking +like the King of Spain. This was once foretold +as a probable culmination of Florence Atwater's +still plastic profile, if Florence didn't change her +way of thinking; and upon Florence's remarking +dreamily that the King of Spain was an awf'ly han'some +man, her mother retorted: "But not for a girl!" +She meant, of course, that a girl who looked too much +like the King of Spain would not be handsome, but +her daughter decided to misunderstand her.</p> + +<p>"Why, mamma, he's my Very Ideal! I'd marry +him to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater paused in her darning, and let the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +stocking collapse flaccidly into the work-basket in +her lap. "Not at barely thirteen, would you?" she +said. "It seems to me you're just a shade too +young to be marrying a man who's already got a wife +and several children. Where did you pick up that +'I'd-marry-him-to-morrow,' Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hear that everywhere!" returned the +damsel, lightly. "Everybody says things like that. +I heard Aunt Julia say it. I heard Kitty Silver +say it."</p> + +<p>"About the King of Spain?" Mrs. Atwater inquired.</p> + +<p>"I don't know who they were saying it about," +said Florence, "but they were saying it. I don't +mean they were saying it together; I heard one say +it one time and the other say it some other time. I +think Kitty Silver was saying it about some coloured +man. She proba'ly wouldn't want to marry any +white man; at least I don't expect she would. She's +<i>been</i> married to a couple of coloured men, anyhow; +and she was married twice to one of 'em, and the +other one died in between. Anyhow, that's what she +told me. She weighed over two hunderd pounds +the first time she was married, and she weighed over +two hunderd-and-seventy the last time she was married<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +to the first one over again, but she says she don't +know how much she weighed when she was married +to the one in between. She says she never got +weighed all the time she was married to that one. +Did Kitty Silver ever tell you that, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, often!" Mrs. Atwater replied. "I don't +think it's very entertaining; and it's not what we +were talking about. I was trying to tell you——"</p> + +<p>"I know," Florence interrupted. "You said I'd +get my face so's my underlip wouldn't go back where +it ought to, if I didn't quit turning up my nose at +people I think are beneath contemp'. I guess the +best thing would be to just feel that way without +letting on by my face, and then there wouldn't be +any danger."</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Atwater. "That's not what I +meant. You mustn't let your feelings get <i>their</i> +nose turned up, or their underlip out, either, because +feelings can grow warped just as well as——"</p> + +<p>But her remarks had already caused her daughter +to follow a trail of thought divergent from the main +road along which the mother feebly struggled to progress. +"Mamma," said Florence, "do you b'lieve +it's true if a person swallows an apple-seed or a +lemon-seed or a watermelon-seed, f'r instance, do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +you think they'd have a tree grow up inside of 'em? +Henry Rooter said it would, yesterday."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater looked a little anxious. "Did you +swallow some sort of seed?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It was only some grape-seeds, mamma; and +you needn't think I got to take anything for it, because +I've swallowed a million, I guess, in my time!"</p> + +<p>"In your time?" her mother repeated, seemingly +mystified.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and so have you and papa," Florence went +on. "I've seen you when you ate grapes. Henry +said maybe not, about grapes, because I told him +all what I've just been telling you, mamma, how I +must have swallowed a million, in my time, and he +said grape-seeds weren't big enough to get a good +holt, but he said if I was to swallow an apple-seed a +tree would start up, and in a year or two, maybe, +it would grow up so't I couldn't get my mouth shut +on account the branches."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Henry said another boy told <i>him</i>, but he said you +could ask anybody and they'd tell you it was true. +Henry said this boy that told him's uncle died of it +when he was eleven years old, and this boy knew a +grown woman that was pretty sick from it right now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +I expect Henry wasn't telling such a falsehood about +it, mamma, but proba'ly this boy did, because I +didn't believe it for a minute! Henry Rooter says he +never told a lie <i>yet</i>, in his whole life, mamma, and he +wasn't going to begin now." She paused for a +moment, then added: "I don't believe a word he +says!"</p> + +<p>She continued to meditate disapprovingly upon +Henry Rooter. "Old thing!" she murmured gloomily, +for she had indeed known moments of apprehension +concerning the grape-seeds. "Nothing but an +old thing—what he is!" she repeated inaudibly.</p> + +<p>"Florence," said Mrs. Atwater, "don't you want to +slip over to grandpa's and ask Aunt Julia if she has +a very large darning needle? And don't forget not to +look supercilious when you meet people on the way. +Even your grandfather has been noticing it, and he +was the one that spoke of it to me. Don't forget!"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>Florence went out of the house somewhat moodily, +but afternoon sunshine enlivened her; and, opening +the picket gate, she stepped forth with a fair renewal +of her chosen manner toward the public, +though just at that moment no public was in sight. +Miss Atwater's underlip resumed the position for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +which her mother had predicted that regal Spanish +fixity, and her eyebrows and nose were all three perceptibly +elevated. At the same time, her eyelids +were half lowered, while the corners of her mouth +somewhat deepened, as by a veiled mirth, so that +this well-dressed child strolled down the shady +sidewalk wearing an expression not merely of high-bred +contempt but also of mysterious derision. +It was an expression that should have put any pedestrian +in his place, and it seems a pity that the long +street before her appeared to be empty of human life. +No one even so much as glanced from a window of +any of the comfortable houses, set back at the end +of their "front walks" and basking amid pleasant +lawns; for, naturally, this was the "best residence +street" in the town, since all the Atwaters and other +relatives of Florence dwelt there. Happily, an +old gentleman turned a corner before she had gone +a hundred yards, and, as he turned in her direction, it +became certain that they would meet. He was a +stranger—that is to say, he was unknown to Florence—and +he was well dressed; while his appearance of +age (proba'ly at least forty or sixty or something) +indicated that he might have sense enough to be +interested in other interesting persons.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>An extraordinary change took place upon the +surface of Florence Atwater: all superciliousness and +derision of the world vanished; her eyes opened wide, +and into them came a look at once far-away and +intently fixed. Also, a frown of concentration appeared +upon her brow, and her lips moved silently, +but with rapidity, as if she repeated to herself +something of almost tragic import. Florence had +recently read a newspaper account of the earlier struggles +of a now successful actress: As a girl, this determined +genius went about the streets repeating the +lines of various roles to herself—constantly rehearsing, +in fact, upon the public thoroughfares, so carried +away was she by her intended profession and so set +upon becoming famous. This was what Florence +was doing now, except that she rehearsed no rôle in +particular, and the words formed by her lips were +neither sequential nor consequential, being, in fact, +the following: "Oh, the darkness ... never, +never, never! ... you couldn't ... he +wouldn't ... Ah, mother! ... Where the +river swings so slowly ... Ah, <i>no</i>!" Nevertheless, +she was doing all she could for the elderly +stranger, and as they came closer, encountered, and +passed on, she had the definite impression that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +did indeed take her to be a struggling young actress +who would some day be famous—and then he might +see her on a night of triumph and recognize her as the +girl he had passed on the street, that day, so long +ago! But by this time, the episode was concluded; +the footsteps of him for whom she was performing +had become inaudible behind her, and she began to +forget him; which was as well, since he went out of +her life then, and the two never met again. The +struggling young actress disappeared, and the previous +superiority was resumed. It became elaborately +emphasized as a boy of her own age emerged +from the "side yard" of a house at the next corner +and came into her view.</p> + +<p>The boy caught sight of Florence in plenty of time +to observe this emphasis, which was all too obviously +produced by her sensations at sight of himself; +and, after staring at her for a moment, he allowed +his own expression to become one of painful fatigue. +Then he slowly swung about, as if to return into +that side-yard obscurity whence he had come; +making clear by this pantomime that he reciprocally +found the sight of her insufferable. In truth, he did; +for he was not only her neighbour but her first-cousin +as well, and a short month older, though taller<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +than she—tall beyond his years, taller than need be, +in fact, and still in knickerbockers. However, his +parents may not have been mistaken in the matter, +for it was plain that he looked as well in knickerbockers +as he could have looked in anything. He had +no visible beauty, though it was possible to hope for +him that by the time he reached manhood he would +be more tightly put together than he seemed at +present; and indeed he himself appeared to have +some consciousness of insecurity in the fastenings +of his members, for it was his habit (observable +even now as he turned to avoid Miss Atwater) to +haul at himself, to sag and hitch about inside his +clothes, and to corkscrew his neck against the swathing +of his collar. And yet there were times, as the +most affectionate of his aunts had remarked, when, +for a moment or so, he appeared to be almost knowing; +and, seeing him walking before her, she had +almost taken him for a young man; and sometimes +he said something in a settled kind of way that was almost +adult. This fondest aunt went on to add, however, +that of course, the next minute after one of +these fleeting spells, he was sure to be overtaken by +his more accustomed moods, when his eye would +again fix itself with fundamental aimlessness upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +nothing. In brief, he was at the age when he spent +most of his time changing his mind about things, +or, rather, when his mind spent most of its time +changing him about things; and this was what +happened now.</p> + +<p>After turning his back on the hateful sight well +known to him as his cousin Florence at her freshest, +he turned again, came forth from his place of residence, +and joining her upon the pavement, walked +beside her, accompanying her without greeting or +inquiry. His expression of fatigue, indicating her +insufferableness, had not abated; neither had her +air of being a duchess looking at bugs.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> a pretty one!" he said; but his intention +was perceived to be far indeed from his words.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>am</i> I, Mister Herbert Atwater?" Florence +responded. "I'm <i>awf'ly</i> glad <i>you</i> think so!"</p> + +<p>"I mean about what Henry Rooter said," her +cousin explained. "Henry Rooter told me he made +you believe you were goin' to have a grapevine +climbin' up from inside of you because you ate some +grapes with the seeds in 'em. He says you thought +you'd haf to get a carpenter to build a little arbour +so you could swallow it for the grapevine to grow +on. He says——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence had become an angry pink. "That little +Henry Rooter is the worst falsehooder in this town; +and I never believed a word he said in his life! Anyway, +what affairs is it of yours, I'd like you to please +be so kind and obliging for to tell me, Mister Herbert +Illingsworth Atwater, Exquire!"</p> + +<p>"What affairs?" Herbert echoed in plaintive +satire. "What affairs is it of mine? That's just the +trouble! It's <i>got</i> to be my affairs because you're my +first-cousin. My goodness <i>I</i> didn't have anything +to do with you being my cousin, did I?"</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>I</i> didn't!"</p> + +<p>"That's neither here nor there," said Herbert. +"What <i>I</i> want to know is, how long you goin' to +keep this up?"</p> + +<p>"Keep what up?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, how do you think I like havin' somebody +like Henry Rooter comin' round me tellin' what they +made a cousin of mine believe, and more than thirteen +years old, goin' on fourteen ever since about a +month ago!"</p> + +<p>Florence shouted: "Oh, for goodness' <i>sakes</i>!" then +moderated the volume but not the intensity of her +tone. "Kindly reply to <i>this</i>. Whoever asked you +to come and take a walk with me to-day?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>Herbert protested to heaven. "Why, I wouldn't +take a walk with you if every policeman in this town +tried to make me! I wouldn't take a walk with you +if they brought a million horses and—"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't take a walk with <i>you</i>," Florence interrupted, +"if they brought a million million horses +and cows and camels and—"</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't," Herbert said. "Not if <i>I</i> +could help it!"</p> + +<p>But by this time Florence had regained her derisive +superciliousness. "There's a few things you +<i>could</i> help," she said; and the incautious Herbert +challenged her with the inquiry she desired.</p> + +<p>"What could I help?"</p> + +<p>"I should think you could help bumpin' into me +every second when I'm takin' a walk on my own +affairs, and walk along on your own side of the sidewalk, +anyway, and not be so awkward a person has +to keep trippin' over you about every time I try to +take a step!"</p> + +<p>Herbert withdrew temporarily to his own side +of the pavement. "Who?" he demanded hotly. +"<i>Who</i> says I'm awkward?"</p> + +<p>"All the fam'ly," Miss Atwater returned, with a +light but infuriating laugh. "You bump into 'em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +sideways and keep gettin' half in front of 'em whenever +they try to take a step, and then when it looks +as if they'd pretty near fall over you—"</p> + +<p>"You look here!"</p> + +<p>"And besides all that," Florence went on, undisturbed, +"why, you generally keep kind of snorting, +or somep'n, and then making all those noises in +your neck. You were doin' it at grandpa's last +Sunday dinner because every time there wasn't +anybody talking, why, everybody could hear you +plain as everything, and you ought to've seen grandpa +look at you! He looked as if you'd set him crazy +if you didn't quit that chuttering and cluckling!"</p> + +<p>Herbert's expression partook of a furious astonishment. +"I don't any such thing!" he burst out. +"I guess I wouldn't talk much about last Sunday +dinner, if I was <i>you</i> neither. Who got caught eatin' +off the ice cream freezer spoon out on the back porch, +if you please? Yes, and I guess you better study a +little grammar, while you're about it. There's no +such words in the English language as 'cluckling' and +'chuttering.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't care what language they're in," the stubborn +Florence insisted. "It's what you do, just +the same: cluckling and chuttering!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>Herbert's manners went to pieces. "Oh, dry +up!" he bellowed.</p> + +<p>"That's a <i>nice</i> way to talk! So gentlemanly——"</p> + +<p>"Well, you try be a lady, then!"</p> + +<p>"'Try!'" Florence echoed. "Well, after that, +I'll just politely thank you to dry up, yourself, +Mister Herbert Atwater!"</p> + +<p>At this Herbert became moody. "Oh, pfuff!" +he said; and for some moments walked in silence. +Then he asked: "Where you goin', Florence?"</p> + +<p>The damsel paused at a gate opening upon a +broad lawn evenly divided by a brick walk that led +to the white-painted wooden veranda of an ample +and honest old brick house. "Righ' there to grandpa's, +since you haf to know!" she said. "And thank +you for your delightful comp'ny which I never asked +for, if you care to hear the truth for once in your +life!"</p> + +<p>Herbert meditated. "Well, I got nothin' else to +do, as I know of," he said. "Let's go around to +the back door so's to see if Kitty Silver's got anything."</p> + +<p>Then, not amiably, but at least inconsequently, +they passed inside the gate together. Their brows +were fairly unclouded; no special marks of conflict<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +remained; for they had met and conversed in a manner +customary rather than unusual.</p> + +<p>They followed a branch of the brick walk and +passed round the south side of the house, where a +small orchard of apple-trees showed generous promise. +Hundreds of gay little round apples among the leaves +glanced the high lights to and fro on their polished +green cheeks as a breeze hopped through the yard, +while the shade beneath trembled with coquettishly +moving disks of sunshine like golden plates. A +pattern of orange light and blue shadow was laid like +a fanciful plaid over the lattice and the wide, slightly +sagging steps of the elderly "back porch"; and here, +taking her ease upon these steps, sat a middle-aged +coloured woman of continental proportions. +Beyond all contest, she was the largest coloured woman +in that town, though her height was not unusual, +and she had a rather small face. That is to say, +as Florence had once explained to her, her face was +small but the other parts of her head were terribly +wide. Beside her was a circular brown basket, of a +type suggesting arts-and-crafts; it was made with +a cover, and there was a bow of brown silk upon +the handle.</p> + +<p>"What you been up to to-day, Kitty Silver?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +Herbert asked genially. "Any thing special?" For this +was the sequel to his "so's we can see if Kitty Silver's +got anything." But Mrs. Silver discouraged him.</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't," she replied. "I ain't, an' I ain't +goin' to."</p> + +<p>"I thought you pretty near always made cookies +on Tuesday," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't <i>this</i> Tuesday," said Kitty Silver. +"I ain't, and I ain't goin' to. You might dess well +g'on home ri' now. I ain't, an' I ain't goin' to."</p> + +<p>Docility was no element of Mrs. Silver's present +mood, and Herbert's hopeful eyes became blank, as +his gaze wandered from her head to the brown basket +beside her. The basket did not interest him; the +ribbon gave it a quality almost at once excluding +it from his consciousness. On the contrary, the +ribbon had drawn Florence's attention, and she stared +at the basket eagerly.</p> + +<p>"What you got there, Kitty Silver?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What I got where?"</p> + +<p>"In that basket."</p> + +<p>"Nemmine what I got 'n 'at basket," said Mrs. +Silver crossly, but added inconsistently: "I dess <i>wish</i> +somebody ast me what I got 'n 'at basket! <i>I</i> ain't no +cat-washwoman fer <i>no</i>body!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Cats!" Florence cried. "Are there cats in that +basket, Kitty Silver? Let's look at 'em!"</p> + +<p>The lid of the basket, lifted by the eager, slim +hand of Miss Atwater, rose to disclose two cats of +an age slightly beyond kittenhood. They were of +a breed unfamiliar to Florence, and she did not obey +the impulse that usually makes a girl seize upon any +young cat at sight and caress it. Instead, she +looked at them with some perplexity, and after a +moment inquired: "Are they really cats, Kitty Silver, +do you b'lieve?"</p> + +<p>"Cats what she done tole <i>me</i>," the coloured +woman replied. "You betta shet lid down, you don' +wan' 'em run away, 'cause they ain't yoosta livin' +'n 'at basket yit; an' no matter whut kine o' cats +they is or they isn't, <i>one</i> thing true: they <i>wile</i> cats!"</p> + +<p>"But what makes their hair so long?" Florence +asked. "I never saw cats with hair a couple inches +long like that."</p> + +<p>"Miss Julia say they Berjum cats."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't tellin' no mo'n she tole me. You' aunt +say they Berjum cats."</p> + +<p>"Persian," said Herbert. "That's nothing. I've +seen plenty Persian cats. My goodness, I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +think you'd seen a Persian cat at yow age. Thirteen +goin' on fourteen!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I <i>have</i> seen Persian cats plenty times, I +guess," Florence said. "I thought Persian cats +were white, and these are kind of gray."</p> + +<p>At this Kitty Silver permitted herself to utter an +embittered laugh. "You wrong!" she said. "These +cats, they white; yes'm!"</p> + +<p>"Why, they aren't either! They're gray as——"</p> + +<p>"No'm," said Mrs. Silver. "They plum spang +white, else you' Aunt Julia gone out her mind; me or +her, one. I say: 'Miss Julia, them gray cats.' +'White,' she say. 'Them two cats is white cats,' she +say. 'Them cats been crated,' she say. 'They +been livin' in a crate on a dirty express train fer th'ee +fo' days,' she say. 'Them cats gone got all smoke' +up thataway,' she say. 'No'm, Miss Julia,' I say, +'No'm, Miss Julia, they ain't <i>no</i> train,' I say, 'they +ain't <i>no</i> train kin take an' smoke two white cats up like +these cats so's they hair is gray clean plum up to +they hide.' You betta put the lid down, I tell +you!"</p> + +<p>Florence complied, just in time to prevent one +of the young cats from leaping out of the basket, +but she did not fasten the cover. Instead, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +knelt, and, allowing a space of half an inch to intervene +between the basket and the rim of the cover, +peered within at the occupants. "I believe the one +to this side's a he," she said. "It's got greenisher +eyes than the other one; that's the way you can always +tell. I b'lieve this one's a he and the other +one's a she."</p> + +<p>"I ain't stedyin' about no he an' she!"</p> + +<p>"What did Aunt Julia say?" Florence asked.</p> + +<p>"Whut you' Aunt Julia say when?"</p> + +<p>"When you told her these were gray cats and not +white cats?"</p> + +<p>"She tole me take an' clean 'em," said Kitty Silver. +"She say, she say she want 'em clean' up +spick an' spang befo' Mista Sammerses git here +to call an' see 'em." And she added morosely: +"I ain't no cat-washwoman!"</p> + +<p>"She wants you to bathe 'em?" Florence inquired, +but Kitty Silver did not reply immediately. She +breathed audibly, with a strange effect upon vasty +outward portions of her, and then gave an incomparably +dulcet imitation of her own voice, as she +interpreted her use of it during the recent interview.</p> + +<p>'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say—'Miss Julia, ma'am,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +my bizniss cookin' vittles,' I say. 'Miss Julia, +ma'am,' I tole her, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, I cook fer +you' pa, an' cook fer you' fam'ly year in, year out, an' +I hope an' pursue, whiles some might make complaint, +I take whatever I find, an' I leave whatever +I find. No'm, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say—'no'm, +Miss Julia, ma'am, I ain't no cat-washwoman!'"</p> + +<p>"What did Aunt Julia say then?"</p> + +<p>"She say, she say: 'Di'n I tell you take them cats +downstairs an' clean 'em?' she say. I ain't <i>no</i>body's +cat-washwoman!"</p> + +<p>Florence was becoming more and more interested. +"I should think that would be kind of fun," she said. +"To be a cat-washwoman. <i>I</i> wouldn't mind that +at all: I'd kind of like it. I expect if you was a cat-washwoman, +Kitty Silver, you'd be pretty near the +only one was in the world. I wonder if they do +have 'em any place, cat-washwomen."</p> + +<p>"I don' know if they got 'em some place," said +Kitty Silver, "an' I don't know if they ain't got +'em no place; but I bet if they do got 'em any place, +it's some place else from here!"</p> + +<p>Florence looked thoughtful. "Who was it you +said is going to call this evening and see 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Mista Sammerses."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She means Newland Sanders," Herbert explained. +"Aunt Julia says all her callers that +ever came to this house in their lives, Kitty Silver +never got the name right of a single one of 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Newland Sanders is the one with the little moustache," +Florence said. "Is that the one you mean +by 'Sammerses,' Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"Mista Sammerses who you' Aunt Julia tole <i>me</i>," +Mrs. Silver responded stubbornly. "He ain't got +no moustache whut you kin look at—dess some blackish +whut don' reach out mo'n halfway todes the bofe +ends of his mouf."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Florence, "was Mr. Sanders the one +gave her these Persian cats, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon." Mrs. Silver breathed audibly again, +and her expression was strongly resentful. "When +she go fer a walk 'long with any them callers she +stop an' make a big fuss over any li'l ole dog or cat +an' I don't know whut all, an' after they done buy +her all the candy from all the candy sto's in the livin' +worl', an' all the flowers from all the greenhouses +they is, it's a wonder some of 'em ain't sen' her a mule +fer a present, 'cause seem like to me they done sen' +her mos' every kine of animal they is! Firs' come +Airydale dog you' grampaw tuck an' give away to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +the milkman; 'n'en come two mo' pups; I don't +know whut they is, 'cause they bofe had dess sense +enough to run away after you' grampaw try learn +'em how much he ain't like no pups; an' nex' come +them two canaries hangin' in the dinin'-room now, +an' nex'—di'n' I holler so's they could a-hear me +all way down town? Di'n' I walk in my kitchen one +mawnin' right slam in the face of ole warty allagatuh +three foot long a-lookin' at me over the aidge o' my +kitchen sink?"</p> + +<p>"It was Mr. Clairdyce gave her that," said Florence. +"He'd been to Florida; but she didn't care +for it very much, and she didn't make any fuss +at all when grandpa got the florist to take it. Grandpa +hates animals."</p> + +<p>"He don' hate 'em no wuss'n whut I do," said +Kitty Silver. "An' he ain't got to ketch 'em lookin' +at him outen of his kitchen sink—an' he ain't fixin' +to be no cat-washwoman neither!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Are</i> you fixing to?" Florence asked quickly. +"You don't need to do it, Kitty Silver. I'd be willing +to, and so'd Herbert. Wouldn't you, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>Herbert deliberated within himself, then brightened. +"I'd just as soon," he said. "I'd kind of like +to see how a cat acts when it's getting bathed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think it would be spesh'ly inter'sting to wash +Persian cats," Florence added, with increasing enthusiasm. +"I never washed a cat in my life."</p> + +<p>"Neither have I," said Herbert. "I always +thought they did it themselves."</p> + +<p>Kitty Silver sniffed. "Ain't I says so to you' +Aunt Julia? She done tole me, 'No,' she say. She +say, she say Berjum cats ain't wash they self; they +got to take an' git somebody else to wash 'em!"</p> + +<p>"If we're goin' to bathe 'em," said Florence, "we +ought to know their names, so's we can tell 'em to +hold still and everything. You can't do much with +an animal unless you know their name. Did Aunt +Julia tell you these cats' names, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"She say they name Feef an' Meemuh. Yes'm! +Feef an' Meemuh! Whut kine o' name is Feef an' +Meemuh fer cat name!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, those are lovely names!" Florence assured her, +and, turning to Herbert, explained: "She means +Fifi and Mimi."</p> + +<p>"Feef an' Meemuh," said Kitty Silver. "Them +name don' suit me, an' them long-hair cats don' suit +me neither." Here she lifted the cover of the basket +a little, and gazed nervously within. "Look at +there!" she said. "Look at the way they lookin' at me!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +Don't you look at <i>me</i> thataway, you Feef an' Meemuh!" +She clapped the lid down and fastened it. +"Fixin' to jump out an' grab me, was you?"</p> + +<p>"I guess, maybe," said Florence, "maybe I better +go ask Aunt Julia if I and Herbert can't wash 'em. +I guess I better go <i>ask</i> her anyhow." And she +ran up the steps and skipped into the house +by way of the kitchen. A moment later she appeared +in the open doorway of a room upstairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWO</h3> + + +<p>It was a pretty room, lightly scented with the +pink geraniums and blue lobelia and coral +fuchsias that poised, urgent with colour, in the +window-boxes at the open windows. Sunshine +paused delicately just inside, where forms of pale-blue +birds and lavender flowers curled up and +down the cretonne curtains; and a tempered, respectful +light fell upon a cushioned <i>chaise longue</i>; +for there fluffily reclined, in garments of tender fabric +and gentle colours, the prettiest twenty-year-old +girl in that creditably supplied town.</p> + +<p>It must be said that no stranger would have taken +Florence at first glance to be her niece, though everybody +admitted that Florence's hair was pretty. +("I'll say <i>that</i> for her," was the family way of putting +it.). Florence did not care for her hair herself; +it was dark and thick and long, like her Aunt Julia's; +but Florence—even in the realistic presence of a +mirror—preferred to think of herself as an ashen +blonde, and also as about a foot taller than she was.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +Persistence kept this picture habitually in her mind, +which, of course, helps to explain her feeling +that she was justified in wearing that manner of superciliousness +deplored by her mother. More middle-aged +gentlemen than are suspected believe that +they look like the waspen youths in the magazine advertisements +of clothes; and this impression of theirs +accounts (as with Florence) for much that is seemingly +inexplicable in their behaviour.</p> + +<p>Florence's Aunt Julia was reading an exquisitely +made little book, which bore her initials stamped in +gold upon the cover; and it had evidently reached +her by a recent delivery of the mail, for wrappings +bearing cancelled stamps lay upon the floor beside +the <i>chaise longue</i>. It was a special sort of book, +since its interior was not printed, but all laboriously +written with pen and ink—poems, in truth, containing +more references to a lady named Julia than have +appeared in any other poems since Herrick's. So +warmly interested in the reading as to be rather +pink, though not always with entire approval, this +Julia nevertheless, at the sound of footsteps, closed +the book and placed it beneath one of the cushions +assisting the <i>chaise longue</i> to make her position a +comfortable one. Her greeting was not enthusiastic.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you want, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"I was going to ask you if Herbert and me—I +mean: Was it Noble Dill gave you Fifi and Mimi, +Aunt Julia?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill? No."</p> + +<p>"I wish it was," Florence said. "I'd like these +cats better if they were from Noble Dill."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Julia inquired. "Why are you so partial +to Mr. Noble Dill?"</p> + +<p>"I think he's <i>so</i> much the most inter'sting looking +of all that come to see you. Are you <i>sure</i> it +wasn't Noble Dill gave you these cats, Aunt Julia?"</p> + +<p>A look of weariness became plainly visible upon +Miss Julia Atwater's charming face. "I do wish +you'd hurry and grow up, Florence," she said.</p> + +<p>"I do, too! What for, Aunt Julia?"</p> + +<p>"So there'd be somebody else in the family of an +eligible age. I really think it's an outrageous position +to be in," Julia continued, with languid vehemence—"to +be the only girl between thirteen and +forty-one in a large connection of near relatives, including +children, who all seem to think they haven't +anything to think of but Who comes to see her, and +Who came to see her yesterday, and Who was here +the day before, and Who's coming to-morrow, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +Who's she going to marry! You really ought to +grow up and help me out, because I'm getting tired +of it. No. It wasn't Noble Dill but Mr. Newland +Sanders that sent me Fifi and Mimi—and I want you +to keep away from 'em."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Florence.</p> + +<p>"Because they're very rare cats, and you aren't ordinarily +a very careful sort of person, Florence, if you +don't mind my saying so. Besides, if I let you go +near them, the next thing Herbert would be over here +mussing around, and he can't go near <i>anything</i> without +ruining it! It's just in him; he can't help it."</p> + +<p>Florence looked thoughtful for a brief moment; +then she asked: "Did Newland Sanders send 'em +with the names already to them?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Julia, emphasizing the patience of +her tone somewhat. "I named them after they +got here. Mr. Sanders hasn't seen them yet. He +had them shipped to me. He's coming this evening. +Anything more to-day, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was thinking," said Florence. "What +do you think grandpa'll think about these cats?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe there'll be any more outrages," +Julia returned, and her dark eyes showed a moment's +animation. "I told him at breakfast that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +the Reign of Terror was ended, and he and everybody +else had to keep away from Fifi and Mimi. +Is that about all, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"You let Kitty Silver go near 'em, though. She +says she's fixing to wash 'em."</p> + +<p>Julia smiled faintly. "I thought she would! I +had to go so far as to tell her that as long as I'm +housekeeper in my father's house she'd do what I +say or find some other place. She behaved outrageously +and pretended to believe the natural +colour of Fifi and Mimi is gray!"</p> + +<p>"I expect," said Florence, after pondering seriously +for a little while—"I expect it would take quite +some time to dry them."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. But I'd rather you didn't assist. I'd +rather you weren't even around looking on, Florence."</p> + +<p>A shade fell upon her niece's face at this. "Why, +Aunt Julia, I couldn't do any harm to Fifi and Mimi +just <i>lookin'</i> at 'em, could I?"</p> + +<p>Julia laughed. "That's the trouble; you never do +'just look' at anything you're interested in, and, if you +don't mind my saying so, you've got rather a record, +dear! Now, don't you care: you can find lots of other +pleasant things to do at home—or over at Herbert's, +or Aunt Fanny's. You run along now and——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well——" Florence said, moving as if to depart.</p> + +<p>"You might as well go out by the front door, +child," Julia suggested, with a little watchful urgency. +"You come over some day when Fifi and Mimi have +got used to the place, and you can look at them all +you want to."</p> + +<p>"Well, I just——"</p> + +<p>But as Florence seemed disposed still to linger, +her aunt's manner became more severe, and she +half rose from her reclining position.</p> + +<p>"No, I really mean it! Fifi and Mimi are royal-bred +Persian cats with a wonderful pedigree, and I +don't know how much trouble and expense it cost +Mr. Sanders to get them for me. They're entirely +different from ordinary cats; they're very fine and +queer, and if anything happens to them, after all +the trouble papa's made over other presents I've had, +I'll go straight to a sanitarium! No, Florence, you +keep away from the kitchen to-day, and I'd like +to hear the front door as you go out."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Florence; "I do wish if these cats are +as fine as all that, it was Noble Dill that gave 'em +to you. I'd like these cats lots better if <i>he</i> gave 'em +to you, wouldn't you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Well——" Florence said again, and departed.</p> + +<p>Twenty is an unsuspicious age, except when it +fears that its dignity or grace may be threatened +from without; and it might have been a "bad sign" +in revelation of Julia Atwater's character if she had +failed to accept the muffled metallic clash of the +front door's closing as a token that her niece had +taken a complete departure for home. A supplemental +confirmation came a moment later, fainter +but no less conclusive: the distant slamming of the +front gate; and it made a clear picture of an +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'obedidient'">obedient</ins> +Florence on her homeward way. Peace came +upon Julia: she read in her book, while at times she +dropped a languid, graceful arm, and, with the pretty +hand at the slimmer end of it, groped in a dark +shelter beneath her couch to make a selection, +merely by her well-experienced sense of touch, from a +frilled white box that lay in concealment there. +Then, bringing forth a crystalline violet become +scented sugar, or a bit of fruit translucent in hardened +sirup, she would delicately set it on the way +to that attractive dissolution hoped for it by the +wistful donor—and all without removing her shadowy +eyes from the little volume and its patient struggle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +for dignified rhymes with "Julia." Florence +was no longer in her beautiful relative's thoughts.</p> + +<p>Florence was idly in the thoughts, however, of +Mrs. Balche, the next-door neighbour to the south. +Happening to glance from a bay-window, she negligently +marked how the child walked to the front +gate, opened it, paused for a moment's meditation, +then hurled the gate to a vigorous closure, herself +remaining within its protection. "Odd!" Mrs. +Balche murmured.</p> + +<p>Having thus eloquently closed the gate, Florence +slowly turned and moved toward the rear of the +house, quickening her steps as she went, until at +a run she disappeared from the scope of Mrs. Balche's +gaze, cut off by the intervening foliage of Mr. Atwater's +small orchard. Mrs. Balche felt no great +interest; nevertheless, she paused at the sound of a +boy's voice, half husky, half shrill, in an early stage +of change. "What she say, Flor'nce? D'she say we +could?" But there came a warning "<i>Hush up</i>!" from +Florence, and then, in a lowered tone, the boy's voice +said: "Look here; these are mighty funny-actin' +cats. I think they're kind of crazy or somep'n. +Kitty Silver's fixed a washtub full o' suds for us."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Balche was reminded of her own cat, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +went to give it a little cream. Mrs. Balche was a +retired widow, without children, and too timid to +like dogs; but after a suitable interval, following the +loss of her husband, she accepted from a friend the +gift of a white kitten, and named it Violet. It may +be said that Mrs. Balche, having few interests in +life, and being of a sequestering nature, lived for +Violet, and that so much devotion was not good for +the latter's health. In his youth, after having +shown sufficient spirit to lose an eye during a sporting +absence of three nights and days, Violet was not +again permitted enough freedom of action to repeat +this disloyalty; though, now, in his advanced middle-age, +he had been fed to such a state that he seldom +cared to move, other than by a slow, sneering wavement +of the tail when friendly words were addressed +to him; and consequently, as he seemed beyond +all capacity or desire to run away, or to run at all, +Mrs. Balche allowed him complete liberty of action.</p> + +<p>She found him asleep upon her "back porch," and +placed beside him a saucer of cream, the second +since his luncheon. Then she watched him affectionately +as he opened his eye, turned toward the +saucer his noble Henry-the-Eighth head with its +great furred jowls, and began the process of rising<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +for more food, which was all that ever seemed even +feebly to rouse his mind. When he had risen, there +was little space between him anywhere and the floor.</p> + +<p>Violet took his cream without enthusiasm, pausing +at times and turning his head away. In fact, he +persisted only out of an incorrigible sensuality, and +finally withdrew a pace or two, leaving creamy traces +still upon the saucer. With a multitude of fond +words his kind mistress drew his attention to these, +whereupon, making a visible effort, he returned and +disposed of them.</p> + +<p>"Dat's de 'itty darlin'," she said, stooping to +stroke him. "Eat um all up nice clean. Dood for +ole sweet sin!" She continued to stroke him, and +Violet half closed his eye, but not with love or serenity, +for he simultaneously gestured with his tail, +meaning to say: "Oh, do take your hands off o' +me!" Then he opened the eye and paid a little +attention to sounds from the neighbouring yard. A +high fence, shrubberies, and foliage concealed that +yard from the view of Violet, but the sounds were +eloquent to him, since they were those made by +members of his own general species when threatening +atrocities. The accent may have been foreign, but +Violet caught perfectly the sense of what was being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +said, and instinctively he muttered reciprocal curses +within himself.</p> + +<p>"What a matta, honey?" his companion inquired +sympathetically. "Ess, bad people f'ighten poor +Violet!"</p> + +<p>From beyond the fence came the murmurings of a +boy and a girl in hushed but urgent conversation; and +with these sounds there mingled watery agitations, +splashings and the like, as well as those low vocalizings +that Violet had recognized; but suddenly there +were muffled explosions, like fireworks choked in feather +beds; and the human voices grew uncontrollably +somewhat louder, so that their import was distinguishable. +"<i>Ow!</i>" "Hush up, can't you? You want to +bring the whole town to—<i>ow!</i>" "Hush up yourself!" +"Oh, <i>goodness</i>!" "Look out! Don't let her——" +"Well, look what she's <i>doin'</i> to me, can't you?" +"For Heavenses' sakes, catch holt and——<i>Ow!</i>"</p> + +<p>Then came a husky voice, inevitably that of a +horrified coloured person hastening from a distance: +"Oh, my soul!" There was a scurrying, and the +girl was heard in furious yet hoarsely guarded vehemence: +"Bring the clo'es prop! Bring the clo'es +prop! We can poke that one down from the garage, +anyway. <i>Oh, my goodness, look at 'er go!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Balche shook her head. "Naughty children!" +she said, as she picked up the saucer and went +to the kitchen door, which she held open for Violet +to enter. "Want to come with mamma?"</p> + +<p>But Violet had lost even the faint interest in life +he had shown a few moments earlier. He settled +himself to another stupor in the sun.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," Mrs. Balche said indulgently. +"Afterwhile shall have some more nice keem."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Sunset was beginning to be hinted, two hours later, +when, in another quarter of the town, a little girl of +seven or eight, at play on the domestic side of an +alley gate, became aware of an older girl regarding +her fixedly over the top of the gate. The little girl +felt embarrassed and paused in her gayeties, enfolding +in her arms her pet and playmate. "Howdy' do," +said the stranger, in a serious tone. "What'll you +take for that cat?"</p> + +<p>The little girl made no reply, and the stranger, +opening the gate, came into the yard. She looked +weary, rather bedraggled, yet hurried: her air was +predominantly one of anxiety. "I'll give you a +quarter for that cat," she said. "I want an all-white +cat, but this one's only got that one gray spot over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +its eye, and I don't believe there's an all-white cat +left in town, leastways that anybody's willing to +part with. I'll give you twenty-five cents for it. I +haven't got it with me, but I'll promise to give it to +you day after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The little girl still made no reply, but continued to +stare, her eyes widening, and the caller spoke with +desperation.</p> + +<p>"See here," she said, "I <i>got</i> to have a whitish cat! +That'n isn't worth more'n a quarter, but I'll give +you thirty-five cents for her, money down, day after +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>At this, the frightened child set the cat upon the +ground and fled into the house. Florence Atwater +was left alone; that is to say, she was the only human +being in the yard, or in sight. Nevertheless, a +human voice spoke, not far behind her. It came +through a knot-hole in the fence, and it was a voice +almost of passion.</p> + +<p>"<i>You grab it!</i>"</p> + +<p>Florence stood in silence, motionless; there was a +solemnity about her. The voice exhorted. "My +goodness!" it said. "She didn't say she <i>wouldn't</i> sell +it, did she? You can bring her the money like you +said you would, can't you? I got <i>mine</i>, didn't I, almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +without any trouble at all! My Heavens! Ain't +Kitty Silver pretty near crazy? Just think of the +position we've put her into! I tell you, you <i>got</i> to!"</p> + +<p>But now Florence moved. She moved slowly +at first: then with more decision and rapidity.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That evening's dusk had deepened into blue night +when the two cousins, each with a scant, uneasy +dinner eaten, met by appointment in the alley behind +their mutual grandfather's place of residence, +and, having climbed the back fence, approached +the kitchen. Suddenly Florence lifted her right +hand, and took between thumb and forefinger a +lock of hair upon the back of Herbert's head.</p> + +<p>"Well, for Heavenses' sakes!" he burst out, justifiably +protesting.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" Florence warned him. "Kitty Silver's +talkin' to somebody in there. It might be +Aunt Julia! C'm'ere!"</p> + +<p>She led him to a position beneath an open window +of the kitchen. Here they sat upon the ground, +with their backs against the stone foundation of +the house, and listened to voices and the clink of +dishes being washed.</p> + +<p>"She's got another ole coloured darky woman in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +there with her," said Florence. "It's a woman +belongs to her church and comes to see her 'most +every evening. Listen; she's telling her about it. +I bet we could get the real truth of it maybe better +this way than if we went in and asked her right out. +Anyway, it isn't eavesdropping if you listen when +people are talkin' about you, yourself. It's only wrong +when it isn't any of your own bus—"</p> + +<p>"For Heavenses' sakes hush <i>up</i>!" her cousin +remonstrated. "Listen!"</p> + +<p>"'No'm, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say"—thus came +the voice of Mrs. Silver—"'no'm, Miss Julia, ma'am. +Them the same two cats you han' me, Miss Julia, +ma'am,' I say. 'Leas'wise,' I say, 'them the two +same cats whut was in nat closed-up brown basket +when I open it up an' take an' fix to wash 'em. Somebody +might 'a' took an' change 'em 'fo' they got to <i>me</i>,' +I say, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, but all the change happen +to 'em sence they been in charge of <i>me</i>, that's the gray +whut come off 'em whiles I washin' 'em an' dryin' +'em in corn meal and flannel. I dunno how much +<i>washin'</i> 'em change 'em, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say, +''cause how much they change or ain't change, +that's fer you to say and me not to jedge,' I say."</p> + +<p>"Lan' o' misery!" cried the visitor, chuckling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +delightedly. "I wonder how you done kep' you +face, Miss Kitty. What Miss Julia say?"</p> + +<p>A loud, irresponsible outburst of mirth on the +part of Mrs. Silver followed. When she could +again control herself, she replied more definitely. +"Miss Julia say, she say she ain't never hear no sech +outragelous sto'y in her life! She <i>tuck</i> on! Hallelujah! +An' all time, Miz Johnson, I give you my +word, I stannin' there holdin' nat basket, carryin' +on up hill an' down dale how them the same two +Berjum cats Mista Sammerses sen' her: an' trouble +enough dess ten'in' to that basket, lemme say to +you, Miz Johnson, as anybody kin tell you whutever +tried to take care o' two cats whut ain't yoosta each +other in the same basket. An' every blessed minute +I stannin' there, can't I hear that ole Miz Blatch nex' +do', out in her back yod an' her front yod, an' plum +out in the street, hollerin': 'Kitty? Kitty? Kitty?' +'<i>Yes!</i>' Miss Julia say, she say, 'Fine sto'y!' she +say. 'Them two cats you claim my Berjum cats, +they got short hair, an' they ain't the same age an' +they ain't even nowheres near the same <i>size</i>,' she say. +'One of 'em's as fat as <i>bofe</i> them Berjum cats,' she +say: 'an' it's on'y got one eye,' she say. 'Well, +Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say—'<i>one</i> thing; they come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +out white, all 'cept dess around that there skinnier +one's eye,' I say: 'dess the same you tell me they +goin' to,' I say. 'You right about <i>that</i> much, +ma'am!' I say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, me!" Mrs. Johnson moaned, worn with applausive +laughter. "What she respon' then?"</p> + +<p>"I set that basket down," said Kitty Silver, "an' +I start fer the do', whiles she unfasten the lid fer to +take one mo' look at 'em, I reckon: but open window +mighty close by, an' nat skinny white cat make one +jump, an' after li'l while I lookin' out thishere window +an' see that ole fat Miz Blatch's tom, waddlin' +crost the yod todes home."</p> + +<p>"What she doin' now?" Mrs. Johnson inquired.</p> + +<p>"Who? Miss Julia? She settin' out on the front +po'che talkin' to Mista Sammerses."</p> + +<p>"My name! How she goin' fix it with <i>him</i>, after +all thishere dishcumaraddle?"</p> + +<p>"Who? Miss Julia? Leave her alone, honey! +She take an' begin talk so fas' an' talk so sweet, no +young man ain't goin' to ricklect he ever give her +no cats, not till he's gone an' halfway home! But I +ain't tole you the en' of it, Miz Johnson, an' the en' +of it's the bes' part whut happen."</p> + +<p>"What's that, Miss Kitty?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look!" said Mrs. Silver. "Mista Atwater +gone in yonder, after I come out, an' ast whut all +them goin's-on about. Well suh, an' di'n' he come +walkin' out in my kitchen an' slip me two bright +spang new silbuh dolluhs right in my han'?"</p> + +<p>"My name!"</p> + +<p>"Yessuh!" said Mrs. Silver triumphantly. And +in the darkness outside the window Florence drew a +deep breath. "I'd of felt just awful about this," +she said, "if Noble Dill had given Aunt Julia those +Persian cats."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Herbert inquired, puzzled by her way of +looking at things. "I don't see why it would +make it any worse <i>who</i> gave 'em to her."</p> + +<p>"Well, it would," Florence said. "But anyway, +I think we did rather wrong. Did you notice what +Kitty Silver said about what grandpa did?"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I think we ought to tell him our share of it," +Florence returned thoughtfully. "I don't want to +go to bed to-night with all this on my mind, and +I'm going to find grandpa right now and confess +every bit of it to him."</p> + +<p>Herbert hopefully decided to go with her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_THREE" id="CHAPTER_THREE"></a>CHAPTER THREE</h3> + + +<p>Julia, like Herbert, had been a little puzzled by +Florence's expression of a partiality for the +young man, Noble Dill; it was not customary +for anybody to confess a weakness for him. However, +the aunt dismissed the subject from her mind, +as other matters pressed sharply upon her attention; +she had more worries than most people +guessed.</p> + +<p>The responsibilities of a lady who is almost officially +the prettiest person in a town persistently +claiming sixty-five thousand inhabitants are often +heavier than the world suspects, and there were +moments when Julia found the position so trying +that she would have preferred to resign. She was +a warm-hearted, appreciative girl, naturally unable +to close her eyes to sterling merit wherever it appeared: +and it was not without warrant that she +complained of her relatives. The whole family, including +the children, she said, regaled themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +with her private affairs as a substitute for theatre-going. +But one day, a week after the irretrievable +disappearance of Fifi and Mimi, she went so far as +to admit a note of unconscious confession into her +protest that she was getting pretty tired of being +mistaken for a three-ring circus! Such was her +despairing expression, and the confession lies in her +use of the word "three."</p> + +<p>The misleading moderation of "three" was pointed +out to her by her niece, whose mind at once +violently seized upon the word and divested it +of context—a process both feminine and instinctive, +for this child was already beginning to be +feminine. "Three!" she said. "Why, Aunt Julia, +you must be crazy! There's Newland Sanders and +Noble Dill and that old widower, Ridgley, that +grandpa hates so, and Mister Clairdyce and George +Plum and the two new ones from out of town that +Aunt Fanny Patterson said you had at church Sunday +morning—Herbert said he didn't like one of +'em's looks much, Aunt Julia. And there's Parker +Kent Usher and that funny-lookin' one with the +little piece of whiskers under his underlip that Noble +Dill got so mad at when they were calling, and Uncle +Joe laughed about, and I don't know who all! Anyhow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +there's an awful lot more than three, Aunt +Julia."</p> + +<p>Julia looked down with little favour upon the +talkative caller. Florence was seated upon the +shady steps of the veranda, and Julia, dressed for +a walk, occupied a wicker chair above her. "Julia, +dressed for a walk"—how scant the words! It was +a summer walk that Julia had dressed for: and she +was all too dashingly a picture of coolness on a hot +day: a brunette in murmurous white, though her +little hat was a film of blackest blue, and thus also +in belt and parasol she had almost matched the colour +of her eyes. Probably no human-made fabric +could have come nearer to matching them, though +she had once met a great traveller—at least he went +far enough in his search for comparisons—who told +her that the Czarina of Russia had owned a deep +sapphire of precisely the colour, but the Czarina's +was the only sapphire yet discovered that had it. +One of Newland Sanders's longest Poems-to-Julia +was entitled "Black Sapphires."</p> + +<p>Julia's harmonies in black sapphire were uncalled +for. If she really had been as kind as she was +too often capable of looking, she would have fastened +patches over both eyes—one patch would have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +useless—and she would have worn flat shoes and +patronized a dressmaker with genius enough to +misrepresent her. But Julia was not great enough +for such generosities: she should have been locked +up till she passed sixty; her sufferings deserve no +pity.</p> + +<p>And yet an attack of the mumps during the winter +had brought Julia more sympathy than the epidemic +of typhoid fever in the Old Ladies' Infirmary +brought all of the nine old ladies who were under +treatment there. Julia was confined to her room +for almost a month, during which a florist's wagon +seemed permanent before the house: and a confectioner's +frequently stood beside the florist's. Young +Florence, an immune who had known the mumps +in infancy, became an almost constant attendant +upon the patient, with the result that the niece +contracted an illness briefer than the aunt's, but +more than equalling it in poignancy, caused by the +poor child's economic struggle against waste. Florence's +convalescence took place in her own home +without any inquiries whatever from the outer +world, but Julia's was spent in great part at the telephone. +Even a poem was repeated to her by the +instrument:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p class="blockquot"> +<i>How the world blooms anew<br /> +To think that you<br /> +Can speak again,<br /> +Can hear<br /> +The words of men<br /> +And the dear<br /> +Own voice of you.</i><br /> +</p> + +<p>This was Newland Sanders. He was just out of +college, a reviewer, a poet, and once, momentarily, +an atheist. It was Newland who was present and +said such a remarkable thing when Julia had the accident +to her thumb-nail in closing the double doors +between the living-room and the library, where her +peculiar old father sat reading. "To see you suffer," +Newland said passionately as she nursed her injury:—"to +see you in pain, that is the one thing in the universe +which I feel beyond all my capacities. Do you +know, when you are made to suffer pain, then I feel +that there is no God!"</p> + +<p>This strong declaration struck Herbert as one +of the most impressive things he had ever heard, +though he could not account for its being said to +any aunt of his. Herbert had just dropped in +without the formality of ringing the bell, and had +paused in the hall, outside the open door of the living-room. +He considered the matter, after Newland +had spoken, and concluded to return to his own place<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +of residence without disturbing anybody at his +grandfather's. At home he found his mother and +father entertaining one of his uncles, one of his +aunts, two of his great-uncles, one of his great-aunts, +and one of his grown-up cousins, at cards: and he +proved to be warranted in believing that they would +all like to know what he had heard. Newland's +statement became quite celebrated throughout the +family: and Julia, who had perceived almost a sacred +something in his original fervour, changed her mind +after hearing the words musingly repeated, over and +over, by her fat old Uncle Joe.</p> + +<p>Florence thought proper to remind her of this to-day, +after Julia's protest containing the too moderately +confessional word "three."</p> + +<p>"If you don't want to be such a circus," the niece +continued, reasoning perfectly, "I don't see what +you always keep leadin' all of 'em on all the time +just the same for."</p> + +<p>"Who've you heard saying that, Florence?" her +aunt demanded.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Fanny Patterson," Florence replied absently. +"F'r instance, Aunt Julia, I don't see what +you want to go walking with Newland Sanders for, +when you said yourself you wished he was dead, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +somep'n, after there got to be so muck talk in the +family and everywhere about his sayin' all that about +the Bible when you hurt your thumb. All the +family——"</p> + +<p>Julia sighed profoundly. "I wish 'all the family' +would try to think about themselves for just a little +while! There's entirely too little self-centredness +among my relatives to suit me!"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's only because you're related to me that +<i>I</i> pay the very <i>slightest</i> attention to what goes on +here," Florence protested. "It's my own grandfather's +house, isn't it? Well, if you didn't live +here, and if you wasn't my own grandfather's daughter, +Aunt Julia, I wouldn't ever pay the <i>very</i> slightest +attention to you! Anyway, I don't <i>much</i> criticize all +these people that keep calling on you—anyway not +half as much as Herbert does. Herbert thinks he always +hass to act so critical, now his voice is changing."</p> + +<p>"At your age," said Julia, "my mind was on my +schoolbooks."</p> + +<p>"Why, Aunt Julia!" Florence exclaimed in +frank surprise. "Grandpa says just the opposite +from that. I've heard him say, time and time and +time again, you always <i>were</i> this way, ever since +you were four years old."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What way?" asked her aunt.</p> + +<p>"Like you are now, Aunt Julia. Grandpa says by +the time you were fourteen it got so bad he had to +get a new front gate, the way they leaned on it. +He says he hoped when you grew up he'd get a little +peace in his own house, but he says it's worse, and +never for one minute the livelong day can he——"</p> + +<p>"I know," Julia interrupted. "He talks like a +Christian Martyr and behaves like Nero. I might +warn you to keep away from him, by the way, Florence. +He says that either you or Herbert was over +here yesterday and used his spectacles to cut a +magazine with, and broke them. I wouldn't be +around here much if I were you until he's got over +it."</p> + +<p>"It must have been Herbert broke 'em," said +Florence promptly.</p> + +<p>"Papa thinks it was you. Kitty Silver told him +it was."</p> + +<p>"Mean ole reptile!" said Florence, alluding to Mrs. +Silver; then she added serenely, "Well, grandpa don't +get home till five o'clock, and it's only about a quarter +of two now. Aunt Julia, what are you waitin' +around here for?"</p> + +<p>"I told you; I'm going walking."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I mean: Who with?"</p> + +<p>Miss Atwater permitted herself a light moan. +"With Mr. Sanders and Mr. Ridgely, Florence."</p> + +<p>Florence's eyes grew large and eager. "Why, +Aunt Julia, I thought those two didn't speak to each +other any more!"</p> + +<p>"They don't," Julia assented in a lifeless voice. +"It just happened that Mr. Sanders and Mr. Ridgley +and Mr. Dill, all three, asked me to take a walk this +afternoon at two o'clock."</p> + +<p>"But Noble Dill isn't going?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Julia. "I was fortunate enough to +remember that I'd already promised someone else +when he asked me. That's what I didn't remember +when Mr. Ridgely asked me."</p> + +<p>"I'd have gone with Noble Dill," Florence said +firmly. "Noble Dill is my Very Ideal! I'd marry +him to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," her aunt remarked, "I heard +your mother telling somebody the other day that +you had said the same thing about the King of +Spain."</p> + +<p>Florence laughed. "Oh, that was only a passing +fancy," she said lightly. "Aunt Julia, what's +Newland Sanders supposed to do?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think he hasn't entered any business or profession +yet."</p> + +<p>"I bet he couldn't," her niece declared. "What's +that old Ridgely supposed to be? Just a widower?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind!"</p> + +<p>"And that George Plum's supposed to do something +or other around Uncle Joe's ole bank, isn't he?" +Florence continued.</p> + +<p>"'Supposed'!" Julia protested. "What is all +this 'supposed to be'? Where did you catch that +horrible habit? You know the whole family worries +over your superciliousness, Florence; but until +now I've always thought it was just the way your +face felt easiest. If it's going to break out in +your talk, too, it's time you began to cure yourself +of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it doesn't hurt anything!" Florence made +careless response, and, as she saw the thin figure of +young Mr. Sanders approaching in the distance, +"Look!" she cried, pointing. "Why, he doesn't +even <i>compare</i> to Noble Dill!"</p> + +<p>"Don't point at people!"</p> + +<p>"Well, he's nothing much to point at!" She lowered +her finger. "It's no depredation to me, Aunt +Julia, to give up pointing at Newland Sanders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +Atch'ly, I wouldn't give Noble Dill's little finger +for a hunderd and fifty Newland Sanderses!"</p> + +<p>Julia smiled faintly as she watched Mr. Sanders, +who seemed not yet to be aware of her, because he +thought it would be better to reach the gate and +lift his hat just there. "What <i>has</i> brought on all +this tenderness in favour of Mr. Dill, Florence?"</p> + +<p>Her niece's eyes, concentrated in thought, then +became dreamy. "I like him because he's so uncouth," +she said. "I think he's the uncouthest of +any person I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"'Uncouth'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Florence. "Herbert said I was uncouth, +and I looked it up in the ditchanary. It +said, 'Rare, exquisite, elegant, unknown, obs, unfamiliar, +strange,' and a whole lot else. I never +did know a word that means so much, I guess. What's +'obs' mean, Aunt Julia?"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Julia, rising, for Mr. Sanders had +made a little startled movement as he reached the +gate and caught sight of her; and now, straw hat in +hand, he was coming up the brick walk that led to the +veranda. His eyes were fixed upon Julia with an +intensity that seemed to affect his breathing; there +was a hushedness about him. And Florence, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +fascination, watched Julia's expression and posture +take on those little changes that always seemed demanded +of her by the approach of a young or youngish +man, or a nicely dressed old one. By almost +imperceptible processes the commonplace moment +became dramatic at once.</p> + +<p>"You!" said Newland in a low voice.</p> + +<p>And Julia, with an implication as flattering as the +gesture was graceful, did not wait till he was within +reach, but suddenly extended her welcoming hand at +arm's length. He sprang forward convulsively and +grasped it, as if forever.</p> + +<p>"You see my little niece?" Julia said. "I think +you know her."</p> + +<p>"Know her?" Mr. Sanders repeated; then roused +his faculties and gave Florence a few fingers dangling +coldly after their recent emotion. "Florence. Oh, +yes, Florence."</p> + +<p>Florence had not risen, but remained seated upon +the steps, her look and air committed to that mood of +which so much complaint had been made. "How +do you do," she said. "There's Mr. Ridgely."</p> + +<p>"Where?" Newland asked loudly.</p> + +<p>"Comin' in at the gate," said Florence. "He's +goin' walkin' with you, too."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>In this crisis, Mr. Sanders's feeling was obviously +one of startled anguish. He turned to Julia.</p> + +<p>"Why, this is terrible!" he said. "You told +me——"</p> + +<p>"Sh!" she warned him; and whispered hastily, +all in a breath: "<i>Couldn't-be-helped-explain-next-time-I-see-you.</i>" +Then she advanced a gracious step to +meet the newcomer.</p> + +<p>But the superciliousness of Florence visibly increased +with this advent: Mr. Ridgely was easily +old enough to be her grandfather, yet she seemed +to wish it evident that she would not have +cared for him even in that capacity. He was, in +truth, one of those widowers who feel younger than +ever, and behave as they feel. Since his loss he +had shown the greatest willingness to forego whatever +advantages age and experience had given him +over the descendants of his old friends and colleagues, +and his cheerfulness as well as his susceptibility +to all that was charming had begun to make +him so famous in the town that some of his contemporaries +seemed to know scarce another topic. +And Julia had a kinder heart, as her father bitterly +complained, than most girls.</p> + +<p>The widower came, holding out to her a votive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +cluster of violets, a pink rose among them, their +stems wrapped in purple; and upon the lapel of his +jovial flannel coat were other violets about a pink +rosebud.</p> + +<p>"How pretty of you!" said Julia, taking the offering; +and as she pinned it at her waist, she added +rather nervously, "I believe you know Mr. Sanders; +he is going with us."</p> + +<p>She was warranted in believing the gentlemen to be +acquainted, because no longer ago than the previous +week they both had stated, in her presence and simultaneously, +that any further communication between +them would be omitted for life. Julia realized, +of course, that Mr. Ridgely must find the present +meeting as trying as Newland did, and, to help him +bear it, she contrived to make him hear the hurried +whisper: "<i>Couldn't-be-helped-explain-some-day.</i>"</p> + +<p>Then with a laugh not altogether assured, she +took up her parasol. "Shall we be starting?" she +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Here's Noble Dill," said Florence, "I guess he's +goin' to try to go walkin' with you, too, Aunt +Julia."</p> + +<p>Julia turned, for in fact the gate at that moment +clicked behind the nervously advancing form of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +Noble Dill. He came with, a bravado that was +merely pitiable and he tried to snap his Orduma +cigarette away with thumb and forefinger in a careless +fashion, only to see it publicly disappear through +an open cellar window of the house.</p> + +<p>"I hope there's no excelsior down there," said +Newland Sanders. "A good many houses have +burned to the ground just that way."</p> + +<p>"It fell on the cement floor," Florence reported, +peering into the window. "It'll go out pretty soon."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose we might as well do the same +thing," said Newland, addressing Julia first and Mr. +Dill second. "Miss Atwater and I are just starting +for a walk."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ridgely also addressed the new arrival. "Miss +Atwater and I are just starting for a walk."</p> + +<p>"You see, Noble," said the kind-hearted Julia, +"I did tell you I had another engagement."</p> + +<p>"I came by here," Mr. Dill began in a tone +commingling timidity, love, and a fatal stubbornness; +"I came by here—I mean I just happened to be +passing—and I thought if it was a walking-<i>party</i>, +well, why not go along? That's the way it struck +me." He paused, coughing for courage and trying +to look easily genial, but not succeeding; then he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +added, "Well, as I say, that's the way it struck me—as +it were. I suppose we might as well be starting."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we might," Newland Sanders said quickly; +and he placed himself at Julia's left, seizing upon her +parasol and opening it with determination.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ridgely had kept himself closely at the lady's +right. "You were mistaken, my boy," he said, +falsely benevolent. "It isn't a party—though +there's Miss Florence, Noble. Nobody's asked her +to go walking to-day!"</p> + +<p>Now, Florence took this satire literally. She +jumped up and said brightly: "I just as soon! +Let's <i>do</i> have a walking-party. I just as soon +walk with Mr. Dill as anybody, and we can all +keep together, kind of." With that, she stepped +confidently to the side of her selected escort, who +appeared to be at a loss how to avert her kindness.</p> + +<p>There was a moment of hesitation, during which +a malevolent pleasure slightly disfigured the countenances +of the two gentlemen with Julia; but when +Florence pointed to a house across the street and +remarked, "There's Great-Uncle Milford and Aunt +C'nelia; they been lookin' out of their second guestroom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +window about half an hour," Julia uttered an +exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Murder!" she said, and moved with decision +toward the gate. "Let's go!"</p> + +<p>Thus the little procession started, Mr. Sanders +and the sprightly widower at Beauty's side, with +Florence and Mr. Dill so close behind that, before +they had gone a block, Newland found it necessary +to warn this rear rank that the heels of his new shoes +were not part of the pavement. After that the rear +rank, a little abashed, consented to fall back some +paces. Julia's heightened colour, meanwhile, was +little abated by some slight episodes attending the +progress of the walking-party. Her Aunt Fanny +Patterson, rocking upon a veranda, rose and evidently +called to someone within the house, whereupon +she was joined by her invalid sister, Aunt +Harriet, with a trained nurse and two elderly domestics, +a solemnly whispering audience. And in the +front yard of "the Henry Atwater house," at the +next corner, Herbert underwent a genuine bedazzlement, +but he affected more. His violent gaze dwelt +upon Florence, and he permitted his legs slowly to +crumple under him, until, just as the party came +nearest him, he lay prostrate upon his back in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +swoon. Afterward he rose and for a time followed +in a burlesque manner; then decided to return home.</p> + +<p>"Old heathen!" said Florence, glancing back over +her shoulder as he disappeared from view.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dill was startled from a reverie inspired by +the back of Julia's head. "'Heathen'?" he said, in +plaintive inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I meant Herbert," Florence informed him. +"Cousin Herbert Atwater. He was following us, +walking Dutch."</p> + +<p>"'Cousin Herbert Atwater'?" said Noble dreamily. +"'Dutch'?"</p> + +<p>"He won't any more," said Florence. "He +always hass to show off, now his voice is changing." +She spoke, and she also walked, with dignity—a +rather dashing kind of dignity, which was what Herbert's +eccentricity of gait intended to point out injuriously. +In fact, never before had Florence been +so impressed with herself; never before, indeed, had +she been a member of a grown-up non-family party; +never before had she gone walking with an actual +adult young man for her escort; and she felt that +she owed it to her position to appear in as brilliant +an aspect as possible. She managed to give herself a +rhythmical, switching motion, causing her kneelength<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +skirt to swing from side to side—a pomp that +brought her a great deal of satisfaction as she now +and then caught the effect by twisting her neck +enough to see down behind, over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>But her poise was temporarily threatened when +the walking-party passed her own house. Her +mother happened to be sitting near an open window +upstairs, and, after gazing forth with warm interest +at Julia and her two outwalkers, Mrs. Atwater's +astonished eyes fell upon Florence taking care of +the overflow. Florence bowed graciously.</p> + +<p>"Florence!" her mother called down from the window: +whereupon both Florence and her Aunt Julia +were instantly apprehensive, for Mrs. George Atwater's +lack of tact was a legend in the family. +"Florence! Where on earth are you going?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" Florence thought best to respond. +"Never mind!"</p> + +<p>"You'd better come <i>in</i>," Mrs. Atwater called, her +voice necessarily louder as the party moved onward.</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" Florence called back.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater leaned out of the window. "Where +are you going? Come back and get your <i>hat</i>. You'll +get a <i>sunstroke</i>!"</p> + +<p>Florence was able to conceal her indignation, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +merely waved a hand in airy dismissal as they passed +from Mrs. Atwater's sight, leaving her still shouting.</p> + +<p>The daughter smiled negligently and shrugged +her shoulders. "She'll get over it!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"My mother. She was the one makin' all that +noise," said Florence. "Sometimes I do what she +says: sometimes I don't. It's all accordings to the +way I feel." She looked up in her companion's +face, and her expression became politely fond as she +thought how uncouth he was, for in Florence's eye +Noble Dill was truly rare, exquisite, and unfamiliar; +and she believed that he was obs, too, whatever +that meant. She often thought about him, and no +longer ago than yesterday she had told Kitty Silver +that she couldn't see "how Aunt Julia could <i>look</i> at +anybody else!"</p> + +<p>Florence's selection of Noble Dill for the bright +favourite of her dreams was one of her own mysteries. +Noble was not beautiful, neither did he present to the +ordinary eye of man anything especially rare, exquisite, +unfamiliar, or even so distinguished as to be +obsolete. He was about twenty-two, but not one of +those book-read sportsmen of that age, confident<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +in clothes and manner, easy travellers and debonair; +that is to say, Noble was not of the worldly type +twenty-two. True, he had graduated from the High-school +before entering his father's Real Estate and +Insurance office, but his geographical experiences (in +particular) had been limited to three or four railway +excursions, at special rates, to such points of interest +as Mammoth Cave and Petoskey, Michigan. His +other experiences were not more sparkling, and +except for the emotions within him, he was in all the +qualities of his mind as well as in his bodily contours +and the apparel sheltering the latter, the most +commonplace person in Florence's visible world. The +inner areas of the first and second fingers of his left +hand bore cigarette stains, seemingly indelible: the +first and second fingers of his right hand were +strongly ornamented in a like manner; tokens proving +him ambidextrous to but a limited extent, however. +Moreover, his garments and garnitures were not +comparable to those of either Newland Sanders or +that dapper antique, Mr. Ridgely. Noble's straw +hat might have brightened under the treatment of +lemon juice or other restorative; his scarf was +folded to hide a spot that worked steadily toward a +complete visibility, and some recent efforts upon his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +trousers with a tepid iron, in his bedchamber at +home, counteracted but feebly that tendency of cloth +to sculpture itself in hummocks upon repeated +pressure of the human knee.</p> + +<p>All in all, nothing except the expression of Noble's +face and the somewhat ill-chosen pansy in his buttonhole +hinted of the remarkable. Yet even here was a +thing for which he was not responsible himself; it +was altogether the work of Julia. What her work +was, in the case of Noble Dill, may be expressed +in a word—a word used not only by the whole Atwater +family connection, in completely expressing +Noble's condition, but by Noble's own family connection +as well. This complete word was "awful."</p> + +<p>Florence was the one exception on the Atwater +side: she was far, far from thinking or speaking of +Noble Dill in that way, although, until she looked +up "uncouth" in Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, +she had not found suitable means to describe him. +And now, as she walked at his side, she found her +sensations to be nothing short of thrilling. For it +must be borne in mind that this was her first and +wholly unexpected outburst into society; the experience +was that of an obscure aerolite suddenly become +a noble meteor. She longed to say or do something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +magnificent—something strange and exhilarating, +in keeping with her new station in life.</p> + +<p>It was this longing, and by no means a confirmed +unveracity, that prompted her to amplify her comments +upon her own filial independence. "Oh, I +guess I pretty near never do anything I don't want +to," she said. "I kind of run the house to suit myself. +I guess if the truth had to be told, I just about run +the whole Atwater family, when it comes to that!"</p> + +<p>The statement was so noticeable that it succeeded +in turning Noble's attention from the back of Julia's +head. "You do?" he said. "Well, that seems +queer," he added absently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know!" she laughed. In her increasing +exaltation things appeared actually to be as she +wished them to be; an atmosphere both queenly and +adventurous seemed to invest her, and any remnants +of human caution in her were assuaged by the circumstance +that her Aunt Julia's attention was subject +to the strong demands necessarily imposed upon +anybody taking a walk between two gentlemen who +do not "speak" to each other. "Oh, I don't know," +said Florence. "The family's used to it by this +time, I guess. The way I do things, they haf to be, +I guess. When they don't like it I don't say much for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +a while, then I just——" She paused, waiting for +her imagination to supply a sequel to the drama just +sketched. "Well, I guess they kind of find out they +better step around pretty lively," she concluded +darkly. "They don't bother around <i>too</i> much!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose not," said Noble, his vacancy and +credulity continuing to dovetail perfectly.</p> + +<p>"You bet not!" the exuberant Florence thought +proper to suggest as a preferable expression. And +then she had an inspiration to enliven his dreamy interest +in her conversation. "Grandpa, he's the one +I kind of run most of all of 'em. He's about fifty +or sixty, and so he hasn't got too much sense. What +I mean, he hasn't got too much sense <i>left</i>, you know. +So I haf to sort of take holt every now and then." +She lowered her voice a little, some faint whisper of +discretion reaching her inward ear. "Aunt Julia +can't do a thing with him. I guess that's maybe the +reason she kind of depen's on me so much; or anyway +somep'n like that. You know, f'r instance, I had +to help talk grandpa into lettin' her send to New +York for her things. Aunt Julia gets all her things in +New York."</p> + +<p>Undeniably, Mr. Dill's interest flickered up. +"<i>Things</i>?" he repeated inquiringly. "Her things?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. Everything she wears, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"What I was goin' to tell you," Florence continued, +"you know grandpa just about hates everybody. +Anyhow, he'd like to have some peace and quiet once +in a while in his own house, he says, instead of all +this moil and turmoil, and because the doctor said +all the matter with her was she eats too much candy, +and they keep sendin' more all the time—and there's +somep'n the trouble with grandpa: it makes him sick +to smell violets: he had it ever since he was a little +boy, and he can't help it; and he hates animals, and +they keep sendin' her Airedales and Persian kittens, +and then there was that alligator came from +Florida and upset Kitty Silver terribly—and so, +you see, grandpa just hates the whole everlasting +business."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dill nodded and spoke with conviction: +"He's absolutely right; absolutely!"</p> + +<p>"Well, some ways he is," said Florence; and she +added confidentially: "The trouble is, he seems to +think you're about as bad as any of 'em."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Well</i>!" Florence exclaimed, with upward gestures +both of eye and of hand, to signify what she left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +untold of Mr. Atwater's orations upon his favourite +subject: Noble Dill. "It's torrable!" she added.</p> + +<p>Noble breathed heavily, but a thought struggled +in him and a brightening appeared upon him. "You +mean——" he began. "Do you mean it's terrible +for your Aunt Julia? Do you mean his injustice +about me makes her feel terribly?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Florence. "No: I mean the way he +goes on about everybody. But Aunt Julia's kind of +used to it. And anyhow you needn't worry about +him 'long as I'm on your side. He won't do anything +much to you if I say not to. Hardly anything +at all." And then, with almost a tenderness, as she +marked the visibly insufficient reassurance of her +companion, she said handsomely: "He won't say a +word. I'll tell him not to."</p> + +<p>Noble was dazed; no novelty, for he had been dazed +almost continually during the past seven months, +since a night when dancing with Julia, whom he had +known all his life, he "noticed for the first time what +she looked like." (This was his mother's description.) +Somewhere, he vaguely recalled, he had +read of the extraordinary influence possessed by +certain angelic kinds of children; he knew, too, what +favourite grandchildren can do with grandfathers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +The effect upon him was altogether base; he immediately +sought by flattery to increase and retain +Florence's kindness. "I always <i>thought</i> you seemed +to know more than most girls of your age," he +began.</p> + +<p>It was a great afternoon for Florence. From +time to time she glanced over her shoulder at the +switching skirt, and increased its radius of action, +though this probably required more exercise, compared +to the extent of ground covered, than any lady +member of a walking-party had ever before taken, +merely as a pedestrian. Meanwhile, she chattered +on, but found time to listen to the pleasant things +said to her by her companion; and though most +of these were, in truth, rather vague, she was won +to him more than he knew. Henceforth she was +to be his champion indeed, sometimes with greater +energy than he would need.</p> + +<p>... The two were left alone together by Julia's +gate when the walk (as short as Julia dared to make +it) was over.</p> + +<p>"Well," Florence said, "I've had quite a nice time. +I hope you enjoyed yourself nicely, too, Mr. Dill." +Then her eye rose to the overhanging branch of a +shade-tree near them. "Would you like to see me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +chin myself?" she asked, stepping beneath the +branch. "I bet I could skin-the-cat on that limb! +Would you like to see me do it?"</p> + +<p>"I would <i>so</i>!" the flatterer enthused.</p> + +<p>She became thoughtful, remembering that she +was now a lady who took walks with grown gentlemen. +"I can, but I won't," she said. "I used to +do lots of things like that. I used to whenever I felt +like it. I could chin myself four times and Herbert +only three. I was lots better than Herbert when I +used to do all kinds of things like that."</p> + +<p>"Were you?"</p> + +<p>She laughed as in a musing retrospect of times +gone by. "I guess I used to be a pretty queer kind +of a girl in those days," she said. "Well—I s'pose +we ought to say good-bye for the present, so to speak, +Mr. Dill."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so."</p> + +<p>"Well——" She stood looking at him expectantly, +but he said nothing more. "Well, good-bye for +the present, Mr. Dill," she said again, and, turning, +walked away with dignity. But a moment later she +forgot all about her skirt and scampered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_FOUR" id="CHAPTER_FOUR"></a>CHAPTER FOUR</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Dill, Noble's mother, talked of organizing +a Young Men's Mothers' Club +against Julia, nevertheless she acknowledged +that in one solitary way Noble was being improved +by the experience. His two previous attacks +of love (one at twelve, and the other at eighteen) +had been incomparably lighter, and the changes +in him, noted at home, merely a slight general +irritability and a lack of domestic punctuality due +to too much punctuality elsewhere. But, when his +Julia Atwater trouble came, the very first symptom +he manifested was a strange new effort to become +beautiful; his mother even discovered that he +sometimes worked with pumice stone upon the cigarette +stains on his fingers.</p> + +<p>The most curious thing about his condition was +that for a long time he took it for granted that his +family did not know what was the matter with him; +and this shows as nothing else could the meekness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +and tact of the Dills; for, excluding bad cooks and +the dangerously insane, the persons most disturbing +to the serenity of households are young lovers. But +the world has had to accommodate itself to them +because young lovers cannot possibly accommodate +themselves to the world. For the young lover there +is no general life of the species; for him the universe +is a delicate blush under a single bonnet. He has +but an irritated perception of every vital thing in +nature except the vital thing under this bonnet; all +else is trivial intrusion. But whatever does concern +the centrifugal bonnet, whatever concerns it in the +remotest—ah, <i>then</i> he springs to life! So Noble Dill +sat through a Sunday dinner at home, seemingly +drugged to a torpor, while the family talk went on +about him; but when his father, in the course of +some remarks upon politics, happened to mention +the name of the county-treasurer, Charles J. Patterson, +Noble's startled attention to the conversation +was so conspicuous as to be disconcerting. Mrs. +Dill signalled with her head that comment should be +omitted, and Mr. Dill became, for the moment, one +factor in a fairly clear example of telepathic communication, +for it is impossible to believe that his +wife's almost imperceptible gesture was what caused<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +him to remember that Charles J. Patterson was Julia +Atwater's uncle.</p> + +<p>That name, Charles J. Patterson, coming thus +upon Noble's ear, was like an unexpected shrine on +the wayside where plods the fanatic pilgrim; and +yet Mr. Patterson was the most casual of Julia's +uncles-by-marriage: he neither had nor desired any +effect upon her destiny. To Noble he seemed a being +ineffably privileged and fateful, and something of the +same quality invested the wooden gateposts in front +of Julia's house; invested everything that had to do +with her. What he felt about her father, that +august old danger, himself, was not only the uncalled-for +affection inevitable toward Julia's next of +kin, but also a kind of horror due to the irresponsible +and awful power possessed by a sacred girl's +parent. Florence's offer of protection had not +entirely reassured the young lover, and, in sum, +Noble loved Mr. Atwater, but often, in his reveries, +when he had rescued him from drowning or being +burned to death, he preferred to picture the peculiar +old man's injuries as ultimately fatal.</p> + +<p>For the other Atwaters his feeling held less of +apprehension, more of tenderness; and whenever he +saw one of them he became deferential and a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +short of breath. Thus, on a sunny afternoon, having +been home to lunch after his morning labour +downtown, he paused in passing young Herbert's +place of residence and timidly began a conversation +with this glamoured nephew. It happened that +during the course of the morning Herbert had chosen +a life career for himself; he had decided to become a +scientific specialist, an entomologist; and he was now +on his knees studying the manners and customs of the +bug inhabitants of the lawn before the house, employing +for his purpose a large magnifying lens, or +"reading glass." (His discovery of this implement +in the attic, coincidentally with his reading a recent +"Sunday Supplement" article on bugs, had led to +his sudden choice of a vocation.)</p> + +<p>"Did somebody—ah, have any of the family lost +anything, Herbert?" Noble asked in a gentle voice, +speaking across the fence.</p> + +<p>Herbert did not look up, nor did he relax the +scientific frown upon his brow. "No," he said. +"They always <i>are</i> losin' things, espesh'ly Aunt Julia, +when she comes over here, or anywheres else; but I +wouldn't waste <i>my</i> time lookin' for any old earrings +or such. I got more important things to do on +my hands."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Has</i> your Aunt Julia lost an earring, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Her? Well, she nearly always <i>has</i> lost somep'n +or other, but that isn't bother'n' <i>me</i> any. I got +better things to do with my time." Herbert spoke +without interrupting his occupation or relaxing his +forehead. "Nacher'l history is a <i>little</i> more important +to the inhabitants of our universe than a lot +o' worthless jew'lry, I guess," he continued; and his +pride in discovering that he could say things like +this was so great that his frown gave way temporarily +to a look of pleased surprise, then came back +again to express an importance much increased. He +rose, approached the fence, and condescended to +lean upon it. "I don't guess there's one person in +a thousand," he said, "that knows what they <i>ought</i> +to know about our inseck friends."</p> + +<p>"No," Mr. Dill agreed readily. "I guess that's +so. I guess you're right about that, Herbert. When +did your Aunt Julia lose the earring, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"I d' know," said Herbert. "Now, you take my +own father and mother: What do they know? Well, +mighty little. They may have had to learn a little +teeny bit about insecks when they were in school, +but whatever little it was they went and forgot it +proba'ly long before they were married. Well, that's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +no way. F'r instance, you take a pinchin' bug: What +do you suppose my father and mother know about +its position in the inseck world?"</p> + +<p>"Well——" said Noble uneasily. "Well——" He +coughed, and hastened to add: "But as I was saying, +if she lost her earring somewhere in your yard, +or——"</p> + +<p>The scientific boy evidently did not follow this +line of thought, for he interrupted: "Why, they +wouldn't know a thing about it, and a pinchin' bug +isn't one of the highest insecks at all. Ants are way +up compared to most pinchin' bugs. Ants are +way up anyway. Now, you take an ant——" He +paused. "Well, everybody ought to know a lot +more'n they do about ants. It takes time, and you +got to study 'em the right way, and of course there's +lots of people wouldn't know how to do it. I'm goin' +to get a book I been readin' about. It's called +'The Ant.'"</p> + +<p>For a moment Noble was confused; he followed his +young friend's discourse but hazily, and Herbert +pronounced the word "ant" precisely as he pronounced +the word "aunt." The result was that +Noble began to say something rather dreamy concerning +the book just mentioned, but, realizing that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +he was being misunderstood, he changed his murmur +into a cough, and inquired:</p> + +<p>"When was she over here, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Your Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>"Yesterday evening," said Herbert. "Now, f'r +instance, you take a common lightning-bug——"</p> + +<p>"Did she lose it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Lose what?"</p> + +<p>"Her earring."</p> + +<p>"I d' know," said Herbert. "You take the +common lightning-bug or, as it's called in some +countries, the firefly——"</p> + +<p>He continued, quoting and misquoting the entomological +authority of the recent "Sunday Supplement"; +but his friend on the other side of the fence +was inattentive to the lecture. Noble's mind was +occupied with a wonder; he had realized, though +dimly, that here was he, trying to make starry Julia +the subject of a conversation with a person who had +the dear privilege of being closely related to her—and +preferred to talk about bugs.</p> + +<p>Herbert talked at considerable length about +lightning-bugs, but as his voice happened rather +precociously to be already in a state of adolescent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +change, the sound was not soothing; yet Noble +lingered. Nephews were queer, but this one was +Julia's, and he finally mentioned her again, as incidental +to lightning-bugs; whereupon the mere +hearer of sounds became instantly a listener to words.</p> + +<p>"Well, and then I says," Herbert continued;—"I +says: 'It's phosphorus, Aunt Julia.' I guess +there's hardly anybody in the world doesn't know +more than Aunt Julia, except about dresses and +parasols and every other useless thing under the sun. +She says: 'My! I always thought it was sulphur!' +Said nobody ever <i>told</i> her it wasn't sulphur! I asked +her: I said: 'You mean to sit there and tell me you +don't know the difference?' And she says: 'I +don't care one way or the other,' she says. She +said she just as soon a lightning-bug made his light +with sulphur as with phosphorus; it didn't make any +difference to her, she says, and they could go ahead +and make their light any way they wanted, <i>she</i> +wouldn't interfere! I had a whole hatful of 'em, and +she told me not to take 'em into their house, because +grandpa hates insecks as much as he does animals +and violets, and she said they never owned a microscope +or a magnifying-glass in their lives, and +wouldn't let me hunt for one. All in the world she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +knows is how to sit on the front porch and say: 'Oh +you don't mean <i>that!</i>' to somebody like Newland +Sanders or that ole widower!"</p> + +<p>"When?" Noble asked impulsively. "When did +she say that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I d' know," said Herbert. "I expect she +proba'ly says it to somebody or other about every +evening there is."</p> + +<p>"She does?"</p> + +<p>"Florence says so," Herbert informed him carelessly. +"Florence goes over to grandpa's after dark +and sits on the ground up against the porch and +listens."</p> + +<p>Noble first looked startled then uneasily reminiscent. +"I don't believe Florence ought to do that," +he said gravely.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> wouldn't do it!" Herbert was emphatic.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Herbert. I'm glad you wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," the manly boy declared. "You wouldn't +never catch <i>me</i> takin' my death o' cold sittin' on the +damp grass in the night air just to listen to a lot o' +tooty-tooty about 'I've named a star for you,' and +all such. You wouldn't catch me——"</p> + +<p>Noble partly concealed a sudden anguish. "Who?" +he interrupted. "Who did she say <i>that</i> to?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She didn't. They say it to her, and she says? +'Oh, you don't mean that!' and of course then they +haf to go on and say some more. Florence says——" +He checked himself. "Oh, I forgot! I promised +Florence I wouldn't tell anything about all this."</p> + +<p>"It's safe," Noble assured him quickly. "I'm +quite a friend of Florence's and it's absolutely safe +with me. I won't speak of it to anybody, Herbert. +Who was it told her he'd named a star for her?"</p> + +<p>"It was the way some ole poem began. Newland +Sanders wrote it. Florence found it under Aunt +Julia's sofa-cushions and read it all through, but <i>I</i> +wouldn't wade through all that tooty-tooty for a +million dollars, and I told her to put it back before +Aunt Julia noticed. Well, about every day he +writes her a fresh one, and then in the evening he +stays later than the rest, and reads 'em to her—and +you ought to hear grandpa when <i>he</i> gets to talkin' +about it!"</p> + +<p>"He's perfectly right," said Noble. "Perfectly! +What does he say when he talks about it, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he says all this and that; and then he kind +of mutters around, and you can't tell just what all +the words are exactly, so't he can deny it if any o' +the family accuses him of swearing or anything."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +And Herbert added casually: "He was kind of goin' +on like that about you, night before last."</p> + +<p>"About <i>me</i>! Why, what could he say about <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, all this and that."</p> + +<p>"But what did he find to say?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he heard her tellin' you how you oughtn't +to smoke so many cigarettes and all about how it was +killin' you, and you sayin' you guessed it wouldn't +matter if you <i>did</i> die, and Aunt Julia sayin' 'Oh, +you don't mean that,' and all this and such and so on, +you know. He can hear anything on the porch +pretty good from the lib'ary; and Florence told me +about that, besides, because she was sittin' in the +grass and all. She told Great-Uncle Joe and Aunt +Hattie about it, too."</p> + +<p>"My heavens!" Noble gasped, as for the first time +he realized to what trumpeting publicity that seemingly +hushed and moonlit bower, sacred to Julia, +had been given over. He gulped, flushed, repeated +"My heavens!" and then was able to add, with a +feeble suggestion of lightness: "I suppose your +grandfather understood it was just a sort of joke, +didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Herbert, and continued in a friendly +way, for he was flattered by Noble's interest in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +remarks, and began to feel a liking for him. "No. +He said Aunt Julia only talked like that because she +couldn't think of anything else to say, and it was +wearin' him out. He said all the good it did was to +make you smoke more to make her think how reckless +you were; but the worst part of it was, he'd be +the only one to suffer, because it blows all through +the house and he's got to sit in it. He said he just +could stand the smell of <i>some</i> cigarettes, but if you +burned any more o' yours on his porch he was goin' +to ask your father to raise your salary for collectin' +real-estate rents, so't you'd feel able to buy some real +tobacco. He——"</p> + +<p>But the flushed listener felt that he had heard as +much as he was called upon to bear; and he interrupted, +in a voice almost out of control, to say +that he must be "getting on downtown." His young +friend, diverted from bugs, showed the greatest willingness +to continue the narrative indefinitely, evidently +being in possession of copious material; but +Noble turned to depart. An afterthought detained +him. "Where was it she lost her earring?"</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Your Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>I</i> didn't say she lost any earring," Herbert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +returned. "I said she always <i>was</i> losin' 'em: I +didn't say she did."</p> + +<p>"Then you didn't mean——"</p> + +<p>"No," said Herbert, "<i>I</i> haven't heard of her losin' +anything at all, lately." Here he added: "Well, +grandpa kept goin' on about you, and he told her——Well, +so long!" And gazed after the departing Mr. +Dill in some surprise at the abruptness of the latter's +leave-taking. Then, wondering how the back of +Noble's neck could have got itself so fiery sunburnt, +Herbert returned to his researches in the grass.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The peaceful street, shady and fragrant with +summer, was so quiet that the footfalls of the striding +Noble were like an interruption of coughing in a silent +church. As he seethed adown the warm sidewalk the +soles of his shoes smote the pavement, for mentally he +was walking not upon cement but upon Mr. Atwater.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously his pace presently became slower +for a more concentrated brooding upon this slanderous +old man who took advantage of his position to +poison his daughter's mind against the only one of +her suitors who cared in the highest way. And +upon this there came an infinitesimal consolation in +the midst of anguish, for he thought of what Herbert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +had told him about Mr. Newland Sanders's poems +to Julia, and he had a strong conviction that one time +or another Mr. Atwater must have spoken even +more disparagingly of these poems and their author +than he had of Orduma cigarettes and their smoker. +Perhaps the old man was not altogether vile.</p> + +<p>This charitable moment passed. He recalled the +little moonlit drama on the embowered veranda, +when Julia, in her voice of plucked harp strings, told +him that he smoked too much, and he had said it +didn't matter; nobody would care much if he died—and +Julia said gently that his mother would, and +other people, too; he mustn't talk so recklessly. Out +of this the old eavesdropper had viciously represented +him to be a poser, not really reckless at all; +had insulted his cigarettes and his salary. Well, +Noble would show him! He had doubts about +being able to show Mr. Atwater anything important +connected with the cigarettes or the salary, but he +<i>could</i> prove how reckless he was. With that, a +vision formed before him: he saw Julia and her father +standing spellbound at a crossing while a smiling +youth stood directly between the rails in the middle +of the street and let a charging trolley-car destroy +him—not instantly, for he would live long enough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +to whisper, as the stricken pair bent over him: "Now, +Julia, which do you believe: your father, or me?" +And then with a slight, dying sneer: "Well, Mr. +Atwater, is <i>this</i> reckless enough to suit you?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Town squirrels flitted along their high paths in +the shade-tree branches above the embittered young +lover, and he noticed them not at all, which was but +little less than he noticed the elderly human couple +who observed him from a side-yard as he passed by. +Mr. and Mrs. Burgess had been happily married for +fifty-three years and four months. Mr. Burgess lay +in a hammock between two maple trees, and was +soothingly swung by means of a string connecting +the hammock and the rocking-chair in which sat Mrs +Burgess, acting as a mild motor for both the chair +and the hammock. "That's Noble Dill walking +along the sidewalk," Mrs. Burgess said, interpreting +for her husband's failing eyes. "I bowed to him, +but he hardly seemed to see us and just barely lifted +his hat. He needn't be cross with <i>us</i> because some +other young man's probably taking Julia Atwater +out driving!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he need!" Mr. Burgess declared. "A boy in +his condition needs to be cross with everything.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +Sometimes they get so cross they go and drink liquor. +Don't you remember?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "I remember once!" she assented, +and laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's a terrible time of life," her husband +went on. "Poets and suchlike always take on about +young love as if it were a charming and romantic +experience, but really it's just a series of mortifications. +The young lover is always wanting to do +something dashing and romantic and Sir Walter +Raleigh-like, but in ordinary times about the wildest +thing he can do, if he can afford it, is to learn to run +a Ford. And he can't stand a word of criticism; he +can't stand being made the least little bit of fun of; +and yet all the while his state of mind lays him +particularly open to all the things he can't stand. He +can't stand anything, and he has to stand everything. +Why, it's a <i>horrible</i> time of life, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," she assented placidly. "I'm glad we +don't have to go through it again, Freddie; though +you're only eighty-two, and with a girl like Julia +Atwater around nobody ought to be sure."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_FIVE" id="CHAPTER_FIVE"></a>CHAPTER FIVE</h3> + + +<p>Although Noble had saluted the old couple +so crossly, thus unconsciously making +them, as he made the sidewalk, proxy for +Mr. Atwater, so to speak, yet the sight of them +penetrated his outer layers of preoccupation and had +an effect upon him. In the midst of his suffering his +imagination paused for a shudder: What miserable +old gray shadows those two were! Thank Heaven +he and Julia could never be like that! And in the +haze that rose before his mind's eye he saw himself +leading Julia through years of adventure in far +parts of the world: there were glimpses of himself +fighting grotesque figures on the edge of Himalayan +precipices at dawn, while Julia knelt by the tent +on the glacier and prayed for him. He saw head-waiters +bowing him and Julia to tables in "strange, +foreign cafés," and when they were seated, and he +had ordered dishes that amazed her, he would say +in a low voice: "Don't look now, but do you see +that heavy-shouldered man with the insignia, sitting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +with that adventuress and those eight officers who +are really his guards? Don't be alarmed, Julia, but I +am here to <i>get</i> that man! Perhaps you remember +what your father once said of me? Now, when +what I have to do here is done, perhaps you may wish +to write home and mention a few things to that old +man!" And then a boy's changing voice seemed to +sound again close by: "He said he just could stand +the smell of <i>some</i> cigarettes, but if you burned any +more o' yours on his porch——" And Noble +came back miserably to town again.</p> + +<p>From an upper window of a new stucco house two +maidens of nineteen peered down at him. The shade +of a striped awning protected the window from the +strong sun and the maidens from the sight of man—the +latter protection being especially fortunate, since +they were preparing to take a conversational afternoon +nap, were robed with little substance, and their +heads appeared to be antlered; for they caught +sight of Noble just as they were preparing to +put silk-and-lace things they called "caps" on their +heads.</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" the visiting one asked.</p> + +<p>"It's Noble Dill; he's kind of one of the crowd."</p> + +<p>"Is he nice?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, sort of. Kind of shambles around."</p> + +<p>"Looks like last year's straw hat to me," the +visiting one giggled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he tries to dress—lately, that is—but he +never did know how."</p> + +<p>"Looks mad about something."</p> + +<p>"Yes. He's one of the ones in love with that +Julia Atwater I told you about."</p> + +<p>"Has he got any chance with her?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill? Mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Is he much in love with her?"</p> + +<p>"'Much'? <i>Murder!</i>"</p> + +<p>The visiting one turned from the window and +yawned. "Come on: let's lie down and talk about +some of the nice ones!"</p> + +<p>The second house beyond this was—it was the +house of Julia!</p> + +<p>And what a glamour of summer light lay upon +it because it was the house of Julia! The texture of +the sunshine came under a spell here; glowing flakes +of amber were afloat; a powder of opals and rubies +fell silently adrizzle through the trees. The very +air changed, beating faintly with a fairy music, for +breathing it was breathing sorcery: elfin symphonies +went tinkling through it. The grass in the next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +yard to Julia's was just grass, but every blade of +grass in her yard was cut of jewels.</p> + +<p>Julia's house was also the house of that person +who through some ungovernable horseplay of destiny +happened to be her father: and this gave the enchanted +spot a background of lurking cyclone—no +one could tell at what instant there might rise above +the roseate pleasance a funnel-shaped cloud. With +young Herbert's injurious narrative fresh in his +mind, Noble quickened his steps; but as he reached +the farther fence post, marking the southward limit +of Mr. Atwater's property, he halted short, startled +beautifully. Through the open front door, just +passed, a voice had called his name; a voice of such +arresting sweetness that his breath stopped, like his +feet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Noble!" it called again.</p> + +<p>He turned back, and any one who might have +seen his face then would have known what was the +matter with him, and must have been only the more +sure of it because his mouth was open. The next +instant the adequate reason for his disorder came +lightly through the open door and down to the gate.</p> + +<p>Julia was kind, much too kind! She had heard +that her Aunt Harriet and her Uncle Joe were frequently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +describing Mr. Atwater's most recent explosion +to other members of the extensive Atwater +family league; and though she had not discovered +how Aunt Harriet and Uncle Joe had obtained their +material, yet, in Julia's way of wording her thoughts, +an account of the episode was "all over town," +and she was almost certain that by this time Noble +Dill had heard it. And so, lest he should suffer, +the too-gentle creature seized the first opportunity to +cheer him up. That was the most harmful thing +about Julia; when anybody liked her—even Noble +Dill—she couldn't bear to have him worried. She +was the sympathetic princess who wouldn't have her +puppy's tail chopped off all at once, but only a little +at a time.</p> + +<p>"I just happened to see you going by," she said, +and then, with an astounding perfection of seriousness, +she added the question: "Did you <i>mind</i> my +calling to you and stopping you, Noble?"</p> + +<p>He leaned, drooping, upon the gatepost, seeming +to yearn toward it; his expression was such that this +gatepost need not have been surprised if Noble had +knelt to it.</p> + +<p>"Why, no," he said hoarsely. "No, I don't have +to be back at the office any particular time. No."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I just wanted to ask you——" She hesitated. +"Well, it really doesn't amount to anything—it's +nothing so important I couldn't have spoken to you +about it some other time."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Noble, and then on the spur of the +moment he continued darkly: "There might not +be any other time."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean, Noble?"</p> + +<p>He smiled faintly. "I'm thinking of going away." +This was true; nevertheless, it was the first time he +had thought of it. "Going away," he repeated in +a murmur. "From this old town."</p> + +<p>A shadowy, sweet reproach came upon Julia's +eyes. "You mean—for good, Noble?" she asked in +a low voice, although no one knew better than she +what trouble such performances often cost her, later. +"Noble, you don't mean——"</p> + +<p>He made a vocal sound conveying recklessness, +something resembling a reckless laugh. "I might +go—any day! Just as it happens to strike me."</p> + +<p>"But where to, Noble?"</p> + +<p>"I don't——Well, maybe to China."</p> + +<p>"China!" she cried in amazement. "Why, Noble +Dill!"</p> + +<p>"There's lots of openings in China," he said. "A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +white man can get a commission in the Chinese army +any day."</p> + +<p>"And so," she said, "you mean you'd rather be +an officer in the Chinese army than stay—here?" +With that, she bit her lip and averted her face for an +instant, then turned to him again, quite calm. Julia +could not help doing these things; she was born +that way, and no punishment changed her.</p> + +<p>"Julia——" the dazzled Noble began, but he stopped +with this beginning, his voice seeming to have +exhausted itself upon the name.</p> + +<p>"When do you think you'll start?" she asked.</p> + +<p>His voice returned. "I don't know <i>just</i> when," +he said; and he began to feel a little too much committed +to this sudden plan of departure, and to +wonder how it had come about. "I—I haven't set +any day—exactly."</p> + +<p>"Have you talked it over with your mother yet, +Noble?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet—exactly," he said, and was conscious +of a distaste for China as something unpleasant +and imminent. "I thought I'd wait till—till it was +certain I <i>would</i> go."</p> + +<p>"When will that be, Noble?" And in spite of +herself, Julia spoke in the tone of one who controls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +herself to ask in calmness: "Is my name on the list +for the guillotine?"</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "it'll be as soon as I've made +up my mind to go. I probably won't go before then; +not till I've made up my mind to."</p> + +<p>"But you might do that any day, mightn't you?"</p> + +<p>Noble began to feel relieved; he seemed to have hit +upon a way out. "Yes; and then I'd be gone," he +said firmly. "But probably I wouldn't go at all +unless I decided to." This seemed to save him from +China, and he added recklessly: "I guess I wouldn't +be missed much around this old town if I did go."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you would," Julia said quickly. "Your +family'd miss you—and so would everybody."</p> + +<p>"Julia, <i>you</i> wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>She laughed lightly. "Of course I should, and so +would papa."</p> + +<p>Noble released the gatepost and appeared to slant +backward. "What?"</p> + +<p>"Papa was talking about you this very morning at +breakfast," she said; and she spoke the truth. "He +said he <i>dreamed</i> about you last night."</p> + +<p>"He did?"</p> + +<p>Julia nodded sunnily. "He dreamed that you and +he were the very greatest friends!" This also was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +true, so far as it went; she only omitted to state that +Mr. Atwater had gone on to classify his dream as a +nightmare. "There!" she cried. "Why, of course +he'd miss you—he'd miss you as much as he'd miss +any friend of mine that comes here."</p> + +<p>Noble felt a sudden rush of tenderness toward +Mr. Atwater; it is always possible to misjudge a man +for a few hasty words. And Julia went on quickly:</p> + +<p>"I never saw anybody like you, Noble Dill!" she +exclaimed. "I don't suppose there's anybody in +the United States except you that would be capable +of doing things like going off to be an officer in the +Chinese army—all just any minute like this. I've +always declared you were about the most reckless +man I know!"</p> + +<p>Noble shook his head. "No," he said judicially. +"I'm not reckless; it's just that I don't care what +happens."</p> + +<p>Julia became grave. "Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"To me," he said hurriedly. "I mean I don't +care what happens to myself. I mean that's more +the way I am than just reckless."</p> + +<p>She was content to let his analysis stand, though +she shook her head, as if knowing herself to be wiser +than he about his recklessness. A cheerfulness came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +upon them; and the Chinese question seemed to +have been settled by these indirect processes;—in +fact, neither of them ever mentioned it again. "I +mustn't keep you," she said, "especially when you +ought to be getting on downtown to business, but——Oh!" +She gave the little cry of a forgetful person +reminded. "I almost forgot what I ran out to ask +you!"</p> + +<p>"What was it, Julia?" Noble spoke huskily, in a +low voice. "What is it you want me to do, Julia?"</p> + +<p>She gave a little fluttering laugh, half timid, half +confiding. "You know how funny papa is about +tobacco smoke?" (But she hurried on without +waiting for an answer.) "Well, he is. He's the +funniest old thing; he doesn't like <i>any</i> kind very +much except his own special cheroot things. He +growls about every other kind, but the cigars Mr. +<i>Ridgely</i> smokes when he comes here, papa really +<i>does</i> make a fuss over! And, you see, I don't like to +say 'No' when Mr. Ridgely asks if he can smoke, because +it always makes men so uncomfortable if +they can't when they're sitting on a veranda, so I +wondered if I could just tactfully get him to buy +something different from his cigars?—and I thought +the best thing would be to suggest those cigarettes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +you always have, Noble. They're the ones papa +makes the <i>least</i> fuss about and seems to stand the +best—next to his own, he seems to like them the most, +I mean—but I'd forgotten the name of them. That's +what I ran out to ask you."</p> + +<p>"Orduma," said Noble. "Orduma Egyptian Cigarettes."</p> + +<p>"Would you mind giving me one—just to show +Mr. Ridgely?"</p> + +<p>Noble gave her an Orduma cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you!" she said gratefully. "I mustn't +keep you another minute, because I know your +father wouldn't know <i>what</i> to do at the office without +you! Thank you so much for this!" She turned +and walked quickly halfway up the path, then +paused, looking back over her shoulder. "I'll only +show it to him, Noble," she said. "I won't give it +to him!"</p> + +<p>She bit her lip as if she had said more than she +should have; shook her head as in self-chiding; +then laughed, and in a flash touched the tiny white +cylinder to her lips, waved it to him;—then ran to +the veranda and up the steps and into the house. +She felt satisfied that she had set matters right, this +kind Julia!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_SIX" id="CHAPTER_SIX"></a>CHAPTER SIX</h3> + + +<p>Before she thus set matters right with +Noble he had been unhappy and his condition +had been bad; now he was happy, but +his condition was worse. In truth, he was much, +much too happy; nothing rational remained in his +mind. No elfin orchestra seemed to buzz in his ears +as he went down the street, but a loud, triumphing +brass band. His unathletic chest was inflated; he +heaved up with joy; and a little child, playing on the +next corner, turned and followed him for some distance, +trying to imitate his proud, singular walk. +Restored to too much pride, Noble became also +much too humane; he thought of Mr. Atwater's +dream, and felt almost a motherly need to cherish +and protect him, to be indeed his friend. There was +a warm spot in Noble's chest, produced in part by a +yearning toward that splendid old man. Noble +had a good home, sixty-six dollars in the bank and a +dollar and forty cents in his pockets; he would have +given all for a chance to show Mr. Atwater how well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +he understood him now, at last, and how deeply he +appreciated his favour.</p> + +<p>Students of alcoholic intoxication have observed +that in their cups commonplace people, and not +geniuses, do the most unusual things. So with +all other intoxications. Noble Dill was indeed no +genius, and some friend should have kept an +eye upon him to-day; he was not himself. All +afternoon in a mood of tropic sunrise he collected +rents, or with glad vagueness consented instantly +to their postponement. "I've come about the rent +again," he said beamingly to one delinquent tenant +of his father's best client; and turned and walked +away, humming a waltz-song, while the man was +still coughing as a preliminary to argument.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon, as the entranced collector +sat musing alone near a window in his father's office, +his exalted mood was not affected by the falling +of a preternatural darkness over the town, nor +was he roused to action by any perception of the +fact that the other clerks and the members of the +firm had gone home an hour ago; that the clock +showed him his own duty to lock up the office and +not keep his mother "waiting dinner"; and that he +would be caught in a most outrageous thunderstorm if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +he didn't hurry. No; he sat, smiling fondly, by the +open window, and at times made a fragmentary +gesture as of some heroic or benevolent impulse in +rehearsal.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, paunchy with wind and wetness, unmannerly +clouds came smoking out of the blackened +west. Rumbling, they drew on. Then from cloud +to cloud dizzy amazements of white fire staggered, +crackled and boomed on to the assault; the doors of +the winds were opened; the tanks of deluge were +unbottomed; and the storm took the town. So, +presently, Noble noticed that it was raining and decided +to go home.</p> + +<p>With an idea that he was fulfilling his customary +duties, he locked the doors of the two inner rooms, +dropped the keys gently into a wastebasket, and +passing by an umbrella which stood in a corner, +went out to the corridor, and thence stepped into +the street of whooping rain.</p> + +<p>Here he became so practical as to turn up his collar; +and, substantially aided by the wind at his +back, he was not long in leaving the purlieus of commerce +behind him for Julia's Street. Other people +lived on this street—he did, himself, for that matter; +and, in fact, it was the longest street in the town;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +moreover, it had an official name with which the +word "Julia" was entirely unconnected; but for +Noble Dill (and probably for Newland Sanders and +for some others in age from nineteen to sixty) it was +"Julia's Street" and no other.</p> + +<p>It was a tumultuous street as Noble splashed along +the sidewalk. Incredibly elastic, the shade-trees +were practising calisthenics, though now and then +one outdid itself and lost a branch; thunder and +lightning romped like loosed scandal; rain hissed +upon the pavement and capered ankle-high. It +was a storm that asked to be left to itself for a time, +after giving fair warning that the request would be +made; and Noble and the only other pedestrian in +sight had themselves to blame for getting caught.</p> + +<p>This other pedestrian was some forty or fifty +yards in advance of Noble and moved in the same +direction at about the same gait. He wore an +old overcoat, running with water; the brim of his +straw hat sagged about his head, so that he appeared +to be wearing a bucket; he was a sodden and pathetic +figure. Noble himself was as sodden; his hands were +wet in his very pockets; his elbows seemed to spout; +yet he spared a generous pity for the desolate figure +struggling on before him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>All at once Noble's heart did something queer +within his wet bosom. He recognized that figure, +and he was not mistaken. Except the One figure, +and those of his own father and mother and three +sisters, this was the shape that Noble would most +infallibly recognize anywhere in the world and under +any conditions. In spite of the dusk and the riot +of the storm, Noble knew that none other than +Mr. Atwater splashed before him.</p> + +<p>He dismissed a project for seizing upon a fallen +branch and running forward to walk beside Mr. +Atwater and hold the branch over his venerated +head. All the branches were too wet; and Noble +feared that Mr. Atwater might think the picture odd +and decline to be thus protected. Yet he felt +that something ought to be done to shelter Julia's +father and perhaps save him from pneumonia; +surely there was some simple, helpful, dashing thing +that ordinary people couldn't think of, but that +Noble could. He would do it and not stay to be +thanked. And then, to-morrow evening, not sooner, +he would go to Julia and smile and say; "Your +father didn't get too wet, I hope, after all?" And +Julia: "Oh, Noble, he's talked of you all day long +as his 'new Sir Walter Raleigh'!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>Suddenly will-o'-the-wisp opportunity flickered +before him, and in his high mood he paused not at all +to consider it, but insanely chased it. He had just +reached a crossing, and down the cross street, walking +away from Noble, was the dim figure of a man carrying +an umbrella. It was just perceptible that he was +a fat man, struggling with seeming feebleness in the +wind and making poor progress. Mr. Atwater, +moving up Julia's Street, was out of sight from the +cross street where struggled the fat man.</p> + +<p>Noble ran swiftly down the cross street, jerked +the umbrella from the fat man's grasp; ran back, +with hoarse sounds dying out behind him in the riotous +dusk; turned the corner, sped after Mr. Atwater, +overtook him, and thrust the umbrella upon +him. Then, not pausing the shortest instant for +thanks or even recognition, the impulsive boy sped +onward, proud and joyous in the storm, leaving his +beneficiary far behind him.</p> + +<p>In his young enthusiasm he had indeed done +something for Mr. Atwater. In fact, Noble's kindness +had done as much for Mr. Atwater as Julia's +gentleness had done for Noble, but how much both +Julia and Noble had done was not revealed in full +until the next evening.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>That was a warm and moonshiny night of air +unusually dry, and yet Florence sneezed frequently +as she sat upon the "side porch" at the house of her +Great-Aunt Carrie and her Great-Uncle Joseph. +Florence had a cold in the head, though how it got to +her head was a process involved in the mysterious +ways of colds, since Florence's was easily to be +connected with Herbert's remark that he wouldn't +ever be caught takin' his death o' cold sittin' on the +damp grass in the night air just to listen to a lot o' +tooty-tooty. It appeared from Florence's narrative +to those interested listeners, Aunt Carrie and Uncle +Joseph, that she had been sitting on the grass in the +night air when both air and grass were extraordinarily +damp. In brief, she had been at her post soon after +the storm cleared on the preceding evening, but she +had heard no tooty-tooty; her overhearings were of +sterner stuff.</p> + +<p>"Well, what did Julia say <i>then</i>?" Aunt Carrie +asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"She said she'd go up and lock herself in her room +and stuff cushions over her ears if grandpa didn't quit +makin' such a fuss."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He made more rumpus than ever," said Florence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +"He went on and on, and told the whole thing over +and over again; he seemed like he couldn't tell it +enough, and every time he told it his voice got higher +and higher till it was kind of squealy. He said he'd +had his raincoat on and he didn't want an umberella +anyhow, and hadn't ever carried one a single time in +fourteen years! And he took on about Noble Dill +and all this and that about how you <i>bet</i> he knew who +it was! He said he could tell Noble Dill in the dark +any time by his cigarette smell, and, anyway, it +wasn't too dark so's he couldn't see his skimpy little +shoulders, and anyway he saw his face. And he said +Noble didn't <i>hand</i> him the umberella; he stuck it all +down over him like he was somep'n on fire he wanted +to put out; and before he could get out of it and +throw it away this ole fat man that it belonged to +and was chasin' Noble, he ran up to grandpa from +behind and took hold of him, or somep'n, and they +slipped, and got to fussin' against each other; and +then after a while they got up and grandpa saw it +was somebody he knew and told him for Heaven's +sake why didn't he take his ole umberella and go on +home; and so he did, because it was raining, and I +guess he proba'ly had to give up; he couldn't out-talk +grandpa."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Uncle Joe. "He couldn't, whoever +he was. But what happened about Noble Dill?"</p> + +<p>Florence paused to accumulate and explode a +sneeze, then responded pleasantly: "He said he was +goin' to kill him. He said he often and often wanted +to, and now he <i>was</i>. That's the reason I guess Aunt +Julia wrote that note this morning."</p> + +<p>"What note?" Aunt Carrie inquired. "You +haven't told us of that."</p> + +<p>"I was over there before noon," said Florence, +"and Aunt Julia gave me a quarter and said she'd +write a note for me to take to Noble Dill's house +when he came home for lunch, and give it to him. +She kind of slipped it to me, because grandpa came in +there, pokin' around, while she was just finishin' writin' +it. She didn't put any envelope on it even, and she +never said a single thing to <i>me</i> about its bein' private +or my not readin' it if I wanted to, or anything."</p> + +<p>"Of course you didn't," said Aunt Carrie. "You +didn't, did you, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Why, she didn't <i>say</i> not to," Florence protested, +surprised. "It wasn't even in an envelope."</p> + +<p>Mr. Joseph Atwater coughed. "I hardly think +we ought to ask what the note said, even if Florence +was—well, indiscreet enough to read it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said his wife. "I hardly think so either. +It didn't say anything important anyhow, probably."</p> + +<p>"It began, 'Dear Noble,'" said Florence promptly. +"Dear Noble'; that's the way it began. It said how +grandpa was just all upset to think he'd accepted +an umberella from him when Noble didn't have +another one for himself like that, and grandpa was so +embarrassed to think he'd let Noble do so much for +him, and everything, he just didn't know <i>what</i> to do, +and proba'ly it would be tactful if he wouldn't come +to the house till grandpa got over being embarrassed +and everything. She said not to come till she let him +know."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice Noble when he read it?" asked +Aunt Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Yessir! And would you believe it; he just looked +<i>too</i> happy!" Florence made answer, not wholly comprehending +with what truth.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet," said Uncle Joseph;—"I'll bet a thousand +dollars that if Julia told Noble Dill he was six feet +tall, Noble would go and order his next suit of clothes +to fit a six-foot man."</p> + +<p>And his wife complemented this with a generalization, +simple, yet of a significance too little recognized. +"They don't see a thing!" she said. "The young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +men that buzz around a girl's house don't see a <i>thing</i> +of what goes on there! Inside, I mean."</p> + +<p>Yet at that very moment a young man was seeing +something inside a girl's house a little way down that +same street. That same street was Julia's Street +and the house was Julia's. Inside the house, in the +library, sat Mr. Atwater, trying to read a work by +Thomas Carlyle, while a rhythmic murmur came +annoyingly from the veranda. The young man, +watching him attentively, saw him lift his head and +sniff the air with suspicion, but the watcher took this +pantomime to be an expression of distaste for certain +versifyings, and sharing that distaste, approved. +Mr. Atwater sniffed again, threw down his book and +strode out to the veranda. There sat dark-haired +Julia in a silver dress, and near by, Newland Sanders +read a long young poem from the manuscript.</p> + +<p>"Who is smoking out here?" Mr. Atwater inquired +in a dead voice.</p> + +<p>"Nobody, sir," said Newland with eagerness. "<i>I</i> +don't smoke. I have never touched tobacco in any +form in my life."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater sniffed once more, found purity; and +returned to the library. But here the air seemed +faintly impregnated with Orduma cigarettes. "Curious!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +he said as he composed himself once more to +read—and presently the odour seemed to wear away +and vanish. Mr. Atwater was relieved; the last thing +he could have wished was to be haunted by Noble +Dill.</p> + +<p>Yet for that while he was. Too honourable to follow +such an example as Florence's, Noble, of course, +would not spy or eavesdrop near the veranda where +Julia sat, but he thought there could be no harm +in watching Mr. Atwater read. Looking at Mr. +Atwater was at least the next thing to looking at +Julia. And so, out in the night, Noble was seated +upon the top of the side fence, looking through the +library window at Mr. Atwater.</p> + +<p>After a while Noble lit another Orduma cigarette +and puffed strongly to start it. The smoke was +almost invisible in the moonlight, but the night +breeze, stirring gently, wafted it toward the house, +where the open window made an inward draft and +carried it heartily about the library.</p> + +<p>Noble was surprised to see Mr. Atwater rise suddenly +to his feet. He smote his brow, put out the +light, and stamped upstairs to his own room.</p> + +<p>His purpose to retire was understood when the +watcher saw a light in the bedroom window overhead.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +Noble thought of the good, peculiar old man +now disrobing there, and he smiled to himself at a +whimsical thought: What form would Mr. Atwater's +embarrassment take, what would be his feeling, and +what would he do, if he knew that Noble was there +now, beneath his window and thinking of him?</p> + +<p>In the moonlight Noble sat upon the fence, and +smoked Orduma cigarettes, and looked up with +affection at the bright window of Mr. Atwater's +bedchamber. Abruptly the light in that window +went out.</p> + +<p>"Saying his prayers now," said Noble. "I wonder +if——" But, not to be vain, he laughed at himself +and left the thought unfinished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN</h3> + + +<p>A week later, on a hot July afternoon, Miss +Florence Atwater, recovered from her cold, +stood in the shady back yard of her place of +residence and yawned more extensively than any one +would have believed possible, judging by her face in +repose. Three of her friends, congenial in age and +sex, were out of town for the summer; two had been +ascertained, by telephonic inquiries, to be taking +commanded siestas; and neither the other one nor +Florence had yet forgotten that yesterday, although +they were too religious to commit themselves to a +refusal to meet as sisters in the Great Beyond, they +had taken the expurgated oath that by Everything +they would never speak to each other again so long +as they both should live.</p> + +<p>Florence was at the end of her resources. She +had sought distraction in experimental cookery; but, +having scorched a finger, and having been told by +the cook that a person's own kitchen wasn't worth +the price at eleven dollars a week if it had to git all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +smelled up with broiled rubber when the femometer +stood at ninety-sevvum degrees in the shade, the +experimenter abusedly turned her back on the morose +woman and went out to the back yard for a little +peace.</p> + +<p>After an interval of torpor, she decided to go and +see what Herbert was doing—a move not short of +desperation, on account of Herbert's new manner +toward her. For a week Herbert had steadily pursued +his scientific career, and he seemed to feel that +in it he had attained a distinction beyond the reach +of Florence. What made it ridiculous for her to hope +was, of course, the fact that she was a girl, and Herbert +had explained this to her in a cold, unpleasant +way; for it is true that what is called "feminism" +must be acquired by men, and is not a condition, or +taste, natural to them. At thirteen it has not been +acquired.</p> + +<p>She found him at home. He was importantly +engaged in a room in the cellar, where were loosely +stored all manner of incapacitated household devices; +two broken clothes-wringers, a crippled and rusted +sewing-machine, an ice-cream freezer in like condition, +a cracked and discarded marble mantelpiece, +chipped porcelain and chinaware of all sorts, rusted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +stove lids and flatirons, half a dozen dead mops and +brooms. This was the laboratory, and here, in congenial +solitude, Herbert conducted his investigations. +That is to say, until Florence arrived he was undisturbed +by human intrusion, but he was not alone—far +from it! There was, in fact, almost too much life +in the place.</p> + +<p>Where the light fell clearest from the cobwebby +windows at the ground level overhead, he had placed +a long deal table, once a helpmate in the kitchen, but +now a colourless antique on three legs and two starch +boxes. Upon the table were seven or eight glass jars, +formerly used for preserves and pickles, and a dozen +jelly glasses (with only streaks and bits of jelly in +them now) and five or six small round pasteboard pill-boxes. +The jars were covered, some with their own +patent tops, others with shingles or bits of board, +and one with a brick. The jelly glasses stood inverted, +and were inhabited; so were the preserve +jars and pickle jars; and so were the pill-boxes, which +evidently contained star boarders, for they were +pierced with "breathing holes," and one of them, +standing upon its side like a little wheel, now and +then moved in a faint, ghostly manner as if about to +start rolling on its own account—whereupon Herbert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +glanced up and addressed it sternly, though somewhat +inconsistently: "You shut up!"</p> + +<p>In the display of so much experimental paraphernalia, +there may have been a hint that Herbert's +was a scientific nature craving rather quantity than +quality; his collection certainly possessed the virtue +of multitudinousness, if that be a virtue; and the birds +in the neighbourhood must have been undergoing +a great deal of disappointment. In brief, as many +bugs as Herbert now owned have seldom been seen +in the custody of any private individual. And +nearly all of them were alive, energetic and swearing, +though several of the preserve jars had been imperfectly +drained of their heavy syrups, and in one of +them a great many spiders seemed to be having, +of the whole collection, the poorest time; being pretty +well mired down and yet still subject to disagreements +among themselves. The habits of this group, +under such unusual surroundings, formed the subject +of Herbert's special study at the moment of Florence's +arrival. He was seated at the table and +frowning with science as he observed the unfortunates +through that magnifying-glass, his discovery +of which was responsible for their present condition +and his own choice of a career.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence paused in the doorway, but he gave no +sign of recognition, unless his intensified preoccupation +was a sign, and Florence, perceiving what +line of conduct he meant to adopt, instinctively +selected a reciprocal one for herself. "Herbert +Atwater, you ought to be punished! I'm goin' to +tell your father and mother."</p> + +<p>"You g'way," Herbert returned, unmoved; and, +without condescending to give her a glance, he set +down the magnifying-glass, and with a pencil wrote +something profoundly entomological in a soiled +memorandum book upon the table. "Run away, +Flor'nce. Run away somewheres and play."</p> + +<p>Florence approached. "'Play'!" she echoed tartly. +"I should think <i>you</i> wouldn't talk much about +'playin',' the way you're teasing those poor, poor +little bugs!"</p> + +<p>"'Teasing'!" Herbert exclaimed: "That shows! +That shows!"</p> + +<p>"Shows what?"</p> + +<p>"How much you know!" He became despondent +about her. "See here, Florence; it does look to +me as though at your age a person ought to know +anyway enough not to disturb me when I'm expairamenting, +and everything. I should think——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>But she did not prove so meek as to await the conclusion +of his remonstrance. "I never saw anything +as wicked in my whole born days! What did +any of those poor, poor little bugs ever do to <i>you</i>, +I'd like to know, you got to go and confine 'em like +this! And look how dirty your hands are!"</p> + +<p>This final charge, wandering so far from her previous +specifications of his guilt, was purely automatic +and conventional; Florence often interjected it during +the course of any cousinly discussion, whatever +the subject in dispute, and she had not even glanced +at Herbert's hands to assure herself that the accusation +was warranted. But, as usual, the facts supported +her; and they also supported Herbert in his +immediate mechanical retort: "So're yours!"</p> + +<p>"Not either!" But here Florence, after instinctively +placing her hands behind her, brought forth +the right one to point, and simultaneously uttered a +loud cry: "Oh, <i>look</i> at your hands!" For now she +did look at Herbert's hands, and was amazed.</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?"</p> + +<p>"They're all lumpy!" she cried, and, as her gaze +rose to his cheek, her finger followed her eyes and +pointed to strange appearances there. "Look at +your <i>face</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" he demanded, his tone not +entirely free from braggadocio. "A girl can't make +expairaments the way I do, because if one of these +good ole bumblebees or hornets of mine was to give +'em a little sting, once in a while, while they was +catchin' 'em and puttin' 'em in a jar, all they'd know +how to do'd be to holler and run home to their +mamma. Nobody with any gumption minds a few +little stings after you put mud on 'em."</p> + +<p>"I guess it serves you right," Florence said, "for +persecutin' these poor, poor little bugs."</p> + +<p>Herbert became plaintive. "Look here, Florence; +I do wish you'd go on back home where you belong."</p> + +<p>But Florence did not reply; instead she picked +up the magnifying-glass, and, gazing through it at +a pickle jar of mixed beetles, caterpillars, angleworms, +and potato bugs, permitted herself to shudder. +"Vile things!" she said.</p> + +<p>"They are not, either!" Herbert retorted hotly. +"They're about the finest insecks that you or anybody +else ever saw, and you ought to be ashamed——"</p> + +<p>"I ought?" his cousin cried. "Well, I should +think you're the one ought to be ashamed, if anybody +ought! Down here in the cellar playin' with all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +these vile bugs that ought to be given their liberty, or +thrown down the sewer, or somep'n!" Again, as she +peered through the lens, she shuddered. "Vile——"</p> + +<p>"Florence," he said sternly, "you lay down that +magnifying-glass."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because you don't know how to handle it. A +magnifying-glass has got to be handled in just the +right way, and you couldn't learn if you tried a +thousand years. That's a mighty fine magnifying-glass, +and I don't intend to have it ruined."</p> + +<p>"Why, just lookin' through it can't spoil it, can +it?" she inquired, surprised.</p> + +<p>"You lay it down," said Herbert darkly. "Lookin' +through it the wrong way isn't going to do it any +<i>good</i>."</p> + +<p>"Why, how could just <i>lookin'</i> through it——"</p> + +<p>"Lookin' through it the wrong way isn't goin' +to <i>help</i> it any, I tell you!" he insisted. "You're +old enough to know that, and I'm not goin' to have +my magnifying-glass spoiled and all my insecks +wasted just because of a mere whin of yours!"</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A mere whin, I said!"</p> + +<p>"What's a whin?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never you mind," said Herbert ominously. +"You'll proba'ly find out some day when you aren't +expectin' to!"</p> + +<p>Undeniably, Florence was somewhat impressed: +she replaced the magnifying-glass upon the table and +picked up the notebook.</p> + +<p>"You lay that down, too," said Herbert instantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, maybe it's somep'n you're <i>'shamed</i> to——"</p> + +<p>"Go on and read it, then," he said, suddenly +changing his mind, for he was confident that she +would find matter here that might cause her to appreciate +at least a little of her own inferiority.</p> + +<p>"'Nots'," Florence began. "'Nots'——"</p> + +<p>"Notes!" he corrected her fiercely.</p> + +<p>"'Notes'," she read. "'Notes on our inseck +friends. The spidder——'"</p> + +<p>"<i>Spider!</i>"</p> + +<p>"'The spider spends his time mostly in cobwebs +which he digilently spins between posts and catches +flies to eat them. They are different coloured and +sizes and have legs in pairs. Spiders also spin their +webs in corners or in weeds or on a fence and sometimes +in the grass. They are more able to get about +quicker than catapillars or fishing worms, but cannot +fly such as pinching bugs, lightning bugs, and birds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +because having no wings, nor jump as far as the grass +hoper——'"</p> + +<p>"Grasshopper!" Herbert shouted.</p> + +<p>"I'm readin' it the way it's spelled," Florence explained. +"Anyway, it don't make much sense."</p> + +<p>Herbert was at least enough of an author to be +furious. "Lay it down!" he said bitterly. "And go +on back home to your dolls."</p> + +<p>"Dolls certainly would be <i>cleaner</i> than vile bugs," +Florence retorted, tossing the book upon the table. +"But in regards to that, I haven't had any," she +went on, airily—"not for years and years and years +and——"</p> + +<p>He interrupted her, his voice again plaintive. +"See here, Florence, how do you expect me to get +my <i>work</i> done, with you everlastin'ly talkin' and +goin' on around here like this? Can't you see I've +got somep'n pretty important on my hands?"</p> + +<p>Florence became thoughtful. "I never did see +as many bugs before, all together this way," she said. +"What you goin' to do with 'em, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"I'm makin' my expairaments."</p> + +<p>But her thoughtfulness increased. "It seems to +me," she said slowly:—"Herbert, it seems to me +there must be some awful inter'sting thing we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +could do with so many bugs all together like +this."</p> + +<p>"'We'!" he cried. "My goodness, whose insecks +do you think these insecks are?"</p> + +<p>"I just know there's somep'n," she went on, following +her own line of thought, and indifferent to his +outburst. "There's somep'n we could do with 'em +that we'd never forget, if we could only think of it."</p> + +<p>In spite of himself, Herbert was interested. "Well, +what?" he asked. "What could we do with 'em +we'd never forget?"</p> + +<p>In her eyes there was a far-away light as of a seeress +groping. "I don't just know exackly, but I know +there's <i>somep'n</i>—if we could only think of it—if we +could just——" And her voice became inaudible, +as in dreamy concentration she seated herself upon +the discarded ice-cream freezer, and rested her elbows +upon her knees and her chin upon the palms +of her hands.</p> + +<p>In silence then, she thought and thought. Herbert +also was silent, for he, too, was trying to think, not +knowing that already he had proved himself to be +wax in her hands, and that he was destined further +to show himself thus malleable. Like many and +many another of his sex, he never for an instant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +suspected that he spent the greater part of his time +carrying out ideas implanted within him by a lady-friend. +Florence was ever the imaginative one of +those two, a maiden of unexpected fancies and inexplicable +conceptions, a mind of quicksilver and +mist. There was within her the seedling of a creative +artist, and as she sat there, on the ice-cream freezer +in Herbert's cellar, with the slowly growing roseate +glow of deep preoccupation upon her, she looked +strangely sweet and good, and even almost pretty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT</h3> + + +<p>"Do you s'pose," she said, at last, in a musing +voice: "Herbert, do you s'pose maybe +there's some poor family's children +somewheres that haven't got any playthings or +anything and we could take all these——"</p> + +<p>But here Herbert proved unsympathetic. "I'm +not goin' to give my insecks to any poor people's +children," he said emphatically. "I don't care how +poor they are!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought maybe just as a surprise——"</p> + +<p>"I won't do it. I had mighty hard work to +catch this c'lection, and I'm not goin' to give it +away to anybody, I don't care how surprised they'd +be! Anyway, I'd never get any thanks for it; they +wouldn't know how to handle 'em, and they'd +get all stung up: and what'd be the use, anyhow? +I don't see how <i>that's</i> goin' to be somep'n so interesting +we'd never forget it."</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "I guess it wouldn't. I just thought +it would be kind of a bellnevolent thing to do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>This word disturbed Herbert, but he did not feel +altogether secure in his own impression that "benovvalent" +was the proper rendition of what she +meant, and so refrained from criticism. Their +musing was resumed.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing I do wish," Florence said suddenly, +after a time. "I wish we could find some way +to use the c'lection that would be useful for Noble +Dill."</p> + +<p>Now, at this, her cousin's face showed simple +amazement. "What on earth you talkin' about?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill," she said dreamily. "He's the only +one I like that comes to see Aunt Julia. Anyway, I +like him the most."</p> + +<p>"I bet Aunt Julia don't!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care: he's the one <i>I</i> wish she'd get married +to."</p> + +<p>Herbert was astounded. "Noble Dill? Why, +I heard mamma and Aunt Hattie and Uncle Joe +talkin' about him yesterday."</p> + +<p>"What'd they say?"</p> + +<p>"Most of the time," said Herbert, "they just +laughed. They said Noble Dill was the very last +person in this town Aunt Julia'd ever dream o' marryin'. +They said he wasn't anything: they said he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +wasn't handsome and he wasn't distingrished-looking——"</p> + +<p>"I think he is," Florence interposed. "I think he's +<i>very</i> distingrished-looking."</p> + +<p>"Well, they said he wasn't, and they know more'n +you do. Why, Noble Dill isn't hardly any taller'n +I am myself, and he hasn't got any muscle partickyourly. +Aunt Julia wouldn't look at him!"</p> + +<p>"She does, too! My goodness, how could he +sit on the porch, right in front of her, for two or +three hours at a time, without her lookin' at him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care," Herbert insisted stubbornly. +"<i>They</i> said Aunt Julia wouldn't. They said she +was the worst flirt had ever been in the whole family +and Noble Dill had the worst case they ever saw, +but she wouldn't ever look at him, and if she did +she'd be crazy."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway," said Florence, "I think he's +the nicest of all that goes to see her, and I wish we +could use this c'lection some way that would be nice +for him."</p> + +<p>Herbert renewed his protest. "How many times +I got to tell you I had a hard enough time catchin' +this c'lection, day in and day out, from before daylight +till after dark, and then fixin' 'em all up like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +this and everything! I don't prapose to waste 'em +just to suit Noble Dill, and I'm not goin' to give 'em +away either. If anybody wanted to buy 'em and +offered a good fair price, money down, why, I——"</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> it, Herbert!" his lady-cousin exclaimed +with sudden excitement. "Let's sell 'em!" She +jumped up, her eyes bright. "I bet we could get +maybe five dollars for 'em. We can pour the ones +that are in the jars that haven't got tops and the +ones in the jelly glasses and pill-boxes—we can pour +all those into the jars that have got tops, and put the +tops on again, and that'd just about fill those jars—and +then we could put 'em in a basket and take 'em +out and sell 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Where could we sell 'em?" Herbert inquired, +not convinced.</p> + +<p>"At the fish store!" she cried. "Everybody uses +bugs and worms for bait when they go fishing, don't +they? I bet the fish man'll buy all the worms we +got, even if he wouldn't buy anything else. I bet +he'll buy all the others, too! I bet he never saw as +much good bait as this all at one time in his whole +life! I bet he'll give us five dollars—maybe more!"</p> + +<p>Herbert was dazzled; the thought of this market +was a revelation—nothing could have been more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +plausible. Considered as bait, the c'lection at once +seemed to acquire a practical and financial value +which it lacked, purely as a c'lection. And with +that the amateur and scientist disappeared, giving +way to the person of affairs. "'Give <i>us</i> five dollars'?" +he said, in this capacity, and for deeper effect +he used a rhetorical expression: "Who do you think +is the owner of all this fish bait, may I ask you, +pray?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you <i>may</i>, pray!" was his cousin's instant +and supercilious retort. "Pray where would you +ever of got any five dollars from any fish man, if it +hadn't been for me, pray? Pray, didn't I first sajest +our doing somep'n with the bugs we'd never forget, +and if the fish man gives us five dollars for 'em +won't we remember it all our lives, pray? And, +pray, what part did you think up of all this, pray? +Not one single thing, and if you don't divide even +with me, I'll run ahead and tell the fish man the +whole c'lection has been in bottles that had old +medicine and poison in 'em—and then where'll <i>you</i> +be, pray?"</p> + +<p>It is to be doubted that Florence possessed the +cold-blooded capacities with which this impromptu +in diplomacy seemed to invest her: probably she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +would never have gone so far. But the words sufficed; +and Herbert was so perfectly intimidated that he was +even unresentful. "Well, you can have your ole two +dollars and a half, whether you got a right to it or +not," he said. "But you got to carry the basket."</p> + +<p>"No," said Florence. "This has got to be done +right, Herbert. We're partners now and everything's +got to be divided just exackly even. I'll +carry the basket half the way and you carry it the +other half."</p> + +<p>"Well——" he grumbled, consenting.</p> + +<p>"That's the only right way," she said sunnily. +"You carry it till we get to the fish man's, and I'll +carry it all the way back."</p> + +<p>But even Herbert could perceive the inequality +here. "It'll be empty then," he protested.</p> + +<p>"Fair's fair and wrong's wrong," she returned +firmly. "I spoke first to carry it on the way home, +and the one that speaks first gets it!"</p> + +<p>"Look here!"</p> + +<p>"Herbert, we got to get all these bugs fixed up and +ready," she urged. "We don't want to waste the +whole afternoon just talkin' about it, do we? Besides, +Herbert, on the way home you'll have two +dollars and a half in your pocket, or anyway as much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +as you have left, if you buy some soda and candy and +things, and you'll feel so fine then you won't mind +whether you're carrying the basket or not."</p> + +<p>The picture she now suggested to Herbert's mind +was of himself carrying the basket both to the fish +man and from the fish man: and he found himself +anxious to protest, yet helpless in a maze of perplexity. +"But wait a minute," he began. "You +said——"</p> + +<p>"Let's don't waste another minute," she interrupted +briskly. "I shouldn't wonder it was after +four o'clock by this time, and we both need money. +Hurry, Herbert!"</p> + +<p>"But didn't you say——" He paused to rub his +head. "You said I'd feel so good I wouldn't mind +if I—if——"</p> + +<p>"No. I said, 'Hurry'!"</p> + +<p>"Well——" And though he felt that a subtle +injustice lurked somewhere, he was unable to think +the matter out clearly into its composing elements, +and gave up trying. Nevertheless, as he obeyed +her, and began to "hurry," there remained with him +an impression that by some foggy and underhand +process he had been committed to acquiescence in an +unfair division of labour.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>In this he was not mistaken. An hour later he +and Florence were on their way home from the fish +man's place of business, and Herbert, having carried +the basket thither, was now carrying it thence. +Moreover, his burden was precisely as heavy on this +homeward leg of the course as it had been on that +terminating at the fish store, for, covered by a discreet +newspaper, the preserve and pickle jars still remained +within the basket, their crowding and indignant +contents intact. The fish man had explained in +terms derisive, but plain, the difference between a +fish man and a fisherman. He had maintained +his definitions of the two economic functions in +spite of persistent arguments on the part of the +bait-dealers, and in the face of reductions that finally +removed ninety per cent. of their asking price. +He wouldn't give fifty cents, or ten cents, or one cent, +he said: and he couldn't furnish the address of anybody +else that would. His fish came by express, he +declared, again and again: and the only people he +knew that did any fishing were mainly coloured, and +dug their own bait; and though these might possibly be +willing to accept the angle worms as a gift, they would +probably incline to resent a generosity including so +many spiders, not to speak of the dangerous winged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +members of the c'lection. On account of these +latter, he jocosely professed himself to be anxious +lest the tops of some of the jars might work loose—and +altogether he was the most disheartening man +they had ever met.</p> + +<p>Anticlimax was never the stimulant of amiability, +and, after an altercation on the pavement just outside +of the store, during which the derisive fish man +continually called to them to go on and take that +there basket out of the neighbourhood, the cousins +moved morbidly away, and walked for a time in +silence.</p> + +<p>They brooded. Herbert was even more embittered +with Florence than he was with the fish man, +and Florence found life full of unexpectedness; it had +been so clear to her that the fish man would say: +"Why, certainly. Here's five dollars; two dollars +and a half for each of you. Would you care to have +the jars back?" The facts, so contrary, seemed to +wear the aspect of deliberate malice, and she felt ill-used, +especially as she had several physical grievances, +due to her assistance in pouring part of the +c'lection into the jars with tops. In spite of every +precaution three or four of the liveliest items had +made their escape, during this pouring, and had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +behaved resentfully. Florence bore one result on +the back of her left hand, two others on the thumb +and second finger of her right hand, and another, naturally +the most conspicuous, on the point of her chin. +These had all been painful, in spite of mud poultices, +but, excited by the anticipation of a kindly smiling +fish man, and occupied with plans for getting Herbert +to spend part of his two dollars and a half for +mutual refreshment, she had borne up cheerfully. +Now, comprehending that she had suffered in vain, +she suffered anew, and hated bugs, all fish men, +and the world.</p> + +<p>It was Herbert who broke the silence and renewed +the altercation. "How far you expeck me +to go on luggin' this ole basket?" he demanded +bitterly. "All the way home?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care how far," she informed him. "You +can throw it away if you want to. It's certainly +no propaty of mine, thank you!"</p> + +<p>"Look here, didn't you promise you'd carry it +home?"</p> + +<p>"I said I <i>spoke</i> to. I didn't say I <i>would</i> carry it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd like to know the dif——"</p> + +<p>But Florence cut him off. "I'll tell you the difference, +since you're so anxious to know the truth,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +Mister Herbert Atwater! The difference is just +this: you had no biznuss to meddle with those vile +ole bugs in the first place, and get me all stung up +so't I shouldn't wonder I'd haf to have the doctor, +time I get home, and if I do I'm goin' to tell mamma +all about it and make her send the bill to your father. +I want you to know I <i>hurt</i>!"</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" Herbert burst out. "Don't +you s'pose <i>I</i> hurt any? I guess you don't hurt any +worse than——"</p> + +<p>She stopped him: "Listen!"</p> + +<p>From down the street there came a brazen clamouring +for the right of way; it grew imperiously louder, +and there were clatterings and whizzings of metallic +bodies at speed, while little blurs and glistenings +in the distance grew swiftly larger, taking shape as a +fire engine and a hose-cart. Then, round the near-by +corner, came perilously steering the long "hook-and-ladder +wagon"; it made the turn and went by, with +its firemen imperturbable on the running boards.</p> + +<p>"Fire!" Florence cried joyfully. "Let's go!" +And, pausing no instant, she made off up the street, +shouting at the top of her voice: "<i>Fire! Fire! +Fire! Fire!</i>"</p> + +<p>Herbert followed. He was not so swift a runner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +as she, though this he never submitted to a test +admitted to be fair and conclusive; and he found her +demonstration of superiority particularly offensive +now, as she called back over her shoulder: "Why +don't you keep up with me? Can't you keep up?"</p> + +<p>"I'd <i>show</i> you!" he panted. "If I didn't haf +to lug this ole basket, I'd leave you a mile behind +mighty quick."</p> + +<p>"Well, why'n't you drop it, then?"</p> + +<p>"You s'pose I'm goin' to throw my c'lection away +after all the trouble I been <i>through</i> with it?"</p> + +<p>She slackened her gait, dropping back beside him. +"Well, then, if you think you could keep up with me +if you didn't have it, why'n't you leave it somewhere, +and come back and get it after the fire's over?"</p> + +<p>"No place to leave it."</p> + +<p>She laughed, and pointed. "Why'n't you leave +it at grandpa's?"</p> + +<p>"Will you wait for me and start fair?"</p> + +<p>"Come on!" They obliqued across the street, +still running forward, and at their grandfather's +gate Herbert turned in and sped toward the house.</p> + +<p>"Take it around to the kitchen and give it to Kitty +Silver," Florence called. "Tell Kitty Silver to take +care of it for you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Herbert was in no mind to follow her advice; +a glance over his shoulder showed that Florence was +taking another unfair advantage of him. "You +wait!" he shouted. "You stand still till I get back +there! You got half a mile start a'ready! You +wait till we can start even!"</p> + +<p>But Florence was skipping lightly away and she +caroled over her shoulder, waving her hand in mocking +farewell as she began to run:</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ole Mister Slowpoke can't catch me!<br /> +Ole Mister Slowpoke couldn't catch a flea!</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>"I'll show you!" he bellowed, and, not to lose +more time, he dashed up the steps of the deserted +veranda, thrust his basket deep underneath a +wicker settee, and ran violently after his elusive +cousin.</p> + +<p>She kept a tantalizing distance between them, +but when they reached the fire it was such a +grand one they forgot all their differences—and also +all about the basket.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_NINE" id="CHAPTER_NINE"></a>CHAPTER NINE</h3> + + +<p>Noble Dill came from his father's house, +after dinner that evening, a youth in blossom, +like the shrubberies and garden beds +in the dim yards up and down Julia's Street. All +cooled and bathed and in new clothes of white, he +took his thrilled walk through the deep summer +twilight, on his way to that ineffable Front Porch +where sat Julia, misty in the dusk. The girlish +little new moon had perished naïvely out of the sky; +the final pinkness of the west was gone; blue evening +held the quiet world; and overhead, between the +branches of the maple trees, were powdered all those +bright pin points of light that were to twinkle on +generations of young lovers after Noble Dill, each +one, like Noble, walking the same fragrant path in +summer twilights to see the Prettiest Girl of All.</p> + +<p>Now and then there came to the faintly throbbing +ears of the pedestrian a murmur of voices from lawns +where citizens sat cooling after the day's labour, or +a tinkle of laughter from where maidens dull (not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +being Julia) sat on verandas vacant of beauty and +glamour. For these poor things, Noble felt a wondering +and disdainful pity; he pitied everything +in the world that was not on the way to starry +Julia.</p> + +<p>Eight nights had passed since he, himself, had seen +her, but to-day she had replied (over the telephone) +that Mr. Atwater seemed to have settled down again, +and she believed it might be no breach of tact for +Noble to call that evening—especially as she would +be on the veranda, and he needn't ring the bell. +Would she be alone—for once? It was improbable, +yet it could be hoped.</p> + +<p>But as he came hoping up the street, another already +sat beside Julia, sharing with her the wicker +settee on the dim porch, and this was the horn-rimmed +young poet. Newland had, as usual, a new +poem with him; and as others had proved of late +that they could sit on Julia's veranda as long as he +could, he had seized the first opportunity to familiarize +her with this latest work.</p> + +<p>The veranda was dark, and to go indoors to the +light might have involved too close a juxtaposition +to peculiar old Mr. Atwater who was in the library; +but the resourceful Newland, foreseeing everything,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +had brought with him a small pocket flashlight to +illumine his manuscript. "It's <i>vers libre</i>, of course," +he said as he moved the flashlight over the sheets +of scribbled paper. "I think I told you I was beginning +to give all the old forms up. It's the one +new movement, and I felt I ought to master it."</p> + +<p>"Of course," she said sympathetically, though +with a little nervousness. "Be just a wee bit careful +with the flashlight—about turning it toward +the window, I mean—and read in your nice low voice. +I always like poetry best when it's almost whispered. +I think it sounds more musical that way, I mean."</p> + +<p>Newland obeyed. His voice was hushed and +profoundly appreciative of the music in itself and +in his poem, as he read:</p> + +<p class="blockquot" style="font-style: italic"> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"I—And Love!</span><br /> +Lush white lilies line the pool<br /> +Like laces limned on looking-glasses!<br /> +I tread the lilies underfoot,<br /> +Careless how they love me!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still white maidens woo me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Win me not!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But thou!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou art a cornflower</span><br /> +Sapphire-eyed!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I bend!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cornflower, I ask a question.</span><br /> +O flower, speak——"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>Julia spoke. "I'm afraid," she said, while Newland's +spirit filled with a bitterness extraordinary +even in an interrupted poet;—"I'm afraid it's Mr. +Dill coming up the walk. We'll have to postpone——" +She rose and went to the steps to greet +the approaching guest. "How nice of you to come!"</p> + +<p>Noble, remaining on the lowest step, clung to her +hand in a fever. "Nice to come!" he said hoarsely. +"It's eight days—eight days—eight days since——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sanders is here," she said. "It's so dark +on this big veranda people can hardly see each other. +Come up and sit with us. I don't have to introduce +you two men to each other."</p> + +<p>She did not, indeed. They said "H'lo, Dill" +and "H'lo Sanders" in a manner of such slighting +superiority that only the utmost familiarity could +have bred a contempt so magnificent. Then, when +the three were seated, Mr. Sanders thought well +to add: "How's rent collecting these days, Dill? +Still hustling around among those darky shanties +over in Bucktown?"</p> + +<p>In the dark Noble moved convulsively, but contrived +to affect a light laugh, or a sound meant for +one, as he replied, in a voice not entirely under control: +"How's the ole poetry, Sanders?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What?" Newland demanded sharply. "What +did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I said: 'How's the ole poetry?' Do you read +it to all your relations the way you used to?"</p> + +<p>"See here, Dill!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what you want, Sanders?"</p> + +<p>"You try to talk about things you understand," +said Newland. "You better keep your mind on +collecting four dollars a week from some poor coloured +widow, and don't——"</p> + +<p>"I'd <i>rather</i> keep my mind on that!" Noble was +inspired to retort. "Your Aunt Georgina told my +mother that ever since you began thinkin' you could +write poetry the life your family led was just——"</p> + +<p>Newland interrupted. He knew the improper +thing his Aunt Georgina had said, and he was again, +and doubly, infuriated by the prospect of its repetition +here. He began fiercely:</p> + +<p>"Dill, you see here——"</p> + +<p>"Your Aunt Georgina said——"</p> + +<p>Both voices had risen. Plainly it was time for +someone to say: "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" Julia +glanced anxiously through the darkness of the room +beyond the open window beside her, to where the +light of the library lamp shone upon a door ajar;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +and she was the more nervous because Noble, to +give the effect of coolness, had lit an Orduma cigarette.</p> + +<p>She laughed amiably, as if the two young gentlemen +were as amiable as she. "I've thought of +something," she said. "Let's take the settee and +some chairs down on the lawn where we can sit and +see the moon."</p> + +<p>"There isn't any," Noble remarked vacantly.</p> + +<p>"Let's go, anyhow," she said cheerily. "Come on."</p> + +<p>Her purpose was effected; the belligerents were +diverted, and Noble lifted the light wicker settee. +"I'll carry this," he said. "It's no trouble. Sanders +can carry a chair—I guess he'd be equal to that +much." He stumbled, dropped the settee, and lifted +a basket, its contents covered with a newspaper. +"Somebody must have——"</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's a basket," said Noble.</p> + +<p>"How curious!"</p> + +<p>Julia peered through the darkness. "I wonder +who could have left that market basket out <i>here</i>. +I suppose——" She paused. "Our cook does do +more idiotic things than—I'll go ask her if it's +ours."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>She stepped quickly into the house, leaving two concentrations +of inimical silence behind her, but she returned +almost immediately, followed by Kitty Silver.</p> + +<p>"It's no use to argue," Julia was saying as they came. +"You did your marketing and simply and plainly left +it out there because you were too shiftless to——"</p> + +<p>"No'm," Mrs. Silver protested in a high voice of +defensive complaint. "No'm, Miss Julia, I ain' lef +no baskit on <i>no</i> front po'che! I got jus' th'ee markit +baskits in the livin' worl' an' they ev'y las' one +an' all sittin' right where I kin lay my han's on 'em +behime my back do'. No'm, Miss Julia, I take my +solemn oaf I ain' lef no——" But here she debouched +upon the porch, and in spite of the darkness +perceived herself to be in the presence of distinguished +callers. "Pahdon me," she said loftily, her tone +altering at once, "I beg leaf to insis' I better take +thishere baskit back to my kitchen an' see whut-all's +insiden of it."</p> + +<p>With an elegant gesture she received the basket +from Noble Dill and took the handle over her ample +forearm. "Hum!" she said. "Thishere ole basket +kine o' heavy, too. I wunner whut-all she <i>is</i> got +in her!" And she groped within the basket, beneath +the newspaper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, it was the breath of Kitty Silver's life to +linger, when she could, in a high atmosphere; and +she was a powerful gossip, exorbitantly interested +in her young mistress's affairs and all callers. Therefore +it was beyond her not to seize upon any excuse +that might detain her for any time whatever in her +present surroundings.</p> + +<p>"Pusserve jugs," she said. "Pusserve or pickle. +Cain't tell which."</p> + +<p>"You can in the kitchen," Julia said, with pointed +suggestion. "Of course you can't in the dark."</p> + +<p>But still Mrs. Silver snatched at the fleeting moment +and did not go. "Tell by smellin' 'em," she +murmured, seemingly to herself.</p> + +<p>With ease she unscrewed the top of one of the +jars; then held the open jar to her nose. "Don't +smell to me exackly like no pusserves," she said. +"Nor yit like no pickles. Don't smell to me——" +She hesitated, sniffed the jar again, and then inquired +in a voice quickly grown anxious: "Whut +<i>is</i> all thishere in thishere jug? Seem like to <i>me</i>——"</p> + +<p>But here she interrupted herself to utter a muffled +exclamation, not coherent. Instantly she added +some words suitable to religious observances, but +in a voice of passion. At the same time, with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +fine gesture, she hurled the jar and the basket from +her, and both came in contact with the wall, not +far away, with a sound of breakage.</p> + +<p>"Why, what——" Julia began. "Kitty Silver, +are you crazy?"</p> + +<p>But Kitty Silver was moving hurriedly toward +the open front door, where appeared, at that moment, +Mr. Atwater in his most irascible state of peculiarity.</p> + +<p>He began: "What was that heathenish——"</p> + +<p>Shouting, Mrs. Silver jostled by him, and, though +she disappeared into the house, a trail of calamitous +uproar marked her passage to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"What thing has happened?" Mr. Atwater demanded. +"Is she——?"</p> + +<p>His daughter interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh</i>!" was all she said, and sped by him like a bit +of blown thistledown, into the house. He grasped +at her as she passed him; then suddenly he made +other gestures, and, like Kitty Silver, used Jacobean +phrases. But now there were no auditors, for +Noble Dill and Newland Sanders, after thoughtlessly +following a mutual and natural impulse to step over +and examine the fallen basket, had both gone out +to the street, where they lingered a while, then decided +to go home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>... Later, that evening, Florence and Herbert +remembered the c'lection; so they came for it, +a mistake. Discovering the fragments upon the +veranda, they made the much more important mistake +of entering the house to demand an explanation, +which they received immediately. It was +delivered with so much vigour, indeed, that Florence +was surprised and hurt. And yet, the most important +of her dreamy wishes of the afternoon had +been fulfilled: the c'lection had been useful to Noble +Dill, for Mr. Atwater had smelled the smell of an +Orduma cigarette and was just on the point of +coming out to say some harsh things, when the c'lection +interfered. And as Florence was really responsible +for its having been in a position to interfere, so +to say, she had actually in a manner protected her +protégé and also shown some of that power of which +she had boasted when she told him that sometimes +she made members of her family "step around +pretty lively."</p> + +<p>Another of her wishes appeared to be on the way to +fulfilment, too. She had hoped that something +memorable might be done with the c'lection, and the +interview with her grandfather, her Aunt Julia, and +Kitty Silver seemed to leave this beyond doubt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TEN" id="CHAPTER_TEN"></a>CHAPTER TEN</h3> + + +<p>Now August came, that florid lazy month +when mid-summer dawdles along in trailing +greeneries, and the day is like some jocund +pagan, all flushed and asleep, with dripping beard +rosy in a wine bowl of fat vine leaves. Yet, in +this languorous time there may befall a brisker +night, cool and lively as an intrusive boy—a night +made for dancing. On such a night a hasty thought +might put it as desirable that all the world should +be twenty-two years old and in love, like Noble +Dill.</p> + +<p>Upon the white bed in his room, as he dressed, lay +the flat black silhouettes of his short evening coat +and trousers, side by side, trim from new pressing; +and whenever he looked at them Noble felt rich, tall, +distinguished, and dramatic. It is a mistake, as most +literary legends are mistakes, to assume that girls +are the only people subject to before-the-party exhilaration. +At such times a girl is often in the +anxious yet determined mood of a runner before a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +foot race, or she may be merely hopeful; some are +merry and some are grim, but arithmetical calculation +of some sort, whether glorious or uneasy, +is busy in their eyes as they pin and pat before their +mirrors. To behold romance gone light-headed, +turn to the humbler sort of man-creature under +twenty-three. Alone in his room, he may enact for +you scenes of flowery grace and most capricious +gallantry, rehearsals as unconscious as the curtsies +of field daisies in a breeze. He has neither doubt +nor certainty of his charm; he has no arithmetic at all, +and is often so free of calculation that he does not +even pull down the shades at his windows.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately for the neighbours, and even for +passers-by, since Noble's room had a window visible +from the street, his prophetic mother had closed his +shutters before he began to dress. Thus she deprived +honest folk of what surely must have been to them +the innocent pleasure of seeing a very young man +in light but complete underwear, lifting from his head +a Panama hat, new that day, in a series of courteous +salutations. At times, during this same stage of his +toilet, they might have had even more entertainment:—before +putting on his socks Noble "one-stepped" +for several minutes, still retaining upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +his head the new hat. This was a hat of double +value to him; not only was it pleasant to behold in +his mirror, but it was engaged in solidifying for the +evening the arrangement of his hair.</p> + +<p>It may be admitted that he was a little giddy, for +the dance was Julia's. Mr. Atwater had been summoned +to New York on a blessed business that would +keep him a fortnight, and his daughter, alert to the +first flash of opportunity, had almost instantly +summoned musicians, florists, a caterer, and set plans +before them. Coincidentally, Noble had chanced +to see Mr. Atwater driving down Julia's Street that +morning, a travelling bag beside him, and, immediately +putting aside for the day all business cares, hurried +to the traveller's house. Thus he forestalled, for the +time being, that competition which helped to make +caring for Julia so continuous a strain upon whatever +organ is the seat of the anxieties. Kind Julia, busy +as she was, agreed to dance the first dance with him, +and the last—those being considered of such significance +that he would be entitled to the perquisites +of a special cavalier; for instance, a seat beside her +during the serving of the customary light repast. In +such high fortune, no wonder he was a little giddy as +he dressed!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>The process of clothing himself was disconnected, +being broken by various enacted fancies and interludes. +Having approached the length of one sock +toward the completion of his toilet, he absently +dropped the other upon the floor, and danced +again; his expression and attitude signifying that +he clasped a revered partner. Releasing her from +this respectful confinement, he offered the invisible +lady a gracious arm and walked up and down the +room with a stateliness tempered to rhythm, a cakewalk +of strange refinement. Phrases seemed to be +running in his head, impromptus symbolic of the +touching and romantic, for he spoke them half aloud +hi a wistful yet uplifted manner. "Oh, years!" +he said. "Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare!" +Then he added, in a deeper voice:</p> + +<p>"For life is but a golden dream so sweetly."</p> + +<p>Other whimsies came forth from him as the dressing +slowly continued, though one might easily be +at fault in attempting to fathom what was his +thought when, during the passage of his right foot +through the corresponding leg of his trousers, he +exclaimed commandingly:</p> + +<p>"Now, Jocko, for the stirrup cup!"</p> + +<p>Jack boots and a faithful squire, probably.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>During the long and dreamy session with his neck +gear he went back to the softer <i>motif</i>:</p> + +<p> +"Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare!<br /> +For life is but a golden dream so sweetly."<br /> +</p> + +<p>Then, pausing abruptly to look at his coat, so +smoothly folded upon the bed, he addressed it: "O +noblest sample of the tailor's dext'rous art!"</p> + +<p>This was too much courtesy, for the coat was +"ready-made," and looked nobler upon the bed +than upon its owner. In fact, it was by no means a +dext'rous sample; but evidently Noble believed in it +with a high and satisfying faith; and he repeated his +compliment to it as he put it on:</p> + +<p>"Come, noblest sample of the tailor's art; I'll +don thee!"</p> + +<p>During these processes he had been repeatedly +summoned to descend to the family dinner, and finally +his mother came lamenting and called up from +the front hall that "everything" was "all getting +cold!"</p> + +<p>But by this time he was on his way, and though +he went back to leave his hat in his room, unwilling +to confide it to the hat-rack below, he presently made +his appearance in the dining-room and took his seat +at the table. This mere sitting, however, appeared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +to be his whole conception of dining; he seemed as +unaware of his mother's urging food upon him as if +he had been a Noble Dill of waxwork. Several tunes +he lifted a fork and set it down without guiding it to +its accustomed destination. Food was far from his +thoughts or desires, and if he really perceived its +presence at all, it appeared to him as something +vaguely ignoble upon the horizon.</p> + +<p>But he was able to partake of coffee; drank two +cups feverishly, his hand visibly unsteady; and when +his mother pointed out this confirmation of many +prophecies that cigarettes would ruin him, he asked +if anybody had noticed whether or not it was cloudy +outdoors. At that his father looked despondent, +for the open windows of the dining-room revealed +an evening of fragrant clarity.</p> + +<p>"I see, I see," Noble returned pettishly when the +fine state of this closely adjacent weather was pointed +out to him by his old-maid sister. "It wouldn't +be raining, of course. Not on a night like this." +He jumped up. "It's time for me to go."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dill laughed. "It's only a little after seven. +Julia won't be through her own dinner yet. You +mustn't——"</p> + +<p>But with a tremulous smile, Noble shook his head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +and hurriedly left the room. He went upstairs for +his hat, and while there pinned a geranium blossom +upon his lapel, for it may be admitted that in boutonnières +his taste was as yet unformed.</p> + +<p>Coming down again, he took a stick under his arm +and was about to set forth when he noticed a little +drift of talcum powder upon one of his patent leather +shoes. After carefully removing this accretion +and adding a brighter lustre to the shoe by means of +friction against the back of his ankle, he decided to +return to his room and brush the affected portion of +his trousers. Here a new reverie arrested him; he +stood with the brush in his hand for some time; then, +not having used it, he dropped it gently upon the +bed, lit an Orduma cigarette, descended, and went +forth to the quiet street.</p> + +<p>As he walked along Julia's Street toward Julia's +Party, there was something in his mien and look +more dramatic than mere sprightliness; and when +he came within sight of the ineffable house and saw +its many lights shining before him, he breathed with +profundity, half halting. Again he murmured:</p> + +<p> +"Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare!<br /> +For life is but a golden dream so sweetly."<br /> +</p> + +<p>At the gate he hesitated. Perhaps—perhaps he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +was a little early. It might be better to walk round +the block.</p> + +<p>He executed this parade, and again hesitated at the +gate. He could see into the brightly lighted hall, +beyond the open double doors; and it contained +nothing except its usual furniture. Once more he +walked round the block. The hall was again in +the same condition. Again he went on.</p> + +<p>When he had been thrice round the block after +that, he discovered human beings in the hall; they +were Florence, in a gala costume, and Florence's +mother, evidently arrived to be assistants at the +party, for, with the helpful advice of a coloured +manservant, they were arranging some bunches of +flowers on two hall tables. Their leisurely manner +somewhat emphasized the air of earliness that hung +about the place, and Noble thought it better to +continue to walk round the block. The third time +after that, when he completed his circuit, the musicians +were just arriving, and their silhouettes, headed +by that of the burdened bass fiddler, staggered against +the light of the glowing doorway like a fantasia of +giant beetles. Noble felt that it would be better +to let them get settled, and therefore walked round +the block again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not far from the corner above Julia's, as he passed, +a hoarse and unctuous voice, issuing out of an undistinguishable +lawn, called his name: "Noble! +Noble Dill!" And when Noble paused, Julia's +Uncle Joseph came waddling forth from the dimness +and rested his monstrous arms upon the top of the +fence, where a street light revealed them as shirt-sleeved +and equipped with a palm-leaf fan.</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter, Noble?" Mr. Atwater inquired +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Matter?" Noble repeated. "Matter?"</p> + +<p>"We're kind of upset," said Mr. Atwater. "My +wife and I been just sittin' out here in our front yard, +not doing any harm to anybody, and here it's nine +times we've counted you passing the place—always +going the same way!" He spoke as with complaint, +a man with a grievance. "It's kind of ghostlike," +he added. "We'd give a good deal to know what +<i>you</i> make of it."</p> + +<p>Noble was nonplussed. "Why——" he said. +"Why——"</p> + +<p>"How do you get <i>back</i>? That's the mystery!" +said Mr. Atwater. "You're always walkin' down +street and never up. You know my wife's never been +too strong a woman, Noble, and all this isn't doing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +her any good. Besides, we sort of figured out that +you ought really to be at Julia's dance this evening."</p> + +<p>"I am," said Noble nervously. "I mean that's +where I'm going. I'm going there. I'm going +there."</p> + +<p>"That's what's upsetting us so!" the fat man exclaimed. +"You keep on going there! Just when +we've decided you must <i>be</i> there, at last, here you +come, going there again. Well, don't let me detain +you. But if you do decide to go in, some time, +Noble, I'm afraid you aren't going to be able to do +much dancing."</p> + +<p>Noble, who had begun to walk on, halted in sudden +panic. Did this sinister fear of Mr. Atwater's mean +that, as an uncle, he had heard Julia was suddenly +ill?</p> + +<p>"Why won't I?" he asked quickly. "Is anything——"</p> + +<p>"Your poor feet!" said Mr. Atwater, withdrawing. +"Good-night, Noble."</p> + +<p>The youth went on, somewhat disturbed; it +seemed to him that this uncle, though Julia's, was +either going queer in the head or had chosen a poor +occasion to be facetious. Next time, probably, it +would be better to walk round the block below this.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +But it was no longer advisable to walk round any +block. When he came to the happy gateway, the +tuning of instruments and a fanfare of voices +sounded from within the house; girls in light wraps +were fluttering through the hall with young men; +it was "time for the party!" And Noble went in.</p> + +<p>Throughout the accomplishment of the entrance +he made, his outside and his inside were directly contradictory. +His inside was almost fluttering: there +might have been a nest of nervous young birds in +his chest; but as he went upstairs to the "gentlemen's +dressing-room," to leave his hat and stick, +this flopping and scrambling within him was never +to be guessed from his outside. His outside was +unsympathetic, even stately; he greeted his fellow +guests with negligent hauteur, while his glance +seemed to say: "Only peasantry here!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVEN" id="CHAPTER_ELEVEN"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h3> + + +<p>The stairway was crowded as he descended; +and as he looked down upon the heads and +shoulders of the throng below, in Julia's hall, +the thought came to him that since he had the first +and last dances and supper engaged with Julia, the +hostess, this was almost the next thing to being the +host. It was a pleasing thought, and a slight +graciousness now flavoured his salutations.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the stairs he became part of the file +of young people who were moving into one of the +large rooms where Julia stood to "receive." And +then, between two heads before him, he caught a +first glimpse of her;—and all the young birds fluttering +in his chest burst into song; his heart fainted, +his head ballooned, his feet seemed to dangle from +him at the ends of two strings.</p> + +<p>There glowed sapphire-eyed Julia; never had she +been prettier.</p> + +<p>The group closed, shutting out the vision, and he +found himself able to dry his brow and get back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +his breath before moving forward in a cold and aristocratic +attitude. Then he became incapable of any +attitude—he was before her, and she greeted him. +A buzzing of the universe confused him: he would +have stood forever, but pressure from behind pushed +him on; and so, enveloped in a scented cloud, he +passed into a corner. He tried to remember what +he had said to her, but could not; perhaps it would +have discouraged him to know that all he had said +was, "Well!"</p> + +<p>Now there rattled out a challenge of drums; loud +music struck upon the air. Starting instantly to +go to Julia, Noble's left leg first received the electric +impulse and crossed his laggard right; but he was no +pacer, and thus stumbled upon himself and plunged. +Still convulsive, he came headlong before her, and +was the only person near who remained unaware that +his dispersal of an intervening group had the appearance +of extreme unconventionality. Noble knew +nothing except that this was his dance with Her.</p> + +<p>Then heaven played with him. She came close +and touched him exquisitely. She placed a lovely +hand upon his shoulder, her other lovely cool hand +in one of his. The air filled with bursting stars.</p> + +<p>They danced.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>Noble was conscious of her within his clasping +arm, but conscious of her as nothing human. The +fluffy white bodice pressed by his hand seemed to +be that of some angel doll; the charming shoulder that +sometimes touched his was made of a divine mist. +Only the pretty head, close to his, was actual; the +black-sapphire eyes gave him a little blue-black +glance, now and then, and seemed to laugh.</p> + +<p>In truth, they did, though Julia's lips remained +demure. So far as Noble was able to comprehend +what he was doing, he was floating rhythmically +to a faint, far music; but he was almost unconscious, +especially from the knees down. But to the eye of +observers incapable of perceiving that Noble was +floating, it appeared that he was out of step most of +the time, and danced rather hoppingly. However, +these mannerisms were no novelty with him, and it +cannot be denied that girls at dances usually hurried +impulsively away to speak to somebody when they +saw him coming. One such creature even went so +far as to whisper to Julia now, during a collision: +"How'd you get caught?"</p> + +<p>Julia was loyal; she gave no sign of comprehension, +but valiantly swung onward with Noble, +bumped and bumping everywhere, in spite of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +most extraordinary and graceful dexterity on her +part.</p> + +<p>"That's one reason she's such a terrible belle," a +damsel whispered to another.</p> + +<p>"What is?"</p> + +<p>"The way she'll be just as nice to anybody like +Noble Dill as she is to anybody," said the first. +"Look at her now: she won't laugh at him a bit, +though everybody else is."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't laugh either," said the other. +"Not in Julia's position. I'd be too busy being +afraid."</p> + +<p>"What of?"</p> + +<p>"Of getting a sprained ankle!"</p> + +<p>It is well that telepathy remains, as a science, +lethargic. Speculation sets before us the prospect +of a Life Beyond in which every thought is communicated +without the intervention of speech: a state +wherein all neighbours and neighbourhoods would +promptly be dispersed and few friendships long +endure, one fears. If to Noble Dill's active +consciousness had penetrated merely the things +thought about him and his dancing, in this one +short period of time before the music for that dance +stopped, he might easily have been understood if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +he had hurried forth, obtained explosives, and +blown up the place, himself indeed included. As +matters providentially were in reality, when the +music stopped he stood confounded: he thought +the dance had just begun.</p> + +<p>His mouth remained open until the necessary +gestures of articulation intermittently closed it +as he said: "<i>Oh!</i> That was <i>divine</i>!"</p> + +<p>Too-gentle Julia agreed.</p> + +<p>"You said I could have part of some in between +the first and last," he reminded her. "Can I have +the first part of the next?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "I'm afraid not. The next is +Mr. Clairdyce's and I really <i>promised</i> him I wouldn't +give <i>any</i> of his away or let anybody cut in."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Noble, frowning a little, "would +you be willing for me to cut in on the third?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not. That's Newland Sanders', and +I promised him the same thing."</p> + +<p>"Well, the one after that?"</p> + +<p>"No, that one's Mr. Clairdyce's, too."</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i>?" Noble was greatly disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Two that quick with old Baldy Clairdyce!" he +exclaimed, raising his voice, but unaware of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +fervour with which he spoke. "Two with that +old——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Sh</i>, Noble," she said, though she laughed. "He +isn't really old; he's just middle-aged, and only the +least bit bald, just enough to be distinguished-looking."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know what <i>I</i> think of him!" he returned +with a vehemence not moderated. "<i>I</i> don't +think he's distinguished-looking; I think he's simply +and plainly a regular old——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Sh!</i>" Julia warned him again. "He's standing +with some people just behind us," she added.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Noble, "can I cut in on the +next one after that?"</p> + +<p>She consulted a surreptitious little card. "I'm +afraid you'll have to wait till quite a little later on, +Noble. That one is poor Mr. Ridgely's. I promised +him I wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>"Then can I cut in on the next one after that?"</p> + +<p>"It's Mr. Clairdyce's," said Julia—and she blushed.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" said Noble. "Oh, my goodness!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Sh!</i> I'm afraid people——"</p> + +<p>"Let's go out on the porch," said Noble, whose manner +had suddenly become desperate. "Let's go out +and get some air where we can talk this thing over."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I'd better not just now," she returned, +glancing over her shoulder. "You see, all the people +aren't here yet."</p> + +<p>"You've got an aunt here," said Noble, "and a +sister-in-law and a little niece: I saw 'em. They +can——"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I'd better stay indoors just now," she +said persuasively. "We can talk here just as well."</p> + +<p>"We can't!" he insisted feverishly. "We can't, +Julia! I've got something to say, Julia. Julia, +you gave me the first dance and the last dance, and +of course sitting together at supper, or whatever there +is, and you know as well as I do that means it's just +the same as if you weren't giving this party but it +was somewhere else and I took you to it, and it's always +understood you <i>never</i> dance more with anybody +else than the one you went with, when you go with +that person to a place, because that's the rights of +it; and other towns it's just the same way; they do +that way there, just the same as here; they do that +way everywhere, because nobody else has got a right +to cut in and dance more with you than the one +you go with, when you goes to a place with that one. +Julia, don't you see that's the regular way it is, and +the only fair way it ought to be?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Weren't you even <i>listening</i>?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, but——"</p> + +<p>"Julia," he said desperately, "let's go out on the +porch. I want to explain just the way I feel. Let's +go out on the porch, Julia. If we stay here, somebody's +just bound to interrupt us any minute before I +can explain the way I——"</p> + +<p>But the prophecy was fulfilled even before it was +concluded. A group of loudly chattering girls and +their escorts of the moment bore down upon Julia, +and shattered the tête-à-tête. Dislodged from +Julia's side by a large and eager girl, whom he had +hated ever since she was six years old and he five, +Noble found himself staggering in a kind of suburb; +for the large girl's disregard of him, as she shouldered +in, was actually physical, and too powerful for him +to resist. She wished to put her coarse arm round +Julia's waist, it appeared, and the whole group burbled +and clamoured: the party was <i>perfictly</i> glorious; +so was the waxed floor; so was Julia, my <i>dear</i>, so was +the music, the weather, and the din they made!</p> + +<p>Noble felt that his rights were being outraged. +Until the next dance began, every moment of her time +was legally his—yet all he could even see of her was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +the top of her head. And the minutes were flying.</p> + +<p>He stood on tiptoe, thrust his head forward +over the large girl's odious shoulder, and shouted: +"Julia! Let's go out on the porch!"</p> + +<p>No one seemed to hear him.</p> + +<p>"Julia——"</p> + +<p><i>Boom!</i> Rackety-<i>Boom</i>! The drummer walloped +his drums; a saxophone squawked, and fiddles +squealed. Hereupon appeared a tall authoritative +man, at least thirty-two years old, and all swelled +up with himself, as interpreted by Noble and several +other friends of Julia's—though this, according to +quite a number of people (all feminine) was only +another way of saying that he was a person of commanding +presence. He wore a fully developed +moustache, an easy smile, clothes offensively knowing; +and his hair began to show that scarcity which +Julia felt gave him distinction—a curious theory, +but natural to her age. What really did give this +Clairdyce some air of distinction, however, was the +calmness with which he walked through the group +that had dislodged Noble Dill, and the assurance +with which he put his arm about Julia and swept her +away in the dance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>Noble was left alone in the middle of the floor, +but not for long. Couples charged him, and he betook +himself to the wall. The party, for him, was +already ruined.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, as he stood against the wall, there +would be swirled to him, out of all the comminglements +of other scents, a faint, faint hint of heliotrope +and then Julia would be borne masterfully by, +her flying skirts just touching him. And sometimes, +out of the medley of all other sounds, there would +reach his ear a little laugh like a run of lightly plucked +harp strings, and he would see her shining dark hair +above her partner's shoulder as they swept again +near him for an instant. And always, though she +herself might be concealed from him, he could only +too painfully mark where she danced: the overtopping +head of the tall Clairdyce was never lost to view. +The face on the front part of that disliked head wore +continuously a confident smile, which had a bad +effect on Noble. It seemed to him desecration that +a man with so gross a smile should be allowed to +dance with Julia. And that she should smile back at +her partner, and with such terrible kindness—as +Noble twice saw her smile—this was like a calamity +happening to her white soul without her knowing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +it. If she should ever marry that man—well, it +would be the old story: May and December! Noble +shuddered, and the drums, the fiddles, the bass fiddle, +and the saxophone seemed to have an evil sound.</p> + +<p>When the music stopped he caromed hastily +through the room toward Julia, but she was in a +thicket of her guests when he arrived, and for several +moments Mr. Clairdyce's broad back kept intervening—almost +intentionally, it seemed. When Noble +tried to place himself in a position to attract Julia's +attention, this back moved, too, and Noble's nose but +pressed black cloth. And the noise everybody made +was so baffling that, in order to be heard, Julia herself +was shouting. Finally Noble contrived to squirm +round the obtrusive back, and protruded his strained +face among all the flushed and laughing ones.</p> + +<p>"Julia, I got to——" he began.</p> + +<p>But this was just at the climax of a story that three +people were telling at the same time, Julia being one +of them, and he received little attention.</p> + +<p>"Julia," he said hoarsely; "I got something I +want to <i>tell</i> you about——"</p> + +<p>He raised his voice: "Julia, come on! Let's go +out on the <i>porch</i>!"</p> + +<p>Nobody even knew that he was there. Nevertheless,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +the tall and solid Clairdyce was conscious of him, +but only, it proved, as one is conscious of something +to rest upon. His elbow, a little elevated, was at +the height of Noble's shoulder, and this heavy elbow, +without its owner's direct or active cognizance, found +for itself a comfortable support. Then, as the +story reached its conclusion, this old Clairdyce +joined the general mirth so heartily as to find himself +quite overcome, and he allowed most of his weight +to depend upon the supported elbow. Noble sank +like feathers.</p> + +<p>"Here! What you doin'?" he said hotly. "I'll +thank you to keep off o' me!"</p> + +<p>Old Baldy recovered his balance without being +aware what had threatened it, while his elbow, apparently +of its own volition, groped for its former +pedestal. Noble evaded it, and pushed forward.</p> + +<p>"Julia," he said. "I <i>got</i> to say some——"</p> + +<p>But the accursed music began again, and horn-rimmed +Newland Sanders already had his arm about +her waist. They disappeared into the ruck of +dancers.</p> + +<p>"Well, by George!" said Noble. "By George, +I'm goin' to <i>do</i> something!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWELVE" id="CHAPTER_TWELVE"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE</h3> + + +<p>He went outdoors and smoked Orduma +cigarettes, one after the other. Dances +and intermissions succeeded each other +but Noble had "enough of <i>that</i>, for one while!" So he +muttered.</p> + +<p>And remembering how Julia had told him that he +was killing himself with cigarettes, "All right," he +said now, as he bitterly lighted his fifth at the spark +of the fourth;—"I hope I will!"</p> + +<p>"Lot o' difference it'd make!" he said, as he lighted +the eighth of a series that must, all told, have contained +nearly as much tobacco as a cigar. And, +leaning back against the trunk of one of the big old +walnut trees in the yard, he gazed toward the house, +where the open window nearest him splashed with +colour like a bright and crowded aquarium. "To +<i>her</i>, anyway!" he added, with a slight remorse, +remembering that his mother had frequently shown +him evidences of affection.</p> + +<p>Yes, his mother would care, and his father and +sisters would be upset, but Julia—when the friends<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +of the family were asked to walk by for a last look, +would she be one? What optimism remained to him +presented a sketch of Julia, in black, borne from the +room in the arms of girl friends who tried in vain to +hush her; but he was unable to give this more hopeful +fragment an air of great reality. Much more +probably, when word came to her that he had smoked +himself to death, she would be a bride, dancing at +Niagara Falls with her bald old husband—and she +would only laugh and pause to toss a faded rose out +of the window, and then go right on dancing. But +perhaps, some day, when tears had taught her the +real meaning of life with such a man——</p> + +<p>"You—<i>wow</i>!"</p> + +<p>Noble jumped. From the darkness of the yard +beside the house there came a grievous howl, distressful +to the spinal marrow, a sound of animal pain. +It was repeated even more passionately, and another +voice was also heard, one both hoarsely bass and +falsetto in the articulation of a single syllable. +"<i>Ouch!</i>" There were sounds of violent scuffing, +and the bass-falsetto voice cried: "What's that you +<i>stuck</i> me with?" and another: "Drag her! Drag her +back by her feet!"</p> + +<p>These alarms came from the almost impenetrable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +shadows of the small orchard beside the house; and +from the same quarter was heard the repeated contact +of a heavy body, seemingly wooden or metallic, +with the ground; but high over this there rose a +shrieking: "Help! Help! Oh, <i>hay</i>-yulp!" This +voice was girlish. "Hay-<i>yulp</i>!"</p> + +<p>Noble dashed into the orchard, and at once fell +prostrate upon what seemed a log, but proved to be +a large and solidly packed ice-cream freezer lying +on its side.</p> + +<p>Dark forms scrambled over the fence and vanished, +but as Noble got to his feet he was joined by +a dim and smallish figure in white—though more +light would have disclosed a pink sash girdling its +middle. It was the figure of Miss Florence Atwater, +seething with furious agitations.</p> + +<p>"Vile thieves!" she panted.</p> + +<p>"Who?" Noble asked, brushing at his knees, +while Florence made some really necessary adjustments +of her own attire. "Who were they?"</p> + +<p>"It was my own cousin, Herbert, and that nasty +little Henry Rooter and their gang. Herbert thinks +he hass to act perfectly horrable all the time, now +his voice is changing!" said Florence, her emotion +not abated. "Tried to steal this whole ice-cream<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +freezer off the back porch and sneak it over the fence +and eat it! I stuck a pretty long pin in Herbert and +two more of 'em, every bit as far as it would go." +And in the extremity of her indignation, she added: +"The dirty robbers!"</p> + +<p>"Did they hurt you?"</p> + +<p>"You bet your life they didn't!" the child responded. +"Tried to drag me back to the house! +By the feet! I guess I gave 'em enough o' <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>Then, tugging the prostrate freezer into an upright +position, she exclaimed darkly: "I expect +I gave ole Mister Herbert and some of the others of +'em just a few kicks they won't be in such a hurry to +forget!" And in spite of his own gloomy condition, +Noble was able, upon thinking over matters, to +spare some commiseration for Herbert and his +friend, that nasty little Henry Rooter and their gang. +They seemed to have been at a disadvantage.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I'd better carry the freezer back to +the kitchen porch," he said. "Somebody may +want it."</p> + +<p>"'Somebody'!" Florence exclaimed. "Why, +there's only two of these big freezers, and if I hadn't +happened to suspeck somep'n and be layin' for those +vile thieves, half the party wouldn't get <i>any</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +And as an afterthought, when Noble had pantingly +restored the heavy freezer to its place by the kitchen +door, she said: "Or else they'd had to have such +little saucers of it nobody would of been any way +<i>like</i> satisfied, and prob'ly all the fam'ly that's here +assisting would of had to go without any at all. +That'd 'a' been the worst of it!"</p> + +<p>She opened the kitchen door, and to those within +explained loudly what dangers had been averted, +directing that both freezers be placed indoors under +guard; then she rejoined Noble, who was walking +slowly back to the front yard.</p> + +<p>"I guess it's pretty lucky you happened to be +hangin' around out here," she said. "I guess that's +about the luckiest thing ever happened to me. The +way it looks to me, I guess you saved my life. If +you hadn't chased 'em away, I wouldn't been a bit +surprised if that gang would killed me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Noble. "They wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>"You don't know 'em like I do," the romantic +child assured him. "I know that gang pretty well, +and I wouldn't been a bit surprised. I wouldn't +been!"</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>She tossed her head, signifying recklessness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Guess 'twouldn't make much difference to anybody +particular, whether they did or not," said this strange +Florence.</p> + +<p>Noble regarded her with astonishment; they had +reached the front yard, and paused under the trees +where the darkness was mitigated by the light from +the shining windows. "Why, you oughtn't to +talk that way, Florence," he said. "Think of your +mamma and papa and your—and your Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>She tossed her head again. "Pooh! They'd +all of 'em just say: 'Good ribbons to bad rubbish,' +I guess!" However, she seemed far from despondent +about this; in fact, she was naturally pleased with +her position as a young girl saved from the power +of ruffians by a rescuer who was her Very Ideal. +"I bet if I died, they wouldn't even have a funeral," +she said cheerfully. "They'd proba'ly just leave +me lay."</p> + +<p>The curiosities of the human mind are found +not in high adventure: they are everywhere in the +commonplace. Never for a moment did it strike +Noble Dill that Florence's turn to the morbid bore +any resemblance to his recent visions of his own +funeral. He failed to perceive that the two phenomena +were produced out of the same laboratory<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +jar and were probably largely chemical, at +that.</p> + +<p>"Why, Florence!" he exclaimed. "That's a +dreadful way to feel. I'm sure your—your Aunt +Julia loves you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," Florence returned lightly;—"maybe +she does. I don't care whether she does or not." +And now she made a deduction, the profundity of +which his condition made him unable to perceive. +"It makes less difference to anybody whether their +aunts love 'em or not than whether pretty near anybody +else at all does."</p> + +<p>"But not your Aunt <i>Julia</i>" he urged. "Your +Aunt <i>Julia</i>——"</p> + +<p>"I don't care whether she does than any other +aunt I got," said Florence. "All of 'em's just +aunts, and that's all there is to it."</p> + +<p>"But, Florence, your Aunt <i>Julia</i>——"</p> + +<p>"She's nothin' in the world but my <i>aunt</i>," Florence +insisted, and her emphasis showed that she was trying +hard to make him understand. "She's just the +same as all of 'em. I don't get anything more from +her than I do from any the rest of 'em."</p> + +<p>Her auditor was dumfounded, but not by Florence's +morals. The cold-blooded calculation upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +which her family affections seemed to be founded, this +aboriginal straightforwardness of hers, passed over +him. What shocked him was her appearing to see +Julia as all of a piece with a general lot of ordinary +aunts. Helplessly, he muttered again:</p> + +<p>"But your Aunt <i>Julia</i>——"</p> + +<p>"There she is now," said Florence, pointing to +the window nearest them. "They've stopped dancing +for a while so's that ole Mister Clairdyce can +get a chance to sing somep'n. Mamma told me he +was goin' to."</p> + +<p>Dashing chords sounded from a piano invisible +to Noble and his companion; the windows exhibited +groups of deferentially expectant young people; +and then a powerful barytone began a love song. +From the yard the singer could not be seen, but +Julia could be: she stood in the demurest attitude; +and no one needed to behold the vocalist to know +that the scoundrel was looking pointedly and romantically +at her.</p> + +<p> +"<i>Dee-urra-face that holds soswee tasmile for me,<br /> +Wairyew nah tmine how darrrk the worrrl dwooed be!</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>To Noble, suffering at every pore, this was less +a song than a bellowing; and in truth the confident<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +Mr. Clairdyce did "let his voice out," for he was +seldom more exhilarated than when he shook +the ceiling. The volume of sound he released upon +his climaxes was impressive, and the way he +slid up to them had a great effect, not indoors +alone, but upon Florence, enraptured out under +the trees.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't it be-<i>you</i>-tiful!" she murmured.</p> + +<p>Her humid eyes were fixed upon Noble, who was +unconscious of the honour. Florence was susceptible +to anything purporting to be music, and +this song moved her. Throughout its delivery from +Mr. Clairdyce's unseen chest, her large eyes dwelt +upon Noble, and it is not at all impossible that +she was applying the tender words to him, just as +the vehement Clairdyce was patently addressing +them to Julia. On he sang, while Noble, staring +glassily at the demure lady, made a picture of himself +leaping unexpectedly through the window, striding +to the noisy barytone, striking him down, and +after stamping on him several times, explaining: +"There! That's for your insolence to our hostess!" +But he did not actually permit himself these solaces; +he only clenched and unclenched his fingers several +times, and continued to listen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p class="blockquot"> +"<i>Geev a-mee yewr ra-smile,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The luv va-ligh TIN yew rise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life cooed not hold a fairrerr paradise.</span><br /> +Geev a-mee the righ to luv va-yew all the wile,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My worrlda for AIV-vorr,</span><br /> +The sunshigh NUV vyewr-ra-smile!</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>The conclusion was thunderous, and as a great +noise under such circumstances is an automatic +stimulant of enthusiasm, the applause was thunderous +too. Several girls were unable to subdue +their outcries of "Charming!" and "<i>Won</i>-derf'l!"—not +even after Mr. Clairdyce had begun to sing the +same song as an encore.</p> + +<p>When this was concluded, a sigh, long and deep, +was heard under the trees. It came from Florence. +Her eyes, wanly gleaming, like young oysters in +the faint light, were still fixed on Noble; and there +can be little doubt that just now there was at least +one person in the world, besides his mother, who saw +him in a glamour as something rare, obs, exquisite, +and elegant. "I think that was the most be-<i>you</i>-tiful +thing I ever heard!" she said; and then, noting a +stir within the house, she became practical. "They're +starting refreshments," she said. "We better hurry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +in, Mr. Dill, so's to get good places. Thanks to me, +there's plenty to go round."</p> + +<p>She moved toward the house, but, observing that +he did not accompany her, paused and looked back. +"Aren't you goin' to come in, Mr. Dill?"</p> + +<p>"I guess not. Don't tell any one I'm out here."</p> + +<p>"I won't. But aren't you goin' to come in +for——"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "No, I'm going to wait out +here a while longer."</p> + +<p>"But," she said, "it's <i>refreshments</i>!"</p> + +<p>"I don't want any. I—I'm going to smoke some +more, instead."</p> + +<p>She looked at him wistfully, then even more wistfully +toward the house. Evidently she was of a +divided mind: her feeling for Noble fought with her +feeling for "refreshments." Such a struggle could +not endure for long: a whiff of coffee conjured her +nose, and a sound of clinking china witched her ear. +"Well," she said, "I guess I ought to have some +nourishment," and betook herself hurriedly into the +house.</p> + +<p>Noble lit another Orduma. He would follow the +line of conduct he had marked out for himself: he +would not take his place by Julia for the supper interval—perhaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +that breach of etiquette would +"show" her. He could see her no longer—she had +moved out of range—but he imagined her, asking +everywhere: "Hasn't <i>any</i> one seen Mr. Dill?" +And he thought of her as biting her lip nervously, +perhaps, and replying absently to sallies and quips—perhaps +even having to run upstairs to her own room +to dash something sparkling from her eyes, and, +maybe, to look angrily in her glass for an instant and +exclaim, "Fool!" For Julia was proud, and not +used to be treated in this way.</p> + +<p>He felt the least bit soothed, and, lightly flicking +the ash from his Orduma with his little finger, an +act indicating some measure of restored composure, +he strolled to the other side of the house and +brought other fields of vision into view through +other windows. Abruptly his stroll came to an +end.</p> + +<p>There sat Julia, flushed and joyous, finishing her +supper in company with old Baldy Clairdyce, Newland +Sanders, George Plum, seven or eight other +young gentlemen, and some inconsidered adhering +girls—the horrible barytone sitting closest of all to +Julia. Moreover, upon that very moment the orchestra, +in the hall beyond, thought fit to pay the recent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +vocalist a sickening compliment, and began to +play "The Sunshine of Your Smile."</p> + +<p>Thereupon, with Julia herself first taking up the air +in a dulcet soprano, all of the party, including the +people in the other rooms, sang the dreadful song +in chorus, the beaming Clairdyce exerting such demoniac +power as to be heard tremendously over all +other voices. He had risen for this effort, and to +Noble, below the window, everything in his mouth +was visible.</p> + +<p>The lone listener had a bitter thought, though it +was a longing, rather than a thought. For the first +time in his life he wished that he had adopted the +profession of dentistry.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"> +"<i>Geev a-mee the righ to luv va-yew ALL the wile,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My worrrlda for AIV-vorr,</span><br /> +The sunshigh NUV vyewr-ra-smile!</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>The musicians swung into dance music; old Baldy +closed the exhibition with an operatic gesture (for +which alone, if for nothing else, at least one watcher +thought the showy gentleman deserved hanging), +and this odious gesture concluded with a seizure of +Julia's hand. She sprang up eagerly; he whirled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +her away, and the whole place fluctuated in the dance +once more.</p> + +<p>"Well, now," said Noble, between his teeth—"now, +I <i>am</i> goin' to do something!"</p> + +<p>He turned his back upon that painful house, +walked out to the front gate, opened it, passed +through, and looked southward. Not quite two +blocks away there shone the lights of a corner drug +store, still open to custom though the hour was +nearing midnight. He walked straight to the door +of this place, which stood ajar, but paused before +entering, and looked long and nervously at the +middle-aged proprietor who was unconscious of his +regard, and lounged in a chair, drowsily stroking +a cat upon his lap. Noble walked in.</p> + +<p>"Good evening," said the proprietor, rising and +brushing himself languidly. "Cat hairs," he said +apologetically. "Sheddin', I reckon." Then, as +he went behind the counter, he inquired: "How's +the party goin' off?"</p> + +<p>"It's—it's——" Noble hesitated. "I stepped in +to—to——"</p> + +<p>The druggist opened a glass case. "Aw right," +he said, blinking, and tossed upon the counter a +package of Orduma cigarettes. "Old Atwater'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +have convulsions, I reckon," he remarked, "if he +had to lay awake and listen to all that noise. Price +ain't changed," he added, referring humorously to +the purchase he mistakenly supposed Noble wished +to make. "F'teen cents, same as yesterday and +the day before."</p> + +<p>Noble placed the sum upon the counter. "I—I +was thinking——" He gulped.</p> + +<p>"Huh?" said the druggist placidly, for he was +too sleepy to perceive the strangeness of his customer's +manner.</p> + +<p>Noble lighted an Orduma with an unsteady hand, +leaned upon the counter, and inquired in a voice that +he strove to make casual: "Is—is the soda fountain +still running this late?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know," said Noble. "I suppose you +have more calls for soda water than you do for—for—for +real liquor?"</p> + +<p>The druggist laughed. "Funny thing: I reckon +we don't have more'n half the calls for real liquor +than what we used to before we went dry."</p> + +<p>Noble breathed deeply. "I s'pose you probably +sell quite a good deal of it though, at that. By +the glass, I mean—such as a glass of something kind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +of strong—like—like whiskey. That is, I sort of +supposed so. I mean I thought I'd ask you about +this."</p> + +<p>"No," said the druggist, yawning. "It never +did pay well—not on this corner, anyhow. Once +there used to be a little money in it, but not much." +He roused himself somewhat. "Well, it's about +twelve. Anything you wanted 'cept them Ordumas +before I close up?"</p> + +<p>Noble gulped again. He had grown pale. "<i>I</i> +want——" he said abruptly, then his heart seemed to +fail him. "I want a glass of——" Once more he +stopped and swallowed. His shoulders drooped, and +he walked across to the soda fountain. "Well," +he said, "I'll take a chocolate sundae."</p> + +<p>The thought of going back to Julia's party was +unendurable, yet a return was necessary on account +of his new hat, the abandonment of which he did not +for a moment consider. But about half way, as he +walked slowly along, he noticed an old horse-block +at the curbstone, and sat down there. He could +hear the music at Julia's, sometimes loud and close at +hand, sometimes seeming to be almost a mile away. +"All right!" he said, so bitter had he grown. +"Dance! Go on and <i>dance</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>... When finally he reëntered Julia's gate, +he shuffled up the walk, his head drooping, and +ascended the steps and crossed the veranda and the +threshold of the front door in the same manner.</p> + +<p>Julia stood before him.</p> + +<p>"Noble <i>Dill</i>!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>As for Noble, his dry throat refused its office; he +felt that he might never be able to speak to Julia +again, even if he tried.</p> + +<p>"Where in the world have you been all evening?" +she cried.</p> + +<p>"Why, Jew-Julia!" he quavered. "Did you notice +that I was gone?"</p> + +<p>"Did I 'notice'!" she said. "You never came +near me all evening after the first dance! Not even +at supper!"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't—you didn't——" he faltered. +"You wouldn't do anything all evening except dance +with that old Clairdyce and listen to him trying +to sing."</p> + +<p>But Julia would let no one suffer if she could help +it; and she could always help Noble. She made her +eyes mysterious and used a voice of honey and roses. +"You don't think I'd <i>rather</i> have danced with him, +do you, Noble?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>Immediately sparks seemed to crackle about his +head. He started.</p> + +<p>"What?" he said.</p> + +<p>The scent of heliotrope enveloped him; she laughed +her silver harp-strings laugh, and lifted her arms +toward the dazzled young man. "It's the last dance," +she said. "Don't you want to dance it with me?"</p> + +<p>Then to the spectators it seemed that Noble +Dill went hopping upon a waxed floor and upon +Julia's little slippers; he was bumped and bumping +everywhere; but in reality he floated in Elysian +ether, immeasurably distant from earth, his hand +just touching the bodice of an angelic doll.</p> + +<p>Then, on his way home, a little later, with his new +hat on the back of his head, his stick swinging +from his hand, and a semi-fragrant Orduma between +his lips, his condition was precisely as sweet as the +condition in which he had walked to the party.</p> + +<p>No echoes of "The Sunshine of Your Smile" +cursed his memory—that lover's little memory fresh +washed in heliotrope—and when his mother came +to his door, after he got home, and asked him if he'd +had "a nice time at the party," he said:</p> + +<p>"Just glorious!" and believed it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN" id="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h3> + + +<p>It was a pretty morning, two weeks after Julia's +Dance; and blue and lavender shadows, frayed +with mid-summer sunshine, waggled gayly across +the grass beneath the trees of the tiny orchard, but +trembled with timidity as they hurried over the +abnormal surfaces of Mrs. Silver as she sat upon the +steps of the "back porch." Her right hand held in +security one end of a leather leash; the other end of +the leash was fastened to a new collar about the neck +of an odd and fascinating dog. Seated upon the +brick walk at her feet, he was regarding her with a +gravity that seemed to discomfort her. She was +unable to meet his gaze, and constantly averted her +own whenever it furtively descended to his. In fact, +her expression and manner were singular, denoting +embarrassment, personal hatred, and a subtle bedazzlement. +She could not look at him, yet could +not keep herself from looking at him. There was +something here that arose out of the depths of +natural character; it was intrinsic in the two personalities,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +that is to say; and was in addition to the +bitterness consequent upon a public experience, just +past, which had been brought upon Mrs. Silver +partly by the dog's appearance (in particular the style +and colour of his hair) and partly by his unprecedented +actions in her company upon the highway.</p> + +<p>She addressed him angrily, yet with a profound +uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"Dog!" she said. "You ain't feelin' as skittish as +whut you did, li'l while ago, is you? My glory! I +dess would like to lay my han' to you' hide once, +Mister! I take an' lam you this livin' minute if I +right sho' you wouldn't take an' bite me."</p> + +<p>She jerked the leash vindictively, upon which the +dog at once "sat up" on his haunches, put his forepaws +together above his nose, in an attitude of prayer, +and looked at her inscrutably from under the great +bang of hair that fell like a black chrysanthemum +over his forehead. Beneath this woolly lambrequin +his eyes were visible as two garnet sparks of which +the coloured woman was only too nervously aware. +She gasped.</p> + +<p>"Look-a-here, dog, who's went an' ast you to take +an' pray fer 'em?"</p> + +<p>He remained motionless and devout.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My goo'niss!" she said to him. "If you goin' +keep on thisaway whut you <i>is</i> been, I'm goin' to up +an' go way from here, ri' now!" Then she said a +remarkable thing. "Listen here, Mister! I ain' +never los' no gran' child, an' I ain' goin' 'dop' no +stranger fer one, neither!"</p> + +<p>The explanation rests upon the looks and manners +of him whom she addressed. This dog was of a kind +at the top of dog kingdoms. His size was neither +insignificant nor great; probably his weight would +have been between a fourth and a third of a St. +Bernard's. He had the finest head for adroit thinking +that is known among dogs; and he had an athletic +body, the forepart muffled and lost in a mass of +corded black fleece, but the rest of him sharply +clipped from the chest aft; and his trim, slim legs +were clipped, though tufts were left at his ankles, +and at the tip of his short tail, with two upon his hips, +like fanciful buttons of an imaginary jacket; for thus +have such dogs been clipped to a fashion proper and +comfortable for them ever since (and no doubt long +before) an Imperial Roman sculptor so chiselled one +in bas-relief. In brief, this dog, who caused Kitty +Silver so much disquietude, as she sat upon the +back steps at Mr. Atwater's, belonged to that species<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +of which no Frenchman ever sees a specimen without +smiling and murmuring: "<i>Caniche!</i>" He was +that golden-hearted little clown of all the world, a +French Poodle.</p> + +<p>To arrive at what underlay Mrs. Silver's declaration +that she had never lost a grandchild and had no +intention of adopting a stranger in the place of one, +it should be first understood that in many respects +she was a civilized person. The quality of savagery, +barbarism, or civilization in a tribe may be tested +by the relations it characteristically maintains with +domestic animals; and tribes that eat dogs are often +inferior to those inclined to ceremonial cannibalism. +Likewise, the civilization, barbarism, or savagery of +an individual may be estimated by the same test, +which sometimes gives us evidence of sporadic reversions +to mud. Such reversions are the stomach +priests: whatever does not minister to their own +bodily inwards is a "parasite." Dogs are "parasites"; +they should not live, because to fat and eat +them somehow appears uncongenial. "Kill Dogs and +Feed Pigs," they write to the papers, and, with a +Velasquez available, would burn it rather than go +chilly. "Kill dogs, feed pigs, and let <i>me</i> eat the pigs!" +they cry, even under no great stress, these stern<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +economists who have not noticed how wasteful the +Creator is proved to be if He made themselves. +They take the strictly intestinal view of life. It is +not intelligent; parasite bacilli will get them in the +end.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver was not of these. True, she sometimes +professed herself averse to all "animals," but this +meant nothing more than her unwillingness to have +her work increased by their introduction into the +Atwater household. No; the appearance of the dog +had stirred something queer and fundamental +within her. All coloured people look startled the +first time they see a French Poodle, but there is a +difference. Most coloured men do not really worry +much about being coloured, but many coloured +women do. In the expression of a coloured man, when +he looks at a black and woolly French Poodle, there is +something fonder and more indulgent than there is +in the expression of a coloured woman when she looks +at one. In fact, when some coloured women see a +French Poodle they have the air of being insulted.</p> + +<p>Now, when Kitty Silver had first set eyes on this +poodle, an hour earlier, she looked, and plainly was, +dumfounded. Never in her life had she seen a +creature so black, so incredibly black, or with hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +so kinky, so incredibly kinky. Julia had not observed +Mrs. Silver closely nor paused to wonder what +thoughts were rousing in her mind, but bade her take +the poodle forth for exercise outdoors and keep him +strictly upon the leash. Without protest, though +wearing a unique expression, Kitty obeyed; she +walked round the block with this mystifying dog; +and during the promenade had taken place the episode +that so upset her nerves.</p> + +<p>She had given a little jerk to the leash, speaking +sharply to the poodle in reproach for some lingering +near a wonderful sidewalk smell, imperceptible to +any one except himself. Instantly the creature rose +and walked beside her on his hind legs. He continued +to parade in this manner, rapidly, but nevertheless +as if casually, without any apparent inconvenience; +and Mrs. Silver, never having seen a dog +do such a thing before, for more than a yard or so, +and then only under the pressure of many inducements, +was unfavourably impressed. In fact, she had +definitely a symptom of M. Maeterlinck's awed +feeling when he found himself left alone with the +talking horses: "With <i>whom</i> was she?"</p> + +<p>"Look-a-here, dog!" she said breathlessly. "Who +you tryin' to skeer? <i>You</i> ain't no person!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>And then a blow fell. It came from an elderly +but ever undignified woman of her own race, who +paused, across the street, and stood teetering from +side to side in joyful agitation, as she watched the +approach of Mrs. Silver with her woolly little companion +beside her. When this smaller silhouette in +ink suddenly walked upright, the observer's mouth +fell open, and there was reason to hope that it might +remain so, in silence, especially as several other +pedestrians had stopped to watch the poodle's uncalled-for +exhibition. But all at once the elderly +rowdy saw fit to become uproarious.</p> + +<p>"Hoopsee!" she shouted. "Oooh, <i>Gran'ma</i>!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And so, when the poodle "sat up," unbid, to pray, +while Kitty Silver rested upon the back steps, on her +return from the excursion, she fiercely informed him +that she had never lost a grandchild and that she +would not adopt a stranger in place of one; her implication +being that he, a stranger, had been suggested +for the position and considered himself eligible +for it.</p> + +<p>He continued to pray, not relaxing a hair.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, dog," said Kitty Silver. "Is you +a dog, or isn't you a dog? Whut <i>is</i> you, anyway?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>But immediately she withdrew the question. "I +ain't astin' you!" she exclaimed superstitiously. +"If you isn't no dog, don't you take an' tell me whut +you is: you take an' keep it to you'se'f, 'cause I +don' want to listen to it!"</p> + +<p>For the garnet eyes beneath the great black +chrysanthemum indeed seemed to hint that their +owner was about to use human language in a human +voice. Instead, however, he appeared to be content +with his little exhibition, allowed his forepaws to +return to the ground, and looked at her with his head +wistfully tilted to one side. This reassured her and +even somewhat won her. There stirred within her +that curious sense of relationship evoked from the +first by his suggestive appearance; fondness was being +born, and an admiration that was in a way a form of +Narcissism. She addressed him in a mollified voice:</p> + +<p>"Whut you want now? Don' tell me you' hungry, +'cause you awready done et two dog biskit an' big +saucer milk. Whut you stick you' ole black face +crossways at <i>me</i> fer, honey?"</p> + +<p>But just then the dog rose to look pointedly +toward the corner of the house. "Somebody's coming," +he meant.</p> + +<p>"Who you spectin', li'l dog?" Mrs. Silver inquired.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence and Herbert came round the house, Herbert +trifling with a tennis ball and carrying a racket +under his arm. Florence was peeling an orange.</p> + +<p>"For Heavenses' sakes!" Florence cried. "Kitty +Silver, where on earth'd this dog come from?"</p> + +<p>"B'long you' Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>"When'd she get him?"</p> + +<p>"Dess to-day."</p> + +<p>"Who gave him to her?"</p> + +<p>"She ain't sayin'."</p> + +<p>"You mean she won't tell?"</p> + +<p>"She ain't sayin'," Kitty Silver repeated. "I +ast her. I say, I say: 'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say, +'Miss Julia, ma'am, who ever sen' you sech a unlandish-lookin' +dog?' I say. All she say when I +ast her: 'Nemmine!' she say, dess thataway. 'Nemmine!' +she say. I reckon she ain't goin' tell nobody +who give her this dog."</p> + +<p>"He's certainly a mighty queer-lookin' dog," said +Herbert. "I've seen a few like that, but I can't +remember where. What kind is he, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Julia tell me he a poogle dog."</p> + +<p>"A poodle," Florence corrected her, and then +turned to Herbert in supercilious astonishment. "A +French Poodle! My goodness! I should think you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +were old enough to know that much, anyway—goin' +on fourteen years old!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I did know it," he declared. "I kind +of knew it, anyhow; but I sort of forgot it for once. +Do you know if he bites, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>She was noncommittal. "He ain't bit nobody +yit."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe he'll bite," said Florence. "I +bet he likes me. He looks like he was taking a fancy +to me, Kitty Silver. What's his name?"</p> + +<p>"Gammire."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Gammire."</p> + +<p>"What a funny name! Are you sure, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"Gammire whut you' Aunt Julia tole <i>me</i>," Mrs. +Silver insisted. "You kin go on in the house an' +ast her; she'll tell you the same."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway, I'm not afraid of him," said +Florence; and she stepped closer to the poodle, extending +her hand to caress him. Then she shouted +as the dog, at her gesture, rose to his hind legs, +and, as far as the leash permitted, walked forward +to meet her. She flung her arms about him rapturously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, the lovely thing!" she cried. "He walks on +his hind legs! Why, he's crazy about me!"</p> + +<p>"Let him go," said Herbert. "I bet he don't +like you any more than he does anybody else. Leave +go of him, and I bet he shows he likes me better than +he does you."</p> + +<p>But when Florence released him, Gammire caressed +them both impartially. He leaped upon one, then +upon the other, and then upon Kitty Silver with a +cordiality that almost unseated her.</p> + +<p>"Let him off the leash," Florence cried. "He +won't run away, 'cause the gates are shut. Let him +loose and see what he'll do."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver snapped the catch of the leash, and +Gammire departed in the likeness of a ragged black +streak. With his large and eccentric ears flapping +back in the wind and his afterpart hunched in, he +ran round and round the little orchard like a dog +gone wild. Altogether a comedian, when he heard +children shrieking with laughter, he circled the more +wildly; then all upon an unexpected instant came to +a dead halt, facing his audience, his nose on the +ground between his two forepaws, his hindquarters +high and unstooping. And, seeing they laughed at +this, too, he gave them enough of it, then came back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +to Kitty Silver and sat by her feet, a spiral of pink +tongue hanging from a wide-open mouth roofed with +black.</p> + +<p>Florence resumed the peeling of her orange.</p> + +<p>"Who do you <i>think</i> gave Gammire to Aunt Julia?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"I ain't stedyin' about it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but who do you <i>guess</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't——"</p> + +<p>"Well, but if you had to be burned to death or +guess somebody, who would you guess?"</p> + +<p>"I haf to git burn' up," said Kitty Silver. "Ev'y +las' caller whut comes here <i>is</i> give her some doggone +animal awready. Mista Sammerses, he give her +them two Berjum cats, an' ole Mister Ridgways +whut los' his wife, he give you' Aunt Julia them two +canaries that tuck an' hopped out the cage an' then +out the window, las' week, one day, when you' grampaw +was alone in the room with 'em; an' Mista +George Plummers, he give her that Airydale dog +you' grampaw tuck an' give to the milkman; an' +Mista Ushers, he give her them two pups whut you' +grampaw tuck an' skeer off the place soon as he laid +eyes on 'em, an' thishere Mista Clairidge, he give her +that ole live allagatuh from Florida whut I foun'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +lookin' at me over the aidge o' my kitchen sink—ugly +ole thing!—an' you' grampaw tuck an' give it to +the greenhouse man. Ain't none nem ge'lmun goin' +try an' give her no <i>mo'</i> animals, I bet! So how anybody +goin' guess who sen' her thishere Gammire? +Nobody lef' whut ain't awready sen' her one an' had +the gift spile."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is," said Florence.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill."</p> + +<p>"That there li'l young Mista Dills?" Kitty Silver +cried. "Listen me! Thishere dog 'spensive dog."</p> + +<p>"I don't care; I bet Noble Dill gave him to her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver hooted. "Go way! That there young +li'l Mista Dills, he ain' nev' did show no class, no way +nor no time. He be hunderd year ole b'fo' you see +him in autamobile whut b'long to him. Look at a +way some nem fine big rich men like Mista Clairidge +an' Mista Ridgways take an' th'ow they money +aroun'! New necktie ev'y time you see 'em; new +straw hat right spang the firs' warm day. Ring do' +bell. I say, I say: 'Walk right in, Mista Ridgways.' +Slip me dollah bill dess like that! Mista Sammerses +an' Mista Plummers, an' some nem others, they +all show class. Look Mista Sammerses' spectickles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +made turtle back; fancy turtle, too. I ast Miss +Julia; she tell me they fancy turtle. Gol' rim +spectickles ain't in it; no ma'am! Mista Sammerses' +spectickles—jes' them rims on his spectickles alone—I +bet they cos' mo'n all whut thishere young li'l Mista +Dills got on him from his toes up an' his skin out. I +bet Mista Plummers th'ow mo' money aroun' dess +fer gittin' his pants press' than whut Mista Dills +afford to spen' to buy his'n in the firs' place! He lose +his struggle, 'cause you' Aunt Julia, she out fer the +big class. Thishere Gammire, he dog cos' money; +he show class same you' Aunt Julia. Ain't neither one +of 'em got to waste they time on nobody whut can't +show no mo' class than thishere li'l young dish-cumbobbery +Mista Dills!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care," Florence said stubbornly. "He +could of saved up and saved up, and if he saved up +long enough he could of got enough money to buy a +dog like Gammire, because you can get money +enough for anything if you're willing to save up long +enough. Anyway, I bet he's the one gave him to +her."</p> + +<p>Herbert joined Kitty Silver in laughter. "Florence +is always talkin' about Noble Dill," he said. "She's +sort of crazy, anyway, though."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;"> +<img src="images/illus-200.jpg" +alt=""Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He +bawled, 'She made it up! It's somep'n she made up herself! She——'"" +title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He +bawled, 'She made it up! It's somep'n she made up herself! She——'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"It runs in the family," Florence retorted, automatically. +"I caught it from my cousins. Anyhow, +I don't think there's a single one of any that +wants to marry Aunt Julia that's got the slightest +co'parison to Noble Dill. I admire him because he's +so uncouth."</p> + +<p>"He so who?" Kitty Silver inquired.</p> + +<p>"Uncouth."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said Mrs. Silver.</p> + +<p>"It's in the ditchanary," Florence explained. +"It means rare, elegant, exquisite, obs, unknown, and +a whole lot else."</p> + +<p>"It does not," Herbert interposed. "It means +kind of countrified."</p> + +<p>"You go look in the ditchanary," his cousin said +severely. "Then, maybe, you'll know what you're +talkin' about just for once. Anyhow, I <i>do</i> like +Noble Dill, and I bet so does Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>Kitty Silver shook her head. "He lose his struggle, +honey! Miss Julia, she out fer the big class. She +ain't stedyin' about him 'cept maybe dess to let him +run her erran's. She treat 'em all mighty nice, 'cause +the mo' come shovin' an' pushin' each other aroun', +class or no class, why, the mo' harder that big class +got to work to git her—an' the mo' she got after her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +the mo' keeps a-comin'. But thishere young li'l Mista +Dills, I kine o' got strong notion he liable not come +no mo' 'tall!" Her tone had become one of reminiscent +amusement, which culminated in a burst of +laughter. "Whee!" she concluded. "After las' +night, I reckon thishere Mista Dills better keep +away from the place—yes'm!"</p> + +<p>Florence looked thoughtful, and for the time said +nothing. It was Herbert who asked: "Why'd Noble +Dill better stay away from here?"</p> + +<p>"You' grampaw," Mrs. Silver said, shaking her +head. "You' grampaw!"</p> + +<p>"What about grandpa?" said Herbert. "What'd +he do last night?"</p> + +<p>"'Do'? Oh, me!" Then Mrs. Silver uttered +sounds like the lowing of kine, whereby she meant to +indicate her inability to describe Mr. Atwater's +performance. "Well, ma'am," she said, in the low +and husky voice of simulated exhaustion, "all I got to +say: you' grampaw beat hisse'f! He beat hisse'f!"</p> + +<p>"How d'you mean? How could he——"</p> + +<p>"He beat hisse'f! He dess out-talk hisse'f! No, +ma'am; I done hear him many an' many an' many's +the time, but las' night he beat hisse'f."</p> + +<p>"What about?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nothin' in the wide worl' but dess thishere young +li'l Noble Dills whut we talkin' about this livin' +minute."</p> + +<p>"What started him?"</p> + +<p>"Whut <i>start</i> him?" Mrs. Silver echoed with +sudden loudness. "My goo'niss! He <i>b'en</i> started ev' +since the very firs' time he ev' lay eyes on him prancin' +up the front walk to call on Miss Julia. You' +grampaw don' like none nem callers, but he everlas'n'ly +did up an' take a true spite on thishere li'l +Dills!"</p> + +<p>"I mean," said Herbert, "what started him last +night?"</p> + +<p>"Them cigareets," said Kitty Silver. "Them +cigareets whut thishere Noble Dills smoke whiles he +settin' out on the front po'che callin' on you' Aunt +Julia. You' grampaw mighty funny man about +smellin'! You know's well's I do he don't even +like the smell o' violet. Well, ma'am, if he can't +stan' <i>violet</i>, how in the name o' misery he goin' stan' +the smell nem cigareets thishere Dills smoke? I +can't hardly stan' 'em myse'f. When he light one +on the front po'che, she sif' all through the house, an' +come slidin' right the whole way out to my kitchen, +an' <i>bim</i>! she take me in the nose! You' grampaw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +awready tole Miss Julia time an' time again if that +li'l Dills light dess one mo' on his front po'che he +goin' to walk out there an' do some harm! Co'se she +nev' tuck an' pay no 'tention, 'cause Miss Julia, she +nev' pay no 'tention to nobody; an' she like caller +have nice time—she ain' goin' tell 'em you' grampaw +make such a fuss. 'Yes, 'deed, kine frien',' +she say, she say, when they ast her: 'Miss Julia, +ma'am,' they say, 'I like please strike a match fer to +light my cigareet if you please, ma'am.' She say: +'Light as many as you please, kine frien',' she say, +she say. She say: 'Smell o' cigareet dess deligh'ful +li'l smell,' she say. 'Go 'head an' smoke all you kin +stan',' she say, ''cause I want you injoy you'se'f +when you pay call on me,' she say. Well, so thishere +young li'l Dills settin' there puffin' an' blowin' his +ches' out and in, an' feelin' all nice 'cause it about +the firs' time this livin' summer he catch you' Aunt +Julia alone to hisse'f fer while—an' all time the +house dess fillin' up, an' draf' blowin' straight at you' +grampaw whur he settin' in his liberry. Ma'am, +he sen' me out an' tell her come in, he got message +mighty important fer to speak to her. So she tell +thishere Dills wait a minute, an' walk in the liberry. +Oh, ladies!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What'd he say?" Herbert asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"He di'n' say nothin'," Mrs. Silver replied eloquently. +"He hollered."</p> + +<p>"What did he holler?"</p> + +<p>"He want know di'n' he never tell her thishere +Dills can't smoke no mo' cigareets on his property, +an' di'n' he tell her he was'n' goin' allow him on the +place if he did? He say she got to go back on the +po'che an' run thishere li'l Dills off home. He say he +give her fair choice; she kin run him off, or else he +go on out and chase him away hisse'f. He claim li'l +Dills ain' got no biznuss roun' callin' nowhere 't all, +'cause he on'y make about eighteen dollars a week +an' ain't wuth it. He say——"</p> + +<p>She was confirmed in this report by an indignant +interruption from Florence. "That's just what he +did say, the old thing! I heard him, myself, and +if you care to ask <i>me</i>, I'll be glad to inform you +that I think grandpa's conduck was simply insulting!"</p> + +<p>"'Deed it were!" said Mrs. Silver. "An' dess +whut he claim hisse'f he mean it fer! But you tell +me, please, how you hear whut you' grampaw say? +He mighty noisy, but you nev' could a-hear him +plumb to whur you live."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wasn't home," said Florence. "I was over +here."</p> + +<p>"Then you mus' 'a' made you'se'f mighty skimpish, +'cause <i>I</i> ain't seen you!"</p> + +<p>"Nobody saw me. I wasn't in the house," said +Florence, "I was out in front."</p> + +<p>"Whurbouts 'out in front'?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was sitting on the ground, up against the +latticework of the front porch."</p> + +<p>"Whut fur?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it was dark," said Florence. "I just kind of +wanted to see what might be going on."</p> + +<p>"An' you hear all whut you' grampaw take on +about an' ev'ything?"</p> + +<p>"I should say so! You could of heard him <i>lots</i> +farther than where I was."</p> + +<p>"Lan' o' misery!" Kitty Silver cried. "If you +done hear him whur you was, thishere li'l Dills mus' +a-hear him <i>mighty</i> plain?"</p> + +<p>"He did. How could he help it? He heard +every word, and pretty soon he came down off the +porch and stood a minute; then he went on out the +gate, and I don't know whether he went home or not, +because it was too dark to see. But he didn't come +back."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yo' right he didn'!" exclaimed Mrs. Silver. "I +reckon he got fo'thought 'nough fer that, anyhow! +I bet he ain't nev' <i>goin'</i> come back neither. You' +grampaw say he goin' be fix fer him, if he do."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was while he was standing there," said +Florence ruefully. "He heard all that, too."</p> + +<p>"Miss Julia, she s'picion' he done hear somep'm +'nother, I guess," Kitty Silver went on. "She shet +the liberry do' right almos' on you' grampaw's nose, +whiles he still a-rampin', an' she slip out on the +po'che, an' take look 'roun'; then go on up to her +own room. I 'uz up there, while after that, turn' +down her bed; an' she injoyin' herse'f readin' book. +She feel kine o' put out, I reckon, but she ain't +stedyin' about no young li'l Dills. She want 'em all +to have nice time an' like her, but she goin' lose this +one, an' she got plenty to spare. She show too much +class fer to fret about no Dills."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," said Florence. "I think she ought +to whether she does or not, because I bet he was +feeling just awful. And I think grandpa behaved +like an ole hoodlum."</p> + +<p>"That'll do," Herbert admonished her sternly. +"You show some respect for your relations, if you +please."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>But his loyalty to the Atwater family had a bad +effect on Florence. "Oh, <i>will</i> I?" she returned +promptly. "Well, then, if you care to inquire <i>my</i> +opinion, I just politely think grandpa ought to be +hanged."</p> + +<p>"See here——"</p> + +<p>But Florence and Kitty Silver interrupted him +simultaneously.</p> + +<p>"Look at <i>that</i>!" Florence cried.</p> + +<p>"My name!" exclaimed Kitty Silver.</p> + +<p>It was the strange taste of Gammire that so excited +them. Florence had peeled her orange and +divided it rather fairly into three parts, but the +vehemence she exerted in speaking of her grandfather +had caused her to drop one of these upon the +ground. Gammire promptly ate it, "sat up" and +adjusted his paws in prayer for more.</p> + +<p>"Now you listen me!" said Kitty Silver. "I ain't +see no dog eat orange in all my days, an' I ain't see +nobody else whut see dog eat orange! No, ma'am, +an' I ain't nev' hear o' nobody else whut ev' see nobody +whut see dog eat orange!"</p> + +<p>Herbert decided to be less impressed. "Oh, I've +heard of dogs that'd eat apples," he said. "Yes, +and watermelon and nuts and things." As he spoke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +he played with the tennis ball upon his racket, and +concluded by striking the ball high into the air. +Its course was not true; and it descended far over +toward the orchard, where Herbert ran to catch it—but +he was not quick enough. At the moment the +ball left the racket Gammire abandoned his prayers: +his eyes, like a careful fielder's, calculating and +estimating, followed the swerve of the ball in the +breeze, and when it fell he was on the correct spot. +He caught it.</p> + +<p>Herbert shouted. "He caught it on the <i>fly</i>! It +must have been an accident. Here——" And he +struck the ball into the air again. It went high—twice +as high as the house—and again Gammire +"judged" it; continuously shifting his position, his +careful eyes never leaving the little white globe, until +just before the last instant of its descent he was motionless +beneath it. He caught it again, and Herbert +whooped.</p> + +<p>Gammire brought the ball to him and invited +him to proceed with the game. That there might +be no mistaking his desire, Gammire "sat up" +and prayed; nor did he find Herbert anything +loth. Out of nine chances Gammire "muffed" the +ball only twice, both times excusably, and Florence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +once more flung her arms about the willing performer.</p> + +<p>"<i>Who</i> do you s'pose trained this wonderful, darling +doggie?" she cried.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver shook her marvelling head. "He +mus' 'a' <i>come</i> thataway," she said. "I bet nobody +'t all ain' train him; he do whut he want to hisse'f. +That Gammire don' ast nobody to train +him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, goodness!" Florence said, with sudden +despondency. "It's awful!"</p> + +<p>"Whut is?"</p> + +<p>"To think of as lovely a dog as this having to face +grandpa!"</p> + +<p>"'Face' him!" Kitty Silver echoed forebodingly. +"I reckon you' grampaw do mo'n dess 'face' him."</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean," Florence explained. "I +expect he's just brute enough to drive him off."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said Mrs. Silver. "He git madder ev'y +time somebody sen' her new pet. You' grampaw +mighty nervous man, an' everlas'n'ly do hate +animals."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't seen Gammire, has he?"</p> + +<p>"Don't look like it, do it?" said Kitty Silver. +"Dog here yit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, then I——" Florence paused, glancing +at Herbert, for she had just been visited by a pleasant +idea and had no wish to share it with him. "Is +Aunt Julia in the house?"</p> + +<p>"She were, li'l while ago."</p> + +<p>"I want to see her about somep'n I ought to see +her about," said Florence. "I'll be out in a minute."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h3> + + +<p>She ran into the house, and found Julia seated +at a slim-legged desk, writing a note.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia, it's about Gammire."</p> + +<p>"Gamin."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"His name is Gamin."</p> + +<p>"Kitty Silver says his name's Gammire."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Julia. "She would. His name is +Gamin, though. He's a little Parisian rascal, and +his name is Gamin."</p> + +<p>"Well, Aunt Julia, I'd rather call him Gammire. +How much did he cost?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; he was brought to me only this +morning, and I haven't asked yet."</p> + +<p>"But I thought somebody gave him to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes; somebody did."</p> + +<p>"Well, I mean," said Florence, "how much did +the person that gave him to you pay for him?"</p> + +<p>Julia sighed. "I just explained, I haven't had a +chance to ask."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence looked hurt. "I don't mean you <i>would</i> +ask 'em right out. I just meant: Wouldn't you be +liable to kind of hint around an' give 'em a chance +to tell you how much it was? You know perfeckly +well it's the way most the fam'ly do when they give +each other somep'n pretty expensive, Christmas or +birthdays, and I thought proba'ly you'd——"</p> + +<p>"No. I shouldn't be surprised, Florence, if nobody +<i>ever</i> got to know how much Gamin cost."</p> + +<p>"Well——" Florence said, and decided to approach +her purpose on a new tack. "Who was it +trained him?"</p> + +<p>"I understand that the person who gave him to me +has played with him at times during the few days +he's been keeping him, but hasn't 'trained' him +particularly. French Poodles almost learn their +own tricks if you give them a chance. It's natural +to them; they love to be little clowns if you let them."</p> + +<p>"But who was this person that gave him to you?"</p> + +<p>Julia laughed. "It's a secret, Florence—like +Gamin's price."</p> + +<p>At this Florence looked piqued. "Well, I guess I +got <i>some</i> manners!" she exclaimed. "I know as well +as you do, Aunt Julia, there's no etiquette in coming +right square out and asking how much it was when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +somebody goes and makes you a present. I'm certainly +enough of a lady to keep my mouth shut when +it's more polite to! But I don't see what harm there +is in telling who it is that gives anybody a present."</p> + +<p>"No harm at all," Julia murmured as she sealed +the note she had written. Then she turned smilingly +to face her niece. "Only I'm not going to."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Aunt Julia"—and now Florence +came to her point—"what I wanted to know is +just simply the plain and simple question: Will you +give this dog Gammire to me?"</p> + +<p>Julia leaned forward, laughing, and suddenly +clapped her hands together, close to Florence's face. +"No, I won't!" she cried. "There!"</p> + +<p>The niece frowned, lines of anxiety appearing upon +her forehead. "Well, why won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I won't do it!"</p> + +<p>"But, Aunt Julia, I think you ought to!"</p> + +<p>"Why ought I to?"</p> + +<p>"Because——" said Florence. "Well, it's necessary."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because you know as well as I do what's bound +to happen to him!"</p> + +<p>"What is?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Grandpa'll chase him off," said Florence. "He'll +take after him the minute he lays eyes on him, and +scare him to death—and then he'll get lost, and he +won't be <i>anybody's</i> dog! I should think you'd just +as lief he'd be my dog as have him chased all over +town till a street car hits him or somep'n."</p> + +<p>But Julia shook her head. "That hasn't happened +yet."</p> + +<p>"It <i>did</i> happen with every other one you ever had," +Florence urged plaintively. "He chased 'em every +last one off the place, and they never came back. +You know perfectly well, Aunt Julia, grandpa's +just bound to hate this dog, and you know just exactly +how he'll act about him."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," said Julia. "Not just <i>exactly</i>."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway, you know he'll behave awful."</p> + +<p>"It's probable," the aunt admitted.</p> + +<p>"He always does," Florence continued. "He +behaves awful about everything I ever heard about. +He——"</p> + +<p>"I'll go pretty far with you, Florence," Julia interposed, +"but we'd better leave him a loophole. +You know he's a constant attendant at church and +contributes liberally to many good causes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know what I mean! I mean he always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +acts horrable about anything pleasant. Of course +I know he's a <i>good</i> man, and everything; I just mean +the way he behaves is perfeckly disgusting. So +what's the use your not givin' me this dog? You +won't have him yourself as soon as grandpa comes +home to lunch in an hour or so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I will!"</p> + +<p>"Grandpa hasn't already seen him, has he?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then what makes you say——"</p> + +<p>"He isn't coming home to lunch. He won't be +home till five o'clock this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, about six you won't have any dog, +and poor little Gammire'll get run over by an automobile +some time this very evening!" Florence's +voice became anguished in the stress of her appeal. +"Aunt Julia, <i>won't</i> you give me this dog?"</p> + +<p>Julia shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Won't you, <i>please</i>?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia, if it was Noble Dill gave you this +dog——"</p> + +<p>"Florence!" her aunt exclaimed. "What in the +world makes you imagine such absurd things? +Poor Mr. Dill!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, if it was, I think you ought to give Gammire +to me because I <i>like</i> Noble Dill, and I——"</p> + +<p>But here her aunt laughed again and looked at her +with some curiosity. "You still do?" she asked. +"What for?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Florence, swallowing, "he may be +rather smallish for a man, but he's very uncouth and +distingrished-looking, and I think he doesn't get to +enjoy himself much. Grandpa talks about him so +torrably and—and——" Here, such was the unexpected +depth of her feeling that she choked, whereupon +her aunt, overcome with laughter, but nevertheless +somewhat touched, sprang up and threw two +pretty arms about her charmingly.</p> + +<p>"You <i>funny</i> Florence!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Then will you give me Gammire?" Florence +asked instantly.</p> + +<p>"No. We'll bring him in the house now, and you +can stay for lunch."</p> + +<p>Florence was imperfectly consoled, but she had a +thought that brightened her a little.</p> + +<p>"Well, there'll be an awful time when grandpa +comes home this afternoon—but it certainly will +be inter'sting!"</p> + +<p>She proved a true prophet, at least to the extent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +that when Mr. Atwater opened his front gate that +afternoon he was already in the presence of a deeply +interested audience whose observation was unknown +to him. Through the interstices of the lace curtains +at an open window, the gaze of Julia and Florence +was concentrated upon him in a manner that might +have disquieted even so opinionated and peculiar +a man as Mr. Atwater, had he been aware of it; +and Herbert likewise watched him fixedly from an +unseen outpost. Herbert had shown some recklessness, +declaring loudly that he intended to lounge +in full view; but when the well-known form of the +ancestor was actually identified, coming up the +street out of the distance, the descendant changed +his mind. The good green earth ceased to seem secure; +and Herbert climbed a tree. He surrounded +himself with the deepest foliage; and beneath him +some outlying foothills of Kitty Silver were visible, +where she endeavoured to lurk in the concealment +of a lilac bush.</p> + +<p>Gammire was the only person in view. He sat +just in the middle of the top step of the veranda, and +his air was that of an endowed and settled institution. +What passing traffic there was interested him but +vaguely, not affecting the world to which he belonged—that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +world being this house and yard, of which +he felt himself now, beyond all question, the official +dog.</p> + +<p>It had been a rather hard-working afternoon, for +he had done everything suggested to him as well as a +great many other things that he thought of himself. +He had also made it clear that he had taken a fancy +to everybody, but recognized Julia to be the head of +the house and of his own universe; and though he was +at the disposal of all her family and friends, he was +at her disposal first. Whithersoever she went, there +would he go also, unless she otherwise commanded. +Just now she had withdrawn, closing the door, but +he understood that she intended no permanent exclusion. +Who was this newcomer at the gate?</p> + +<p>The newcomer came to a halt, staring intolerantly. +Then he advanced, slamming the gate behind +him. "Get out o' here!" he said. "You get off the +place!"</p> + +<p>Gammire regarded him seriously, not moving, +while Mr. Atwater cast an eye about the lawn, +seeming to search for something, and his gaze, thus +roving, was arrested by a slight movement of great +areas behind a lilac bush. It appeared that the +dome of some public building had covered itself with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +antique textiles and was endeavouring to hide there—a +failure.</p> + +<p>"Kitty Silver!" he said. "What are you doing?"</p> + +<p>"Suh?"</p> + +<p>Debouching sidewise she came into fuller view, +but retired a few steps. "Whut I doin' whur, Mista +Atwater?"</p> + +<p>"How'd that dog get on my front steps?"</p> + +<p>Her face became noncommittal entirely. "Thishere +dog? He just settin' there, suh."</p> + +<p>"How'd he get in the yard?"</p> + +<p>"Mus' somebody up an' brung him in."</p> + +<p>"Who did it?"</p> + +<p>"You mean: Who up an' brung him in, suh?"</p> + +<p>"I mean: Who does he belong to?"</p> + +<p>"Mus' be Miss Julia's. I reckon he is, so fur."</p> + +<p>"What! She knows I don't allow dogs on the +place."</p> + +<p>"Yessuh."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater's expression became more outraged +and determined. "You mean to say that somebody's +trying to give her another dog after all I've +been through with——"</p> + +<p>"It look that way, suh."</p> + +<p>"Who did it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Julia ain't sayin'; an' me, I don' know who +done it no mo'n the lilies of the valley whut toil not +neither do they spins."</p> + +<p>In response, Mr. Atwater was guilty of exclamations +lacking in courtesy; and turning again toward +Gammire, he waved his arm. "Didn't you hear me +tell you to get out of here?"</p> + +<p>Gammire observed the gesture, and at once "sat +up," placing his forepaws over his nose in prayer, +but Mr. Atwater was the more incensed.</p> + +<p>"Get out of here, you woolly black scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver uttered a cry of injury before she +perceived that she had mistaken her employer's +intention. Gammire also appeared to mistake it, +for he came down upon the lawn, rose to his full +height, on his "hind legs," and in that humanlike +posture "walked" in a wide circle. He did this +with an affectation of conscientiousness thoroughly +hypocritical; for he really meant to be humorous.</p> + +<p>"My heavens!" Mr. Atwater cried, lamenting. +"Somebody's given her one of those things at last! +I don't like <i>any</i> kind of dog, but if there's one dam +thing on earth I <i>won't</i> stand, it's a trick poodle!"</p> + +<p>And while the tactless Gammire went on, "walking" +a circle round him, Mr. Atwater's eye furiously<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +searched the borders of the path, the lawn, and +otherwheres, for anything that might serve as missile. +He had never kicked a dog, or struck one with +his hand, in his life; he had a theory that it was +always better to throw something. "Idiot poodle!" +he said.</p> + +<p>But Gammire's tricks were not idiocy in the eyes +of Mr. Atwater's daughter, as she watched them. +They had brought to her mind the tricks of the +Jongleur of Notre Dame, who had nothing to offer +heaven itself, to mollify heaven's rulers, except his +entertainment of juggling and nonsense; so that he +sang his thin jocosities and played his poor tricks +before the sacred figure of the Madonna; but when +the pious would have struck him down for it, she +miraculously came to life just long enough to +smile on him and show that he was right to offer +his absurd best. And thus, as Julia watched the +little Jongleur upon the lawn, she saw this was +what he was doing: offering all he knew, hoping that +someone might laugh at him, and like him. And, +not curiously, after all, if everything were known, +she found herself thinking of another foolish creature, +who had nothing in the world to offer anybody, +except what came out of the wistfulness of a foolish,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +loving heart. Then, though her lips smiled faintly +as she thought of Noble Dill, all at once a brightness +trembled along the eyelids of the Prettiest Girl in +Town, and glimmered over, a moment later, to shine +upon her cheek.</p> + +<p>"You get out!" Mr. Atwater shouted, "D'ye +hear me, you poodle?"</p> + +<p>He found the missile, a stone of fair diameter. He +hurled it violently.</p> + +<p>"<i>There</i>, darn you!"</p> + +<p>The stone missed, and Gammire fled desperately +after it.</p> + +<p>"You get over that fence!" Mr. Atwater cried. +"You wait till I find another rock and I'll——"</p> + +<p>He began to search for another stone, but, before +he could find one, Gammire returned with the first. +He deposited it upon the ground at Mr. Atwater's +feet.</p> + +<p>"There's your rock," he said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater looked down at him fiercely, and +through the black chrysanthemum two garnet sparks +glinted waggishly.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you hear me tell you what I'd do if you +didn't get out o' here, you darn poodle?"</p> + +<p>Gammire "sat up," placed his forepaws together<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +over his nose and prayed. "There's your rock," +he said. And he added, as clearly as if he used a +spoken language, "Let's get on with the game!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater turned to Kitty Silver. "Does he—does +he know how to speak, or shake hands, or +anything like that?" he asked.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The next morning, as the peculiar old man sat +at breakfast, he said to the lady across the table: +"Look here. Who did give Gamin to us?"</p> + +<p>Julia bit her lip; she even cast down her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, who was it?"</p> + +<p>Her demureness still increased. "It was—Noble +Dill."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater was silent; he looked down and caught +a clownish garnet gleam out of a blackness neighbouring +his knee. "Well, see here," he said. "Why +can't you—why can't you——"</p> + +<p>"Why can't I what?"</p> + +<p>"Why can't you sit out in the yard the next time +he calls here, instead of on the porch where it blows +all through the house? It's just as pleasant to sit +under the trees, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Pleasanter," said Julia.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h3> + + +<p>By the end of October, with the dispersal of +foliage that has served all summer long as a +screen for whatever small privacy may exist +between American neighbours, we begin to perceive +the rise of our autumn high tides of gossip. At this +season of the year, in our towns of moderate size +and ambition, where apartment houses have not +yet condensed and at the same time sequestered +the population, one may look over back yard beyond +back yard, both up and down the street; especially +if one takes the trouble to sit for an hour or so +daily, upon the top of a high fence at about the middle +of a block.</p> + +<p>Of course an adult who followed such a course +would be thought peculiar, no doubt he would be +subject to inimical comment; but boys are considered +so inexplicable that they have gathered for themselves +many privileges denied their parents and elders, +and a boy can do such a thing as this to his full content, +without anybody's thinking about it at all. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +it was that Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., sat +for a considerable time upon such a fence, after school +hours, every afternoon of the last week in October; +and only one person particularly observed him or was +stimulated to any mental activity by his procedure. +Even at that, this person was affected only because +she was Herbert's relative, of an age sympathetic to +his and of a sex antipathetic.</p> + +<p>In spite of the fact that Herbert, thus seriously +disporting himself on his father's back fence, attracted +only an audience of one (and she hostile +at a rather distant window) his behaviour might well +have been thought piquant by anybody. After +climbing to the top of the fence he would produce +from interior pockets a small memorandum-book +and a pencil. His expression was gravely alert, his +manner more than businesslike; yet nobody could +have failed to comprehend that he was enjoying +himself, especially when his attitude became tenser, +as it frequently did. Then he would rise, balancing +himself at adroit ease, his feet one before the other +on the inner rail, below the top of the boards, and +with eyes dramatically shielded beneath a scoutish +palm, he would gaze sternly in the direction of some +object or movement that had attracted his attention<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +and then, having satisfied himself of something or +other, he would sit and decisively enter a note in +his memorandum-book.</p> + +<p>He was not always alone; sometimes he was joined +by a friend, male, and, though shorter than Herbert, +about as old; and this companion was inspired, it +seemed, by motives precisely similar to those from +which sprang Herbert's own actions. Like Herbert +he would sit upon the top of the high fence; like +Herbert he would rise at intervals, for the better +study of something this side the horizon; then, also +like Herbert, he would sit again and write firmly +in a little notebook. And seldom in the history +of the world have any such sessions been invested by +the participants with so intentional an appearance +of importance.</p> + +<p>That was what most irritated their lone observer +at the somewhat distant upstairs back window. +The important importance of Herbert and his friend +was so extreme as to be all too plainly visible across +four intervening broad back yards; in fact, there was +sometimes reason to suspect that the two performers +were aware of their audience and even of her goaded +condition; and that they deliberately increased the +outrageousness of their importance on her account.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +And upon the Saturday of that week, when the notebook +writers were upon the fence the greater part of +the afternoon, Florence's fascinated indignation became +vocal.</p> + +<p>"Vile Things!" she said.</p> + +<p>Her mother, sewing beside another window of the +room, looked up inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"What are, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Cousin Herbert and that nasty little Henry +Rooter."</p> + +<p>"Are you watching them again?" her mother asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am," said Florence; and added tartly, +"Not because I care to, but merely to amuse myself +at their expense."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater murmured, "Couldn't you find +some other way to amuse yourself, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"I don't call this amusement," the inconsistent +girl responded, not without chagrin. "Think I'd +spend all my days starin' at Herbert Illingsworth +Atwater, Junior, and that nasty little Henry Rooter, +and call it <i>amusement</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Then why do you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Why do I do <i>what</i>, mamma?" Florence inquired, +as in despair of Mrs. Atwater's ever learning +to put things clearly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why do you 'spend all your days' watching +them? You don't seem able to keep away from the +window, and it appears to make you irritable. I +should think if they wouldn't let you play with them +you'd be too proud——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, good heavens, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Don't use such expressions, Florence, please."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Florence, "I got to use <i>some</i> expression +when you accuse me of wantin' to 'play' with +those two vile things! My goodness mercy, mamma, +I don't want to 'play' with 'em! I'm more than +four years old, I guess; though you don't ever seem +willing to give me credit for it. I don't haf to 'play' +all the time, mamma: and anyway, Herbert and +that nasty little Henry Rooter aren't playing, either."</p> + +<p>"Aren't they?" Mrs. Atwater inquired. "I +thought the other day you said you wanted them to +let you play with them at being a newspaper reporter +or editor or something like that, and they were +rude and told you to go away. Wasn't that it?"</p> + +<p>Florence sighed. "No, mamma, it cert'nly wasn't."</p> + +<p>"They weren't rude to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they cert'nly were!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then——"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, <i>can't</i> you understand?" Florence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +turned from the window to beseech Mrs. Atwater's +concentration upon the matter. "It isn't '<i>playing</i>'! +I didn't want to 'play' being a reporter; <i>they</i> ain't +'playing'——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Aren't</i> playing, Florence."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm. They're not. Herbert's got a real +printing-press; Uncle Joseph gave it to him. It's a +<i>real</i> one, mamma, can't you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said Mrs. Atwater. "You mustn't +get so excited about it, Florence."</p> + +<p>"I'm not!" Florence returned vehemently. "I +guess it'd take more than those two vile things and +their old printing-press to get <i>me</i> excited! <i>I</i> don't +care what they do; it's far less than nothing to me! +All <i>I</i> wish is they'd fall off the fence and break their +vile ole necks!"</p> + +<p>With this manifestation of impersonal calmness, +she turned again to the window; but her mother +protested. "Do quit watching those foolish boys; +you mustn't let them upset you so by their playing."</p> + +<p>Florence moaned. "They don't 'upset' me, mamma! +They have no effects on me by the slightest +degree! And I <i>told</i> you, mamma, they're not +'playing'."</p> + +<p>"Then what are they doing?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, they're having a newspaper. They got +the printing-press and an office in Herbert's stable, +and everything. They got somebody to give 'em +some ole banisters and a railing from a house that +was torn down somewheres, and then they got it +stuck up in the stable loft, so it runs across with a +kind of a gate in the middle of these banisters, and +on one side is the printing-press and a desk from +that nasty little Henry Rooter's mother's attic; and +a table and some chairs, and a map on the wall; +and that's their newspaper office. They go out and +look for what's the news, and write it down in lead +pencil; and then they go up to their office and write +it in ink; and then they print it for their newspaper."</p> + +<p>"But what do they do on the fence?"</p> + +<p>"That's where they go to watch what the news is," +Florence explained morosely. "They think they're +so grand, sittin' up there, pokin' around! They go +other places, too; and they ask people. That's +all they said <i>I</i> could be!" Here the lady's bitterness +became strongly intensified. "They said maybe +I could be one o' the ones they asked if I knew anything, +sometimes, if they happened to think of it! +I just respectf'ly told 'em I'd decline to wipe my +oldest shoes on 'em to save their lives!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater sighed. "You mustn't use such expressions, +Florence."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why not," the daughter promptly +objected. "They're a lot more refined than the +expressions they used on me!"</p> + +<p>"Then I'm very glad you didn't play with them."</p> + +<p>But at this, Florence once more gave way to filial +despair. "Mamma, you just <i>can't</i> see through anything! +I've said anyhow fifty times they ain't—aren't—playing! +They're getting up a <i>real</i> newspaper, +and have people <i>buy</i> it and everything. They +been all over this part of town and got every aunt +and uncle they have besides their own fathers and +mothers, and some people in the neighbourhood, +and Kitty Silver and two or three other coloured +people besides. They're going to charge twenty-five +cents a year, collect-in-advance because they +want the money first; and even papa gave 'em a +quarter last night; he told me so."</p> + +<p>"How often do they intend to publish their paper, +Florence?" Mrs. Atwater inquired absently, having +resumed her sewing.</p> + +<p>"Every week; and they're goin' to have the first +one a week from to-day."</p> + +<p>"What do they call it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The North End Daily Oriole. It's the silliest +name I ever heard for a newspaper; and I told 'em +so. I told 'em what <i>I</i> thought of it, I guess!"</p> + +<p>"Was that the reason?" Mrs. Atwater asked.</p> + +<p>"Was it what reason, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Was it the reason they wouldn't let you be a +reporter with them?"</p> + +<p>"Poot!" Florence exclaimed airily. "<i>I</i> didn't +want anything to do with their ole paper. But anyway +I didn't make fun o' their callin' it 'The North +End Daily Oriole' till after they said I couldn't be +in it. <i>Then</i> I did, you bet!"</p> + +<p>"Florence, don't say——"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I got to say somep'n! Well, I told +'em I wouldn't be in their ole paper if they begged me +on their bented knees; and I said if they begged me +a thousand years I wouldn't be in any paper with +such a crazy name and I wouldn't tell 'em any news +if I knew the President of the United States had the +scarlet fever! I just politely informed 'em they +could say what they liked, if they was dying <i>I</i> declined +so much as wipe the oldest shoes I got on 'em!"</p> + +<p>"But why <i>wouldn't</i> they let you be on the paper?" +her mother insisted.</p> + +<p>Upon this Florence became analytical. "Just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +so's they could act so important." And she added, +as a consequence, "They ought to be arrested!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater murmured absently, but forbore to +press her inquiry; and Florence was silent, in a +brooding mood. The journalists upon the fence +had disappeared from view, during her conversation +with her mother; and presently she sighed, and +quietly left the room. She went to her own apartment, +where, at a small and rather battered little +white desk, after a period of earnest reverie, she +took up a pen, wet the point in purple ink, and without +great effort or any critical delayings, produced +a poem.</p> + +<p>It was in a sense an original poem, though like the +greater number of all literary projections, it was so +strongly inspirational that the source of its inspiration +might easily become manifest to a cold-blooded +reader. Nevertheless, to the poetess herself, as she +explained later in good faith, the words just seemed +to <i>come to</i> her;—doubtless with either genius or +some form of miracle implied; for sources of inspiration +are seldom recognized by inspired writers themselves. +She had not long ago been party to a musical +Sunday afternoon at her Great-Uncle Joseph's house, +where Mr. Clairdyce sang some of his songs again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +and again, and her poem may have begun to coagulate +within her then.</p> + +<div style="margin-left: 10%"> +<p class="center">THE ORGANEST</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> FLORENCE ATWATER</p> + +<p> +The organest was seated at his organ in a church,<br /> +In some beautiful woods of maple and birch,<br /> +He was very weary while he played upon the keys,<br /> +But he was a great organest and always played with ease,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">When the soul is weary,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And the wind is dreary,</span><br /> +I would like to be an organest seated all day at the organ,<br /> +Whether my name might be Fairchild or Morgan,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">I would play music like a vast amen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The way it sounds in a church of men.</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Florence read her poem seven or eight times, +the deepening pleasure of her expression being evidence +that repetition failed to denature this work, +but on the contrary, enhanced an appreciative surprise +at its singular merit. Finally she folded the +sheet of paper with a delicate carefulness unusual to +her, and placed it in her skirt pocket; then she went +downstairs and out into the back yard. Her next action +was straightforward and anything but prudish; +she climbed the high wooden fences, one after the +other, until she came to a pause at the top of that +whereon the two journalists had lately made themselves +so odiously impressive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>Before her, if she had but taken note of them, were +a lesson in history and the markings of a profound +transition in human evolution. Beside the old frame +stable was a little brick garage, obviously put to the +daily use intended by its designer. Quite as obviously +the stable was obsolete; anybody would have +known from its outside that there was no horse +within it. There, visible, was the end of the pastoral +age.</p> + +<p>All this was lost upon Florence. She sat upon the +fence, her gaze unfavourably though wistfully fixed +upon a sign of no special aesthetic merit above the +stable door.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 10%"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">ATWATER & ROOTER OWNERS &</span><br /> +PROPREITORS SUBSCRIBE NOW 25 CENTS<br /> +</p> + +<p>The inconsistency of the word "daily" did not +trouble Florence; moreover, she had found no fault +with "Oriole" until the Owners & Propreitors had +explained to her in the plainest terms known to their +vocabularies that she was excluded from the enterprise. +Then, indeed, she had been reciprocally explicit +in regard not only to them and certain personal +characteristics of theirs, which she pointed out as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +fundamental, but in regard to any newspaper which +should deliberately call itself an "Oriole." The +partners remained superior in manner, though unable +to conceal a natural resentment; they had adopted +"Oriole" not out of a sentiment for the city of +Baltimore, nor, indeed, on account of any ornithologic +interest of theirs, but as a relic left over from an +abandoned club or secret society, which they had +previously contemplated forming, its members to be +called "The Orioles" for no reason whatever. The +two friends had talked of this plan at many meetings +throughout the summer, and when Mr. Joseph Atwater +made his great-nephew the unexpected present +of a printing-press, and a newspaper consequently +took the place of the club, Herbert and Henry still +entertained an affection for their former scheme and +decided to perpetuate the name. They were the +more sensitive to attack upon it by an ignorant +outsider and girl like Florence, and her chance of +ingratiating herself with them, if that could be now +her intention, was not a promising one.</p> + +<p>She descended from the fence with pronounced +inelegance, and, approaching the old double doors of +the "carriage-house," which were open, paused to +listen. Sounds from above assured her that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +editors were editing—or at least that they could +be found at their place of business. Therefore, she +ascended the cobwebby stairway, emerged from it +into the former hay loft, and thus made her appearance +in the printing-room of <i>The North End Daily +Oriole</i>.</p> + +<p>Herbert, frowning with the burden of composition, +sat at a table beyond the official railing, and his +partner was engaged at the press, earnestly setting +type. This latter person (whom Florence so +seldom named otherwise than as "that nasty +little Henry Rooter") was of a pure, smooth, +fair-haired appearance, and strangely clean for +his age and occupation. His profile was of a symmetry +he had not yet himself begun to appreciate; +his dress was scrupulous and modish; and though he +was short, nothing outward about him confirmed the +more sinister of Florence's two adjectives. Nevertheless, +her poor opinion of him was plain in her +expression as she made her present intrusion upon +his working hours. He seemed to reciprocate.</p> + +<p>"Listen! Didn't I and Herbert tell you to keep +out o' here?" he said. "Look at her, Herbert! +She's back again!"</p> + +<p>"You get out o' here, Florence," said Herbert,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +abandoning his task with a look of pain. "How +often we got to tell you we don't want you around +here when we're in our office like this?"</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake!" Henry Rooter thought fit +to add. "Can't you quit runnin' up and down our +office stairs once in a while, long enough for us to get +our newspaper work done? Can't you give us a little +<i>peace</i>?"</p> + +<p>The pinkiness of Florence's altering complexion +was justified; she had not been within a thousand +miles of their old office for four days. With some +heat she stated this to be the fact, adding, "And I +only came then because I knew somebody ought to +see that this stable isn't ruined. It's my own uncle +and aunt's stable, I guess, isn't it? Answer me that, +if you'll kindly please to do so!"</p> + +<p>"It's my father and mother's stable," Herbert +asserted. "Haven't I got a right to say who's +allowed in my own father and mother's stable?"</p> + +<p>"You have not," the prompt Florence replied. +"It's my own uncle and aunt's stable, and I got as +much right here as anybody."</p> + +<p>"You have not!" Henry Rooter protested hotly. +"This isn't either your ole aunt and uncle's stable."</p> + +<p>"<i>It isn't</i>?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, it is not! This isn't anybody's stable. It's +my and Herbert's Newspaper Building, and I guess +you haven't got the face to stand there and claim +you got a right to go in a Newspaper Building and +say you got a right there when everybody tells you +to stay outside of it, I guess!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, haven't I?"</p> + +<p>"No, you 'haven't—I'!" Mr. Rooter maintained +bitterly. "You just walk down town and go in any +Newspaper Buildings down there and tell 'em you +got a right to stay there all day long when they tell +you to get out o' there! Just try it! That's all I +ask!"</p> + +<p>Florence uttered a cry of derision. "And pray, +whoever told you I was bound to do everything you +ask me to, Mister Henry Rooter?" And she concluded +by reverting to that hostile impulse, so ancient, +which, in despair of touching an antagonist +effectively, reflects upon his ancestors. "If you got +anything you want to ask, you go ask your grandmother!"</p> + +<p>"Here!" Herbert sprang to his feet. "You try +and behave like a lady!"</p> + +<p>"Who'll make me?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"You got to behave like a lady as long as you're in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +our Newspaper Building, anyway," Herbert said +ominously. "If you expect to come up here after +you been told five dozen times to keep out——"</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sakes!" his partner interposed. +"When we goin' to get our newspaper <i>work</i> done? +She's <i>your</i> cousin; I should think you could get her +out!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm goin' to, ain't I?" Herbert protested +plaintively. "I expect to get her out, don't I?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you?" Miss Atwater inquired, with severe +mockery. "Pray, how would you expect to +accomplish it, pray?"</p> + +<p>Herbert looked desperate, but was unable to form +a reply consistent with a few new rules of etiquette +and gallantry that he had begun to observe during +the past year or so. "Now, see here, Florence," he +said. "You're old enough to know when people tell +you to keep out of a place, why, it means they want +you to stay away from there."</p> + +<p>Florence remained cold to this reasoning. "Oh, +Poot!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here!" her cousin remonstrated, and +went on with his argument. "We got our newspaper +work to do, and you ought to have sense enough to +know newspaper work like this newspaper work we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +got on <i>our</i> hands here isn't—well, it ain't any child's +play."</p> + +<p>His partner appeared to approve of the expression, +for he nodded severely and then used it himself. +"No, you <i>bet</i> it isn't any child's play!" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Herbert continued. "This newspaper +work we got on our hands here isn't any child's +play."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Henry Rooter again agreed. "Newspaper +work like this isn't any child's play at <i>all</i>!"</p> + +<p>"It isn't any child's play, Florence," said Herbert. +"It ain't any child's play at all, Florence. If it was +just child's play or something like that, why, it +wouldn't matter so much your always pokin' up here, +and——"</p> + +<p>"Well," his partner interrupted judicially;—"we +wouldn't want her around, even if it <i>was</i> child's +play."</p> + +<p>"No, we wouldn't; that's so," Herbert agreed. +"We wouldn't want you around, anyhow, Florence." +Here his tone became more plaintive. "So, for +mercy's sakes can't you go on home and give us a +little rest? What you want, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess it's about time you was askin' me +that," she said, not unreasonably. "If you'd asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +me that in the first place, instead of actin' like you'd +never been taught anything, and was only fit to +associate with hoodlums, perhaps my time is of <i>some</i> +value, myself!"</p> + +<p>Here the lack of rhetorical cohesion was largely +counteracted by the strong expressiveness of her tone +and manner, which made clear her position as a person +of worth, dealing with the lowest of her inferiors. +She went on, not pausing:</p> + +<p>"I thought being as I was related to you, and all +the family and everybody else is goin' to haf to read +your ole newspaper, anyway it'd be a good thing if +what was printed in it wasn't <i>all</i> a disgrace to the +family, because the name of our family's got mixed up +with this newspaper;—so here!"</p> + +<p>Thus speaking, she took the poem from her pocket +and with dignity held it forth to her cousin.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" Herbert inquired, not moving a +hand. He was but an amateur, yet already enough +of an editor to be suspicious.</p> + +<p>"It's a poem," Florence said. "I don't know +whether I exackly ought to have it in your ole newspaper +or not, but on account of the family's sake I +guess I better. Here, take it."</p> + +<p>Herbert at once withdrew a few steps, placing his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +hands behind him. "Listen here," he said;—"you +think we got time to read a lot o' nothin' in your ole +hand-writin' that nobody can read anyhow, and then +go and toil and moil to print it on our printin'-press? +I guess we got work enough printin' what we +write for our newspaper our own selves! My goodness, +Florence, I <i>told</i> you this isn't any child's play!"</p> + +<p>For the moment, Florence appeared to be somewhat +baffled. "Well," she said. "Well, you better +put this poem in your ole newspaper if you want +to have anyhow one thing in it that won't make +everybody sick that reads it."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> won't do it!" Herbert said decisively.</p> + +<p>"What you take us for?" his partner added.</p> + +<p>"All right, then," Florence responded. "I'll go +and tell Uncle Joseph and he'll take this printing-press +back."</p> + +<p>"He will not take it back. I already did tell him +how you kept pokin' around, tryin' to <i>run</i> everything, +and how we just worried our lives out tryin' to keep +you away. He said he bet it was a hard job; that's +what Uncle Joseph said! So go on, tell him anything +you want to. You don't get your ole poem in <i>our</i> +newspaper!"</p> + +<p>"Not if she lived to be two hunderd years old!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +Henry Rooter added. Then he had an afterthought. +"Not unless she pays for it."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?" Herbert asked, puzzled by +this codicil.</p> + +<p>Now Henry's brow had become corrugated with +no little professional impressiveness. "You know +what we were talkin' about this morning?" he said. +"How the right way to run our newspaper, we ought +to have some advertisements in it and everything? +Well, we want money, don't we? We could put this +poem in our newspaper like an advertisement;—that +is, if Florence has got any money, we could."</p> + +<p>Herbert frowned. "If her ole poem isn't too long +I guess we could. Here, let's see it, Florence." +And, taking the sheet of paper in his hand, he +studied the dimensions of the poem, without paining +himself to read it. "Well, I guess, maybe we can +do it," he said. "How much ought we to charge +her?"</p> + +<p>This question sent Henry Rooter into a state +of calculation, while Florence observed him with +veiled anxiety; but after a time he looked up, his +brow showing continued strain. "Do you keep a +bank, Florence—for nickels and dimes and maybe +quarters, you know?" he inquired.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was her cousin who impulsively replied for her. +"No, she don't," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not since I was about seven years old!" And +Florence added sharply, though with dignity: "Do +you still make mud pies in your back yard, pray?"</p> + +<p>"Now, see here!" Henry objected. "Try and be +a lady anyway for a few minutes, can't you? I got to +figure out how much we got to charge you for your ole +poem, don't I?"</p> + +<p>"Well, then," Florence returned, "you better ask +<i>me</i> somep'n about that, hadn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Henry Rooter, "have you got any +money at home?"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't."</p> + +<p>"Have you got any money with you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have."</p> + +<p>"How much is it?"</p> + +<p>"I won't tell you."</p> + +<p>Henry frowned. "I guess we ought to make +her pay about two dollars and a half," he said, +turning to his partner.</p> + +<p>Herbert became deferential; it seemed to him that +he had formed a business association with a genius, +and for a moment he was dazzled; then he remembered +Florence's financial capacities, always well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +known to him, and he looked depressed. Florence, +herself, looked indignant.</p> + +<p>"Two dollars and a half!" she cried. "Why, I +could buy this whole place for two dollars and a half, +printing-press, railing, and all—yes, and you thrown +in, Mister Henry Rooter!"</p> + +<p>"See here, Florence," Henry said earnestly. +"Haven't you got two dollars and a half?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she hasn't!" his partner assured him. +"She never had two dollars and a half in her life!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Henry gloomily, "what we +goin' to do about it? How much <i>you</i> think we ought +to charge her?"</p> + +<p>Herbert's expression became noncommittal. "Just +let me think a minute," he said, and with his hand +to his brow he stepped behind the unsuspicious Florence.</p> + +<p>"I got to think," he murmured; then with the +straightforwardness of his age, he suddenly seized his +damsel cousin from the rear and held her in a tight +but far from affectionate embrace, pinioning her +arms. She shrieked, "Murder!" and "Let me go!" +and "Help! Hay-yulp!"</p> + +<p>"Look in her pocket," Herbert shouted. "She +keeps her money in her skirt pocket when she's got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +any. It's on the left side of her. Don't let her kick +you! Look out!"</p> + +<p>"I got it!" said the dexterous Henry, retreating +and exhibiting coins. "It's one dime and two +nickels—twenty cents. Has she got any more +pockets?"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't!" Florence fiercely informed him, +as Herbert released her. "And I guess you better +hand that money back if you don't want to be +arrested for stealing!"</p> + +<p>But Henry was unmoved. "Twenty cents," he +said calculatingly. "Well, all right; it isn't much, +but you can have your poem in our newspaper for +twenty cents, Florence. If you don't want to pay +that much, why, take your ole twenty cents and go +on away."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Herbert. "That's as cheap as we'll +do it, Florence. Take it or leave it."</p> + +<p>"Take it or leave it," Henry Rooter agreed. +"That's the way to talk to her; take it or leave it, +Florence. If you don't take it you got to leave it."</p> + +<p>Florence was indignant, but she decided to take it. +"All right," she said coldly. "I wouldn't pay another +cent if I died for it."</p> + +<p>"Well, you haven't got another cent, so that's all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +right," Mr. Rooter remarked; and he honourably +extended an open palm toward his partner. "Here, +Herbert; you can have the dime, or the two nickels, +whichever you rather. It makes no difference to +me; I'd as soon have one as the other."</p> + +<p>Herbert took the two nickels, and turned to +Florence. "See here, Florence," he said, in a tone +of strong complaint. "This business is all done +and paid for now. What you want to hang around +here any <i>more</i> for?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Florence," his partner faithfully seconded +him, at once. "We haven't got any more time to +waste around here to-day, and so what you want to +stand around in the way and everything for? You +ought to know yourself we don't want you."</p> + +<p>"I'm not in the way," said Florence hotly. "Whose +way am I in?"</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, if you don't go," Herbert informed +her, "we'll carry you downstairs and lock you out."</p> + +<p>"I'd just like to see you!" she returned, her eyes +flashing. "Just you dare to lay a finger on me +again!" And she added, "Anyway, if you did, those +ole doors haven't got any lock on 'em: I'll come +right back in and walk right straight up the stairs +again!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>Herbert advanced toward her. "Now you pay +attention, to me," he said. "You've paid for your +ole poem, and we got to have some peace around +here. I'm goin' straight over to your mother and +ask her to come and get you."</p> + +<p>Florence gave up. "What difference would <i>that</i> +make, Mister Taddletale?" she inquired mockingly. +"<i>I</i> wouldn't be here when she came, would I? I'll +thank you to notice there's some value to my +time, myself; and I'll just politely ask you to excuse +me, pray!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h3> + + +<p>With a proud air she crushingly departed, +returning to her own home far from dissatisfied +with what she had accomplished. +Moreover, she began to expand with the realization of +a new importance; and she was gratified with the +effect upon her parents, at dinner that evening, +when she informed them that she had written a +poem, which was to be published in the prospective +first number of <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>.</p> + +<p>"Written a <i>poem</i>?" said her father. "Well, I +declare! Why, that's remarkable, Florence!"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad the boys were nice about it," said her +mother. "I should have feared they couldn't appreciate +it, after being so cross to you about letting +you have anything to do with the printing-press. +They must have thought it was a very good poem."</p> + +<p>"Where is the poem, Florence?" Mr. Atwater +asked. "Let's read it and see what our little girl +can do when she really tries."</p> + +<p>Unfortunately Florence had not a copy, and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +she informed her father of this fact, he professed +himself greatly disappointed as well as eager for the +first appearance of <i>The Oriole</i>, that he might +felicitate himself upon the evidence of his daughter's +heretofore unsuspected talent. Florence was herself +anxious for the newspaper's début, and she made her +anxiety so clear to Atwater & Rooter, Owners & +Propreitors, every afternoon after school, during the +following week, that by Thursday further argument +and repartee on their part were felt to be indeed +futile; and in order to have a little peace around there, +they carried her downstairs. At least, they defined +their action as "carrying," and, having deposited +her in the yard, they were obliged to stand guard at +the doors, which they closed and contrived to hold +against her until her strength was worn out for that +day.</p> + +<p>Florence consoled herself. During the week she +dropped in on all the members of "the family"—her +grandfather, uncles and aunts and cousins, her great-aunts +and great-uncles—and in each instance, after +no protracted formal preliminaries, lightly remarked +that she wrote poetry now; her first to appear in the +forthcoming <i>Oriole</i>. And when Great-Aunt Carrie +said, "Why, Florence, you're wonderful! I couldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +write a poem to save my life. I never <i>could</i> see how +they do it," Florence laughed, made a deprecatory +little side motion with her head, and responded, +"Why, Aunt Carrie, that's nothing! It just kind +of comes to you."</p> + +<p>This also served as her explanation when some +of her school friends expressed their admiration, +after being told the news in confidence; though to one +of the teachers she said, smiling ruefully, as in +remembrance of midnight oil, "It <i>does</i> take work, of +course!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When opportunity offered, upon the street, she +joined people she knew (or even rather distant acquaintances) +to walk with them a little way and +lead the conversation to the subject of poetry, including +her own contribution to that art. Altogether, +if Florence was not in a fair way to become a poetic +celebrity it was not her own fault but entirely that of +<i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>, which was to make +its appearance on Saturday, but failed to do so on +account of too much enthusiasm on the part of Atwater +& Rooter in manipulating the printing-press. +It broke, had to be repaired; and Florence, her nerves +upset by the accident, demanded her money back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +This was impossible, and the postponement proved +to be but an episode; moreover, it gave her time to let +more people know of the treat that was coming.</p> + +<p>Among these was Noble Dill. Until the Friday +following her disappointment she had found no opportunity +to acquaint her Very Ideal with the news; +and but for an encounter partly due to chance, he +might not have heard of it. A sentimental enrichment +of colour in her cheeks was the result of her +catching sight of him, as she was on the point of +opening and entering her own front door, that afternoon, +on her return from school. He was passing +the house, walking somewhat dreamily.</p> + +<p>Florence stepped into the sheltering vestibule, +peeping round it with earnest eyes to watch him as +he went by; obviously he had taken no note of her. +Satisfied of this, she waited until he was at a little +distance, then ran lightly down to the gate, hurried +after him and joined him.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Dill!" she exclaimed, in her mother's +most polished manner. "How supprising to see +<i>you</i>! I presume as we both happen to be walking +the same direction we might just's well keep together."</p> + +<p>"Surprising to see me?" Noble said vaguely. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +haven't been away anywhere in particular, Florence." +Then, at a thought, he brightened. "I'm glad to see +you, Florence. Do you know if any of your family +or relatives have heard when your Aunt Julia is +coming home?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia? She's out of town," said Florence. +"She's visiting different people she used to know +when she was away at school."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," Mr. Dill returned. "But she's +been gone six weeks."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't believe it's that long," Florence said +casually; then with more earnestness: "Mr. Dill, +I was goin' to ask you somep'n—it's kind of a funny +question for <i>me</i> to ask, but——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she has," Noble interrupted, not aware that +his remark was an interruption. "Oh, yes, she has!" +he said. "It was six weeks day-before-yesterday +afternoon. I saw your father downtown this +morning, and he said he didn't know that any of the +family had heard just when she was coming home. +I thought maybe some of your relatives had a letter +from her by this afternoon's mail, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"I guess not," said Florence. "Mr. Dill, there was +a question I thought I'd ask you. It's kind of a +funny question for <i>me</i>——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you <i>sure</i> nobody's heard from your Aunt +Julia to-day?" Noble insisted.</p> + +<p>"I guess they haven't. Mr. Dill, I was goin' to +ask you——"</p> + +<p>"It's strange," he murmured, "I don't see how +people can enjoy visits that long. I should think +they'd get anxious about what might happen at +home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, grandpa's all right; he says he kind of likes +to have the house nice and quiet to himself; and +anyway Aunt Julia enjoys visiting," Florence assured +him. "Aunt Fanny saw a newspaper from +one the places where Aunt Julia's visiting her school +room-mate. It had her picture in it and called her +'the famous Northern Beauty'; it was down South +somewhere. Well, Mr. Dill, I was just sayin' I believe +I'd ask you——"</p> + +<p>But a sectional rancour seemed all at once to affect +the young man. "Oh, yes. I heard about that," +he said. "Your Aunt Fanny lent my mother the +newspaper. Those people in <i>that</i> part of the country—well——" +He paused, remembering that it +was only Florence he addressed; and he withheld +from utterance his opinion that the Civil War ought +to be fought all over again. "Your father said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +your grandfather hadn't heard from her for several +days, and even then she hadn't said when she was +coming home."</p> + +<p>"No, I expect she didn't," said Florence. "Mr. +Dill, I was goin' to ask you somep'n—it's kind of a +queer kind of question for <i>me</i> to ask, I guess——" +She paused. However, he did not interrupt her, +seeming preoccupied with gloom; whereupon Florence +permitted herself a deprecatory laugh, and continued, +"It might be you'd answer yes, or it might +be you'd answer no; but anyway I was goin' to ask +you—it's kind of a funny question for <i>me</i> to ask, I +expect—but do you like poetry?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as things have turned out lately I guess it's +kind of a funny question, Mr. Dill, but do you like +poetry?"</p> + +<p>Noble's expression took on a coldness; for the word +brought to his mind a thought of Newland Sanders. +"Do I like poetry?" said Noble. "No, I don't."</p> + +<p>Florence was momentarily discouraged; but at her +age people usually possess an invaluable faculty, +which they lose later in life; and it is a pity that they +do lose it. At thirteen—especially the earlier months +of thirteen—they are still able to set aside and dismiss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +from their minds almost any facts, no matter +how audibly those facts have asked for recognition. +Children superbly allow themselves to become deaf, +so to speak, to undesirable circumstances; most +frequently, of course, to undesirable circumstances +in the way of parental direction; so that fathers, +mothers, nurses, or governesses, not comprehending +that this mental deafness is for the time being entirely +genuine, are liable to hoarseness both of throat +and temper. Thirteen is an age when the fading of +this gift or talent, one of the most beautiful of childhood, +begins to impair its helpfulness under the mistaken +stress of discipline; but Florence retained something +of it. In a moment or two Noble Dill's disaffection +toward poetry was altogether as if it did +not exist.</p> + +<p>She coughed, inclined her head a little to one side, +in her mother's manner of politeness to callers, and, +repeating her deprecatory laugh, remarked: "Well, +of course it's kind of a funny question for <i>me</i> to ask, +of course."</p> + +<p>"What is, Florence?" Noble inquired absently.</p> + +<p>"Well—what I was saying was that 'course it's +sort of queer <i>me</i> askin' if you liked poetry, of course, +on account of my <i>writing</i> poetry the way I do now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<p>She looked up at him with a bright readiness to +respond modestly to whatever exclamation his wonder +should dictate; but Noble's attention had straggled +again.</p> + +<p>"Has she written your mother lately?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Florence's expression denoted a mental condition +slightly disturbed. "No," she said. "It's goin' +to be printed in <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"My poem. It's about a vast amen—anyhow, +that's proba'ly the best thing in it, I guess—and +they're goin' to have it out to-morrow, or else they'll +have to settle with <i>me</i>; that's one thing certain! +I'll bring one over to your house and leave it at the +door for you, Mr. Dill."</p> + +<p>Noble had but a confused notion of what she thus +generously promised. However, he said, "Thank +you," and nodded vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I don't know as it's so awful good," +Florence admitted insincerely. "The family all +seem to think it's something pretty much; but I don't +know if it is or not. <i>Really</i>, I don't!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Noble, still confused. "I suppose +not."</p> + +<p>"I'm half way through another one I think myself'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +be a good deal better. I'm not goin' as fast +with it as I did with the other one, and I expect it'll +be quite a ways ahead of this one." She again employed +the deprecatory little laugh. "I don't know +how I do it, myself. The family all think it's sort +of funny I don't know how I do it, myself; but that's +the way it is. They all say if they could do it +they're sure they'd know how they did it; but I guess +they're wrong. I presume if you can do it, why, it +just <i>comes</i> to you. Don't you presume that's the +way it is, Mr. Dill?"</p> + +<p>"I—guess so." They had reached his gate, and +he stopped. "You're sure none of your family +have heard anything to-day?" he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"From Aunt Julia? I don't think they have."</p> + +<p>He sighed, and opened the gate. "Well, good +evening, Florence."</p> + +<p>"Good evening." Her eyes followed him wistfully +as he passed within the enclosure; then she +turned and walked quickly toward her own home; +but at the corner of the next fence she called back +over her shoulder, "I'll leave it with your mother for +you, if you're not home when I bring it."</p> + +<p>"What?" he shouted, from his front door.</p> + +<p>"I'll leave it with your <i>mother</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Leave what?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>poem</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Noble. "Thanks!"</p> + +<p>But when his mother handed him a copy of the +first issue of <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>, the +next day, when he came home to lunch, he read it +without edification; there was nothing about Julia +in it.</p> + +<div style="font-size: 80%"> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Atwater & Rooter Owners & Propreitors</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">SUBSCRIBE NOW 25 Cents Per Year</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Subscriptions shloud be brought to the East etrance of Atwater</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">& Rooter Newspaper Building every afternoon 4.30 to 6. 25 cents.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">========================================</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">NEWS OF THE CITY</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">_______</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">The Candidates for mayor at the election are Mr P. N. Gordon</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">and John T Milo. The contest is very great between these candi-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">dates.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Holcombs chickens get in MR. Joseph Atwater's yard a god deal</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">lately. He says chickens are out of place in a city of this size.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Minnie the cook of Mr. F. L. Smith's residisence goes downtown</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">every Thrusday afts about three her regular day for it.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">A new ditch is being dug accross the MR. Henry D. Vance backyrad.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">;Tis about dug but nobody is working there now. Patty</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Fairchild received the highest mark in declamation of the 7A at</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Sumner School last Friday.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Balf's grorcey wagon ran over a cat of the Mr. Rayfort family.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Geo. the driver of the wagom stated he had not but was willing to</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">take it away and burg it somewheres Geo. stated regret and claimed</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">nothing but an accident which could not be helped and not his team</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">that did the damage.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">MissColfield teacher of the 7A atSumner School was reproted on</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">the sink list. We hope she will soon be well.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">There were several deaths in the city this week.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Mr. Fairchild father of Patty Fairchild was on the sick list several</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">days and did not go to his office but is out now.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Been Kriso the cHauffeur of the Mr. R. G. Atwater family washes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">their car on Monday. In using the hose he turned water over the</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">fence accidently and hit Lonnie the washWOman in back of MRS.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Bruffs who called him some low names. Ben told her if he had have</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">been a man he wrould strike her but soon the distrubance was at an</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">end. There is a good deal more of other news which will be printed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">in our next NO.</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Advertisements & Poems</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">20 Cents Each Up.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">_______</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">JOSEPH K. ATWATER & CO.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;"> 127 South Iowa St,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;"> Steam Pumps.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">_______</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">THE Organstep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">BY Florence Atwater</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">The Organstep was seated at his organ in a</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">In some beautifil words of vagle and brir</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">But he was a gReat organstep and always</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;">When the soil is weary</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;">And the mind is drearq</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">I would play music like a vast amen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">The way it sounds in a church of new</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Subscribe NOW 25 cents Adv & Poetry</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">20 cents up. Atwater & Rooter News</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Paper Building 25 cents per YEAR</span> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Such was the first issue, complete, of <i>The North +End Daily Oriole</i>. What had happened to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +poem was due partly to Atwater & Rooter's natural +lack of experience in a new and exacting trade; +partly to their enviable unconsciousness of any +necessity for proof-reading; and somewhat to their +haste in getting through the final and least interesting +stage of their undertaking; for of course so far as +the printers were concerned, the poem was mere hack +work anti-climax.</p> + +<p>And as they later declared, under fire, anybody +that could make out more than three words in five +of Florence's ole handwriting was welcome to do it. +Besides, what did it matter if a little bit was left out +at the end of one or two of the lines? They couldn't +be expected to run the lines out over their margin, +could they? And they never knew anything crazier +than makin' all this fuss, because: Well, what if +some of it wasn't printed just exactly right, who in +the world was goin' to notice it, and what was the +difference of just a few words different in that ole +poem, anyhow?</p> + +<p>For by the time these explanations (so to call +them) took place, Florence was indeed makin' a fuss. +Her emotion, at first, had been happily stimulated +at sight of "BY Florence Atwater." A singular +tenderness had risen in her—a tremulous sense as of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +something almost sacred coming at last into its own; +and she hurried to distribute, gratis, among relatives +and friends, several copies of the <i>Oriole</i>, paying +for them, too (though not without injurious argument), +at the rate of two cents a copy. But upon returning +to her own home, she became calm enough (for a +moment or so) to look over the poem with attention +to details. She returned hastily to the Newspaper +Building, but would have been wiser to remain away, +since all subscribers had received their copies by +the time she got there; and under the circumstances +little reparation was practicable.</p> + +<p>She ended her oration—or professed to end it—by +declaring that she would never have another +poem in their ole vile newspaper as long as she +lived.</p> + +<p>"You're right about that!" Henry Rooter agreed +heartily. "We wouldn't <i>let</i> another one in it. Not +for fifty dollars! Just look at all the trouble we +took, moiling and toiling, to get your ole poem printed +as nice as we could, so it wouldn't ruin our newspaper, +and then you come over here and go on like this, +and all this and that, why, I wouldn't go through it +again for a <i>hunderd</i> dollars! We're makin' good +money anyhow, with our newspaper, Florence Atwater.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +You needn't think we depend on <i>you</i> for +our living!"</p> + +<p>"That's so," his partner declared. "We knew +you wouldn't be satisfied, anyway, Florence. Didn't +we, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"I should say we did!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" said Herbert. "Right when we were +havin' the worst time tryin' to print it and make out +some o' the words, I said right then we were just +throwing away our time. I said, 'What's the use? +That ole girl's bound to raise Cain anyhow, so what's +the use wastin' a whole lot of our good time and brains +like this, just to suit <i>her</i>? Whatever we do, she's +certain to come over and insult us.' Isn't that what +I said, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is; and I said then you were right, and you +<i>are</i> right!"</p> + +<p>"Cert'nly I am," said Herbert. "Didn't I tell +you she'd be just the way some the family say she +is? A good many of 'em say she'd find fault with +the undertaker at her own funeral. That's just +exactly what I said!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you did?" Florence burlesqued a polite +interest. "How <i>vir</i>ry considerate of you! Then, +perhaps you'll try to be a gentleman enough for one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +simple moment to allow me to tell you my last +remarks on this subject. I've said enough——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>have</i> you?" Herbert interrupted with violent +sarcasm. "Oh, no! Say not so! Florence, +say not so!"</p> + +<p>At this, Henry Rooter loudly shouted with applausive +hilarity; whereupon Herbert, rather surprised +at his own effectiveness, naturally repeated +his waggery.</p> + +<p>"Say not so, Florence! Say not so! Say not +so!"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you one thing!" his lady cousin cried, +thoroughly infuriated. "I wish to make just one +last simple remark that I would care to soil myself +with in <i>your</i> respects, Mister Herbert Illingsworth +Atwater and Mister Henry Rooter!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, say not so, Florence!" they both entreated. +"Say not so! Say not so!"</p> + +<p>"I'll just simply state the simple truth," Florence +announced. "In the first place, you're goin' to live +to see the day when you'll come and beg me on your +bented knees to have me put poems or anything I +want to in your ole newspaper, but I'll just <i>laugh</i> +at you! '<i>Indeed</i>?' I'll say! 'So you come beggin' +around <i>me</i>, do you? Ha, ha!' I'll say! 'I guess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +it's a little too late for that! Why, I wouldn't——'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, say not so, Florence! Say not so!"</p> + +<p>"'<i>Me</i> to allow you to have one of my poems?' +I'll say, 'Much less than <i>that</i>!' I'll say, 'because +even if I was wearing the oldest shoes I got in the +world I wouldn't take the trouble to——'"</p> + +<p>Her conclusion was drowned out. "Oh, <i>Florence</i>, +say not so! Say not so, Florence! Say not so!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h3> + + +<p>The hateful entreaty still murmured in her +resentful ears, that night, as she fell asleep; +and she passed into the beginnings of a dream +with her lips slightly dimpling the surface of her +pillow in belated repartee. And upon waking, +though it was Sunday, her first words, half slumbrous +in the silence of the morning, were, "Vile +Things!" Her faculties became more alert during +the preparation of a toilet that was to serve not only +for breakfast, but with the addition of gloves, a hat, +and a blue-velvet coat, for Church and Sunday-school +as well; and she planned a hundred vengeances. +That is to say, her mind did not occupy itself with +plots possible to make real; but rather it dabbled +among those fragmentary visions that love to overlap +and displace one another upon the changeful +retina of the mind's eye.</p> + +<p>In all of these pictures, wherein prevailingly she +seemed to be some sort of deathly powerful Queen +of Poetry, the postures assumed by the figures of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +Messrs. Atwater and Rooter (both in an extremity +of rags) were miserably suppliant. So she soothed +herself a little—but not long. Herbert, in the next +pew, in church, and Henry in the next beyond that, +were perfect compositions in smugness. They were +cold, contented, aristocratic; and had an imperturbable +understanding between themselves (even then +perceptible to the sensitive Florence) that she was a +nuisance now capably disposed of by their beautiful +discovery of "Say not so!" Florence's feelings were +unbecoming to the place and occasion.</p> + +<p>But at four o'clock, that afternoon, she was assuaged +into a milder condition by the arrival, according +to an agreement made in Sunday-school, of +the popular Miss Patty Fairchild.</p> + +<p>Patty was thirteen and a half; an exquisite person +with gold-dusted hair, eyes of singing blue, and an +alluring air of sweet self-consciousness. Henry +Rooter and Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., out +gathering news, saw her entering Florence's gate, +and immediately forgot that they were reporters. +They became silent, gradually moving toward the +house of their newspaper's sole poetess.</p> + +<p>Florence and Patty occupied themselves indoors +for half an hour; then went out in the yard to study a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +mole's tunnel that had interested Florence recently. +They followed it across the lawn at the south side +of the house, discussing the habits of moles and other +matters of zoölogy; and finally lost the track near the +fence, which was here the "side fence" and higher +than their heads. Patty looked through a knot-hole +to see if the tunnel was visible in the next yard, but, +without reporting upon her observations, she turned, +as if carelessly, and leaned back against the fence, +covering the knot-hole.</p> + +<p>"Florence," she said, in a tone softer than she +had been using heretofore;—"Florence, do you know +what I think?"</p> + +<p>"No. Could you see any more tracks over there?"</p> + +<p>"Florence," said Patty;—"I was just going to +tell you something, only maybe I better not."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Florence inquired. "Go on and +tell me."</p> + +<p>"No," said Patty gently. "You might think it +was silly."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you <i>might</i>."</p> + +<p>"I promise I won't."</p> + +<p>"Well, then—oh, Florence I'm <i>sure</i> you'll think +it's silly!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I <i>promised</i> I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Well—I don't think I better say it."</p> + +<p>"Go on," Florence urged. "Patty, you <i>got</i> to."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, if I got to," said Patty. "What I +was going to say, Florence: Don't you think your +cousin Herbert and Henry Rooter have got the nicest +eyes of any boy in town?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Who</i>?" Florence was astounded.</p> + +<p>"I do," Patty said in her charming voice. "I +think Herbert and Henry've got the nicest eyes of +any boy in town."</p> + +<p>"You do?" Florence cried incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I really do, Florence. I think Herbert +Atwater and Henry Rooter have got the nicest +eyes of any boy in town."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never heard anything like <i>this</i> before!" +Florence declared.</p> + +<p>"But <i>don't</i> you think they've got the nicest eyes +of any boy in town?" Patty insisted, appealingly.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Florence, "their eyes are just +horrable!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Herbert's</i> eyes," continued Florence, ardently, +"are the very worst lookin' ole squinty eyes I ever +saw, and that nasty little Henry <i>Rooter's</i> eyes——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Patty had suddenly become fidgety; she hurried +away from the fence. "Come over here, Florence," +she said. "Let's go over to the other side of the +yard and talk."</p> + +<p>It was time for her to take some such action. +Messrs. Atwater and Rooter, seated quietly together +upon a box on the other side of the fence (though +with their backs to the knot-hole), were beginning +to show signs of inward disturbance. Already +flushed with the unexpected ineffabilities overheard, +their complexions had grown even pinker upon +Florence's open-hearted expressions of opinion. +Slowly they turned their heads to look at the fence, +upon the other side of which stood the maligner of +their eyes. Not that they cared what <i>that</i> ole +girl thought—but she oughtn't to be allowed to +go around talking like this and perhaps prejudicing +everybody that had a kind word to say for +them.</p> + +<p>"Come on over here, Florence," called Patty +huskily, from the other side of the yard. "Let's +talk over here."</p> + +<p>Florence was puzzled, but consented. "What you +want to talk over here for?" she asked as she came +near her friend.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Patty. "Let's go out +in the front yard."</p> + +<p>She led the way round the house, and a moment +later uttered a cry of surprise as the firm of Atwater +& Rooter, passing along the pavement, hesitated +at the gate. Their celebrated eyes showed doubt for +a moment, then a brazenness: Herbert and Henry +decided to come in.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this the funniest thing?" cried Patty. +"After what I just said awhile ago—<i>you</i> know, +Florence. Don't you dare to tell 'em!"</p> + +<p>"I cert'nly won't!" her hostess promised, and, +turning inhospitably to the two callers, "What on +earth you want around here?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>Herbert chivalrously took upon himself the duty +of response. "Look here; this is my own aunt and +uncle's yard, isn't it? I guess if I want to come in +it I got a perfect right to."</p> + +<p>"I should say so," his partner said warmly.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course!" the cordial Patty agreed. +"We can play some nice Sunday games, or something. +Let's sit on the porch steps and think what +to do."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> just as soon," said Henry Rooter. "<i>I</i> got +nothin' p'ticular to do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I haven't either," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, Patty sat between them on the +steps.</p> + +<p>"This is <i>per-feckly</i> grand!" she cried. "Come on, +Florence, aren't you going to sit down with all the +rest of us?"</p> + +<p>"Well, pray kindly excuse <i>me</i>!" said Miss Atwater; +and she added that she would neither sit +on the same steps with Herbert Atwater and Henry +Rooter, nor, even if they entreated her with accompanying +genuflections, would she have anything +else whatever to do with them. She concluded with +a reference to the oldest pair of shoes she might ever +come to possess; and withdrew to the railing of the +veranda at a point farthest from the steps; and, +seated there, swinging one foot rhythmically, she +sang hymns in a tone at once plaintive and inimical.</p> + +<p>It was not lost upon her, however, that her withdrawal +had little effect upon her guests. They +chattered gaily, and Patty devised, or remembered, +harmless little games that could be played by a few +people as well as by many; and the three participants +were so congenial and noisy and made so merry, that +before long Florence was unable to avoid the impression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +that whether she liked it or not she was +giving quite a party.</p> + +<p>At times the noted eyes of Atwater & Rooter +were gentled o'er with the soft cast of enchantment, +especially when Patty felt called upon to reprove +the two with little coquetries of slaps and pushes. +Noted for her sprightliness, she was never sprightlier; +her pretty laughter tooted continuously, and the gentlemen +accompanied it with doting sounds so repulsive +to Florence that without being actively conscious of +what she did, she embodied the phrase, "perfeckly +sickening," in the hymn she was crooning, and repeated +it over and over to the air of "Rock of Ages."</p> + +<p>"Now I tell you what let's play," the versatile +Patty proposed, after exhausting the pleasures of +"Geography," "Ghosts" and other tests of intellect. +"Let's play 'Truth.' We'll each take a +piece o' paper and a pencil, and then each of us +asks the other one some question, and we haf to +write down the answer and sign your name and fold +it up so nobody can see it except the one that asked +the question, and we haf to keep it a secret and never +tell as long as we live."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Henry Rooter. "I'll be the one +to ask you a question, Patty."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," Herbert said promptly. "I ought to be +the one to ask Patty."</p> + +<p>"Why ought you?" Henry demanded. "Why +ought you?"</p> + +<p>"Listen!" Patty cried, "<i>I</i> know the way we'll do. +I'll ask each of you a question—we haf to whisper it—and +each one of you'll ask me one, and then we'll +write it. That'll be simply grand!" She clapped +her hands; then checked herself. "Oh, I guess we +can't either. We haven't got any paper and pencils +unless——" Here she seemed to recall her hostess. +"Oh, Florrie, dear! Run in the house and get us +some paper and pencils."</p> + +<p>Florence gave no sign other than to increase the +volume of her voice as she sang: "Perf'ly sick'ning, +clef' for me, let me <i>perf'</i>ly sick-kin-<i>ning</i>!"</p> + +<p>"We got plenty," said Herbert; whereupon he +and Henry produced pencils and their professional +note-books, and supplied their fair friend and themselves +with material for "Truth." "Come on, +Patty, whisper me whatever you want to."</p> + +<p>"No; I ought to have her whisper <i>me</i>, first," +Henry Rooter objected. "I'll write the answer to +<i>any</i> question; I don't care what it's about."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's got to be the <i>truth</i>, you know," Patty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +warned them. "We all haf to write down just +exackly the truth on our word of honour and sign +our name. Promise?"</p> + +<p>They promised earnestly.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Patty. "Now I'll whisper Henry +a question first, and then you can whisper yours to +me first, Herbert."</p> + +<p>This seemed to fill all needs happily, and the +whispering and writing began, and continued with +a coziness little to the taste of the piously singing +Florence. She altered all previous opinions of her +friend Patty, and when the latter finally closed the +session on the steps, and announced that she must +go home, the hostess declined to accompany her into +the house to help her find where she had left her hat +and wrap.</p> + +<p>"I haven't the <i>least</i> idea where I took 'em off!" +Patty declared in the airiest manner. "If you won't +come with me, Florrie, s'pose you just call in the +front door and tell your mother to get 'em for me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're <i>somewhere</i> in there," Florence said +coldly, not ceasing to swing her foot, and not turning +her head. "You can find 'em by yourself, I presume, +or if you can't I'll have our maid throw 'em +out in the yard or somep'n to-morrow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, <i>thank</i> you!" Miss Fairchild rejoined, as +she entered the house.</p> + +<p>The two boys stood waiting, having in mind to +go with Patty as far as her own gate. "That's a +<i>pretty</i> way to speak to company!" Herbert addressed +his cousin with heavily marked severity. +"Next time you do anything like that I'll march +straight in the house and inform your mother of the +fact."</p> + +<p>Florence still swung her foot and looked dreamily +away. She sang, to the air of "Rock of Ages":</p> + +<p>"Henry Rooter, Herbert, too—they make me sick, +they make me sick, that's what they do."</p> + +<p>However, they were only too well prepared with +their annihilating response.</p> + +<p>"Oh, say not so! Florence, say not so! <i>Florence!</i> +Say not so!"</p> + +<p>They even sent this same odious refrain back to +her from the street, as they departed with their +lovely companion; and, so tenuous is feminine +loyalty sometimes, under these stresses, Miss Fairchild +mingled her sweet, tantalizing young soprano +with their changing and cackling falsetto.</p> + +<p>"Say not so, Florence! Oh, say not so! Say not +so!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN"></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</h3> + + +<p>They went satirically down the street, their +chumminess with one another bountifully +increased by their common derision of the +outsider on the porch; and even at a distance they +still contrived to make themselves intolerable; looking +back over their shoulders, at intervals, with +say-not-so expressions on their faces. Even when +these faces were far enough away to be but yellowish +oval planes, their say-not-so expressions were still +bitingly eloquent.</p> + +<p>Now a northern breeze chilled the air, as the hateful +three became indistinguishable in the haze of +autumn dusk, whereupon Florence stopped swinging +her foot, left the railing, and went morosely into +the house. And here it was her fortune to make +two discoveries vital to her present career; the first +arising out of a conversation between her father and +mother in the library, where a gossipy fire of soft +coal encouraged this proper Sunday afternoon entertainment +for man and wife.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sit down and rest, Florence," said her mother. +"I'm afraid you play too hard when Patty and the +boys are here. Do sit down quietly and rest yourself +a little while." And as Florence obeyed, Mrs. Atwater +turned to her husband, resuming: "Well, +that's what <i>I</i> said. I told Aunt Carrie I thought +the same way about it that <i>you</i> did. Of course nobody +<i>ever</i> knows what Julia's going to do next, and +nobody needs to be surprised at anything she does +do. Ever since she came home from school, about +four-fifths of all the young men in town have been +wild about her—and so's every old bachelor, for the +matter of that!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mr. Atwater added. "And every old +widower, too."</p> + +<p>His wife warmly accepted the amendment. "And +every old widower, too," she said, nodding. "Rather! +And of course Julia's just done exactly as she pleased +about everything, and naturally she's going to do as +she pleases about <i>this</i>."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course it's her own affair, Mollie," Mr. +Atwater said mildly. "She couldn't be expected to +consult the whole Atwater family connection before +she——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she agreed. "I don't say she could.Still, it <i>is</i> rather upsetting, coming so suddenly like +this, when not one of the family has ever seen him—never +even heard his very name before."</p> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 465px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;"> +<img src="images/illus-280.jpg" +alt=""'Well, men ... I don't want to see any loafin' around +here, men. I expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week.'"" +title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'Well, men ... I don't want to see any loafin' around +here, men. I expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week.'"</span> +</div> + + +<p>"Well, that part of it isn't especially strange, +Mollie. He was born and brought up in a town +three hundred miles from here. I don't see just how +we <i>could</i> have heard his name unless he visited here +or got into the papers in some way."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater seemed unwilling to yield a mysterious +point. She rocked decorously in her rocking-chair, +shook her head, and after setting her lips +rigidly, opened them to insist that she could never +change her mind: Julia had acted very abruptly. +"Why couldn't she have let her poor father know +at least a <i>few</i> days before she did?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater sighed. "Why, she explains in her +letter that she only knew it, herself, an hour before +she wrote."</p> + +<p>"Her poor father!" his wife repeated commiseratingly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mollie, I don't see how father's especially +to be pitied."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" said Mrs. Atwater. "That old +man, to have to live in that big house all alone, except +a few negro servants?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, no! About half the houses in the neighbourhood, +up and down the street, are fully occupied by +close relatives of his: I doubt if he'll be really as +lonely as he'd like to be. And he's often said he'd +give a great deal if Julia had been a plain, unpopular +girl. I'm strongly of the opinion, myself, that he'll +be pleased about this. Of course it may upset him a +little at first."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I think it will!" Mrs. Atwater shook her +head forebodingly. "And he isn't the only one it's +going to upset."</p> + +<p>"No, he isn't," her husband admitted seriously. +"That's always been the trouble with Julia; she +never could bear to seem disappointing; and so, of +course, I suppose every one of 'em has a special idea +that he's really about the top of the list with her."</p> + +<p>"Every last one of 'em is positive of it," said Mrs. +Atwater. "That was Julia's way with 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Julia's always been much too kind-hearted +for other people's good." Thus Mr. Atwater summed +up Julia; and he was her brother. Additionally, +since he was the older, he had known her since +her birth.</p> + +<p>"If you ask <i>me</i>," said his wife, "I'll really be surprised +if it all goes through without a suicide."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, not quite suicide, perhaps," Mr. Atwater +protested. "I'm glad it's a fairly dry town though."</p> + +<p>She failed to fathom his simple meaning. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, some of 'em might feel <i>that</i> desperate at +least," he explained. "Prohibition's a safeguard for +the disappointed in love."</p> + +<p>This phrase and a previous one stirred Florence, +who had been sitting quietly, according to request, +and "resting", but not resting her curiosity. "<i>Who's</i> +disappointed in love, papa?" she inquired with an +explosive eagerness that slightly startled her preoccupied +parents. "What <i>is</i> all this about Aunt +Julia, and grandpa goin' to live alone, and people +committing suicide and prohibition and everything? +What <i>is</i> all this, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Florence."</p> + +<p>"Nothing! That's what you always say about the +very most inter'sting things that happen in the whole +family! What <i>is</i> all this, papa?"</p> + +<p>"It's nothing that would be interesting to little +girls, Florence. Merely some family matters."</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" Florence exclaimed. "I'm not a +'little girl' any more, papa! You're <i>always</i> forgetting +my age! And if it's a family matter I belong to the +family, I guess, about as much as anybody else, don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +I? Grandpa himself isn't any <i>more</i> one of the family +than I am, I don't care <i>how</i> old he is!"</p> + +<p>This was undeniable, and her father laughed. +"It's really nothing you'd care about one way or the +other," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd care about it if it's a secret," Florence +insisted. "If it's a secret I'd want to know it, whatever +it's about."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't a secret, particularly, I suppose. At +least, it's not to be made public for a time; it's only +to be known in the family."</p> + +<p>"Well, didn't I just <i>prove</i> I'm as much one o' the +family as——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," her father said soothingly. "I +don't suppose there's any harm in your knowing it—if +you won't go telling everybody. Your Aunt Julia +has just written us that she's engaged."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater uttered an exclamation, but she was +too late to check him.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you oughtn't to have told Florence. +She <i>isn't</i> just the most discreet——"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" he laughed. "She certainly is 'one of +the family', however, and Julia wrote that all of the +family might be told. You'll not speak of it outside +the family, will you, Florence?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Florence was not yet able to speak of it, even +inside the family; so surprising, sometimes, are +parents' theories of what will not interest their +children. She sat staring, her mouth open, and +in the uncertain illumination of the room these +symptoms of her emotional condition went unobserved.</p> + +<p>"I say, you won't speak of Julia's engagement +outside the family, will you, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Papa!" she gasped. "Did Aunt Julia write +she was <i>engaged</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"To get <i>married</i>?"</p> + +<p>"It would seem so."</p> + +<p>"To <i>who</i>?"</p> + +<p>"'To whom,' Florence," her mother suggested +primly.</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" the daughter cried. "Who's Aunt +Julia engaged to get married to? Noble Dill?"</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, <i>no</i>!" Mrs. Atwater exclaimed. +"What an absurd idea! It's to a young man in the +place she's visiting—a stranger to all of us. Julia +only met him a few weeks ago." Here she forgot +Florence, and turned again to her husband, wearing +her former expression of experienced foreboding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's just as I said. It's exactly like Julia to do such +a reckless thing!"</p> + +<p>"But as we don't know anything at all about the +young man," he remonstrated, "how do you know +it's reckless?"</p> + +<p>"How do you know he's young?" Mrs. Atwater +retorted crisply. "All in the world she said about +him was that he's a lawyer. He may be a widower, +for all we know, or divorced, with seven or eight +children."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Mollie!"</p> + +<p>"Why, he <i>might</i>!" she insisted. "For all we know, +he may be a widower for the third or fourth <i>time</i>, or +divorced, with any <i>number</i> of children! If such a +person proposed to Julia, you know yourself she'd +hate to be disappointing!"</p> + +<p>Her husband laughed. "I don't think she'd go +so far as to actually accept 'such a person' and write +home to announce her engagement to the family. I +suppose most of her swains here have been in the +habit of proposing to her just as frequently as she was +unable to prevent them from going that far; and while +I don't think she's been as discouraging with them +as she might have been, she's never really accepted +any of 'em. She's never been engaged before."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," Mrs. Atwater admitted. "Not to this +extent! She's never quite announced it to the family +before, that is."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'd hate to have Julia's job when she comes +back!" Julia's brother admitted ruefully.</p> + +<p>"What job?"</p> + +<p>"Breaking it to her admirers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>she</i> isn't going to do that!"</p> + +<p>"She'll have to, now," he said. "She'll either +have to write the news to 'em, or else tell 'em, face +to face, when she comes home."</p> + +<p>"She won't do either."</p> + +<p>"Why, how could she get out of it?"</p> + +<p>His wife smiled pityingly. "She hasn't set a time +for coming home, has she? Don't you know enough +of Julia's ways to see she'll never in the world stand +up to the music? She writes that all the family +can be told, because she knows the news will leak +out, here and there, in confidence, little by little, +so by the time she gets home they'll all have been +through their first spasms, and after that she hopes +they'll just send her some forgiving flowers and greet +her with manly hand-clasps—and get ready to usher +at the wedding!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Atwater, "I'm afraid you're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +right. It does seem rather like Julia to stay away till +the first of the worst is over. I'm really sorry for +some of 'em. I suppose it <i>will</i> get whispered about, +and they'll hear it; and there are some of the poor +things that might take it pretty hard."</p> + +<p>"'Take it pretty hard!'" his wife echoed loudly. +"There's <i>one</i> of 'em, at least, who'll just merely lose +his reason!"</p> + +<p>"Which one?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill."</p> + +<p>At this, the slender form of Florence underwent a +spasmodic seizure in her chair, but as the fit was +short and also noiseless, it passed without being +noticed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Atwater thoughtfully. "I suppose +he will."</p> + +<p>"He certainly will!" Mrs. Atwater declared. +"Noble's mother told me last week that he'd got +so he was just as liable to drop a fountain-pen in his +coffee as a lump of sugar; and when any one speaks +to him he either doesn't know it, or else jumps. +When he says anything, himself, she says they can +scarcely ever make out what he's talking about. He +was trying enough before Julia went away; but +since she's been gone Mrs. Dill says he's like nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +in her experience. She says he doesn't inherit it; Mr. +Dill wasn't anything like this about her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater smiled faintly. "Mrs. Dill wasn't +anything like Julia."</p> + +<p>"No," said his wife. "She was quite a sensible +girl. I'd hate to be in her place now, though, when +she tells Noble about <i>this</i>."</p> + +<p>"How can Mrs. Dill tell him, since she doesn't +know it herself?"</p> + +<p>"Well—perhaps she ought to know it, so that she +<i>could</i> tell him. <i>Somebody</i> ought to tell him, and it +ought to be done with the greatest tact. It ought to +be broken to him with the most delicate care and +sympathy, or the consequences——"</p> + +<p>"Nobody could foretell the consequences," her +husband interrupted:—"no matter how tactfully +it's broken to Noble."</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "I suppose that's true. I think +the poor thing's likely to lose his reason unless it <i>is</i> +done tactfully, though."</p> + +<p>"Do you think we really ought to tell Mrs. Dill, +Mollie? I mean, seriously: Do you?"</p> + +<p>For some moments she considered his question, +then replied, "No. It's possible we'd be following a +Christian course in doing it; but still we're rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +bound not to speak of it outside the family, and when +it does get outside the family I think we'd better not +be the ones responsible—especially since it might +easily be traced to us. I think it's usually better to +keep out of things when there's any doubt."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, meditating. "I never knew any +harm to come of people's sticking to their own +affairs."</p> + +<p>But as he and his wife became silent for a time, +musing in the firelight, their daughter's special convictions +were far from coinciding with theirs, although +she, likewise, was silent—a singularity they +should have observed. So far were they from a true +comprehension of her, they were unaware that she +had more than a casual, young-cousinly interest in +Julia Atwater's engagement and in those possible +consequences to Noble Dill just sketched with +some intentional exaggeration. They did not even +notice her expression when Mr. Atwater snapped +on the light, in order to read; and she went quietly +out of the library and up the stairs to her own room.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On the floor, near her bed, where Patty Fairchild +had left her coat and hat, Florence made another +discovery. Two small, folded slips of paper lay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +there, dropped by Miss Fairchild when she put on +her coat in the darkening room. They were the +replies to Patty's whispered questions in the game +on the steps—the pledged Truth, written by Henry +Rooter and Herbert Atwater on their sacred words +and honours. The infatuated pair had either overestimated +Patty's caution, or else each had thought +she would so prize his little missive that she would +treasure it in a tender safety, perhaps pinned upon +her blouse (at the first opportunity) over her heart. +It is positively safe to say that neither of the two +veracities would ever have been set upon paper had +Herbert and Henry any foreshadowing that Patty +might be careless; and the partners would have been +seized with the utmost horror could they have conceived +the possibility of their trustful messages ever +falling into the hands of the relentless creature who +now, without an instant's honourable hesitation, unfolded +and read them.</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes if I got to tell the truth I know I have got pretty +eyes</i>," Herbert had unfortunately written. "I <i>am +glad you think so too Patty because your eyes are +too Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr.</i>"</p> + +<p>And Mr. Henry Rooter had likewise ruined himself +in a coincidental manner:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Well Patty my eyes are pretty but suppose I would +like to trade with yours because you have beautiful eyes +also, sure as my name is Henry Rooter.</i>"</p> + +<p>Florence stood close to the pink-shaded electric +drop-light over her small white dressing-table, reading +again and again these pathetically honest little +confidences. Her eyelids were withdrawn to an unprecedented +retirement, so remarkably she stared; +while her mouth seemed to prepare itself for the +attempted reception of a bulk beyond its capacity. +And these plastic tokens, so immoderate as to be +ordinarily the consequence of nothing short of +horror, were overlaid by others, subtler and more +gleaming, which wrought the true significance of +the contortion—a joy that was dumfounding.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts were first of Fortune's kindness in +selecting her for a favour so miraculously dovetailing +into the precise need of her life; then she considered +Henry and Herbert, each at this hour probably +brushing his hair in preparation for the Sunday +evening meal, and both touchingly unconscious of +the calamity now befalling them; but what eventually +engrossed her mind was a thought about +Wallie Torbin.</p> + +<p>This Master Torbin, fourteen years of age, was in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +all the town the boy most dreaded by his fellow-boys, +and also by girls, including many of both sexes who +knew him only by sight—and hearing. He had no +physical endowment or attainment worth mention; +but boys who could "whip him with one hand" +became sycophants in his presence; the terror he +inspired was moral. He had a special over-development +of a faculty exercised clumsily enough by most +human beings, especially in their youth; in other +words, he had a genius—not, however, a genius +having to do with anything generally recognized as +art or science. True, if he had been a violinist +prodigy or mathematical prodigy, he would have had +some respect from his fellows—about equal to that +he might have received if he were gifted with some +pleasant deformity, such as six toes on a foot—but +he would never have enjoyed such deadly prestige +as had actually come to be his. In brief, then, +Wallie Torbin had a genius for mockery.</p> + +<p>Almost from his babyhood he had been a child of +one purpose: to increase by burlesques the sufferings +of unfortunate friends. If one of them wept, Wallie +incessantly pursued him, yelping in horrid mimicry; +if one were chastised he could not appear out-of-doors +for days except to encounter Wallie and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +complete rehearsal of the recent agony. "Quit, +Papa! <i>Pah</i>-puh, quee-yet! I'll <i>never</i> do it again, +Pah-puh! Oh, <i>lemme</i> alone, Pah-<i>puh</i>!"</p> + +<p>As he grew older, his insatiate curiosity enabled +him to expose unnumbered weaknesses, indiscretions, +and social misfortunes on the part of acquaintances +and schoolmates; and to every exposure his noise +and energy gave a hideous publicity: the more his +victim sought privacy the more persistently he was +followed by Wallie, vociferous and attended by +hilarious spectators. But above all other things, +what most stimulated the demoniac boy to prodigies +of satire was a tender episode or any symptom connected +with the dawn of love. Florence herself had +suffered at intervals throughout her eleventh summer +because Wallie discovered that Georgie Beck +had sent her a valentine; and the humorist's many, +many squealings of that valentine's affectionate +quatrain finally left her unable to decide which she +hated the more, Wallie or Georgie. That was the +worst of Wallie: he never "let up"; and in Florence's +circle there was no more sobering threat than, "I'll +tell Wallie Torbin!" As for Henry Rooter and Herbert +Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., they would as soon +have had a Head-hunter on their trail as Wallie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +Torbin in the possession of anything that could incriminate +them in an implication of love—or an +acknowledgment (in their own handwriting!) of their +own beauty.</p> + +<p>The fabric of civilized life is interwoven with +blackmail: even some of the noblest people do favours +for other people who are depended upon not to tell +somebody something that the noblest people have +done. Blackmail is born into us all, and our nurses +teach us more blackmail by threatening to tell our +parents if we won't do this and that—and our parents +threaten to tell the doctor—and so we learn! Blackmail +is part of the daily life of a child. Displeased, his +first resort to get his way with other children is a threat +to "tell," but by-and-by his experience discovers +the mutual benefit of honour among blackmailers. +Therefore, at eight it is no longer the ticket to +threaten to tell the teacher; and, a little later, threatening +to tell any adult at all is considered something +of a breakdown in morals. Notoriously, the code is +more liable to infraction by people of the physically +weaker sex, for the very reason, of course, that their +inferiority of muscle so frequently compels such +a sin, if they are to have their way. But for Florence +there was now no such temptation. Looking to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +demolition of Atwater & Rooter, an exposure before +adults of the results of "Truth" would have been an +effect of the sickliest pallor compared to what might +be accomplished by a careful use of the catastrophic +Wallie Torbin.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On Sunday evening it was her privileged custom to +go to the house of fat old Great-Uncle Joseph and +remain until nine o'clock, in chatty companionship +with Uncle Joseph and Aunt Carrie, his wife, and a +few other relatives (including Herbert) who were in +the habit of dropping in there, on Sunday evenings. +In summer, lemonade and cake were frequently +provided; in the autumn, one still found cake, and +perhaps a pitcher of clear new cider: apples were a +certainty.</p> + +<p>This evening was glorious: there were apples and +cider and cake, with walnuts, perfectly cracked, and +a large open-hearted box of candy; for Uncle Joseph +and Aunt Carrie had foreseen the coming of several +more Atwaters than usual, to talk over the new +affairs of their beautiful relative, Julia. Seldom +have any relative's new affairs been more thoroughly +talked over than were Julia's that evening; though +all the time by means of symbols, since it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +thought wiser that Herbert and Florence should not +yet be told of Julia's engagement; and Florence's +parents were not present to confess their indiscretion. +Julia was referred to as "the traveller"; other makeshifts +were employed with the most knowing caution, +and all the while Florence merely ate inscrutably. +The more sincere Herbert was placid; the foods absorbing +his attention.</p> + +<p>"Well, all I say is, the traveller better enjoy herself +on her travels," said Aunt Fanny, finally, as the +subject appeared to be wearing toward exhaustion. +"She certainly is in for it when the voyaging is over +and she arrives in the port she sailed from, and has to +show her papers. I agree with the rest of you: +she'll have a great deal to answer for, and most of all +about the shortest one. My own opinion is that the +shortest one is going to burst like a balloon."</p> + +<p>"The shortest one," as the demure Florence had +understood from the first, was none other than her +Very Ideal. Now she looked up from the stool +where she sat with her back against a pilaster of the +mantelpiece. "Uncle Joseph," she said;—"I was +just thinking. What is a person's reason?"</p> + +<p>The fat gentleman, rosy with firelight and cider, +finished his fifth glass before responding. "Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +there <i>are</i> persons I never could find any reason for at +all. 'A person's reason'? What do you mean, 'a +person's reason,' Florence?"</p> + +<p>"I mean: like when somebody says, 'They'll lose +their reason,'" she explained. "Has everybody +got a reason, and if they have, what is it, and how do +they lose it, and what would they do then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I see!" he said. "You needn't worry. I +suppose since you heard it you've been hunting all +over yourself for your reason and looking to see if +there was one hanging out of anybody else, somewhere. +No; it's something you can't see, ordinarily, +Florence. Losing your reason is just another way +of saying, 'going crazy'!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she murmured, and appeared to be disturbed.</p> + +<p>At this, Herbert thought proper to offer a witticism +for the pleasure of the company.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> know, Florence," he said, "it only means acting +like <i>you</i> most always do." He applauded himself +with a burst of changing laughter ranging from a bullfrog +croak to a collapsing soprano; then he added: +"Espeshually when you come around my and Henry's +Newspaper Building! You cert'nly 'lose your +reason' every time you come around <i>that</i> ole place!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, course I haf to act like the people that's +already there," Florence retorted, not sharply, but +in a musing tone that should have warned him. It +was not her wont to use a quiet voice for repartee. +Thinking her humble, he laughed the more raucously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Florence!" he besought her. "Say not so! +Say not so!"</p> + +<p>"Children, children!" Uncle Joseph remonstrated.</p> + +<p>Herbert changed his tone; he became seriously +plaintive. "Well, she does act that way, Uncle +Joseph! When she comes around there you'd think +we were runnin' a lunatic asylum, the way she takes +on. She hollers and bellers and squalls and squawks. +The least little teeny thing she don't like about +the way we run our paper, she comes flappin' over +there and goes to screechin' around you could hear +her out at the Poor House Farm!"</p> + +<p>"Now, now, Herbert," his Aunt Fanny interposed. +"Poor little Florence isn't saying anything impolite +to you—not right now, at any rate. Why don't +you be a little sweet to her just for once?"</p> + +<p>Her unfortunate expression revolted all the manliness +in Herbert's bosom. "Be a little <i>sweet</i> to her?" +he echoed with poignant incredulity, and then in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +candour made plain how poorly Aunt Fanny inspired +him. "I just exackly as soon be a little sweet to an +alligator," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" said Aunt Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I would!" Herbert insisted. "Or a mosquito. +I'd rather, to <i>either</i> of 'em, 'cause anyway they don't +make so much noise. Why, you just ought to <i>hear</i> +her," he went on, growing more and more severe. +"You ought to just come around our Newspaper +Building any afternoon you please, after school, when +Henry and I are tryin' to do our work in anyway +<i>some</i> peace. Why, she just squawks and squalls +and squ——"</p> + +<p>"It must be terrible," Uncle Joseph interrupted. +"What do you do all that for, Florence, every afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Just for exercise," she answered dreamily; and her +placidity the more exasperated her journalist cousin.</p> + +<p>"She does it because she thinks <i>she</i> ought to be +runnin' our own newspaper, my and Henry's; that's +why she does it! She thinks she knows more about +how to run newspapers than anybody alive; but +there's one thing she's goin' to find out; and that is, +she don't get anything <i>more</i> to do with my and +Henry's newspaper. We wouldn't have another single<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +one of her ole poems in it, no matter how much she +offered to pay us! Uncle Joseph, I think you ought +to <i>tell</i> her she's got no business around my and +Henry's Newspaper Building."</p> + +<p>"But, Herbert," Aunt Fanny suggested;—"you +might let Florence have a little share in it of some +sort. Then everything would be all right."</p> + +<p>"It would?" he said. "It <i>woo</i>-wud? Oh, my +goodness, Aunt Fanny, I guess you'd like to see our +newspaper just utterably ruined! Why, we wouldn't +let that girl have any more to do with it than we +would some horse!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" both Aunt Fanny and Aunt Carrie +exclaimed, shocked.</p> + +<p>"We wouldn't," Herbert insisted. "A horse +would know any amount more how to run a newspaper +than she does. Soon as we got our printing-press, +we said right then that we made up our minds +Florence Atwater wasn't ever goin' to have a single +thing to do with our newspaper. If you let her have +anything to do with anything she wants to run the +whole thing. But she might just as well learn to +stay away from our Newspaper Building, because +after we got her out yesterday we fixed a way so's +she'll never get in <i>there</i> again!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence looked at him demurely. "Are you sure, +Herbert?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Just you try it!" he advised her, and he laughed +tauntingly. "Just come around to-morrow and +try it; that's all I ask!"</p> + +<p>"I cert'nly intend to," she responded with dignity. +"I may have a slight supprise for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>Florence</i>, say not so! Say not so, Florence! +Say not so!"</p> + +<p>At this, she looked full upon him, and already she +had something in the nature of a surprise for him; +for so powerful was the still balefulness of her glance +that he was slightly startled. "I might say not +so," she said. "I might, if I was speaking of what +pretty eyes you say yourself you know you have, +Herbert."</p> + +<p>It staggered him. "What—what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin'," she replied airily.</p> + +<p>Herbert began to be mistrustful of the solid earth: +somewhere there was a fearful threat to his equipoise. +"What you talkin' about?" he said with an effort +to speak scornfully; but his sensitive voice almost +failed him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin'," said Florence. "Just about what +pretty eyes you know you have, and Patty's being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +pretty, too, and so you're glad she thinks yours are +pretty, the way <i>you</i> do—and everything!"</p> + +<p>Herbert visibly gulped. He believed that Patty +had betrayed him; had betrayed the sworn confidence +of "Truth!"</p> + +<p>"That's all I was talkin' about," Florence added. +"Just about how you knew you had such pretty eyes. +Say not so, Herbert! Say not so!"</p> + +<p>"Look here!" he said. "When'd you see Patty +again between this afternoon and when you came +over here?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you think I saw her?"</p> + +<p>"Did you telephone her?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so?"</p> + +<p>Once more Herbert gulped. "Well, I guess you're +ready to believe anything anybody tells you," he +said, with palsied bravado. "You don't believe +everything Patty Fairchild says, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Herbert! Doesn't she always tell the +<i>truth</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Her? Why, half the time," poor Herbert +babbled, "you can't tell whether she's just makin' +up what she says or not. If you've gone and believed +everything that ole girl told you, you haven't +got even what little sense I used to think you had!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +So base we are under strain, sometimes—so base +when our good name is threatened with the truth +of us! "I wouldn't believe anything she said," he +added, in a sickish voice, "if she told me fifty times +and crossed her heart!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you if she said you <i>wrote down</i> how +pretty you knew your eyes were, Herbert? Wouldn't +you if it was on paper in your own handwriting?"</p> + +<p>"What's this about Herbert having 'pretty eyes'?" +Uncle Joe inquired, again bringing general attention +to the young cousins; and Herbert shuddered. +This fat uncle had an unpleasant reputation as a +joker.</p> + +<p>The nephew desperately fell back upon the hopeless +device of attempting to drown out his opponent's +voice as she began to reply. He became +vociferous with scornful laughter, badly cracked. +"Florence got mad!" he shouted, mingling the purported +information with hoots and cacklings. "She +got mad because I and Henry played some games +with Patty and wouldn't let her play! She's tryin' +to make up stories on us to get even. She made it +up! It's all made up! She——"</p> + +<p>"No, no," Mr. Atwater interrupted. "Let Florence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +tell us. Florence, what was it about Herbert's +knowing he had 'pretty eyes'?"</p> + +<p>Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. +He bawled. "She made it <i>up</i>! It's somep'n she +made up her<i>self</i>! She——"</p> + +<p>"Herbert," said Uncle Joseph;—"if you don't +keep quiet, I'll take back the printing-press."</p> + +<p>Herbert substituted a gulp for the continuation +of his noise.</p> + +<p>"Now, Florence," said Uncle Joseph, "tell us what +you were saying about how Herbert knows he has +such 'pretty eyes'."</p> + +<p>Then it seemed to Herbert that a miracle befell. +Florence looked up, smiling modestly. "Oh, it +wasn't anything, Uncle Joseph," she said. "I was +Just trying to tease Herbert any way I could think +of."</p> + +<p>"Oh, was that all?" A hopeful light faded out of +Uncle Joseph's large and inexpressive face. "I +thought perhaps you'd detected him in some indiscretion."</p> + +<p>Florence laughed, "I was just teasin' him. It +wasn't anything, Uncle Joseph."</p> + +<p>Hereupon, Herbert resumed a confused breathing. +Dazed, he remained uneasy, profoundly so: and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +gratitude was no part of his emotion. He well +understood that in conflicts such as these Florence +was never susceptible to impulses of compassion; +in fact, if there was warfare between them, experience +had taught him to be wariest when she seemed +kindest. He moved away from her, and went into +another room where his condition was one of increasing +mental discomfort, though he looked over the +pictures in his great-uncle's copy of "Paradise Lost." +These illustrations, by M. Gustave Doré, failed to +aid in reassuring his troubled mind.</p> + +<p>When Florence left the house, he impulsively accompanied +her, maintaining a nervous silence as +they walked the short distance between Uncle +Joseph's front gate and her own. There, however, he +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Look here! You don't haf to go and believe +everything that ole girl told you, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Florence heartily. "I don't haf to."</p> + +<p>"Well, look here," he urged, helpless but to repeat. +"You don't haf to believe whatever it was she went +and told you, do you?"</p> + +<p>"What was it you think she told me, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"All that guff—you know. Well, whatever it was +you <i>said</i> she told you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I didn't," said Florence. "I didn't say she told +me anything at all."</p> + +<p>"Well, she did, didn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," Florence replied, lightly. "She didn't +say anything to <i>me</i>. Only I'm glad to have your +<i>opinion</i> of her, how she's such a story-teller and all—if +I ever want to tell her, and everything!"</p> + +<p>But Herbert had greater alarms than this, and the +greater obscured the lesser. "Look here," he said, +"if she didn't tell you, how'd you know it then?"</p> + +<p>"How'd I know what?"</p> + +<p>"That—that big story about my ever writin' I +knew I had"—he gulped again—"pretty eyes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, about <i>that</i>!" Florence said, and swung the +gate shut between them. "Well, I guess it's too +late to tell you to-night, Herbert; but maybe if you +and that nasty little Henry Rooter do every single +thing I tell you to, and do it just <i>exackly</i> like I tell +you from this time on, why maybe—I only say 'maybe'—well, +maybe I'll tell you some day when I feel +like it."</p> + +<p>She ran up the path and up the veranda steps, +but paused before opening the front door, and called +back to the waiting Herbert:</p> + +<p>"The only person I'd ever <i>think</i> of tellin' about it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +before I tell you would be a boy I know." She +coughed, and added as by an afterthought, "He'd +just love to know all about it; I know he would. So, +when I tell anybody about it I'll only tell just you +and this other boy."</p> + +<p>"What other boy?" Herbert demanded.</p> + +<p>And her reply, thrilling through the darkness, left +him demoralized with horror.</p> + +<p>"Wallie Torbin!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_NINETEEN" id="CHAPTER_NINETEEN"></a>CHAPTER NINETEEN</h3> + + +<p>The next afternoon, about four o'clock, Herbert +stood gloomily at the main entrance +of Atwater & Rooter's Newspaper Building +awaiting his partner. The other entrances were not +only nailed fast but massively barricaded; and this +one (consisting of the ancient carriage-house doors, +opening upon a driveway through the yard) had recently +been made effective for exclusion. A long +and heavy plank leaned against the wall, near by, +ready to be set in hook-shaped iron supports fastened +to the inner sides of the doors; and when the doors +were closed, with this great plank in place, a person +inside the building might seem entitled to count +upon the enjoyment of privacy, except in case of +earthquake, tornado, or fire. In fact, the size of +the plank and the substantial quality of the iron +fastenings could be looked upon, from a certain +viewpoint, as a real compliment to the energy and +persistence of Florence Atwater.</p> + +<p>Herbert had been in no complimentary frame of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +mind, however, when he devised the obstructions, +nor was he now in such a frame of mind. He was +pessimistic in regard to his future, and also embarrassed +in anticipation of some explanations it would +be necessary to make to his partner. He strongly +hoped that Henry's regular after-school appearance +at the Newspaper Building would precede Florence's, +because these explanations required both deliberation +and tact, and he was convinced that it would be +almost impossible to make them at all if Florence +got there first.</p> + +<p>He understood that he was unfortunately within +her power; and he saw that it would be dangerous +to place in operation for her exclusion from the Building +this new mechanism contrived with such hopeful +care, and at a cost of two dollars and twenty-five cents +taken from the <i>Oriole's</i> treasury. What he wished +Henry to believe was that for some good reason, +which Herbert had not yet been able to invent, it +would be better to show Florence a little politeness. +He had a desperate hope that he might find some +diplomatic way to prevail on Henry to be as subservient +to Florence as she had seemed to demand, +and he was determined to touch any extremity of +unveracity, rather than permit the details of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +answer in "Truth" to come to his partner's knowledge. +Henry Rooter was not Wallie Torbin; but +in possession of material such as this he could easily +make himself intolerable.</p> + +<p>Therefore, it was in a flurried state of mind that +Herbert waited; and when his friend appeared, over the +fence, his perturbation was not decreased. He even +failed to notice the unusual gravity of Henry's manner.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Henry! I thought I wouldn't start in +working till you got here. I didn't want to haf to +come all the way downstairs again to open the door +and hi'st our good ole plank up again."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Henry, glancing nervously at their +good ole plank. "Well, I guess Florence'll never get +in <i>this</i> good ole door—that is, she won't if we don't +let her, or something."</p> + +<p>This final clause would have astonished Herbert +if he had been less preoccupied with his troubles. +"You bet she won't!" he said mechanically. "She +couldn't ever get in here again—if the <i>family</i> didn't +go intafering around and give me the dickens and +everything, because they think—they <i>say</i> they do, +anyhow—they say they think—they think——"</p> + +<p>He paused, disguising a little choke as a cough of +scorn for the family's thinking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What did you say your family think?" Henry +asked absently.</p> + +<p>"Well, they say we ought to let her have a share +in our newspaper." Again he paused, afraid to +continue lest his hypocrisy appear so bare-faced as +to invite suspicion. "Well, maybe we <i>ought</i>," +he said finally, his eyes guiltily upon his toe, which +slowly scuffed the ground. "I don't say we ought, +and I don't say we oughtn't."</p> + +<p>He expected at the least a sharp protest from his +partner, who, on the contrary, surprised him. +"Well, that's the way <i>I</i> look at it," Henry said. +"I don't say we ought and I don't say we oughtn't."</p> + +<p>And he, likewise, stared at the toe of a shoe that +scuffed the ground. Herbert felt a little better; this +particular subdivision of his difficulties seemed to be +working out with unexpected ease.</p> + +<p>"I don't say we will and I don't say we won't," +Henry added. "That's the way I look at it. My +father and mother are always talkin' to me: how +I got to be polite and everything, and I guess maybe +it's time I began to pay some 'tention to what they +say. You don't have your father and mother for +always, you know, Herbert."</p> + +<p>Herbert's mood at once chimed with this unprecedented<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +filial melancholy. "No, you don't, Henry. +That's what I often think about, myself. No, sir, +a fellow doesn't have his father and mother to advise +him our whole life, and you ought to do a good deal +what they say while they're still alive."</p> + +<p>"That's what I say," Henry agreed gloomily; +and then, without any alteration of his tone, or of +the dejected thoughtfulness of his attitude, he +changed the subject in a way that painfully startled +his companion. "Have you seen Wallie Torbin to-day, +Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Wallie Torbin to-day?"</p> + +<p>Herbert swallowed. "Why, what makes—what +makes you ask me that, Henry?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin'." Henry still kept his eyes upon +his gloomily scuffing toe. "I just wondered, because +I didn't happen to see him in school this afternoon +when I happened to look in the door of the +Eight-A when it was open. I didn't want to know +on account of anything particular. I just happened +to say that about him because I didn't have anything +else to think about just then, so I just happened +to think about him, the way you do when you haven't +got anything much on your mind and might get to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +thinkin' about you can't tell what. That's all the +way it was; I just happened to kind of wonder if he +was around anywhere maybe."</p> + +<p>Henry's tone was obviously, even elaborately, +sincere; and Herbert was reassured. "Well, I +didn't see him," he responded. "Maybe he's +sick."</p> + +<p>"No, he isn't," his friend said. "Florence said +she saw him chasin' his dog down the street about +noon."</p> + +<p>At this Herbert's uneasiness was uncomfortably +renewed. "<i>Florence</i> did? Where'd you see Florence?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Rooter swallowed. "A little while ago," +he said, and again swallowed. "On the way home +from school."</p> + +<p>"Look—look here!" Herbert was flurried to the +point of panic. "Henry—did Florence—did she +go and tell you—did she tell you——?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> didn't hardly notice what she was talkin' +about," Henry said doggedly. "She didn't have +anything to say that <i>I'd</i> ever care two cents about. +She came up behind me and walked along with me a +ways, but I got too many things on my mind to +hardly pay the least attention to anything <i>she</i> ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +talks about. She's a girl what I think about her +the less people pay any 'tention to what she says the +better off they are."</p> + +<p>"That's the way with me, Henry," his partner +assured him earnestly. "I never pay any notice +to what <i>she</i> says. The way I figure it out about +<i>her</i>, Henry, everybody'd be a good deal better off +if nobody ever paid the least notice to anything she +says. I never even notice what she says, myself."</p> + +<p>"I don't either," said Henry. "All <i>I</i> think about +is what my father and mother say, because I'm not +goin' to have their advice all the rest o' my life, +after they're dead. If they want me to be polite, +why, I'll do it and that's all there is about it."</p> + +<p>"It's the same way with me, Henry. If she comes +flappin' around here blattin' and blubbin' how she's +goin' to have somep'n to do with our newspaper, +why, the only reason <i>I'd</i> ever let her would be because +my <i>family</i> say I ought to show more politeness +to her than up to now. I wouldn't do it on any +other account, Henry."</p> + +<p>"Neither would I. That's just the same way +<i>I</i> look at it, Herbert. If I ever begin to treat her +any better, she's got my father and mother to thank, +not me. That's the only reason <i>I'd</i> be willing to say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +we better leave the plank down and let her in, if +she comes around here like she's liable to."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Herbert. "<i>I'm</i> willing. I don't +want to get in trouble with the family."</p> + +<p>And they mounted the stairs to their editorial, +reportorial, and printing rooms; and began to work +in a manner not only preoccupied but apprehensive. +At intervals they would give each other a furtive +glance, and then seem to reflect upon their fathers' +and mothers' wishes and the troublous state of the +times. Florence did not keep them waiting long, +however.</p> + +<p>She might have been easier to bear had her manner +of arrival been less assured. She romped up the +stairs, came skipping across the old floor, swinging +her hat by a ribbon, flung open the gate in the sacred +railing, and, flouncing into the principal chair, immodestly +placed her feet on the table in front of +that chair. Additionally, such was her lively humour, +she affected to light and smoke the stub of +a lead pencil. "Well, men," she said heartily, "I +don't want to see any loafin' around here, men. I +expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week; +yes, sir, a pretty good newspaper, and I guess you +men got to jump around a good deal to do everything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +I think of, or else maybe I guess I'll have to +turn you off. I don't want to haf to do that, men."</p> + +<p>The blackmailed partners made no reply, on account +of an inability that was perfect for the moment. +They stared at her helplessly, though not +kindly; for in their expressions the conflict between +desire and policy was almost staringly vivid. And +such was their preoccupation, each with the bitterness +of his own case, that neither wondered at the +other's strange complaisance.</p> + +<p>Florence made it clear to them that henceforth +she was the editor of <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>. +(She said she had decided not to change the name.) +She informed them that they were to be her printers; +she did not care to get all inky and nasty herself, +she said. She would, however, do all the writing for +her newspaper, and had with her a new poem. Also, +she would furnish all the news and it would be +printed just as she wrote it, and printed <i>nicely</i>, too, +or else——She left the sentence unfinished.</p> + +<p>Thus did this cool hand take possession of an +established industry, and in much the same fashion +did she continue to manage it. There were unsuppressible +protests; there was covert anguish; +there was even a strike—but it was a short one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +When the printers remained away from their late +Newspaper Building, on Wednesday afternoon, +Florence had an interview with Herbert after dinner +at his own door. He explained coldly that Henry +and he had grown tired of the printing-press and +had decided to put in all their spare time building +a theatre in Henry's attic; but Florence gave him to +understand that the theatre could not be; she preferred +the <i>Oriole</i>.</p> + +<p>Henry and Herbert had both stopped "speaking" +to Patty Fairchild, for each believed her treacherous +to himself; but Florence now informed Herbert that +far from depending on mere hearsay, she had in her +own possession the confession of his knowledge that +he had ocular beauty; that she had discovered the +paper where Patty had lost it; and that it was now +in a secure place, and in an envelope, upon the +outside of which was already written, "For Wallie +Torbin. Kindness of Florence A."</p> + +<p>Herbert surrendered.</p> + +<p>So did Henry Rooter, a little later that evening, +after a telephoned conversation with the slave-driver.</p> + +<p>Therefore, the two miserable printers were back +in their places the next afternoon. They told each +other that the theatre they had planned wasn't so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> +much after all; and anyhow your father and mother +didn't last all your life, and it was better to do what +they wanted, and be polite while they were alive.</p> + +<p>And on Saturday the new <i>Oriole</i>, now in every +jot and item the inspired organ of feminism, made +its undeniably sensational appearance.</p> + +<p>A copy, neatly folded, was placed in the hand of +Noble Dill, as he set forth for his place of business, +after lunching at home with his mother. Florence +was the person who placed it there; she came hurriedly +from somewhere in the neighbourhood, out +of what yard or alley he did not notice, and slipped +the little oblong sheet into his lax fingers.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said breathlessly. "There's a +good deal about you in it this week, Mr. Dill, and +I guess—I guess——"</p> + +<p>"What, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"I guess maybe you'll——" She looked up at +him shyly; then, with no more to say, turned and ran +back in the direction whence she had come. Noble +walked on, not at once examining her little gift, but +carrying it absently in fingers still lax at the end of +a dangling arm. There was no life in him for anything. +Julia was away.</p> + +<p>Away! And yet the dazzling creature looked at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +him from sky, from earth, from air; looked at him +with the most poignant kindness, yet always shook +her head! She had answered his first letter by a +kind little note, his second by a kinder and littler +one, and his third, fourth, fifth, and sixth by no +note at all; but by the kindest message (through one +of her aunts) that she was thinking about him a great +deal. And even this was three weeks ago. Since then +from Julia—nothing at all!</p> + +<p>But yesterday something a little stimulating had +happened. On the street, downtown, he had come +face to face, momentarily, with Julia's father; and for +the first time in Noble's life Mr. Atwater nodded to +him pleasantly. Noble went on his way, elated. Was +there not something almost fatherly in this strange +greeting?</p> + +<p>An event so singular might be interpreted in the +happiest way: What had Julia written her father, +to change him so toward Noble? And Noble was +still dreamily interpreting as he walked down the +street with <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i> idle in +an idle hand.</p> + +<p>He found a use for that hand presently, and, having +sighed, lifted it to press it upon his brow, but did +not complete the gesture. As his hand came within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +the scope of his gaze, levelled on the unfathomable +distance, he observed that the fingers held a sheet +of printed paper; and he remembered Florence. +Instead of pressing his brow he unfolded the journal +she had thrust upon him. As he began to read, +his eye was lustreless, his gait slack and dreary; but +soon his whole demeanour changed, it cannot be +said for the better.</p> + +<div style="font-size: 80%"> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Atwater & Co., Owners & Propietors</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Subscribe NOW 25 cents Per. Year. Sub-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">scriptions should be brought to the East</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Main Entrance of Atwater & Co., News-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">paper Building every afternoon</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">430 to VI 25 Cents</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">POEMS</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">My Soul by Florence Atwater</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">When my heart is dreary</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">Then my soul is weary</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">As a bird with a broken wing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Who never again will sing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Like the sound of a vast amen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">That comes from a church of men.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">When my soul is dreary</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">It could never be cheery</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">But I think of my ideal</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">And everything seems real</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">Like the sound of the bright church bells peal.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Poems by Florence Atwater will be in</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">the paper each and every Sat.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Advertisements 45c. each Up</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Joseph K. Atwater Co.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">127 South Iowa St.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Steam Pumps</span><br /> +<br /></p> +<p style="margin-left: 14em;">The News of the City<br /> + __________</p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Florence Atwater of tHis City</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">received a mark of 94 in History Examination</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">at the concusion of the school Term last June.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Blue hair ribbons are in style again.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Patty Fairchild of this City has not</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">been doing as well in Declamation lately</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">as formerly.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">MR. Noble Dill of this City is seldom</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">seen on the streets of the City without</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">smoking a cigarette.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Julia Atwater of this City is out</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">of the City.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">The MR. Rayfort family of this City</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">have been presentde with the present</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">of a new Cat by Geo. the man employeD by</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Balf & CO. This cat is perfectly</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">baeutiful and still quit young.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Julia Atwater of this City is visiting</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">friends in the Soth. The family have had</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">many letters from her that are read by each</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">and all of the famild.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Mr. Noble Dill of this City is in business</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">with his Father.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">There was quite a wind storm Thursday doing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">damage to shade trees in many parts of our</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">beautiful City.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">From Letters to the family Miss Julia</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Atwater of this City is enjoying her visit</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">in the south a greadeal.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Patty Fairchild of the 7 A of this</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">City, will probably not pass in ARithmetiC—unless</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">great improvement takes place before</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Examination.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Julia Atwater of this City wrote a</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">letter to the family stating while visiting</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">in the SOuth she has made an engagement</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">to be married to MR. Crum of that City.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">The family do not know who this MR. Crum</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">is but It is said he is a widower though</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">he has been diVorced with a great many</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">children.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">The new ditch of the MR. Henry D. Vance,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">backyard of this City is about through</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">now as little remain to be done and it is</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">thought the beighborhood will son look</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">better. Subscribe NOW 25c. Per Year Adv.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">45c. up. Atwater & Co. Newspaper Building</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">25 Cents Per Years.</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>It may be assumed that the last of the news items +was wasted upon Noble Dill and that he never knew +of the neighbourhood improvement believed to be +imminent as a result of the final touches to the +ditch of the Mr. Henry D. Vance backyard.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY</h3> + + +<p>Throughout that afternoon adult members +of the Atwater family connection made +futile efforts to secure all the copies of the +week's edition of <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>. +It could not be done.</p> + +<p>It was a trying time for "the family." Great +Aunt Carrie said that she had the "worst afternoon of +any of 'em," because young Newland Sanders came +to her house at two and did not leave until five; all +the time counting over, one by one, the hours he'd +spent with Julia since she was seventeen and turned +out, unfortunately, to be a Beauty. Newland had +not restrained himself, Aunt Carrie said, and long +before he left she wished Julia had never been born—and +as for Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Junior, +the only thing to do with him was to send him to some +strict Military School.</p> + +<p>Florence's father telephoned to her mother from +downtown at three, and said that Mr. George Plum +and the ardent vocalist, Clairdyce, had just left his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +office. They had not called in company, however, +but coincidentally; and each had a copy of <i>The +North End Daily Oriole</i>, already somewhat worn +with folding and unfolding. Mr. Clairdyce's condition +was one of desperate calm, Florence's father +said, but Mr. Plum's agitation left him rather unpresentable +for the street, though he had finally +gone forth with his hair just as he had rumpled it, +and with his hat in his hand. They wished the +truth, they said: Was it true or was it not true? +Mr. Atwater had told them that he feared Julia was +indeed engaged, though he knew nothing of her +fiancé's previous marriage or marriages, or of the +number of his children. They had responded that +they cared nothing about that. This man Crum's +record was a matter of indifference to them, they +said. All they wanted to know was whether Julia +was engaged or not—and she was!</p> + +<p>"The odd thing to <i>me</i>," Mr. Atwater continued +to his wife, "is where on earth Herbert could have +got his story about this Crum's being a widower, and +divorced, and with all those children. Do you know +if Julia's written any of the family about these +things and they haven't told the rest of us?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Atwater. "I'm sure she hasn't.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +Every letter she's written to any of us has passed all +through the family, and I know I've seen every one +of 'em. She's never said anything about him at all, +except that he was a lawyer. I'm sure <i>I</i> can't +imagine where Herbert got his awful information; +I never thought he was the kind of boy to just make +up such things out of whole cloth."</p> + +<p>Florence, sitting quietly in a chair near by, with +a copy of "Sesame and Lilies" in her lap, listened to +her mother's side of this conversation with an expression +of impersonal interest; and if she could have +realized how completely her parents had forgotten +(naturally enough) the details of their first rambling +discussion of Julia's engagement, she might really +have felt as little alarm as she showed.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Atwater, "I'm glad <i>our</i> branch +of the family isn't responsible. That's a comfort, +anyhow, especially as people are reading copies of +Herbert's dreadful paper all up and down the town, +my clerk says. He tells me that over at the Unity +Trust Company, where young Murdock Hawes is +cashier, they only got hold of one copy, but typewrote +it and multigraphed it, and some of 'em have +already learned it by heart to recite to poor young +Hawes. He's the one who sent Julia the three fivepound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +boxes of chocolates from New York all at the +same time, you remember."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Atwater sighed. "Poor thing!"</p> + +<p>"Florence is out among the family, I suppose?" +he inquired.</p> + +<p>"No; she's right here. She's just started to read +Ruskin this afternoon. She says she's going to begin +and read all of him straight through. That's very +nice, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>He seemed to muse before replying.</p> + +<p>"I think that's very nice, at her age especially," +Mrs. Atwater urged. "Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es! Oh, yes! At least I suppose so. Ah—you +don't think—of course she hasn't had anything +at all to do with this?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't <i>see</i> how she could. You know +Aunt Fanny told us how Herbert declared before +them all, only last Sunday night, that Florence should +never have one thing to do with his printing-press, +and said they wouldn't even let her come near it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's a fact. I'm glad Herbert made it +so clear that she can't be implicated. I suppose +the family are all pretty well down on Uncle Joseph?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Joseph is being greatly blamed," said +Mrs. Atwater primly. "He really ought to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +known better than to put such an instrument as +a printing-press into the hands of an irresponsible +boy of that age. Of course it simply encouraged him +to print all kinds of things. We none of us think +Uncle Joseph ever dreamed that Herbert would +publish, anything exactly like <i>this</i>, and of course +Uncle Joseph says himself he never dreamed such a +thing; he's said so time and time and time again, all +afternoon. But of course he's greatly blamed."</p> + +<p>"I suppose there've been quite a good many of +'em over there blaming him?" her husband inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes—until he telephoned to a garage and hired +a car and went for a drive. He said he had plenty of +money with him and didn't know when he'd be +back."</p> + +<p>"Serves him right," said Mr. Atwater. "Does +anybody know where Herbert is?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet!"</p> + +<p>"Well——" and he returned to a former theme. +"I <i>am</i> glad we aren't implicated. Florence is right +there with you, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Atwater replied. "She's right here, +reading. You aren't worried about her, are you?" +she added.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, no; I'm sure it's all right. I only +thought——"</p> + +<p>"Only thought what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it <i>did</i> strike me as curious," said Mr. +Atwater; "especially after Aunt Fanny's telling us +how Herbert declared Florence could never have a +single thing to do with his paper again——"</p> + +<p>"Well, what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, here's her poem right at the top of it, and +a <i>very</i> friendly item about her history mark of last +June. It doesn't seem like Herbert to be so complimentary +to Florence, all of a sudden. Just +struck me as rather curious; that's all."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," said Mrs. Atwater, "it does seem a +little odd, when you think of it."</p> + +<p>"Have you <i>asked</i> Florence if she had anything to +do with getting out this week's <i>Oriole</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no; it never occurred to me, especially +after what Aunt Fanny told us," said Mrs. Atwater. +"I'll ask her now."</p> + +<p>But she was obliged to postpone putting the intended +question. "Sesame and Lilies" lay sweetly +upon the seat of the chair that Florence had occupied; +but Florence herself had gone somewhere else.</p> + +<p>She had gone for a long, long ramble; and pedestrians<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +who encountered her, and happened to notice +her expression, were interested; and as they went +on their way several of them interrupted the course +of their meditations to say to themselves that she +was the most thoughtful looking young girl they +had ever seen. There was a touch of wistfulness +about her, too; as of one whose benevolence must +renounce all hope of comprehension and reward.</p> + +<p>Now, among those who observed her unusual +expression was a gentleman of great dimensions disposed +in a closed automobile that went labouring +among mudholes in an unpaved outskirt of the town. +He rapped upon the glass before him, to get the +driver's attention, and a moment later the car drew +up beside Florence, as she stood in a deep reverie +at the intersection of two roads.</p> + +<p>Uncle Joseph opened the door and took his cigar +from his mouth. "Get in, Florence," he said. "I'll +take you for a ride." She started violently; whereupon +he restored the cigar to his mouth, puffed upon +it, breathing heavily the while as was his wont, +and added, "I'm not going home. I'm out for a +nice long ride. Get in."</p> + +<p>"I was takin' a walk," she said dubiously. "I haf +to take a whole lot of exercise, and I ought to walk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +and walk and walk. I guess I ought to keep on +walkin'."</p> + +<p>"Get in," he said. "I'm out riding. I don't +know <i>when</i> I'll get home!"</p> + +<p>Florence stepped in, Uncle Joseph closed the door, +and the car slowly bumped onward.</p> + +<p>"You know where Herbert is?" Uncle Joseph +inquired.</p> + +<p>"No," said Florence, in a gentle voice.</p> + +<p>"I do," he said. "Herbert and your friend +Henry Rooter came to our house with one of the last +copies of the <i>Oriole</i> they were distributing to subscribers; +and after I read it I kind of foresaw that +the feller responsible for their owning a printing-press +was going to be in some sort of family trouble +or other. I had quite a talk with 'em and they +hinted they hadn't had much to do with this number +of the paper, except the mechanical end of it; but they +wouldn't come out right full with what they meant. +They seemed to have some good reason for protecting +a third party, and said quite a good deal +about their fathers and mothers being but mortal +and so on; so Henry and Herbert thought they +oughtn't to expose this third party—whoever she may +happen to be. Well, I thought they better not stay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +too long, because I was compromised enough already, +without being seen in their company; and I gave +'em something to help 'em out with at the movies. +You can stay at movies an awful long time, and if +you've got money enough to go to several of 'em, +why, you're fixed for pretty near as long as you please. +A body ought to be able to live a couple o' months +at the movies for nine or ten dollars, I should think."</p> + +<p>He was silent for a time, then asked, "I don't +suppose your papa and mamma will be worrying +about you, will they, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she said quickly. "Not in the least! +There was nothin' at all for me to do at our house +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"That's good," he said, "because before we go +back I was thinking some of driving around by way +of Texas."</p> + +<p>Florence looked at him trustfully and said nothing. +It seemed to her that he suspected something; she +was not sure; but his conversation was a little peculiar, +though not in the least sinister. Indeed she was +able to make out that he had more the air of an accomplice +than of a prosecutor or a detective. Nevertheless, +she was convinced that far, far the best course +for her to pursue, during the next few days, would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +be one of steadfast reserve. And such a course +was congenial to her mood, which was subdued, not +to say apprehensive; though she was sure her recent +conduct, if viewed sympathetically, would be found +at least Christian. The trouble was that probably it +would not be viewed sympathetically. No one would +understand how carefully and tactfully she had +prepared the items of the <i>Oriole</i> to lead suavely +up to the news of Aunt Julia's engagement and +break it to Noble Dill in a manner that would save +his reason.</p> + +<p>Therefore, on account of this probable lack of +comprehension on the part of the family and public, +it seemed to her that the only wise and good course +to follow would be to claim nothing for herself, but to +allow Herbert and Henry to remain undisturbed +in full credit for publishing the <i>Oriole</i>. This involved +a disappointment, it is true; nevertheless, she +decided to bear it.</p> + +<p>She had looked forward to surprising "the family" +delightfully. As they fluttered in exclamation about +her, she had expected to say, "Oh, the <i>poem</i> isn't so +much, I guess—I wrote it quite a few days ago and +I'm writing a couple new ones now—but I did +take quite a lot o' time and trouble with the rest of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> +the paper, because I had to write every single word +of it, or else let Henry and Herbert try to, and 'course +they'd just of ruined it. Oh, it isn't so much to +talk about, I guess; it just sort of <i>comes</i> to me to do +things that way."</p> + +<p>Thirteen attempts to exercise a great philanthropy, +and every grown person in sight, with the possible +exception of Great-Uncle Joseph, goes into wholly +unanticipated fits of horror. Cause and effect +have no honest relation: Fate operates without justice +or even rational sequence; life and the universe +appear to be governed, not in order and with system, +but by Chance, becoming sinister at any moment +without reason.</p> + +<p>And while Florence, thus a pessimist, sat beside +fat Uncle Joseph during their long, long drive, relatives +of hers were indeed going into fits; at least, so +Florence would have described their gestures and incoherences +of comment. Moreover, after the movies, +straight into such a fitful scene did the luckless Herbert +walk when urged homeward by thoughts of +food, at about six that evening. Henry Rooter had +strongly advised him against entering the house.</p> + +<p>"You better not," he said earnestly. "<i>Honest</i>, +you better not, Herbert!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, we got apple dumplings for dinner," Herbert +said, his tone showing the strain of mental +uncertainty. "Eliza told me this morning we were +goin' to have 'em. I kind of hate to go in, but I +guess I better, Henry."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> won't see any apple dumplings," Henry +predicted.</p> + +<p>"Well, I believe I better try it, Henry."</p> + +<p>"You better come home with me. My father and +mother'll be perfectly willing to have you."</p> + +<p>"I know that," said Herbert. "But I guess I +better go in and try it, anyhow, Henry. I didn't +have anything to do with what's in the <i>Oriole</i>. +It's every last word ole Florence's doing. I haven't +got any more right to be picked on for that than a +child."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Henry admitted. "But if you go and tell +'em so, I bet she'd get even with you some way that +would probably get <i>me</i> in trouble, too, before we get +through with the job. <i>I</i> wouldn't tell 'em if I was +you, Herbert!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I wasn't intending to," Herbert responded +gloomily; and the thought of each, unknown to the +other, was the same, consisting of a symbolic likeness +of Wallie Torbin at his worst. "I <i>ought</i> to tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +on Florence; by rights I ought," said Herbert; "but +I've decided I won't. There's no tellin' what she +wouldn't do. Not that she could do anything to +<i>me</i>, particyourly——"</p> + +<p>"Nor me, either," his friend interposed hurriedly. +"I don't worry about anything like that! Still, if I +was you I wouldn't tell. She's only a girl, we got to +remember."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Herbert. "That's the way <i>I</i> look at +it, Henry; and the way I look at it is just simply this: +long as she <i>is</i> a girl, why, simply let her go. You +can't tell what she'd do, and so what's the use to go +and tell on a girl?"</p> + +<p>"That's the way <i>I</i> look at it," Henry agreed. +"What's the use? If I was in your place, I'd act just +the same way you do."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Herbert, "I guess I better go on in +the house, Henry. It's a good while after dark."</p> + +<p>"You're makin' a big mistake!" Henry Rooter +called after him. "<i>You</i> won't see any apple dumplings, +I bet a hunderd dollars! You better come on +home with me."</p> + +<p>Herbert no more than half opened his front +door before he perceived that his friend's advice had +been excellent. So clearly Herbert perceived this,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +that he impulsively decided not to open the door any +farther, but on the contrary to close it and retire; +and he would have done so, had his mother not +reached forth and detained him. She was, in fact, +just inside that door, standing in the hall with one +of his great-aunts, one of his aunts, two aunts-by-marriage, +and an elderly unmarried cousin, who were +all just on the point of leaving. However, they +changed their minds and decided to remain, now +that Herbert was among them.</p> + +<p>The captive's father joined them, a few minutes +later, but it had already become clear to Herbert +that <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i> was in one sense a +thing of the past, though in another sense this former +owner and proprietor was certain that he would +never hear the last of it. However, on account of +the life of blackmail and slavery now led by the +members of the old régime, the <i>Oriole's</i> extinction +was far less painful to Herbert than his father supposed; +and the latter wasted a great deal of severity, +insisting that the printing-press should be returned +that very night to Uncle Joseph. Herbert's heartiest +retrospective wish was that the ole printing-press had +been returned to Uncle Joseph long ago.</p> + +<p>"If you can find him to give it to!" Aunt Harriet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +suggested. "Nobody <i>knows</i> where he goes when he +gets the way he did this afternoon when we were discussing +it with him! I only hope he'll be back to-night!"</p> + +<p>"He can't stay away forever," Aunt Fanny remarked. +"That garage is charging him five dollars +an hour for the automobile he's in, and surely even +Joseph will decide there's a limit to wildness <i>some</i> +time!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care when he comes back," Herbert's +father declared grimly. "Whenever he does he's got +to take that printing-press back—and Herbert will +be let out of the house long enough to carry it over. +His mother or I will go with him."</p> + +<p>Herbert bore much more than this. He had +seated himself on the third step of the stairway, and +maintained as much dogged silence as he could. +Once, however, they got a yelp of anguish out of him. +It was when Cousin Virginia said: "Oh, Herbert, +Herbert! How could you make up that terrible +falsehood about Mr. Crum? And, <i>think</i> of it; right +on the same page with your cousin Florence's pure +little poem!"</p> + +<p>Herbert uttered sounds incoherent but loud, and +expressive of a supreme physical revulsion. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> +shocked audience readily understood that he liked +neither Cousin Virginia's chiding nor Cousin Florence's +pure little poem.</p> + +<p>"Shame!" said his father.</p> + +<p>Herbert controlled himself. It could be seen that +his spirit was broken, when Aunt Fanny mourned, +shaking her head at him, smiling ruefully:</p> + +<p>"Oh, if boys could only be girls!"</p> + +<p>Herbert just looked at her.</p> + +<p>"The worst thing," said his father;—"that is, if +there's any part of it that's worse than another—the +worst thing about it all is this rumour about Noble +Dill."</p> + +<p>"What about that poor thing?" Aunt Harriet +asked. "We haven't heard."</p> + +<p>"Why, I walked up from downtown with old man +Dill," said Mr. Atwater, "and the Dill family are all +very much worried. It seems that Noble started +downtown after lunch, as usual, and pretty soon +he came back to the house and he had a copy of this +awful paper that little Florence had given him, +and——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Who</i> gave it to him?" Aunt Fanny asked. +"<i>Who</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Little Florence."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, that's curious," Cousin Virginia murmured. +"I must telephone and ask her mother +about that."</p> + +<p>The brooding Herbert looked up, and there was a +gleam in his dogged eye; but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Go on," Aunt Harriet urged. "What did Noble +do?"</p> + +<p>"Why, his mother said he just went up to his room +and changed his shoes and necktie——"</p> + +<p>"I thought so," Aunt Fanny whispered. "Crazy!"</p> + +<p>"And then," Mr. Atwater continued, "he left +the house and she supposed he'd gone down to the +office; but she was uneasy, and telephoned his father. +Noble hadn't come. He didn't come all afternoon, +and he didn't go back to the house; and they telephoned +around to every place he <i>could</i> go that they +know of, and they couldn't find him or hear anything +about him at all—not anywhere." Mr. Atwater +coughed, and paused.</p> + +<p>"But what," Aunt Harriet cried;—"<i>what</i> do they +think's become of him?"</p> + +<p>"Old man Dill said they were all pretty anxious," +said Mr. Atwater. "They're afraid Noble has—they're +afraid he's disappeared."</p> + +<p>Aunt Fanny screamed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, in perfect accord, they all turned to look at +Herbert, who rose and would have retired upstairs +had he been permitted.</p> + +<p>As that perturbing evening wore on, word gradually +reached the most outlying members of the +Atwater family connection that Noble Dill was missing. +Ordinarily, this bit of news would have caused +them no severe anxiety. Noble's person and intellect +were so commonplace—"insignificant" was +the term usually preferred in his own circle—that +he was considered to be as nearly negligible as it is +charitable to consider a fellow-being. True, there +was one thing that set him apart; he was found +worthy of a superlative when he fell in love with +Julia; and of course this distinction caused him to +become better known and more talked about than +he had been in his earlier youth.</p> + +<p>However, the eccentricities of a person in such an +extremity of love are seldom valued except as comedy, +and even then with no warmth of heart for the +comedian, but rather with an incredulous disdain; +so it is safe to say that under other circumstances, +Noble might have been missing, indeed, and few +of the Atwaters would have missed him. But as +matters stood they worried a great deal about him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +fearing that a rash act on his part might reflect +notoriety upon themselves on account of their beautiful +relative—and <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>. +And when nine o'clock came and Mrs. Dill reported +to Herbert's father, over the telephone, that nothing +had yet been heard of her son, the pressure of those +who were blaming the <i>Oriole</i> more than they +blamed Julia became so wearing that Herbert decided +he would rather spend the remaining days of his life +running away from Wallie Torbin than put in any +more of such a dog's evening as he <i>was</i> putting in. +Thus he defined it.</p> + +<p>He made a confession; that is to say, it was a +proclamation. He proclaimed his innocence. He +began history with a description of events distinctly +subsequent to Sunday pastimes with Patty Fairchild, +and explained how he and Henry had felt that +their parents would not always be with them, and as +their parents wished them to be polite, they had +resolved to be polite to Florence. Proceeding, he +related in detail her whole journalistic exploit.</p> + +<p>Of the matter in hand he told the perfect and absolute +truth—and was immediately refuted, confuted, +and demonstrated to be a false witness by Aunt +Fanny, Aunt Carrie, and Cousin Virginia, who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +all heard him vehemently declare, no longer ago +than the preceding Sunday evening, that he and his +partner had taken secure measures to prevent +Florence from ever again setting foot within the +Newspaper Building. In addition, he was quite +showered with definitions; and these, though so +various, all sought to phrase but the one subject: +his conduct in seeking to drag Florence into the mire, +when she was absent and could not defend herself. +Poor Florence would answer later in the evening, he +was told severely; and though her cause was thus +championed against the slander, it is true that some +of her defenders felt stirrings of curiosity in regard +to Florence. In fact, there was getting to be something +almost like a cloud upon her reputation. +There were several things for her to explain;—among +them, her taking it upon herself to see that +Noble received a copy of the <i>Oriole</i>, and also her +sudden departure from home and rather odd protraction +of absence therefrom. It was not thought +she was in good company. Uncle Joseph had telephoned +from a suburb that they were dining at a +farmhouse and would thence descend to the general +region of the movies.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nobody</i> knows what that man'll do, when he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +decides to!" Aunt Carrie said nervously. "Letting +the poor child stay up so late! She ought to be in +bed this minute, even if it is Saturday night! Or +else she ought to be here to listen to her own bad +little cousin trying to put his terrible responsibility +on her shoulders."</p> + +<p>One item of this description of himself the badgered +Herbert could not bear in silence, although he had +just declared that since the truth was so ill-respected +among his persecutors he would open his mouth no +more until the day of his death. He passed over +"bad," but furiously stated his height in feet, inches, +and fractions of inches.</p> + +<p>Aunt Fanny shook her head in mourning. "That +may be, Herbert," she said gently. "But you must +try to realize it can't bring poor young Mr. Dill back +to his family."</p> + +<p>Again Herbert just looked at her. He had no +indifference more profound than that upon which +her strained conception of the relation between +cause and effect seemed to touch;—from his point of +view, to be missing should be the lightest of calamities. +It is true that he was concerned with the restoration +of Noble Dill to the rest of the Dills so +far as such an event might affect his own incomparable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +misfortunes, but not otherwise. He regarded +Noble and Noble's disappearance merely as unfair +damage to himself, and he continued to look at +this sorrowing great-aunt of his until his thoughts +made his strange gaze appear to her so hardened +that she shook her head and looked away.</p> + +<p>"Poor young Mr. Dill!" she said. "If someone +could only have been with him and kept talking to +him until he got used to the idea a little!"</p> + +<p>Cousin Virginia nodded comprehendingly. "Yes, +it might have tided him over," she said. "He +wasn't handsome, nor impressive, of course, nor +anything like that, but he always spoke so nicely +to people on the street. I'm sure he never harmed +even a kitten, poor soul!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he never did," Herbert's mother agreed +gently. "Not even a kitten. I do wonder where he +is now."</p> + +<p>But Aunt Fanny uttered a little cry of protest. +"I'm afraid we may hear!" she said. "Any moment!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</h3> + + +<p>These sympathetic women had unanimously +set their expectation in so romantically pessimistic +a groove that the most tragic news of +Noble would have surprised them little. But if +the truth of his whereabouts could have been made +known to them, as they sat thus together at what +was developing virtually into his wake, with Herbert +as a compulsory participant, they would have turned +the session into a riot of amazement. Noble was +in the very last place (they would have said, when +calmer) where anybody in the world could have +even madly dreamed of looking for him! They +would have been right about it. No one could have +expected to find Noble to-night inside the old, +four-square brick house of H. I. Atwater, Senior, +chief of the Atwaters and father of too gentle Julia. +Moreover, Mr. Atwater himself was not at present +in the house; he had closed and locked it the day before, +giving the servants a week's vacation and telling +them not to return till he sent for them; and he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> +then gone out of town to look over a hominy-mill +he thought of buying. And yet, as the wake went +on, there was a light in the house, and under that +light sat Noble Dill.</p> + +<p>Returning home, after Florence had placed the shattering +paper within his hand, Noble had changed +his shoes and his tie. He was but a mechanism; +he had no motive. The shoes he put on were no +better than those he took off; the fresh tie was no +lovelier than the one he had worn; nor had it even +the lucidity to be a purple one, as the banner of +grief. No; his action was, if so viewed, "crazy," +as Aunt Fanny had called it. Agitation first took +this form; that was all. Love and change of dress +are so closely allied; and in happier days, when Noble +had come home from work and would see Julia in +the evening, he usually changed his clothes. No +doubt there is some faint tracery here, probably too +indistinct to repay contemplation.</p> + +<p>When he left the house he walked rapidly downtown, +and toward the end of this one-mile journey +he ran; but as he was then approaching the railway +station, no one thought him eccentric. He was, +however, for when he entered the station he went +to a bench and sat looking upward for more than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +ten minutes before he rose, went to a ticket window +and asked for a time-table.</p> + +<p>"What road?" the clerk inquired.</p> + +<p>"All points South," said Noble.</p> + +<p>He placed the time-table, still folded, in his pocket, +rested an elbow on the brass apron of the window, +and would have given himself up to reflections, +though urged to move away. Several people, wishing +to buy tickets, had formed a line behind him; +they perceived that Noble had nothing more to say +to the clerk, and the latter encouraged their protests, +even going so far as to inquire: "For heaven's +sakes, can't you let these folk buy their tickets?" +And since Noble still did not move: "My gosh, +haven't you got no <i>feet</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Feet? Oh, yes," said Noble gently. "I'm going +away." And went back to his seat.</p> + +<p>Afterwhile, he sought to study his time-table. +Ordinarily, his mind was one of those able to decipher +and comprehend railway time-tables; he had few +gifts, but this was one of them. It failed him now; +so he wandered back to the ticket-window, and, after +urgent coaching, eventually took his place at the end +instead of at the head of the line that waited there. +In his turn he came again to the window, and departed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> +from it after a conversation with the clerk +that left the latter in accord with Aunt Fanny Atwater's +commiserating adjective, though the clerk's +own pity was expressed in argot. "The poor nut!" +he explained to his next client. "Wants to buy +a ticket on a train that don't pull out until ten thirty-five +to-night; and me fillin' it all out, stampin' it +and everything, what for? Turned out all his pockets +and couldn't come within eight dollars o' the +price! Where you want to go?"</p> + +<p>Noble went back to his bench and sat there for +a long time, though there was no time, long or short, +for him. He was not yet consciously suffering; +nor was he thinking at all. True, he had a dim, +persistent impulse to action—or why should he be +at the station?—but for the clearest expression of +his condition it is necessary to borrow a culinary +symbol; he was jelling. But the state of shock was +slowly dispersing, while a perception of approaching +anguish as slowly increased. He was beginning to +swallow nothing at intervals and the intervals were +growing shorter.</p> + +<p>Dusk was misting down, outdoors, when with +dragging steps he came out of the station. He +looked hazily up and down the street, where the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> +corner-lamps and shop-windows now were lighted; +and, after dreary hesitation, he went in search of a +pawn-shop, and found one. The old man who operated +it must have been a philanthropist, for Noble +was so fortunate as to secure a loan of nine dollars +upon his watch. Surprised at this, he returned to +the station, and went back to the same old bench.</p> + +<p>It was fully occupied, and he stood for some time +looking with vague reproach at the large family of +coloured people who had taken it. He had a feeling +that he lived there and that these coloured people +were trespassers; but upon becoming aware that part +of an orange was being rubbed over his left shoe +by the youngest of the children, he groaned abruptly +and found another bench.</p> + +<p>A little after six o'clock a clanging and commotion +in the train-shed outside, attending the arrival of a +"through express," stirred him from his torpor, +and he walked heavily across the room to the same +ticket-window he had twice blocked; but there was +no queue attached to it now. He rested his elbow +upon the apron and his chin upon his hand, while +the clerk waited until he should state his wishes. +This was a new clerk, who had just relieved the +other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well! Well!" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"I'll take it now," Noble responded.</p> + +<p>"What'll you take now?"</p> + +<p>"That ticket."</p> + +<p>"What ticket?"</p> + +<p>"The same one I wanted before," Noble sighed.</p> + +<p>The clerk gave him a piercing look, glanced out +of the window and saw that there were no other +clients, then went to a desk at the farther end of his +compartment, and took up some clerical work he had +in hand.</p> + +<p>Noble leaned upon the apron of the window, waiting; +and if he thought anything, he thought the man +was serving him.</p> + +<p>The high, vaulted room became resonant with +voices and the blurred echoes of mingling footsteps +on the marble floor, as passengers from the express +hurried anxiously to the street, or more gaily straggled +through, shouting with friends who came to +greet them; and among these moving groups there +walked a youthful fine lady noticeably enlivening to +the dullest eye. She was preceded by a brisk porter +who carried two travelling-bags of a rich sort, as well +as a sack of implements for the game of golf; and she +was warm in dark furs, against which the vasty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> +clump of violets she wore showed dewy gleamings +of blue.</p> + +<p>At sight of Noble Dill, more than pensive at the +ticket-window, she hesitated, then stopped and observed +him. That she should observe anybody was +in a way a coincidence, for, as it happened, she was +herself the most observed person in all the place. +She was veiled in two veils, but she had been seen +in the train without these, and some of her fellow-travellers, +though strangers to her, were walking near +her in a hypocritical way, hoping still not to lose +sight of her, even veiled. And although the shroudings +permitted the most meagre information of her +features, what they did reveal was harmfully piquant; +moreover, there was a sweetness of figure, a +disturbing grace; while nothing could disguise her +air of wearing that many violets casually as a daily +perquisite and matter of course.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 473px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;"> +<img src="images/illus-352.jpg" +alt="He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from the +window; the whole person of Noble Dill seemed near collapse." +title="" /> +<span class="caption">"He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from the +window; the whole person of Noble Dill seemed near collapse."</span> +</div> + +<p>So this observed lady stopped and observed Noble, +who in return observed her not at all, being but +semi-conscious. Looked upon thoughtfully, it is a +coincidence that we breathe; certainly it is a mighty +coincidence that we speak to one another and comprehend; +for these are true marvels. But what petty +interlacings of human action so pique our sense of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>the theatrical that we call them coincidences and +are astonished! That Julia should arrive during +Noble's long process of buying a ticket to go to her +was stranger than that she stopped to look at him, +though still not comparable in strangeness to the +fact that either of them, or any living creature, +stood upon the whirling earth;—yet when Noble +Dill comprehended what was happening he was +amazed.</p> + +<p>She spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"Noble!" she said.</p> + +<p>He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from +the window; the whole person of Noble Dill seemed +near collapse. He shook; he had no voice.</p> + +<p>"I just this minute got off the train," she said. +"Are you going away somewhere?"</p> + +<p>"No," he whispered; then obtained command of +a huskiness somewhat greater in volume. "I'm +just standing here."</p> + +<p>"I told the porter to get me a taxicab," she said. +"If you're going home for dinner I'll drop you at your +house."</p> + +<p>"I—I'm—I——" His articulation encountered +unsurmountable difficulties, but Julia had been with +him through many such trials aforetime. She said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> +briskly, "I'm awfully hungry and I want to get +home. Come on—if you like?"</p> + +<p>He walked waveringly at her side through the +station, and followed her into the dim interior of the +cab, which became fragrant of violets—an emanation +at once ineffable and poisonous.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad I happened to run across you," +she said, as they began to vibrate tremulously in +unison with the fierce little engine that drew them. +"I want to hear all the news. Nobody knows I'm +home. I didn't write or telegraph to a soul; and +I'll be a complete surprise to father and everybody—I +don't know how pleasant a one! <i>You</i> +didn't seem so frightfully glad to see me, Noble!"</p> + +<p>"Am I?" he whispered. "I mean—I mean—I +mean: Didn't I?"</p> + +<p>"No!" she laughed. "You looked—you looked +shocked! It couldn't have been because I'm ill +or anything, because I'm not; and if I were you +couldn't have told it through these two veils. +Possibly I'd better take your expression as a compliment." +She paused, then asked hesitatingly, +"Shall I?"</p> + +<p>This was the style for which the Atwaters held +Julia responsible; but they were mistaken: she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> +never able to control it. Now she went cheerily +on: "Perhaps not, as you don't answer. I +shouldn't be so bold! Do you suppose anybody +at all will be glad to see me?"</p> + +<p>"I—I——" He seemed to hope that words would +come in their own good time.</p> + +<p>"Noble!" she cried. "Don't be so glum!" And +she touched his arm with her muff, a fluffy contact +causing within him a short convulsion, naturally +invisible. "Noble, aren't you going to tell me what's +all the news?"</p> + +<p>"There's—some," he managed to inform her. +"Some—some news."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's—it's——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," she said soothingly. "Get your +breath; I can wait. I hope nothing's wrong in your +family, Noble."</p> + +<p>"No. Oh, no."</p> + +<p>"It isn't just my turning up unexpectedly that's +upset you so, of course," she dared to say. "Naturally, +I know better than to think such a thing as +that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Julia!" he said. "Oh, Julia!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Noble?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Noth-ing," he murmured, disjointing the word.</p> + +<p>"How odd you happened to be there at the station," +she said, "just when my train came in! You're +sure you weren't going away anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"No; oh, no."</p> + +<p>She was thoughtful, then laughed confidentially. +"You're the only person in town that knows I'm +home, Noble."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad," he said humbly.</p> + +<p>She laughed again. "I came all of a sudden—on +an impulse. It's a little idiotic. I'll tell you all +about it, Noble. You see, ten or twelve days ago +I wrote the family a more or less indiscreet letter. +That is, I told them something I wanted them to be +discreet about, and, of course, when I got to thinking +it over, I knew they wouldn't. You see, I wrote +them something I wanted them to keep a secret, but +the more I thought about it, the more I saw I'd +better hurry back. Yesterday it got into my head +that I'd better jump on the next train for home!"</p> + +<p>She paused, then added, "So I did! About ten +or twelve days is as long as anybody has a right to +expect the Atwater family connection to keep the +deadliest kind of a secret, isn't it?" And as he did +not respond, she explained, modestly, "Of course, it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> +wasn't a very deadly secret; it was really about +something of only the least importance."</p> + +<p>The jar of this understatement restored Noble's +voice to a sudden and startling loudness. "'Only +the least importance'!" he shouted. "With a man +named Crum!"</p> + +<p>"What!" she cried</p> + +<p>"Crum!" Noble insisted. "That's exactly what +it said his name was!"</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> said his name was?"</p> + +<p>"<i>The North End Daily Oriole!</i>"</p> + +<p>"What in heaven's name is that?"</p> + +<p>"It's the children's paper, Herbert's and Florence's: +your own niece and nephew, Julia! You don't +mean you deny it, do you, Julia?"</p> + +<p>She was in great confusion: "Do I deny what?"</p> + +<p>"That his name's Crum!" Noble said passionately. +"That his name's Crum and that he's a +widower and he's been divorced and's got nobody +knows how many children!"</p> + +<p>Julia sought to collect herself. "I don't know +what you're talking about," she said. "If you mean +that I happened to meet a very charming man while +I was away, and that his name happened to be Crum, +I don't know why I should go to the trouble of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> +denying it. But if Mr. Crum has had the experiences +you say he has, it is certainly news to me! +I think someone told me he was only twenty-six +years old. He looked rather younger."</p> + +<p>"You 'think someone told' you!" Noble groaned. +"Oh, Julia! And here it is, all down in black and +white, in my pocket!"</p> + +<p>"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking +about." Julia's tone was cold, and she drew herself +up haughtily, though the gesture was ineffective +in the darkness of that quivering interior. The +quivering stopped just then, however, as the taxicab +came to a rather abrupt halt before her house.</p> + +<p>"Will you come in with me a moment, please?" +Julia said as she got out. "There are some things +I want to ask you—and I'm sure my father hasn't +come home from downtown yet. There's no light +in the front part of the house."</p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</h3> + + +<p>There was no light in any other part of the +house, they discovered, after abandoning +the front door bell for an excursion to the +rear. "That's disheartening to a hungry person," +Julia remarked: and then remembered that she had +a key to the front door in her purse. She opened +the door, and lighted the hall chandelier while Noble +brought in her bags from the steps where the taxicab +driver had left them.</p> + +<p>"There's nobody home at all," Julia said thoughtfully. +"Not even Gamin."</p> + +<p>"No. Nobody," her sad companion agreed, +shaking his head. "Nobody at all, Julia. Nobody +at all." Rousing himself, he went back for the golf +tools, and with a lingering gentleness set them in a +corner. Then, dumbly, he turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Wait, please," said Julia. "I want to ask you +a few things—especially about what you've got 'all +down in black and white' in your pocket. Will +you shut the front door, if you please, and go into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +the library and turn on the lights and wait there while +I look over the house and see if I can find why it's +all closed up like this?"</p> + +<p>Noble went into the library and found the control +of the lights. She came hurrying in after him.</p> + +<p>"It's chilly. The furnace seems to be off," she +said. "I'll——" But instead of declaring her +intentions, she enacted them; taking a match from +a little white porcelain trough on the mantelpiece +and striking it on the heel of her glittering shoe. +Then she knelt before the grate and set the flame to +paper beneath the kindling-wood and coal. "You +mustn't freeze," she said, with a thoughtful kindness +that killed him; and as she went out of the room +he died again;—for she looked back over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>She had pushed up her veils and this was his first +sight of that disastrous face in long empty weeks +and weeks. Now he realized that all his aching +reveries upon its contours had shown but pallid +likenesses; for here was the worst thing about Julia's +looks;—even her most extravagant suitor, in absence, +could not dream an image of her so charming +as he found herself when he saw her again. Thus, +seeing Julia again was always a discovery. And +this glance over her shoulder as she left a room—not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> +a honeyed glance but rather inscrutable, yet +implying that she thought of the occupant, and might +continue to think of him while gone from him—this +was one of those ways of hers that experience +could never drill out of her.</p> + +<p>"I'm Robinson Crusoe, Noble," she said, when +she came back. "I suppose I might as well take +off my furs, though." But first she unfastened +the great bouquet she wore and tossed it upon a +table. Noble was standing close to the table, and +he moved away from it hurriedly—a revulsion that +she failed to notice. She went on to explain, as she +dropped her cloak and stole upon a chair: "Papa's +gone away for at least a week. He's taken his ulster. +It doesn't make any difference what the weather is, +but when he's going away for a week or longer, he +always takes it with him, except in summer. If he's +only going to be gone two or three days he takes +his short overcoat. And unless I'm here when he +leaves town he always gives the servants a holiday +till he gets back; so they've gone and even taken +Gamin with 'em, and I'm all alone in the house. +I can't get even Kitty Silver back until to-morrow, +and then I'll probably have to hunt from house to +house among her relatives. Papa left yesterday,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> +because the numbers on his desk calender are pulled +off up to to-day, and that's the first thing he does +when he comes down for breakfast. So here I am, +Robinson Crusoe for to-night at least."</p> + +<p>"I suppose," said Noble huskily, "I suppose you'll +go to some of your aunts or brothers or cousins or +something."</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "My trunk may come up from +the station almost any time, and if I close the house +they'll take it back."</p> + +<p>"You needn't bother about that, Julia. I'll +look after it."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"I could sit on the porch till it comes," he said. +"I'd tell 'em you wanted 'em to leave it." He +hesitated, painfully. "I—if you want to lock up +the house I—I could wait out on the porch with your +trunk, to see that it was safe, until you come back +to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>She looked full at him, and he plaintively endured +the examination.</p> + +<p>"<i>Noble!</i>" Undoubtedly she had a moment's +shame that any creature should come to such a pass +for her sake. "What crazy nonsense!" she said; +and sat upon a stool before the crackling fire. "Do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> +sit down, Noble—unless your dinner will be waiting +for you at home?"</p> + +<p>"No," he murmured. "They never wait for me. +Don't you want me to look after your trunk?"</p> + +<p>"Not by sitting all night with it on the porch!" +she said. "I'm going to stay here myself. I'm +not going out; I don't want to see any of the family +to-night."</p> + +<p>"I thought you said you were hungry?"</p> + +<p>"I am; but there's enough in the pantry. I +looked."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you don't want to see any of 'em," +he suggested, "and they know your father's away +and think the house is empty, they're liable to notice +the lights and come in, and then you'd have to see +'em."</p> + +<p>"No, you can't see the lights of this room from the +street, and I lit the lamp at the other end of the hall. +The light near the front door," Julia added, "I put +out."</p> + +<p>"You did?"</p> + +<p>"I can't see any of 'em to-night," she said resolutely. +"Besides, I want to find out what you meant +by what you said in the taxicab before I do anything +else."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What I meant in the taxicab?" he echoed. "Oh, +Julia! Julia!"</p> + +<p>She frowned, first at the fire, then, turning her +head, at Noble. "You seem to feel reproachful +about something," she observed.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. I don't feel reproachful, Julia. I +don't know what I feel, but I don't feel reproachful."</p> + +<p>She smiled faintly. "Don't you? Well, there's +something perhaps you do feel, and that's hungry. +Will you stay to dinner with me—if I go and get it?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"You can have dinner with me—if you want to? +You can stay till ten o'clock—if you want to? +Wait!" she said, and jumped up and ran out of the +room.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later she came back and called softly +to him from the doorway; and he followed her to the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>"It isn't much of a dinner, Noble," she said, a +little tremulously, being for once (though strictly +as a cook) genuinely apologetic;—but the scrambled +eggs, cold lamb, salad, and coffee were quite as "much +of a dinner" as Noble wanted. To him everything +on that table was hallowed, yet excruciating.</p> + +<p>"Let's eat first and talk afterward," Julia proposed;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> +but what she meant by "talk" evidently did +not exclude interchange of information regarding +weather and the health of acquaintances, for she +spoke freely upon these subjects, while Noble murmured +in response and swallowed a little of the +sacred food, but more often swallowed nothing. +Bitterest of all was his thought of what this unexampled +seclusion with Julia could have meant to +him, were those poisonous violets not at her waist—for +she had put them on again—and were there no +Crum in the South. Without these fatal obstructions, +the present moment would have been to him +a bit of what he often thought of as "dream life"; +but all its sweetness was a hurt.</p> + +<p>"<i>Now</i> we'll talk!" said Julia, when she had brought +him back to the library fire again, and they were +seated before it. "Don't you want to smoke?" +He shook his head dismally, having no heart for +what she proposed. "Well, then," she said briskly, +but a little ruefully, "let's get to the bottom of things. +Just what did you mean you had 'in black and white' +in your pocket?"</p> + +<p>Slowly Noble drew forth the historic copy of +<i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>; and with face +averted, placed it in her extended hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What in the world!" she exclaimed, unfolding +it; and then as its title and statement of ownership +came into view, "Oh, yes! I see. Aunt +Carrie wrote me that Uncle Joseph had given +Herbert a printing-press. I suppose Herbert's the +editor?"</p> + +<p>"And that Rooter boy," Noble said sadly. "I +think maybe your little niece Florence has something +to do with it, too."</p> + +<p>"'Something' to do with it? She usually has +<i>all</i> to do with anything she gets hold of! But what's +it got to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"You'll see!" he prophesied accurately.</p> + +<p>She began to read, laughing at some of the items +as she went along; then suddenly she became rigid, +holding the small journal before her in a transfixed +hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cried. "<i>Oh!</i>"</p> + +<p>"That's—that's what—I meant," Noble explained.</p> + +<p>Julia's eyes grew dangerous. "The little fiends!" +she cried. "Oh, really, this is a long-suffering +family, but it's time these outrages were stopped!"</p> + +<p>She jumped up. "Isn't it frightful?" she demanded +of Noble.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," he said, with a dismal fervour. "Nobody +knows that better than I do, Julia!"</p> + +<p>"I mean <i>this</i>!" she cried, extending the <i>Oriole</i> +toward him with a vigorous gesture. "I mean +this dreadful story about poor Mr. Crum!"</p> + +<p>"But it's true," he said.</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill!"</p> + +<p>"Julia?"</p> + +<p>"Do you dare to say you believed it?"</p> + +<p>He sprang up. "It isn't true?"</p> + +<p>"Not one word of it! I told you Mr. Crum is +only twenty-six. He hasn't been out of college +more than three or four years, and it's the most +terrible slander to say he's ever been married at +all!"</p> + +<p>Noble dropped back into his chair of misery. +"I thought you meant it wasn't true."</p> + +<p>"I've just told you there isn't one <i>word</i> of tr——"</p> + +<p>"But you're—engaged," Noble gulped. "You're +engaged to him, Julia!"</p> + +<p>She appeared not to hear this. "I suppose it <i>can</i> +be lived down," she said. "To think of Uncle +Joseph putting such a thing into the hands of those +awful children!"</p> + +<p>"But, Julia, you're eng——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Noble!" she said sharply.</p> + +<p>"Well, you <i>are</i> eng——"</p> + +<p>Julia drew herself up. "Different people mean +different things by that word," she said with severity, +like an annoyed school-teacher. "There are +any number of shades of meaning to words; and if +I used the word you mention, in writing home to the +family, I may have used a certain shade and they may +have thought I intended another."</p> + +<p>"But, Julia——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Crum is a charming young man," she continued +with the same primness. "I liked him very +much indeed. I liked him very, very much. I +liked him very, <i>very</i>——"</p> + +<p>"I understand," he interrupted. "Don't say it +any more, Julia."</p> + +<p>"No; you don't understand! At <i>first</i> I liked him +very much—in fact, I still do, of course—I'm sure +he's one of the best and most attractive young men +in the world. I think he's a man any girl ought to +be happy with, if he were only to be considered by +himself. I don't deny that. I liked him very much +indeed, and I don't deny that for several days after +he—after he proposed to me—I don't deny I thought +something serious <i>might</i> come of it. But at that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> +time, Noble, I hadn't—hadn't really thought of +what it meant to give up living here at home, with +all the family and everything—and friends—friends +like you, Noble. I hadn't thought what it would +mean to me to give all this up. And besides, there +was something very important. At the time I +wrote that letter mentioning poor Mr. Crum to +the family, Noble, I hadn't—I hadn't——" She +paused, visibly in some distress. "I hadn't——"</p> + +<p>"You hadn't what?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't met his mother!"</p> + +<p>Noble leaped to his feet. "Julia! You aren't—you +aren't engaged?"</p> + +<p>"I am not," she answered decisively. "If I +ever was—in the slightest—I certainly am not +now."</p> + +<p>Poor Noble was transfigured. He struggled; making +half-formed gestures, speaking half-made words. +A rapture glowed upon him.</p> + +<p>"Julia—Julia——" He choked. "Julia, promise +me something. Will you promise me something? +Julia, promise to promise me something."</p> + +<p>"I will," she said quickly. "What do you want +me to do?"</p> + +<p>Then he saw that it was his time to speak; that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> +this was the moment for him to dare everything +and ask for the utmost he could hope from her.</p> + +<p>"Give me your word!" he said, still radiantly +struggling. "Give me your word—your word—your +word and your sacred promise, Julia—that +you'll never be engaged to anybody at all!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</h3> + + +<p>At six minutes after four o'clock on the second +afternoon following Julia's return, Noble +Dill closed his own gate behind him and +set forth upon the four-minute walk that would +bring him to Julia's. He wore a bit of scarlet +geranium in the buttonhole of his new light overcoat; +he flourished a new walking-stick and new grey gloves. +As for his expression, he might have been a bridegroom.</p> + +<p>Passing the mouth of an alley, as he swung along +the street, he was aware of a commotion, of missiles +hurled and voices clashed. In this alley there was a +discord: passion and mockery were here inimically +intermingled.</p> + +<p>Casting <i>a</i> glance that way, Noble could see but +one person; a boy of fourteen who looked through a +crack in a board fence, steadfastly keeping an eye +to this aperture and as continuously calling through +it, holding his head to a level for this purpose, but +at the same time dancing—and dancing tauntingly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> +it was conveyed—with the other parts of his body. +His voice was now sweet, now piercing, and again +far too dulcet with the overkindness of burlesque; +and if, as it seemed, he was unburdening his spleen, +his spleen was a powerful one and gorged. He appeared +to be in a torment of tormenting; and his +success was proved by the pounding of bricks, parts +of bricks and rocks of size upon the other side of the +fence, as close to the crack as might be.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dolling!" he wailed, his tone poisonously +amorous. "Oh, dolling Henery! Oo's dot de mos' +booful eyes in a dray bid nasty world. Henery! +Oh, <i>has</i> I dot booful eyes, dolling Pattywatty? +Yes, I <i>has</i>! I <i>has</i> dot pretty eyes!" His voice +rose unbearably. "<i>Oh</i>, what prettiest eyes I dot! +Me and Herbie Atwater! <i>Oh</i>, my booful eyes! +Oh, my <i>booful</i>——"</p> + +<p>But even as he reached this apex, the head, shoulders, +and arms of Herbert Atwater rose momentarily +above the fence across the alley, behind the tormentor. +Herbert's expression was implacably resentful, +and so was the gesture with which he hurled +an object at the comedian preoccupied with the +opposite fence. This object, upon reaching its +goal, as it did more with a splash than a thud,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> +was revealed as a tomato, presumably in a useless +state. The taunter screamed in astonishment, and +after looking vainly for an assailant, began necessarily +to remove his coat.</p> + +<p>Noble, passing on, thought he recognized the boy +as one of the Torbin family, but he was not sure, +and he had no idea that the episode was in any +possible manner to be connected with his own recent +history. How blindly we walk our ways! As +Noble flourished down the street, there appeared a +wan face at a prison window; and the large eyes +looked out upon him wistfully. But Noble went +on, as unwitting that he had to do with this prison +as that he had to do with Master Torbin's tomato.</p> + +<p>The face at the window was not like Charlotte +Corday's, nor was the window barred, though the +prisoner knew a little solace in wondering if she did +not suggest that famous picture. For all purposes, +except during school hours, the room was certainly a +cell; and the term of imprisonment was set at three +days. Uncle Joseph had been unable to remain at +the movies forever: people do have to go home +eventually, especially when accompanied by thirteen-year-old +great-nieces. Florence had finally to +face the question awaiting her; and it would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> +been better for her had she used less imagination in +her replies.</p> + +<p>Yet she was not wholly despondent as her eyes +followed the disappearing figure of Noble Dill. +His wholesome sprightliness was visible at any distance; +and who would not take a little pride in having +been even the mistaken instrument of saving so gay +a young man from the loss of his reason? No; +Florence was not cast down. Day-after-to-morrow +she would taste Freedom again, and her profoundest +regret was that after all her Aunt Julia was not to +be married. Florence had made definite plans for +the wedding, especially for the principal figure at +the ceremony. This figure, as Florence saw things, +would have been that of the "Flower Girl," naturally +a niece of the bride; but she was able to +dismiss the bright dream with some philosophy. +And to console her for everything, had she not a +star in her soul? Had she not discovered that she +could write poetry whenever she felt like it?</p> + +<p>Noble passed from her sight, but nevertheless +continued his radiant progress down Julia's Street. +Life stretched before him, serene, ineffably fragrant, +unending. He saw it as a flower-strewn sequence +of calls upon Julia, walks with Julia, talks with Julia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> +by the library fire. Old Mr. Atwater was to be +away four days longer, and Julia, that great-hearted +bride-not-to-be, had given him her promise.</p> + +<p>Blushing, indeed divinely, she had promised him +upon her sacred word, never so long as she lived, to +be engaged to anybody at all.</p> + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<table width="450" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Title Page" border="1"> + <col style="width:80%;" /> + <tr><td><h3>BOOKS BY BOOTH TARKINGTON</h3></td></tr> + <tr><td> +<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 90%"> +ALICE ADAMS<br /> +BEASLEY'S CHRISTMAS PARTY<br /> +BEAUTY AND THE JACOBIN<br /> +CHERRY<br /> +CONQUEST OF CANAAN<br /> +GENTLE JULIA<br /> +HARLEQUIN AND COLUMBINE<br /> +HIS OWN PEOPLE<br /> +IN THE ARENA<br /> +MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE<br /> +PENROD<br /> +PENROD AND SAM<br /> +RAMSEY MILHOLLAND<br /> +SEVENTEEN<br /> +THE BEAUTIFUL LADY<br /> +THE FLIRT<br /> +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA<br /> +THE GIBSON UPRIGHT<br /> +THE GUEST OF QUESNAY<br /> +THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS<br /> +THE MAN FROM HOME<br /> +THE TURMOIL<br /> +THE TWO VANREVELS</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>Transcriber’s Notes</h3> +<p>1. Punctuation has been made regular and consistent with contemporary standards.</p> +<p>2. Advertisement "Books by Booth Tarkington" moved to end of text.</p> +<p>3. Corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. +Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text +will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gentle Julia, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENTLE JULIA *** + +***** This file should be named 18259-h.htm or 18259-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/5/18259/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Gentle Julia + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Illustrator: C. Allan Gilbert and Worth Brehm + +Release Date: April 26, 2006 [EBook #18259] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENTLE JULIA *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: Gentle Julia] + +GENTLE JULIA + +BY +BOOTH TARKINGTON + +AUTHOR OF PENROD, PENROD AND SAM, +THE TURMOIL, ETC. + +ILLUSTRATED BY +C. ALLAN GILBERT +and +WORTH BREHM + +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + + * * * * * + +COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + +COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY P. F. COLLIER AND SON COMPANY +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY THE PICTORIAL REVIEW COMPANY + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES +AT +THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. + + * * * * * + +TO M. L. K. + + * * * * * + +GENTLE JULIA + +"Rising to the point of order, this one said that since the morgue +was not yet established as the central monument and inspiration of +our settlement, and true philosophy was as well expounded in the +convivial manner as in the miserable, he claimed for himself, not +the license, but the right, to sing a ballad, if he chose, upon even +so solemn a matter as the misuse of the town pump by witches." + + * * * * * + + + + +GENTLE JULIA + +CHAPTER ONE + + +Superciliousness is not safe after all, because a person who forms the +habit of wearing it may some day find his lower lip grown permanently +projected beyond the upper, so that he can't get it back, and must go +through life looking like the King of Spain. This was once foretold as a +probable culmination of Florence Atwater's still plastic profile, if +Florence didn't change her way of thinking; and upon Florence's +remarking dreamily that the King of Spain was an awf'ly han'some man, +her mother retorted: "But not for a girl!" She meant, of course, that a +girl who looked too much like the King of Spain would not be handsome, +but her daughter decided to misunderstand her. + +"Why, mamma, he's my Very Ideal! I'd marry him to-morrow!" + +Mrs. Atwater paused in her darning, and let the stocking collapse +flaccidly into the work-basket in her lap. "Not at barely thirteen, +would you?" she said. "It seems to me you're just a shade too young to +be marrying a man who's already got a wife and several children. Where +did you pick up that 'I'd-marry-him-to-morrow,' Florence?" + +"Oh, I hear that everywhere!" returned the damsel, lightly. "Everybody +says things like that. I heard Aunt Julia say it. I heard Kitty Silver +say it." + +"About the King of Spain?" Mrs. Atwater inquired. + +"I don't know who they were saying it about," said Florence, "but they +were saying it. I don't mean they were saying it together; I heard one +say it one time and the other say it some other time. I think Kitty +Silver was saying it about some coloured man. She proba'ly wouldn't want +to marry any white man; at least I don't expect she would. She's _been_ +married to a couple of coloured men, anyhow; and she was married twice +to one of 'em, and the other one died in between. Anyhow, that's what +she told me. She weighed over two hunderd pounds the first time she was +married, and she weighed over two hunderd-and-seventy the last time she +was married to the first one over again, but she says she don't know +how much she weighed when she was married to the one in between. She +says she never got weighed all the time she was married to that one. Did +Kitty Silver ever tell you that, mamma?" + +"Yes, often!" Mrs. Atwater replied. "I don't think it's very +entertaining; and it's not what we were talking about. I was trying to +tell you----" + +"I know," Florence interrupted. "You said I'd get my face so's my +underlip wouldn't go back where it ought to, if I didn't quit turning up +my nose at people I think are beneath contemp'. I guess the best thing +would be to just feel that way without letting on by my face, and then +there wouldn't be any danger." + +"No," said Mrs. Atwater. "That's not what I meant. You mustn't let your +feelings get _their_ nose turned up, or their underlip out, either, +because feelings can grow warped just as well as----" + +But her remarks had already caused her daughter to follow a trail of +thought divergent from the main road along which the mother feebly +struggled to progress. "Mamma," said Florence, "do you b'lieve it's true +if a person swallows an apple-seed or a lemon-seed or a watermelon-seed, +f'r instance, do you think they'd have a tree grow up inside of 'em? +Henry Rooter said it would, yesterday." + +Mrs. Atwater looked a little anxious. "Did you swallow some sort of +seed?" she asked. + +"It was only some grape-seeds, mamma; and you needn't think I got to +take anything for it, because I've swallowed a million, I guess, in my +time!" + +"In your time?" her mother repeated, seemingly mystified. + +"Yes, and so have you and papa," Florence went on. "I've seen you when +you ate grapes. Henry said maybe not, about grapes, because I told him +all what I've just been telling you, mamma, how I must have swallowed a +million, in my time, and he said grape-seeds weren't big enough to get a +good holt, but he said if I was to swallow an apple-seed a tree would +start up, and in a year or two, maybe, it would grow up so't I couldn't +get my mouth shut on account the branches." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Henry said another boy told _him_, but he said you could ask anybody +and they'd tell you it was true. Henry said this boy that told him's +uncle died of it when he was eleven years old, and this boy knew a grown +woman that was pretty sick from it right now. I expect Henry wasn't +telling such a falsehood about it, mamma, but proba'ly this boy did, +because I didn't believe it for a minute! Henry Rooter says he never +told a lie _yet_, in his whole life, mamma, and he wasn't going to begin +now." She paused for a moment, then added: "I don't believe a word he +says!" + +She continued to meditate disapprovingly upon Henry Rooter. "Old thing!" +she murmured gloomily, for she had indeed known moments of apprehension +concerning the grape-seeds. "Nothing but an old thing--what he is!" she +repeated inaudibly. + +"Florence," said Mrs. Atwater, "don't you want to slip over to grandpa's +and ask Aunt Julia if she has a very large darning needle? And don't +forget not to look supercilious when you meet people on the way. Even +your grandfather has been noticing it, and he was the one that spoke of +it to me. Don't forget!" + +"Yes'm." + +Florence went out of the house somewhat moodily, but afternoon sunshine +enlivened her; and, opening the picket gate, she stepped forth with a +fair renewal of her chosen manner toward the public, though just at that +moment no public was in sight. Miss Atwater's underlip resumed the +position for which her mother had predicted that regal Spanish fixity, +and her eyebrows and nose were all three perceptibly elevated. At the +same time, her eyelids were half lowered, while the corners of her mouth +somewhat deepened, as by a veiled mirth, so that this well-dressed child +strolled down the shady sidewalk wearing an expression not merely of +high-bred contempt but also of mysterious derision. It was an expression +that should have put any pedestrian in his place, and it seems a pity +that the long street before her appeared to be empty of human life. No +one even so much as glanced from a window of any of the comfortable +houses, set back at the end of their "front walks" and basking amid +pleasant lawns; for, naturally, this was the "best residence street" in +the town, since all the Atwaters and other relatives of Florence dwelt +there. Happily, an old gentleman turned a corner before she had gone a +hundred yards, and, as he turned in her direction, it became certain +that they would meet. He was a stranger--that is to say, he was unknown +to Florence--and he was well dressed; while his appearance of age +(proba'ly at least forty or sixty or something) indicated that he might +have sense enough to be interested in other interesting persons. + +An extraordinary change took place upon the surface of Florence Atwater: +all superciliousness and derision of the world vanished; her eyes opened +wide, and into them came a look at once far-away and intently fixed. +Also, a frown of concentration appeared upon her brow, and her lips +moved silently, but with rapidity, as if she repeated to herself +something of almost tragic import. Florence had recently read a +newspaper account of the earlier struggles of a now successful actress: +As a girl, this determined genius went about the streets repeating the +lines of various roles to herself--constantly rehearsing, in fact, upon +the public thoroughfares, so carried away was she by her intended +profession and so set upon becoming famous. This was what Florence was +doing now, except that she rehearsed no role in particular, and the +words formed by her lips were neither sequential nor consequential, +being, in fact, the following: "Oh, the darkness ... never, never, +never! ... you couldn't ... he wouldn't ... Ah, mother! ... Where the +river swings so slowly ... Ah, _no_!" Nevertheless, she was doing all +she could for the elderly stranger, and as they came closer, +encountered, and passed on, she had the definite impression that he did +indeed take her to be a struggling young actress who would some day be +famous--and then he might see her on a night of triumph and recognize +her as the girl he had passed on the street, that day, so long ago! But +by this time, the episode was concluded; the footsteps of him for whom +she was performing had become inaudible behind her, and she began to +forget him; which was as well, since he went out of her life then, and +the two never met again. The struggling young actress disappeared, and +the previous superiority was resumed. It became elaborately emphasized +as a boy of her own age emerged from the "side yard" of a house at the +next corner and came into her view. + +The boy caught sight of Florence in plenty of time to observe this +emphasis, which was all too obviously produced by her sensations at +sight of himself; and, after staring at her for a moment, he allowed his +own expression to become one of painful fatigue. Then he slowly swung +about, as if to return into that side-yard obscurity whence he had come; +making clear by this pantomime that he reciprocally found the sight of +her insufferable. In truth, he did; for he was not only her neighbour +but her first-cousin as well, and a short month older, though taller +than she--tall beyond his years, taller than need be, in fact, and still +in knickerbockers. However, his parents may not have been mistaken in +the matter, for it was plain that he looked as well in knickerbockers as +he could have looked in anything. He had no visible beauty, though it +was possible to hope for him that by the time he reached manhood he +would be more tightly put together than he seemed at present; and indeed +he himself appeared to have some consciousness of insecurity in the +fastenings of his members, for it was his habit (observable even now as +he turned to avoid Miss Atwater) to haul at himself, to sag and hitch +about inside his clothes, and to corkscrew his neck against the swathing +of his collar. And yet there were times, as the most affectionate of his +aunts had remarked, when, for a moment or so, he appeared to be almost +knowing; and, seeing him walking before her, she had almost taken him +for a young man; and sometimes he said something in a settled kind of +way that was almost adult. This fondest aunt went on to add, however, +that of course, the next minute after one of these fleeting spells, he +was sure to be overtaken by his more accustomed moods, when his eye +would again fix itself with fundamental aimlessness upon nothing. In +brief, he was at the age when he spent most of his time changing his +mind about things, or, rather, when his mind spent most of its time +changing him about things; and this was what happened now. + +After turning his back on the hateful sight well known to him as his +cousin Florence at her freshest, he turned again, came forth from his +place of residence, and joining her upon the pavement, walked beside +her, accompanying her without greeting or inquiry. His expression of +fatigue, indicating her insufferableness, had not abated; neither had +her air of being a duchess looking at bugs. + +"You _are_ a pretty one!" he said; but his intention was perceived to be +far indeed from his words. + +"Oh, _am_ I, Mister Herbert Atwater?" Florence responded. "I'm _awf'ly_ +glad _you_ think so!" + +"I mean about what Henry Rooter said," her cousin explained. "Henry +Rooter told me he made you believe you were goin' to have a grapevine +climbin' up from inside of you because you ate some grapes with the +seeds in 'em. He says you thought you'd haf to get a carpenter to build +a little arbour so you could swallow it for the grapevine to grow on. He +says----" + +Florence had become an angry pink. "That little Henry Rooter is the +worst falsehooder in this town; and I never believed a word he said in +his life! Anyway, what affairs is it of yours, I'd like you to please be +so kind and obliging for to tell me, Mister Herbert Illingsworth +Atwater, Exquire!" + +"What affairs?" Herbert echoed in plaintive satire. "What affairs is it +of mine? That's just the trouble! It's _got_ to be my affairs because +you're my first-cousin. My goodness _I_ didn't have anything to do with +you being my cousin, did I?" + +"Well, _I_ didn't!" + +"That's neither here nor there," said Herbert. "What _I_ want to know +is, how long you goin' to keep this up?" + +"Keep what up?" + +"I mean, how do you think I like havin' somebody like Henry Rooter +comin' round me tellin' what they made a cousin of mine believe, and +more than thirteen years old, goin' on fourteen ever since about a month +ago!" + +Florence shouted: "Oh, for goodness' _sakes_!" then moderated the volume +but not the intensity of her tone. "Kindly reply to _this_. Whoever +asked you to come and take a walk with me to-day?" + +Herbert protested to heaven. "Why, I wouldn't take a walk with you if +every policeman in this town tried to make me! I wouldn't take a walk +with you if they brought a million horses and--" + +"I wouldn't take a walk with _you_," Florence interrupted, "if they +brought a million million horses and cows and camels and--" + +"No, you wouldn't," Herbert said. "Not if _I_ could help it!" + +But by this time Florence had regained her derisive superciliousness. +"There's a few things you _could_ help," she said; and the incautious +Herbert challenged her with the inquiry she desired. + +"What could I help?" + +"I should think you could help bumpin' into me every second when I'm +takin' a walk on my own affairs, and walk along on your own side of the +sidewalk, anyway, and not be so awkward a person has to keep trippin' +over you about every time I try to take a step!" + +Herbert withdrew temporarily to his own side of the pavement. "Who?" he +demanded hotly. "_Who_ says I'm awkward?" + +"All the fam'ly," Miss Atwater returned, with a light but infuriating +laugh. "You bump into 'em sideways and keep gettin' half in front of +'em whenever they try to take a step, and then when it looks as if +they'd pretty near fall over you--" + +"You look here!" + +"And besides all that," Florence went on, undisturbed, "why, you +generally keep kind of snorting, or somep'n, and then making all those +noises in your neck. You were doin' it at grandpa's last Sunday dinner +because every time there wasn't anybody talking, why, everybody could +hear you plain as everything, and you ought to've seen grandpa look at +you! He looked as if you'd set him crazy if you didn't quit that +chuttering and cluckling!" + +Herbert's expression partook of a furious astonishment. "I don't any +such thing!" he burst out. "I guess I wouldn't talk much about last +Sunday dinner, if I was _you_ neither. Who got caught eatin' off the ice +cream freezer spoon out on the back porch, if you please? Yes, and I +guess you better study a little grammar, while you're about it. There's +no such words in the English language as 'cluckling' and 'chuttering.'" + +"I don't care what language they're in," the stubborn Florence insisted. +"It's what you do, just the same: cluckling and chuttering!" + +Herbert's manners went to pieces. "Oh, dry up!" he bellowed. + +"That's a _nice_ way to talk! So gentlemanly----" + +"Well, you try be a lady, then!" + +"'Try!'" Florence echoed. "Well, after that, I'll just politely thank you +to dry up, yourself, Mister Herbert Atwater!" + +At this Herbert became moody. "Oh, pfuff!" he said; and for some moments +walked in silence. Then he asked: "Where you goin', Florence?" + +The damsel paused at a gate opening upon a broad lawn evenly divided by +a brick walk that led to the white-painted wooden veranda of an ample +and honest old brick house. "Righ' there to grandpa's, since you haf to +know!" she said. "And thank you for your delightful comp'ny which I +never asked for, if you care to hear the truth for once in your life!" + +Herbert meditated. "Well, I got nothin' else to do, as I know of," he +said. "Let's go around to the back door so's to see if Kitty Silver's +got anything." + +Then, not amiably, but at least inconsequently, they passed inside the +gate together. Their brows were fairly unclouded; no special marks of +conflict remained; for they had met and conversed in a manner customary +rather than unusual. + +They followed a branch of the brick walk and passed round the south side +of the house, where a small orchard of apple-trees showed generous +promise. Hundreds of gay little round apples among the leaves glanced +the high lights to and fro on their polished green cheeks as a breeze +hopped through the yard, while the shade beneath trembled with +coquettishly moving disks of sunshine like golden plates. A pattern of +orange light and blue shadow was laid like a fanciful plaid over the +lattice and the wide, slightly sagging steps of the elderly "back +porch"; and here, taking her ease upon these steps, sat a middle-aged +coloured woman of continental proportions. Beyond all contest, she was +the largest coloured woman in that town, though her height was not +unusual, and she had a rather small face. That is to say, as Florence +had once explained to her, her face was small but the other parts of her +head were terribly wide. Beside her was a circular brown basket, of a +type suggesting arts-and-crafts; it was made with a cover, and there was +a bow of brown silk upon the handle. + +"What you been up to to-day, Kitty Silver?" Herbert asked genially. +"Any thing special?" For this was the sequel to his "so's we can see if +Kitty Silver's got anything." But Mrs. Silver discouraged him. + +"No, I ain't," she replied. "I ain't, an' I ain't goin' to." + +"I thought you pretty near always made cookies on Tuesday," he said. + +"Well, I ain't _this_ Tuesday," said Kitty Silver. "I ain't, and I ain't +goin' to. You might dess well g'on home ri' now. I ain't, an' I ain't +goin' to." + +Docility was no element of Mrs. Silver's present mood, and Herbert's +hopeful eyes became blank, as his gaze wandered from her head to the +brown basket beside her. The basket did not interest him; the ribbon +gave it a quality almost at once excluding it from his consciousness. On +the contrary, the ribbon had drawn Florence's attention, and she stared +at the basket eagerly. + +"What you got there, Kitty Silver?" she asked. + +"What I got where?" + +"In that basket." + +"Nemmine what I got 'n 'at basket," said Mrs. Silver crossly, but added +inconsistently: "I dess _wish_ somebody ast me what I got 'n 'at basket! +_I_ ain't no cat-washwoman fer _no_body!" + +"Cats!" Florence cried. "Are there cats in that basket, Kitty Silver? +Let's look at 'em!" + +The lid of the basket, lifted by the eager, slim hand of Miss Atwater, +rose to disclose two cats of an age slightly beyond kittenhood. They +were of a breed unfamiliar to Florence, and she did not obey the impulse +that usually makes a girl seize upon any young cat at sight and caress +it. Instead, she looked at them with some perplexity, and after a moment +inquired: "Are they really cats, Kitty Silver, do you b'lieve?" + +"Cats what she done tole _me_," the coloured woman replied. "You betta +shet lid down, you don' wan' 'em run away, 'cause they ain't yoosta +livin' 'n 'at basket yit; an' no matter whut kine o' cats they is or +they isn't, _one_ thing true: they _wile_ cats!" + +"But what makes their hair so long?" Florence asked. "I never saw cats +with hair a couple inches long like that." + +"Miss Julia say they Berjum cats." + +"What?" + +"I ain't tellin' no mo'n she tole me. You' aunt say they Berjum cats." + +"Persian," said Herbert. "That's nothing. I've seen plenty Persian cats. +My goodness, I should think you'd seen a Persian cat at yow age. +Thirteen goin' on fourteen!" + +"Well, I _have_ seen Persian cats plenty times, I guess," Florence said. +"I thought Persian cats were white, and these are kind of gray." + +At this Kitty Silver permitted herself to utter an embittered laugh. +"You wrong!" she said. "These cats, they white; yes'm!" + +"Why, they aren't either! They're gray as----" + +"No'm," said Mrs. Silver. "They plum spang white, else you' Aunt Julia +gone out her mind; me or her, one. I say: 'Miss Julia, them gray cats.' +'White,' she say. 'Them two cats is white cats,' she say. 'Them cats +been crated,' she say. 'They been livin' in a crate on a dirty express +train fer th'ee fo' days,' she say. 'Them cats gone got all smoke' up +thataway,' she say. 'No'm, Miss Julia,' I say, 'No'm, Miss Julia, they +ain't _no_ train,' I say, 'they ain't _no_ train kin take an' smoke two +white cats up like these cats so's they hair is gray clean plum up to +they hide.' You betta put the lid down, I tell you!" + +Florence complied, just in time to prevent one of the young cats from +leaping out of the basket, but she did not fasten the cover. Instead, +she knelt, and, allowing a space of half an inch to intervene between +the basket and the rim of the cover, peered within at the occupants. "I +believe the one to this side's a he," she said. "It's got greenisher +eyes than the other one; that's the way you can always tell. I b'lieve +this one's a he and the other one's a she." + +"I ain't stedyin' about no he an' she!" + +"What did Aunt Julia say?" Florence asked. + +"Whut you' Aunt Julia say when?" + +"When you told her these were gray cats and not white cats?" + +"She tole me take an' clean 'em," said Kitty Silver. "She say, she say +she want 'em clean' up spick an' spang befo' Mista Sammerses git here to +call an' see 'em." And she added morosely: "I ain't no cat-washwoman!" + +"She wants you to bathe 'em?" Florence inquired, but Kitty Silver did +not reply immediately. She breathed audibly, with a strange effect upon +vasty outward portions of her, and then gave an incomparably dulcet +imitation of her own voice, as she interpreted her use of it during the +recent interview. + +'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say--'Miss Julia, ma'am, my bizniss cookin' +vittles,' I say. 'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I tole her, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, I +cook fer you' pa, an' cook fer you' fam'ly year in, year out, an' I hope +an' pursue, whiles some might make complaint, I take whatever I find, +an' I leave whatever I find. No'm, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say--'no'm, +Miss Julia, ma'am, I ain't no cat-washwoman!'" + +"What did Aunt Julia say then?" + +"She say, she say: 'Di'n I tell you take them cats downstairs an' clean +'em?' she say. I ain't _no_body's cat-washwoman!" + +Florence was becoming more and more interested. "I should think that +would be kind of fun," she said. "To be a cat-washwoman. _I_ wouldn't +mind that at all: I'd kind of like it. I expect if you was a +cat-washwoman, Kitty Silver, you'd be pretty near the only one was in +the world. I wonder if they do have 'em any place, cat-washwomen." + +"I don' know if they got 'em some place," said Kitty Silver, "an' I +don't know if they ain't got 'em no place; but I bet if they do got 'em +any place, it's some place else from here!" + +Florence looked thoughtful. "Who was it you said is going to call this +evening and see 'em?" + +"Mista Sammerses." + +"She means Newland Sanders," Herbert explained. "Aunt Julia says all her +callers that ever came to this house in their lives, Kitty Silver never +got the name right of a single one of 'em!" + +"Newland Sanders is the one with the little moustache," Florence said. +"Is that the one you mean by 'Sammerses,' Kitty Silver?" + +"Mista Sammerses who you' Aunt Julia tole _me_," Mrs. Silver responded +stubbornly. "He ain't got no moustache whut you kin look at--dess some +blackish whut don' reach out mo'n halfway todes the bofe ends of his +mouf." + +"Well," said Florence, "was Mr. Sanders the one gave her these Persian +cats, Kitty Silver?" + +"I reckon." Mrs. Silver breathed audibly again, and her expression was +strongly resentful. "When she go fer a walk 'long with any them callers +she stop an' make a big fuss over any li'l ole dog or cat an' I don't +know whut all, an' after they done buy her all the candy from all the +candy sto's in the livin' worl', an' all the flowers from all the +greenhouses they is, it's a wonder some of 'em ain't sen' her a mule fer +a present, 'cause seem like to me they done sen' her mos' every kine of +animal they is! Firs' come Airydale dog you' grampaw tuck an' give away +to the milkman; 'n'en come two mo' pups; I don't know whut they is, +'cause they bofe had dess sense enough to run away after you' grampaw +try learn 'em how much he ain't like no pups; an' nex' come them two +canaries hangin' in the dinin'-room now, an' nex'--di'n' I holler so's +they could a-hear me all way down town? Di'n' I walk in my kitchen one +mawnin' right slam in the face of ole warty allagatuh three foot long +a-lookin' at me over the aidge o' my kitchen sink?" + +"It was Mr. Clairdyce gave her that," said Florence. "He'd been to +Florida; but she didn't care for it very much, and she didn't make any +fuss at all when grandpa got the florist to take it. Grandpa hates +animals." + +"He don' hate 'em no wuss'n whut I do," said Kitty Silver. "An' he ain't +got to ketch 'em lookin' at him outen of his kitchen sink--an' he ain't +fixin' to be no cat-washwoman neither!" + +"_Are_ you fixing to?" Florence asked quickly. "You don't need to do it, +Kitty Silver. I'd be willing to, and so'd Herbert. Wouldn't you, +Herbert?" + +Herbert deliberated within himself, then brightened. "I'd just as soon," +he said. "I'd kind of like to see how a cat acts when it's getting +bathed." + +"I think it would be spesh'ly inter'sting to wash Persian cats," +Florence added, with increasing enthusiasm. "I never washed a cat in my +life." + +"Neither have I," said Herbert. "I always thought they did it +themselves." + +Kitty Silver sniffed. "Ain't I says so to you' Aunt Julia? She done tole +me, 'No,' she say. She say, she say Berjum cats ain't wash they self; +they got to take an' git somebody else to wash 'em!" + +"If we're goin' to bathe 'em," said Florence, "we ought to know their +names, so's we can tell 'em to hold still and everything. You can't do +much with an animal unless you know their name. Did Aunt Julia tell you +these cats' names, Kitty Silver?" + +"She say they name Feef an' Meemuh. Yes'm! Feef an' Meemuh! Whut kine o' +name is Feef an' Meemuh fer cat name!" + +"Oh, those are lovely names!" Florence assured her, and, turning to +Herbert, explained: "She means Fifi and Mimi." + +"Feef an' Meemuh," said Kitty Silver. "Them name don' suit me, an' them +long-hair cats don' suit me neither." Here she lifted the cover of the +basket a little, and gazed nervously within. "Look at there!" she said. +"Look at the way they lookin' at me! Don't you look at _me_ thataway, +you Feef an' Meemuh!" She clapped the lid down and fastened it. "Fixin' +to jump out an' grab me, was you?" + +"I guess, maybe," said Florence, "maybe I better go ask Aunt Julia if I +and Herbert can't wash 'em. I guess I better go _ask_ her anyhow." And +she ran up the steps and skipped into the house by way of the kitchen. A +moment later she appeared in the open doorway of a room upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +It was a pretty room, lightly scented with the pink geraniums and blue +lobelia and coral fuchsias that poised, urgent with colour, in the +window-boxes at the open windows. Sunshine paused delicately just +inside, where forms of pale-blue birds and lavender flowers curled up +and down the cretonne curtains; and a tempered, respectful light fell +upon a cushioned _chaise longue_; for there fluffily reclined, in +garments of tender fabric and gentle colours, the prettiest +twenty-year-old girl in that creditably supplied town. + +It must be said that no stranger would have taken Florence at first +glance to be her niece, though everybody admitted that Florence's hair +was pretty. ("I'll say _that_ for her," was the family way of putting +it.). Florence did not care for her hair herself; it was dark and thick +and long, like her Aunt Julia's; but Florence--even in the realistic +presence of a mirror--preferred to think of herself as an ashen blonde, +and also as about a foot taller than she was. Persistence kept this +picture habitually in her mind, which, of course, helps to explain her +feeling that she was justified in wearing that manner of +superciliousness deplored by her mother. More middle-aged gentlemen than +are suspected believe that they look like the waspen youths in the +magazine advertisements of clothes; and this impression of theirs +accounts (as with Florence) for much that is seemingly inexplicable in +their behaviour. + +Florence's Aunt Julia was reading an exquisitely made little book, which +bore her initials stamped in gold upon the cover; and it had evidently +reached her by a recent delivery of the mail, for wrappings bearing +cancelled stamps lay upon the floor beside the _chaise longue_. It was a +special sort of book, since its interior was not printed, but all +laboriously written with pen and ink--poems, in truth, containing more +references to a lady named Julia than have appeared in any other poems +since Herrick's. So warmly interested in the reading as to be rather +pink, though not always with entire approval, this Julia nevertheless, +at the sound of footsteps, closed the book and placed it beneath one of +the cushions assisting the _chaise longue_ to make her position a +comfortable one. Her greeting was not enthusiastic. + +"What do you want, Florence?" + +"I was going to ask you if Herbert and me--I mean: Was it Noble Dill +gave you Fifi and Mimi, Aunt Julia?" + +"Noble Dill? No." + +"I wish it was," Florence said. "I'd like these cats better if they were +from Noble Dill." + +"Why?" Julia inquired. "Why are you so partial to Mr. Noble Dill?" + +"I think he's _so_ much the most inter'sting looking of all that come to +see you. Are you _sure_ it wasn't Noble Dill gave you these cats, Aunt +Julia?" + +A look of weariness became plainly visible upon Miss Julia Atwater's +charming face. "I do wish you'd hurry and grow up, Florence," she said. + +"I do, too! What for, Aunt Julia?" + +"So there'd be somebody else in the family of an eligible age. I really +think it's an outrageous position to be in," Julia continued, with +languid vehemence--"to be the only girl between thirteen and forty-one +in a large connection of near relatives, including children, who all +seem to think they haven't anything to think of but Who comes to see +her, and Who came to see her yesterday, and Who was here the day before, +and Who's coming to-morrow, and Who's she going to marry! You really +ought to grow up and help me out, because I'm getting tired of it. No. +It wasn't Noble Dill but Mr. Newland Sanders that sent me Fifi and +Mimi--and I want you to keep away from 'em." + +"Why?" asked Florence. + +"Because they're very rare cats, and you aren't ordinarily a very +careful sort of person, Florence, if you don't mind my saying so. +Besides, if I let you go near them, the next thing Herbert would be over +here mussing around, and he can't go near _anything_ without ruining it! +It's just in him; he can't help it." + +Florence looked thoughtful for a brief moment; then she asked: "Did +Newland Sanders send 'em with the names already to them?" + +"No," said Julia, emphasizing the patience of her tone somewhat. "I +named them after they got here. Mr. Sanders hasn't seen them yet. He had +them shipped to me. He's coming this evening. Anything more to-day, +Florence?" + +"Well, I was thinking," said Florence. "What do you think grandpa'll +think about these cats?" + +"I don't believe there'll be any more outrages," Julia returned, and her +dark eyes showed a moment's animation. "I told him at breakfast that +the Reign of Terror was ended, and he and everybody else had to keep +away from Fifi and Mimi. Is that about all, Florence?" + +"You let Kitty Silver go near 'em, though. She says she's fixing to wash +'em." + +Julia smiled faintly. "I thought she would! I had to go so far as to +tell her that as long as I'm housekeeper in my father's house she'd do +what I say or find some other place. She behaved outrageously and +pretended to believe the natural colour of Fifi and Mimi is gray!" + +"I expect," said Florence, after pondering seriously for a little +while--"I expect it would take quite some time to dry them." + +"No doubt. But I'd rather you didn't assist. I'd rather you weren't even +around looking on, Florence." + +A shade fell upon her niece's face at this. "Why, Aunt Julia, I couldn't +do any harm to Fifi and Mimi just _lookin'_ at 'em, could I?" + +Julia laughed. "That's the trouble; you never do 'just look' at anything +you're interested in, and, if you don't mind my saying so, you've got +rather a record, dear! Now, don't you care: you can find lots of other +pleasant things to do at home--or over at Herbert's, or Aunt Fanny's. +You run along now and----" + +"Well----" Florence said, moving as if to depart. + +"You might as well go out by the front door, child," Julia suggested, +with a little watchful urgency. "You come over some day when Fifi and +Mimi have got used to the place, and you can look at them all you want +to." + +"Well, I just----" + +But as Florence seemed disposed still to linger, her aunt's manner +became more severe, and she half rose from her reclining position. + +"No, I really mean it! Fifi and Mimi are royal-bred Persian cats with a +wonderful pedigree, and I don't know how much trouble and expense it +cost Mr. Sanders to get them for me. They're entirely different from +ordinary cats; they're very fine and queer, and if anything happens to +them, after all the trouble papa's made over other presents I've had, +I'll go straight to a sanitarium! No, Florence, you keep away from the +kitchen to-day, and I'd like to hear the front door as you go out." + +"Well," said Florence; "I do wish if these cats are as fine as all that, +it was Noble Dill that gave 'em to you. I'd like these cats lots better +if _he_ gave 'em to you, wouldn't you?" + +"No, I wouldn't." + +"Well----" Florence said again, and departed. + +Twenty is an unsuspicious age, except when it fears that its dignity or +grace may be threatened from without; and it might have been a "bad +sign" in revelation of Julia Atwater's character if she had failed to +accept the muffled metallic clash of the front door's closing as a token +that her niece had taken a complete departure for home. A supplemental +confirmation came a moment later, fainter but no less conclusive: the +distant slamming of the front gate; and it made a clear picture of an +obedient Florence on her homeward way. Peace came upon Julia: she read +in her book, while at times she dropped a languid, graceful arm, and, +with the pretty hand at the slimmer end of it, groped in a dark shelter +beneath her couch to make a selection, merely by her well-experienced +sense of touch, from a frilled white box that lay in concealment there. +Then, bringing forth a crystalline violet become scented sugar, or a bit +of fruit translucent in hardened sirup, she would delicately set it on +the way to that attractive dissolution hoped for it by the wistful +donor--and all without removing her shadowy eyes from the little volume +and its patient struggle for dignified rhymes with "Julia." Florence +was no longer in her beautiful relative's thoughts. + +Florence was idly in the thoughts, however, of Mrs. Balche, the +next-door neighbour to the south. Happening to glance from a bay-window, +she negligently marked how the child walked to the front gate, opened +it, paused for a moment's meditation, then hurled the gate to a vigorous +closure, herself remaining within its protection. "Odd!" Mrs. Balche +murmured. + +Having thus eloquently closed the gate, Florence slowly turned and moved +toward the rear of the house, quickening her steps as she went, until at +a run she disappeared from the scope of Mrs. Balche's gaze, cut off by +the intervening foliage of Mr. Atwater's small orchard. Mrs. Balche felt +no great interest; nevertheless, she paused at the sound of a boy's +voice, half husky, half shrill, in an early stage of change. "What she +say, Flor'nce? D'she say we could?" But there came a warning "_Hush +up_!" from Florence, and then, in a lowered tone, the boy's voice said: +"Look here; these are mighty funny-actin' cats. I think they're kind of +crazy or somep'n. Kitty Silver's fixed a washtub full o' suds for us." + +Mrs. Balche was reminded of her own cat, and went to give it a little +cream. Mrs. Balche was a retired widow, without children, and too timid +to like dogs; but after a suitable interval, following the loss of her +husband, she accepted from a friend the gift of a white kitten, and +named it Violet. It may be said that Mrs. Balche, having few interests +in life, and being of a sequestering nature, lived for Violet, and that +so much devotion was not good for the latter's health. In his youth, +after having shown sufficient spirit to lose an eye during a sporting +absence of three nights and days, Violet was not again permitted enough +freedom of action to repeat this disloyalty; though, now, in his +advanced middle-age, he had been fed to such a state that he seldom +cared to move, other than by a slow, sneering wavement of the tail when +friendly words were addressed to him; and consequently, as he seemed +beyond all capacity or desire to run away, or to run at all, Mrs. Balche +allowed him complete liberty of action. + +She found him asleep upon her "back porch," and placed beside him a +saucer of cream, the second since his luncheon. Then she watched him +affectionately as he opened his eye, turned toward the saucer his noble +Henry-the-Eighth head with its great furred jowls, and began the process +of rising for more food, which was all that ever seemed even feebly to +rouse his mind. When he had risen, there was little space between him +anywhere and the floor. + +Violet took his cream without enthusiasm, pausing at times and turning +his head away. In fact, he persisted only out of an incorrigible +sensuality, and finally withdrew a pace or two, leaving creamy traces +still upon the saucer. With a multitude of fond words his kind mistress +drew his attention to these, whereupon, making a visible effort, he +returned and disposed of them. + +"Dat's de 'itty darlin'," she said, stooping to stroke him. "Eat um all +up nice clean. Dood for ole sweet sin!" She continued to stroke him, and +Violet half closed his eye, but not with love or serenity, for he +simultaneously gestured with his tail, meaning to say: "Oh, do take your +hands off o' me!" Then he opened the eye and paid a little attention to +sounds from the neighbouring yard. A high fence, shrubberies, and +foliage concealed that yard from the view of Violet, but the sounds were +eloquent to him, since they were those made by members of his own +general species when threatening atrocities. The accent may have been +foreign, but Violet caught perfectly the sense of what was being said, +and instinctively he muttered reciprocal curses within himself. + +"What a matta, honey?" his companion inquired sympathetically. "Ess, bad +people f'ighten poor Violet!" + +From beyond the fence came the murmurings of a boy and a girl in hushed +but urgent conversation; and with these sounds there mingled watery +agitations, splashings and the like, as well as those low vocalizings +that Violet had recognized; but suddenly there were muffled explosions, +like fireworks choked in feather beds; and the human voices grew +uncontrollably somewhat louder, so that their import was +distinguishable. "_Ow!_" "Hush up, can't you? You want to bring the +whole town to--_ow!_" "Hush up yourself!" "Oh, _goodness_!" "Look out! +Don't let her----" "Well, look what she's _doin'_ to me, can't you?" +"For Heavenses' sakes, catch holt and----_Ow!_" + +Then came a husky voice, inevitably that of a horrified coloured person +hastening from a distance: "Oh, my soul!" There was a scurrying, and the +girl was heard in furious yet hoarsely guarded vehemence: "Bring the +clo'es prop! Bring the clo'es prop! We can poke that one down from the +garage, anyway. _Oh, my goodness, look at 'er go!_" + +Mrs. Balche shook her head. "Naughty children!" she said, as she picked +up the saucer and went to the kitchen door, which she held open for +Violet to enter. "Want to come with mamma?" + +But Violet had lost even the faint interest in life he had shown a few +moments earlier. He settled himself to another stupor in the sun. + +"Well, well," Mrs. Balche said indulgently. "Afterwhile shall have some +more nice keem." + + * * * * * + +Sunset was beginning to be hinted, two hours later, when, in another +quarter of the town, a little girl of seven or eight, at play on the +domestic side of an alley gate, became aware of an older girl regarding +her fixedly over the top of the gate. The little girl felt embarrassed +and paused in her gayeties, enfolding in her arms her pet and playmate. +"Howdy' do," said the stranger, in a serious tone. "What'll you take for +that cat?" + +The little girl made no reply, and the stranger, opening the gate, came +into the yard. She looked weary, rather bedraggled, yet hurried: her air +was predominantly one of anxiety. "I'll give you a quarter for that +cat," she said. "I want an all-white cat, but this one's only got that +one gray spot over its eye, and I don't believe there's an all-white +cat left in town, leastways that anybody's willing to part with. I'll +give you twenty-five cents for it. I haven't got it with me, but I'll +promise to give it to you day after to-morrow." + +The little girl still made no reply, but continued to stare, her eyes +widening, and the caller spoke with desperation. + +"See here," she said, "I _got_ to have a whitish cat! That'n isn't worth +more'n a quarter, but I'll give you thirty-five cents for her, money +down, day after to-morrow." + +At this, the frightened child set the cat upon the ground and fled into +the house. Florence Atwater was left alone; that is to say, she was the +only human being in the yard, or in sight. Nevertheless, a human voice +spoke, not far behind her. It came through a knot-hole in the fence, and +it was a voice almost of passion. + +"_You grab it!_" + +Florence stood in silence, motionless; there was a solemnity about her. +The voice exhorted. "My goodness!" it said. "She didn't say she +_wouldn't_ sell it, did she? You can bring her the money like you said +you would, can't you? I got _mine_, didn't I, almost without any +trouble at all! My Heavens! Ain't Kitty Silver pretty near crazy? Just +think of the position we've put her into! I tell you, you _got_ to!" + +But now Florence moved. She moved slowly at first: then with more +decision and rapidity. + + * * * * * + +That evening's dusk had deepened into blue night when the two cousins, +each with a scant, uneasy dinner eaten, met by appointment in the alley +behind their mutual grandfather's place of residence, and, having +climbed the back fence, approached the kitchen. Suddenly Florence lifted +her right hand, and took between thumb and forefinger a lock of hair +upon the back of Herbert's head. + +"Well, for Heavenses' sakes!" he burst out, justifiably protesting. + +"Hush!" Florence warned him. "Kitty Silver's talkin' to somebody in +there. It might be Aunt Julia! C'm'ere!" + +She led him to a position beneath an open window of the kitchen. Here +they sat upon the ground, with their backs against the stone foundation +of the house, and listened to voices and the clink of dishes being +washed. + +"She's got another ole coloured darky woman in there with her," said +Florence. "It's a woman belongs to her church and comes to see her 'most +every evening. Listen; she's telling her about it. I bet we could get +the real truth of it maybe better this way than if we went in and asked +her right out. Anyway, it isn't eavesdropping if you listen when people +are talkin' about you, yourself. It's only wrong when it isn't any of +your own bus--" + +"For Heavenses' sakes hush _up_!" her cousin remonstrated. "Listen!" + +"'No'm, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say"--thus came the voice of Mrs. +Silver--"'no'm, Miss Julia, ma'am. Them the same two cats you han' me, +Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say. 'Leas'wise,' I say, 'them the two same cats +whut was in nat closed-up brown basket when I open it up an' take an' +fix to wash 'em. Somebody might 'a' took an' change 'em 'fo' they got to +_me_,' I say, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, but all the change happen to 'em sence +they been in charge of _me_, that's the gray whut come off 'em whiles I +washin' 'em an' dryin' 'em in corn meal and flannel. I dunno how much +_washin'_ 'em change 'em, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say, ''cause how much +they change or ain't change, that's fer you to say and me not to jedge,' +I say." + +"Lan' o' misery!" cried the visitor, chuckling delightedly. "I wonder +how you done kep' you face, Miss Kitty. What Miss Julia say?" + +A loud, irresponsible outburst of mirth on the part of Mrs. Silver +followed. When she could again control herself, she replied more +definitely. "Miss Julia say, she say she ain't never hear no sech +outragelous sto'y in her life! She _tuck_ on! Hallelujah! An' all time, +Miz Johnson, I give you my word, I stannin' there holdin' nat basket, +carryin' on up hill an' down dale how them the same two Berjum cats +Mista Sammerses sen' her: an' trouble enough dess ten'in' to that +basket, lemme say to you, Miz Johnson, as anybody kin tell you whutever +tried to take care o' two cats whut ain't yoosta each other in the same +basket. An' every blessed minute I stannin' there, can't I hear that ole +Miz Blatch nex' do', out in her back yod an' her front yod, an' plum out +in the street, hollerin': 'Kitty? Kitty? Kitty?' '_Yes!_' Miss Julia +say, she say, 'Fine sto'y!' she say. 'Them two cats you claim my Berjum +cats, they got short hair, an' they ain't the same age an' they ain't +even nowheres near the same _size_,' she say. 'One of 'em's as fat as +_bofe_ them Berjum cats,' she say: 'an' it's on'y got one eye,' she say. +'Well, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say--'_one_ thing; they come out white, +all 'cept dess around that there skinnier one's eye,' I say: 'dess the +same you tell me they goin' to,' I say. 'You right about _that_ much, +ma'am!' I say." + +"Oh, me!" Mrs. Johnson moaned, worn with applausive laughter. "What she +respon' then?" + +"I set that basket down," said Kitty Silver, "an' I start fer the do', +whiles she unfasten the lid fer to take one mo' look at 'em, I reckon: +but open window mighty close by, an' nat skinny white cat make one jump, +an' after li'l while I lookin' out thishere window an' see that ole fat +Miz Blatch's tom, waddlin' crost the yod todes home." + +"What she doin' now?" Mrs. Johnson inquired. + +"Who? Miss Julia? She settin' out on the front po'che talkin' to Mista +Sammerses." + +"My name! How she goin' fix it with _him_, after all thishere +dishcumaraddle?" + +"Who? Miss Julia? Leave her alone, honey! She take an' begin talk so +fas' an' talk so sweet, no young man ain't goin' to ricklect he ever +give her no cats, not till he's gone an' halfway home! But I ain't tole +you the en' of it, Miz Johnson, an' the en' of it's the bes' part whut +happen." + +"What's that, Miss Kitty?" + +"Look!" said Mrs. Silver. "Mista Atwater gone in yonder, after I come +out, an' ast whut all them goin's-on about. Well suh, an' di'n' he come +walkin' out in my kitchen an' slip me two bright spang new silbuh +dolluhs right in my han'?" + +"My name!" + +"Yessuh!" said Mrs. Silver triumphantly. And in the darkness outside the +window Florence drew a deep breath. "I'd of felt just awful about this," +she said, "if Noble Dill had given Aunt Julia those Persian cats." + +"Why?" Herbert inquired, puzzled by her way of looking at things. "I +don't see why it would make it any worse _who_ gave 'em to her." + +"Well, it would," Florence said. "But anyway, I think we did rather +wrong. Did you notice what Kitty Silver said about what grandpa did?" + +"Well?" + +"I think we ought to tell him our share of it," Florence returned +thoughtfully. "I don't want to go to bed to-night with all this on my +mind, and I'm going to find grandpa right now and confess every bit of +it to him." + +Herbert hopefully decided to go with her. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +Julia, like Herbert, had been a little puzzled by Florence's expression +of a partiality for the young man, Noble Dill; it was not customary for +anybody to confess a weakness for him. However, the aunt dismissed the +subject from her mind, as other matters pressed sharply upon her +attention; she had more worries than most people guessed. + +The responsibilities of a lady who is almost officially the prettiest +person in a town persistently claiming sixty-five thousand inhabitants +are often heavier than the world suspects, and there were moments when +Julia found the position so trying that she would have preferred to +resign. She was a warm-hearted, appreciative girl, naturally unable to +close her eyes to sterling merit wherever it appeared: and it was not +without warrant that she complained of her relatives. The whole family, +including the children, she said, regaled themselves with her private +affairs as a substitute for theatre-going. But one day, a week after the +irretrievable disappearance of Fifi and Mimi, she went so far as to +admit a note of unconscious confession into her protest that she was +getting pretty tired of being mistaken for a three-ring circus! Such was +her despairing expression, and the confession lies in her use of the +word "three." + +The misleading moderation of "three" was pointed out to her by her +niece, whose mind at once violently seized upon the word and divested it +of context--a process both feminine and instinctive, for this child was +already beginning to be feminine. "Three!" she said. "Why, Aunt Julia, +you must be crazy! There's Newland Sanders and Noble Dill and that old +widower, Ridgley, that grandpa hates so, and Mister Clairdyce and George +Plum and the two new ones from out of town that Aunt Fanny Patterson +said you had at church Sunday morning--Herbert said he didn't like one +of 'em's looks much, Aunt Julia. And there's Parker Kent Usher and that +funny-lookin' one with the little piece of whiskers under his underlip +that Noble Dill got so mad at when they were calling, and Uncle Joe +laughed about, and I don't know who all! Anyhow, there's an awful lot +more than three, Aunt Julia." + +Julia looked down with little favour upon the talkative caller. Florence +was seated upon the shady steps of the veranda, and Julia, dressed for a +walk, occupied a wicker chair above her. "Julia, dressed for a +walk"--how scant the words! It was a summer walk that Julia had dressed +for: and she was all too dashingly a picture of coolness on a hot day: a +brunette in murmurous white, though her little hat was a film of +blackest blue, and thus also in belt and parasol she had almost matched +the colour of her eyes. Probably no human-made fabric could have come +nearer to matching them, though she had once met a great traveller--at +least he went far enough in his search for comparisons--who told her +that the Czarina of Russia had owned a deep sapphire of precisely the +colour, but the Czarina's was the only sapphire yet discovered that had +it. One of Newland Sanders's longest Poems-to-Julia was entitled "Black +Sapphires." + +Julia's harmonies in black sapphire were uncalled for. If she really had +been as kind as she was too often capable of looking, she would have +fastened patches over both eyes--one patch would have been useless--and +she would have worn flat shoes and patronized a dressmaker with genius +enough to misrepresent her. But Julia was not great enough for such +generosities: she should have been locked up till she passed sixty; her +sufferings deserve no pity. + +And yet an attack of the mumps during the winter had brought Julia more +sympathy than the epidemic of typhoid fever in the Old Ladies' Infirmary +brought all of the nine old ladies who were under treatment there. Julia +was confined to her room for almost a month, during which a florist's +wagon seemed permanent before the house: and a confectioner's frequently +stood beside the florist's. Young Florence, an immune who had known the +mumps in infancy, became an almost constant attendant upon the patient, +with the result that the niece contracted an illness briefer than the +aunt's, but more than equalling it in poignancy, caused by the poor +child's economic struggle against waste. Florence's convalescence took +place in her own home without any inquiries whatever from the outer +world, but Julia's was spent in great part at the telephone. Even a poem +was repeated to her by the instrument: + + How the world blooms anew + To think that you + Can speak again, + Can hear + The words of men + And the dear + Own voice of you. + +This was Newland Sanders. He was just out of college, a reviewer, a +poet, and once, momentarily, an atheist. It was Newland who was present +and said such a remarkable thing when Julia had the accident to her +thumb-nail in closing the double doors between the living-room and the +library, where her peculiar old father sat reading. "To see you suffer," +Newland said passionately as she nursed her injury:--"to see you in +pain, that is the one thing in the universe which I feel beyond all my +capacities. Do you know, when you are made to suffer pain, then I feel +that there is no God!" + +This strong declaration struck Herbert as one of the most impressive +things he had ever heard, though he could not account for its being said +to any aunt of his. Herbert had just dropped in without the formality of +ringing the bell, and had paused in the hall, outside the open door of +the living-room. He considered the matter, after Newland had spoken, and +concluded to return to his own place of residence without disturbing +anybody at his grandfather's. At home he found his mother and father +entertaining one of his uncles, one of his aunts, two of his +great-uncles, one of his great-aunts, and one of his grown-up cousins, +at cards: and he proved to be warranted in believing that they would all +like to know what he had heard. Newland's statement became quite +celebrated throughout the family: and Julia, who had perceived almost a +sacred something in his original fervour, changed her mind after hearing +the words musingly repeated, over and over, by her fat old Uncle Joe. + +Florence thought proper to remind her of this to-day, after Julia's +protest containing the too moderately confessional word "three." + +"If you don't want to be such a circus," the niece continued, reasoning +perfectly, "I don't see what you always keep leadin' all of 'em on all +the time just the same for." + +"Who've you heard saying that, Florence?" her aunt demanded. + +"Aunt Fanny Patterson," Florence replied absently. "F'r instance, Aunt +Julia, I don't see what you want to go walking with Newland Sanders for, +when you said yourself you wished he was dead, or somep'n, after there +got to be so muck talk in the family and everywhere about his sayin' all +that about the Bible when you hurt your thumb. All the family----" + +Julia sighed profoundly. "I wish 'all the family' would try to think +about themselves for just a little while! There's entirely too little +self-centredness among my relatives to suit me!" + +"Why, it's only because you're related to me that _I_ pay the very +_slightest_ attention to what goes on here," Florence protested. "It's +my own grandfather's house, isn't it? Well, if you didn't live here, and +if you wasn't my own grandfather's daughter, Aunt Julia, I wouldn't ever +pay the _very_ slightest attention to you! Anyway, I don't _much_ +criticize all these people that keep calling on you--anyway not half as +much as Herbert does. Herbert thinks he always hass to act so critical, +now his voice is changing." + +"At your age," said Julia, "my mind was on my schoolbooks." + +"Why, Aunt Julia!" Florence exclaimed in frank surprise. "Grandpa says +just the opposite from that. I've heard him say, time and time and time +again, you always _were_ this way, ever since you were four years old." + +"What way?" asked her aunt. + +"Like you are now, Aunt Julia. Grandpa says by the time you were +fourteen it got so bad he had to get a new front gate, the way they +leaned on it. He says he hoped when you grew up he'd get a little peace +in his own house, but he says it's worse, and never for one minute the +livelong day can he----" + +"I know," Julia interrupted. "He talks like a Christian Martyr and +behaves like Nero. I might warn you to keep away from him, by the way, +Florence. He says that either you or Herbert was over here yesterday and +used his spectacles to cut a magazine with, and broke them. I wouldn't +be around here much if I were you until he's got over it." + +"It must have been Herbert broke 'em," said Florence promptly. + +"Papa thinks it was you. Kitty Silver told him it was." + +"Mean ole reptile!" said Florence, alluding to Mrs. Silver; then she +added serenely, "Well, grandpa don't get home till five o'clock, and +it's only about a quarter of two now. Aunt Julia, what are you waitin' +around here for?" + +"I told you; I'm going walking." + +"I mean: Who with?" + +Miss Atwater permitted herself a light moan. "With Mr. Sanders and Mr. +Ridgely, Florence." + +Florence's eyes grew large and eager. "Why, Aunt Julia, I thought those +two didn't speak to each other any more!" + +"They don't," Julia assented in a lifeless voice. "It just happened that +Mr. Sanders and Mr. Ridgley and Mr. Dill, all three, asked me to take a +walk this afternoon at two o'clock." + +"But Noble Dill isn't going?" + +"No," said Julia. "I was fortunate enough to remember that I'd already +promised someone else when he asked me. That's what I didn't remember +when Mr. Ridgely asked me." + +"I'd have gone with Noble Dill," Florence said firmly. "Noble Dill is my +Very Ideal! I'd marry him to-morrow." + +"It seems to me," her aunt remarked, "I heard your mother telling +somebody the other day that you had said the same thing about the King +of Spain." + +Florence laughed. "Oh, that was only a passing fancy," she said lightly. +"Aunt Julia, what's Newland Sanders supposed to do?" + +"I think he hasn't entered any business or profession yet." + +"I bet he couldn't," her niece declared. "What's that old Ridgely +supposed to be? Just a widower?" + +"Never mind!" + +"And that George Plum's supposed to do something or other around Uncle +Joe's ole bank, isn't he?" Florence continued. + +"'Supposed'!" Julia protested. "What is all this 'supposed to be'? Where +did you catch that horrible habit? You know the whole family worries +over your superciliousness, Florence; but until now I've always thought +it was just the way your face felt easiest. If it's going to break out +in your talk, too, it's time you began to cure yourself of it." + +"Oh, it doesn't hurt anything!" Florence made careless response, and, as +she saw the thin figure of young Mr. Sanders approaching in the +distance, "Look!" she cried, pointing. "Why, he doesn't even _compare_ +to Noble Dill!" + +"Don't point at people!" + +"Well, he's nothing much to point at!" She lowered her finger. "It's no +depredation to me, Aunt Julia, to give up pointing at Newland Sanders. +Atch'ly, I wouldn't give Noble Dill's little finger for a hunderd and +fifty Newland Sanderses!" + +Julia smiled faintly as she watched Mr. Sanders, who seemed not yet to +be aware of her, because he thought it would be better to reach the gate +and lift his hat just there. "What _has_ brought on all this tenderness +in favour of Mr. Dill, Florence?" + +Her niece's eyes, concentrated in thought, then became dreamy. "I like +him because he's so uncouth," she said. "I think he's the uncouthest of +any person I ever saw." + +"'Uncouth'?" + +"Yes," said Florence. "Herbert said I was uncouth, and I looked it up in +the ditchanary. It said, 'Rare, exquisite, elegant, unknown, obs, +unfamiliar, strange,' and a whole lot else. I never did know a word that +means so much, I guess. What's 'obs' mean, Aunt Julia?" + +"Hush!" said Julia, rising, for Mr. Sanders had made a little startled +movement as he reached the gate and caught sight of her; and now, straw +hat in hand, he was coming up the brick walk that led to the veranda. +His eyes were fixed upon Julia with an intensity that seemed to affect +his breathing; there was a hushedness about him. And Florence, in +fascination, watched Julia's expression and posture take on those little +changes that always seemed demanded of her by the approach of a young or +youngish man, or a nicely dressed old one. By almost imperceptible +processes the commonplace moment became dramatic at once. + +"You!" said Newland in a low voice. + +And Julia, with an implication as flattering as the gesture was +graceful, did not wait till he was within reach, but suddenly extended +her welcoming hand at arm's length. He sprang forward convulsively and +grasped it, as if forever. + +"You see my little niece?" Julia said. "I think you know her." + +"Know her?" Mr. Sanders repeated; then roused his faculties and gave +Florence a few fingers dangling coldly after their recent emotion. +"Florence. Oh, yes, Florence." + +Florence had not risen, but remained seated upon the steps, her look and +air committed to that mood of which so much complaint had been made. +"How do you do," she said. "There's Mr. Ridgely." + +"Where?" Newland asked loudly. + +"Comin' in at the gate," said Florence. "He's goin' walkin' with you, +too." + +In this crisis, Mr. Sanders's feeling was obviously one of startled +anguish. He turned to Julia. + +"Why, this is terrible!" he said. "You told me----" + +"Sh!" she warned him; and whispered hastily, all in a breath: +"_Couldn't-be-helped-explain-next-time-I-see-you._" Then she advanced a +gracious step to meet the newcomer. + +But the superciliousness of Florence visibly increased with this advent: +Mr. Ridgely was easily old enough to be her grandfather, yet she seemed +to wish it evident that she would not have cared for him even in that +capacity. He was, in truth, one of those widowers who feel younger than +ever, and behave as they feel. Since his loss he had shown the greatest +willingness to forego whatever advantages age and experience had given +him over the descendants of his old friends and colleagues, and his +cheerfulness as well as his susceptibility to all that was charming had +begun to make him so famous in the town that some of his contemporaries +seemed to know scarce another topic. And Julia had a kinder heart, as +her father bitterly complained, than most girls. + +The widower came, holding out to her a votive cluster of violets, a +pink rose among them, their stems wrapped in purple; and upon the lapel +of his jovial flannel coat were other violets about a pink rosebud. + +"How pretty of you!" said Julia, taking the offering; and as she pinned +it at her waist, she added rather nervously, "I believe you know Mr. +Sanders; he is going with us." + +She was warranted in believing the gentlemen to be acquainted, because +no longer ago than the previous week they both had stated, in her +presence and simultaneously, that any further communication between them +would be omitted for life. Julia realized, of course, that Mr. Ridgely +must find the present meeting as trying as Newland did, and, to help him +bear it, she contrived to make him hear the hurried whisper: +"_Couldn't-be-helped-explain-some-day._" + +Then with a laugh not altogether assured, she took up her parasol. +"Shall we be starting?" she inquired. + +"Here's Noble Dill," said Florence, "I guess he's goin' to try to go +walkin' with you, too, Aunt Julia." + +Julia turned, for in fact the gate at that moment clicked behind the +nervously advancing form of Noble Dill. He came with, a bravado that +was merely pitiable and he tried to snap his Orduma cigarette away with +thumb and forefinger in a careless fashion, only to see it publicly +disappear through an open cellar window of the house. + +"I hope there's no excelsior down there," said Newland Sanders. "A good +many houses have burned to the ground just that way." + +"It fell on the cement floor," Florence reported, peering into the +window. "It'll go out pretty soon." + +"Then I suppose we might as well do the same thing," said Newland, +addressing Julia first and Mr. Dill second. "Miss Atwater and I are just +starting for a walk." + +Mr. Ridgely also addressed the new arrival. "Miss Atwater and I are just +starting for a walk." + +"You see, Noble," said the kind-hearted Julia, "I did tell you I had +another engagement." + +"I came by here," Mr. Dill began in a tone commingling timidity, love, +and a fatal stubbornness; "I came by here--I mean I just happened to be +passing--and I thought if it was a walking-_party_, well, why not go +along? That's the way it struck me." He paused, coughing for courage and +trying to look easily genial, but not succeeding; then he added, "Well, +as I say, that's the way it struck me--as it were. I suppose we might as +well be starting." + +"Yes, we might," Newland Sanders said quickly; and he placed himself at +Julia's left, seizing upon her parasol and opening it with +determination. + +Mr. Ridgely had kept himself closely at the lady's right. "You were +mistaken, my boy," he said, falsely benevolent. "It isn't a +party--though there's Miss Florence, Noble. Nobody's asked her to go +walking to-day!" + +Now, Florence took this satire literally. She jumped up and said +brightly: "I just as soon! Let's _do_ have a walking-party. I just as +soon walk with Mr. Dill as anybody, and we can all keep together, kind +of." With that, she stepped confidently to the side of her selected +escort, who appeared to be at a loss how to avert her kindness. + +There was a moment of hesitation, during which a malevolent pleasure +slightly disfigured the countenances of the two gentlemen with Julia; +but when Florence pointed to a house across the street and remarked, +"There's Great-Uncle Milford and Aunt C'nelia; they been lookin' out of +their second guestroom window about half an hour," Julia uttered an +exclamation. + +"Murder!" she said, and moved with decision toward the gate. "Let's go!" + +Thus the little procession started, Mr. Sanders and the sprightly +widower at Beauty's side, with Florence and Mr. Dill so close behind +that, before they had gone a block, Newland found it necessary to warn +this rear rank that the heels of his new shoes were not part of the +pavement. After that the rear rank, a little abashed, consented to fall +back some paces. Julia's heightened colour, meanwhile, was little abated +by some slight episodes attending the progress of the walking-party. Her +Aunt Fanny Patterson, rocking upon a veranda, rose and evidently called +to someone within the house, whereupon she was joined by her invalid +sister, Aunt Harriet, with a trained nurse and two elderly domestics, a +solemnly whispering audience. And in the front yard of "the Henry +Atwater house," at the next corner, Herbert underwent a genuine +bedazzlement, but he affected more. His violent gaze dwelt upon +Florence, and he permitted his legs slowly to crumple under him, until, +just as the party came nearest him, he lay prostrate upon his back in a +swoon. Afterward he rose and for a time followed in a burlesque manner; +then decided to return home. + +"Old heathen!" said Florence, glancing back over her shoulder as he +disappeared from view. + +Mr. Dill was startled from a reverie inspired by the back of Julia's +head. "'Heathen'?" he said, in plaintive inquiry. + +"I meant Herbert," Florence informed him. "Cousin Herbert Atwater. He +was following us, walking Dutch." + +"'Cousin Herbert Atwater'?" said Noble dreamily. "'Dutch'?" + +"He won't any more," said Florence. "He always hass to show off, now his +voice is changing." She spoke, and she also walked, with dignity--a +rather dashing kind of dignity, which was what Herbert's eccentricity of +gait intended to point out injuriously. In fact, never before had +Florence been so impressed with herself; never before, indeed, had she +been a member of a grown-up non-family party; never before had she gone +walking with an actual adult young man for her escort; and she felt that +she owed it to her position to appear in as brilliant an aspect as +possible. She managed to give herself a rhythmical, switching motion, +causing her kneelength skirt to swing from side to side--a pomp that +brought her a great deal of satisfaction as she now and then caught the +effect by twisting her neck enough to see down behind, over her +shoulder. + +But her poise was temporarily threatened when the walking-party passed +her own house. Her mother happened to be sitting near an open window +upstairs, and, after gazing forth with warm interest at Julia and her +two outwalkers, Mrs. Atwater's astonished eyes fell upon Florence taking +care of the overflow. Florence bowed graciously. + +"Florence!" her mother called down from the window: whereupon both +Florence and her Aunt Julia were instantly apprehensive, for Mrs. George +Atwater's lack of tact was a legend in the family. "Florence! Where on +earth are you going?" + +"Never mind!" Florence thought best to respond. "Never mind!" + +"You'd better come _in_," Mrs. Atwater called, her voice necessarily +louder as the party moved onward. + +"Never mind!" Florence called back. + +Mrs. Atwater leaned out of the window. "Where are you going? Come back +and get your _hat_. You'll get a _sunstroke_!" + +Florence was able to conceal her indignation, and merely waved a hand +in airy dismissal as they passed from Mrs. Atwater's sight, leaving her +still shouting. + +The daughter smiled negligently and shrugged her shoulders. "She'll get +over it!" she said. + +"Who?" + +"My mother. She was the one makin' all that noise," said Florence. +"Sometimes I do what she says: sometimes I don't. It's all accordings to +the way I feel." She looked up in her companion's face, and her +expression became politely fond as she thought how uncouth he was, for +in Florence's eye Noble Dill was truly rare, exquisite, and unfamiliar; +and she believed that he was obs, too, whatever that meant. She often +thought about him, and no longer ago than yesterday she had told Kitty +Silver that she couldn't see "how Aunt Julia could _look_ at anybody +else!" + +Florence's selection of Noble Dill for the bright favourite of her +dreams was one of her own mysteries. Noble was not beautiful, neither +did he present to the ordinary eye of man anything especially rare, +exquisite, unfamiliar, or even so distinguished as to be obsolete. He +was about twenty-two, but not one of those book-read sportsmen of that +age, confident in clothes and manner, easy travellers and debonair; +that is to say, Noble was not of the worldly type twenty-two. True, he +had graduated from the High-school before entering his father's Real +Estate and Insurance office, but his geographical experiences (in +particular) had been limited to three or four railway excursions, at +special rates, to such points of interest as Mammoth Cave and Petoskey, +Michigan. His other experiences were not more sparkling, and except for +the emotions within him, he was in all the qualities of his mind as well +as in his bodily contours and the apparel sheltering the latter, the +most commonplace person in Florence's visible world. The inner areas of +the first and second fingers of his left hand bore cigarette stains, +seemingly indelible: the first and second fingers of his right hand were +strongly ornamented in a like manner; tokens proving him ambidextrous to +but a limited extent, however. Moreover, his garments and garnitures +were not comparable to those of either Newland Sanders or that dapper +antique, Mr. Ridgely. Noble's straw hat might have brightened under the +treatment of lemon juice or other restorative; his scarf was folded to +hide a spot that worked steadily toward a complete visibility, and some +recent efforts upon his trousers with a tepid iron, in his bedchamber +at home, counteracted but feebly that tendency of cloth to sculpture +itself in hummocks upon repeated pressure of the human knee. + +All in all, nothing except the expression of Noble's face and the +somewhat ill-chosen pansy in his buttonhole hinted of the remarkable. +Yet even here was a thing for which he was not responsible himself; it +was altogether the work of Julia. What her work was, in the case of +Noble Dill, may be expressed in a word--a word used not only by the +whole Atwater family connection, in completely expressing Noble's +condition, but by Noble's own family connection as well. This complete +word was "awful." + +Florence was the one exception on the Atwater side: she was far, far +from thinking or speaking of Noble Dill in that way, although, until she +looked up "uncouth" in Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, she had not +found suitable means to describe him. And now, as she walked at his +side, she found her sensations to be nothing short of thrilling. For it +must be borne in mind that this was her first and wholly unexpected +outburst into society; the experience was that of an obscure aerolite +suddenly become a noble meteor. She longed to say or do something +magnificent--something strange and exhilarating, in keeping with her new +station in life. + +It was this longing, and by no means a confirmed unveracity, that +prompted her to amplify her comments upon her own filial independence. +"Oh, I guess I pretty near never do anything I don't want to," she said. +"I kind of run the house to suit myself. I guess if the truth had to be +told, I just about run the whole Atwater family, when it comes to that!" + +The statement was so noticeable that it succeeded in turning Noble's +attention from the back of Julia's head. "You do?" he said. "Well, that +seems queer," he added absently. + +"Oh, I don't know!" she laughed. In her increasing exaltation things +appeared actually to be as she wished them to be; an atmosphere both +queenly and adventurous seemed to invest her, and any remnants of human +caution in her were assuaged by the circumstance that her Aunt Julia's +attention was subject to the strong demands necessarily imposed upon +anybody taking a walk between two gentlemen who do not "speak" to each +other. "Oh, I don't know," said Florence. "The family's used to it by +this time, I guess. The way I do things, they haf to be, I guess. When +they don't like it I don't say much for a while, then I just----" She +paused, waiting for her imagination to supply a sequel to the drama just +sketched. "Well, I guess they kind of find out they better step around +pretty lively," she concluded darkly. "They don't bother around _too_ +much!" + +"I suppose not," said Noble, his vacancy and credulity continuing to +dovetail perfectly. + +"You bet not!" the exuberant Florence thought proper to suggest as a +preferable expression. And then she had an inspiration to enliven his +dreamy interest in her conversation. "Grandpa, he's the one I kind of +run most of all of 'em. He's about fifty or sixty, and so he hasn't got +too much sense. What I mean, he hasn't got too much sense _left_, you +know. So I haf to sort of take holt every now and then." She lowered her +voice a little, some faint whisper of discretion reaching her inward +ear. "Aunt Julia can't do a thing with him. I guess that's maybe the +reason she kind of depen's on me so much; or anyway somep'n like that. +You know, f'r instance, I had to help talk grandpa into lettin' her send +to New York for her things. Aunt Julia gets all her things in New York." + +Undeniably, Mr. Dill's interest flickered up. "_Things_?" he repeated +inquiringly. "Her things?" + +"Yes. Everything she wears, you know." + +"Oh, yes." + +"What I was goin' to tell you," Florence continued, "you know grandpa +just about hates everybody. Anyhow, he'd like to have some peace and +quiet once in a while in his own house, he says, instead of all this +moil and turmoil, and because the doctor said all the matter with her +was she eats too much candy, and they keep sendin' more all the +time--and there's somep'n the trouble with grandpa: it makes him sick to +smell violets: he had it ever since he was a little boy, and he can't +help it; and he hates animals, and they keep sendin' her Airedales and +Persian kittens, and then there was that alligator came from Florida and +upset Kitty Silver terribly--and so, you see, grandpa just hates the +whole everlasting business." + +Mr. Dill nodded and spoke with conviction: "He's absolutely right; +absolutely!" + +"Well, some ways he is," said Florence; and she added confidentially: +"The trouble is, he seems to think you're about as bad as any of 'em." + +"What?" + +"_Well_!" Florence exclaimed, with upward gestures both of eye and of +hand, to signify what she left untold of Mr. Atwater's orations upon +his favourite subject: Noble Dill. "It's torrable!" she added. + +Noble breathed heavily, but a thought struggled in him and a brightening +appeared upon him. "You mean----" he began. "Do you mean it's terrible +for your Aunt Julia? Do you mean his injustice about me makes her feel +terribly?" + +"No," said Florence. "No: I mean the way he goes on about everybody. But +Aunt Julia's kind of used to it. And anyhow you needn't worry about him +'long as I'm on your side. He won't do anything much to you if I say not +to. Hardly anything at all." And then, with almost a tenderness, as she +marked the visibly insufficient reassurance of her companion, she said +handsomely: "He won't say a word. I'll tell him not to." + +Noble was dazed; no novelty, for he had been dazed almost continually +during the past seven months, since a night when dancing with Julia, +whom he had known all his life, he "noticed for the first time what she +looked like." (This was his mother's description.) Somewhere, he vaguely +recalled, he had read of the extraordinary influence possessed by +certain angelic kinds of children; he knew, too, what favourite +grandchildren can do with grandfathers. The effect upon him was +altogether base; he immediately sought by flattery to increase and +retain Florence's kindness. "I always _thought_ you seemed to know more +than most girls of your age," he began. + +It was a great afternoon for Florence. From time to time she glanced +over her shoulder at the switching skirt, and increased its radius of +action, though this probably required more exercise, compared to the +extent of ground covered, than any lady member of a walking-party had +ever before taken, merely as a pedestrian. Meanwhile, she chattered on, +but found time to listen to the pleasant things said to her by her +companion; and though most of these were, in truth, rather vague, she +was won to him more than he knew. Henceforth she was to be his champion +indeed, sometimes with greater energy than he would need. + +... The two were left alone together by Julia's gate when the walk (as +short as Julia dared to make it) was over. + +"Well," Florence said, "I've had quite a nice time. I hope you enjoyed +yourself nicely, too, Mr. Dill." Then her eye rose to the overhanging +branch of a shade-tree near them. "Would you like to see me chin +myself?" she asked, stepping beneath the branch. "I bet I could +skin-the-cat on that limb! Would you like to see me do it?" + +"I would _so_!" the flatterer enthused. + +She became thoughtful, remembering that she was now a lady who took +walks with grown gentlemen. "I can, but I won't," she said. "I used to +do lots of things like that. I used to whenever I felt like it. I could +chin myself four times and Herbert only three. I was lots better than +Herbert when I used to do all kinds of things like that." + +"Were you?" + +She laughed as in a musing retrospect of times gone by. "I guess I used +to be a pretty queer kind of a girl in those days," she said. "Well--I +s'pose we ought to say good-bye for the present, so to speak, Mr. Dill." + +"I'm afraid so." + +"Well----" She stood looking at him expectantly, but he said nothing +more. "Well, good-bye for the present, Mr. Dill," she said again, and, +turning, walked away with dignity. But a moment later she forgot all +about her skirt and scampered. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Mrs. Dill, Noble's mother, talked of organizing a Young Men's Mothers' +Club against Julia, nevertheless she acknowledged that in one solitary +way Noble was being improved by the experience. His two previous attacks +of love (one at twelve, and the other at eighteen) had been incomparably +lighter, and the changes in him, noted at home, merely a slight general +irritability and a lack of domestic punctuality due to too much +punctuality elsewhere. But, when his Julia Atwater trouble came, the +very first symptom he manifested was a strange new effort to become +beautiful; his mother even discovered that he sometimes worked with +pumice stone upon the cigarette stains on his fingers. + +The most curious thing about his condition was that for a long time he +took it for granted that his family did not know what was the matter +with him; and this shows as nothing else could the meekness and tact of +the Dills; for, excluding bad cooks and the dangerously insane, the +persons most disturbing to the serenity of households are young lovers. +But the world has had to accommodate itself to them because young lovers +cannot possibly accommodate themselves to the world. For the young lover +there is no general life of the species; for him the universe is a +delicate blush under a single bonnet. He has but an irritated perception +of every vital thing in nature except the vital thing under this bonnet; +all else is trivial intrusion. But whatever does concern the centrifugal +bonnet, whatever concerns it in the remotest--ah, _then_ he springs to +life! So Noble Dill sat through a Sunday dinner at home, seemingly +drugged to a torpor, while the family talk went on about him; but when +his father, in the course of some remarks upon politics, happened to +mention the name of the county-treasurer, Charles J. Patterson, Noble's +startled attention to the conversation was so conspicuous as to be +disconcerting. Mrs. Dill signalled with her head that comment should be +omitted, and Mr. Dill became, for the moment, one factor in a fairly +clear example of telepathic communication, for it is impossible to +believe that his wife's almost imperceptible gesture was what caused +him to remember that Charles J. Patterson was Julia Atwater's uncle. + +That name, Charles J. Patterson, coming thus upon Noble's ear, was like +an unexpected shrine on the wayside where plods the fanatic pilgrim; and +yet Mr. Patterson was the most casual of Julia's uncles-by-marriage: he +neither had nor desired any effect upon her destiny. To Noble he seemed +a being ineffably privileged and fateful, and something of the same +quality invested the wooden gateposts in front of Julia's house; +invested everything that had to do with her. What he felt about her +father, that august old danger, himself, was not only the uncalled-for +affection inevitable toward Julia's next of kin, but also a kind of +horror due to the irresponsible and awful power possessed by a sacred +girl's parent. Florence's offer of protection had not entirely reassured +the young lover, and, in sum, Noble loved Mr. Atwater, but often, in his +reveries, when he had rescued him from drowning or being burned to +death, he preferred to picture the peculiar old man's injuries as +ultimately fatal. + +For the other Atwaters his feeling held less of apprehension, more of +tenderness; and whenever he saw one of them he became deferential and a +little short of breath. Thus, on a sunny afternoon, having been home to +lunch after his morning labour downtown, he paused in passing young +Herbert's place of residence and timidly began a conversation with this +glamoured nephew. It happened that during the course of the morning +Herbert had chosen a life career for himself; he had decided to become a +scientific specialist, an entomologist; and he was now on his knees +studying the manners and customs of the bug inhabitants of the lawn +before the house, employing for his purpose a large magnifying lens, or +"reading glass." (His discovery of this implement in the attic, +coincidentally with his reading a recent "Sunday Supplement" article on +bugs, had led to his sudden choice of a vocation.) + +"Did somebody--ah, have any of the family lost anything, Herbert?" Noble +asked in a gentle voice, speaking across the fence. + +Herbert did not look up, nor did he relax the scientific frown upon his +brow. "No," he said. "They always _are_ losin' things, espesh'ly Aunt +Julia, when she comes over here, or anywheres else; but I wouldn't waste +_my_ time lookin' for any old earrings or such. I got more important +things to do on my hands." + +"_Has_ your Aunt Julia lost an earring, Herbert?" + +"Her? Well, she nearly always _has_ lost somep'n or other, but that +isn't bother'n' _me_ any. I got better things to do with my time." +Herbert spoke without interrupting his occupation or relaxing his +forehead. "Nacher'l history is a _little_ more important to the +inhabitants of our universe than a lot o' worthless jew'lry, I guess," +he continued; and his pride in discovering that he could say things like +this was so great that his frown gave way temporarily to a look of +pleased surprise, then came back again to express an importance much +increased. He rose, approached the fence, and condescended to lean upon +it. "I don't guess there's one person in a thousand," he said, "that +knows what they _ought_ to know about our inseck friends." + +"No," Mr. Dill agreed readily. "I guess that's so. I guess you're right +about that, Herbert. When did your Aunt Julia lose the earring, +Herbert?" + +"I d' know," said Herbert. "Now, you take my own father and mother: What +do they know? Well, mighty little. They may have had to learn a little +teeny bit about insecks when they were in school, but whatever little it +was they went and forgot it proba'ly long before they were married. +Well, that's no way. F'r instance, you take a pinchin' bug: What do you +suppose my father and mother know about its position in the inseck +world?" + +"Well----" said Noble uneasily. "Well----" He coughed, and hastened to +add: "But as I was saying, if she lost her earring somewhere in your +yard, or----" + +The scientific boy evidently did not follow this line of thought, for he +interrupted: "Why, they wouldn't know a thing about it, and a pinchin' +bug isn't one of the highest insecks at all. Ants are way up compared to +most pinchin' bugs. Ants are way up anyway. Now, you take an ant----" He +paused. "Well, everybody ought to know a lot more'n they do about ants. +It takes time, and you got to study 'em the right way, and of course +there's lots of people wouldn't know how to do it. I'm goin' to get a +book I been readin' about. It's called 'The Ant.'" + +For a moment Noble was confused; he followed his young friend's +discourse but hazily, and Herbert pronounced the word "ant" precisely as +he pronounced the word "aunt." The result was that Noble began to say +something rather dreamy concerning the book just mentioned, but, +realizing that he was being misunderstood, he changed his murmur into a +cough, and inquired: + +"When was she over here, Herbert?" + +"Who?" + +"Your Aunt Julia." + +"Yesterday evening," said Herbert. "Now, f'r instance, you take a common +lightning-bug----" + +"Did she lose it, then?" + +"Lose what?" + +"Her earring." + +"I d' know," said Herbert. "You take the common lightning-bug or, as +it's called in some countries, the firefly----" + +He continued, quoting and misquoting the entomological authority of the +recent "Sunday Supplement"; but his friend on the other side of the +fence was inattentive to the lecture. Noble's mind was occupied with a +wonder; he had realized, though dimly, that here was he, trying to make +starry Julia the subject of a conversation with a person who had the +dear privilege of being closely related to her--and preferred to talk +about bugs. + +Herbert talked at considerable length about lightning-bugs, but as his +voice happened rather precociously to be already in a state of +adolescent change, the sound was not soothing; yet Noble lingered. +Nephews were queer, but this one was Julia's, and he finally mentioned +her again, as incidental to lightning-bugs; whereupon the mere hearer of +sounds became instantly a listener to words. + +"Well, and then I says," Herbert continued;--"I says: 'It's phosphorus, +Aunt Julia.' I guess there's hardly anybody in the world doesn't know +more than Aunt Julia, except about dresses and parasols and every other +useless thing under the sun. She says: 'My! I always thought it was +sulphur!' Said nobody ever _told_ her it wasn't sulphur! I asked her: I +said: 'You mean to sit there and tell me you don't know the difference?' +And she says: 'I don't care one way or the other,' she says. She said +she just as soon a lightning-bug made his light with sulphur as with +phosphorus; it didn't make any difference to her, she says, and they +could go ahead and make their light any way they wanted, _she_ wouldn't +interfere! I had a whole hatful of 'em, and she told me not to take 'em +into their house, because grandpa hates insecks as much as he does +animals and violets, and she said they never owned a microscope or a +magnifying-glass in their lives, and wouldn't let me hunt for one. All +in the world she knows is how to sit on the front porch and say: 'Oh +you don't mean _that!_' to somebody like Newland Sanders or that ole +widower!" + +"When?" Noble asked impulsively. "When did she say that?" + +"Oh, I d' know," said Herbert. "I expect she proba'ly says it to +somebody or other about every evening there is." + +"She does?" + +"Florence says so," Herbert informed him carelessly. "Florence goes over +to grandpa's after dark and sits on the ground up against the porch and +listens." + +Noble first looked startled then uneasily reminiscent. "I don't believe +Florence ought to do that," he said gravely. + +"_I_ wouldn't do it!" Herbert was emphatic. + +"That's right, Herbert. I'm glad you wouldn't." + +"No, sir," the manly boy declared. "You wouldn't never catch _me_ takin' +my death o' cold sittin' on the damp grass in the night air just to +listen to a lot o' tooty-tooty about 'I've named a star for you,' and +all such. You wouldn't catch me----" + +Noble partly concealed a sudden anguish. "Who?" he interrupted. "Who did +she say _that_ to?" + +"She didn't. They say it to her, and she says? 'Oh, you don't mean +that!' and of course then they haf to go on and say some more. Florence +says----" He checked himself. "Oh, I forgot! I promised Florence I +wouldn't tell anything about all this." + +"It's safe," Noble assured him quickly. "I'm quite a friend of +Florence's and it's absolutely safe with me. I won't speak of it to +anybody, Herbert. Who was it told her he'd named a star for her?" + +"It was the way some ole poem began. Newland Sanders wrote it. Florence +found it under Aunt Julia's sofa-cushions and read it all through, but +_I_ wouldn't wade through all that tooty-tooty for a million dollars, +and I told her to put it back before Aunt Julia noticed. Well, about +every day he writes her a fresh one, and then in the evening he stays +later than the rest, and reads 'em to her--and you ought to hear grandpa +when _he_ gets to talkin' about it!" + +"He's perfectly right," said Noble. "Perfectly! What does he say when he +talks about it, Herbert?" + +"Oh, he says all this and that; and then he kind of mutters around, and +you can't tell just what all the words are exactly, so't he can deny it +if any o' the family accuses him of swearing or anything." And Herbert +added casually: "He was kind of goin' on like that about you, night +before last." + +"About _me_! Why, what could he say about _me_?" + +"Oh, all this and that." + +"But what did he find to say?" + +"Well, he heard her tellin' you how you oughtn't to smoke so many +cigarettes and all about how it was killin' you, and you sayin' you +guessed it wouldn't matter if you _did_ die, and Aunt Julia sayin' 'Oh, +you don't mean that,' and all this and such and so on, you know. He can +hear anything on the porch pretty good from the lib'ary; and Florence +told me about that, besides, because she was sittin' in the grass and +all. She told Great-Uncle Joe and Aunt Hattie about it, too." + +"My heavens!" Noble gasped, as for the first time he realized to what +trumpeting publicity that seemingly hushed and moonlit bower, sacred to +Julia, had been given over. He gulped, flushed, repeated "My heavens!" +and then was able to add, with a feeble suggestion of lightness: "I +suppose your grandfather understood it was just a sort of joke, didn't +he?" + +"No," said Herbert, and continued in a friendly way, for he was +flattered by Noble's interest in his remarks, and began to feel a +liking for him. "No. He said Aunt Julia only talked like that because +she couldn't think of anything else to say, and it was wearin' him out. +He said all the good it did was to make you smoke more to make her think +how reckless you were; but the worst part of it was, he'd be the only +one to suffer, because it blows all through the house and he's got to +sit in it. He said he just could stand the smell of _some_ cigarettes, +but if you burned any more o' yours on his porch he was goin' to ask +your father to raise your salary for collectin' real-estate rents, so't +you'd feel able to buy some real tobacco. He----" + +But the flushed listener felt that he had heard as much as he was called +upon to bear; and he interrupted, in a voice almost out of control, to +say that he must be "getting on downtown." His young friend, diverted +from bugs, showed the greatest willingness to continue the narrative +indefinitely, evidently being in possession of copious material; but +Noble turned to depart. An afterthought detained him. "Where was it she +lost her earring?" + +"Who?" + +"Your Aunt Julia." + +"Why, _I_ didn't say she lost any earring," Herbert returned. "I said +she always _was_ losin' 'em: I didn't say she did." + +"Then you didn't mean----" + +"No," said Herbert, "_I_ haven't heard of her losin' anything at all, +lately." Here he added: "Well, grandpa kept goin' on about you, and he +told her----Well, so long!" And gazed after the departing Mr. Dill in +some surprise at the abruptness of the latter's leave-taking. Then, +wondering how the back of Noble's neck could have got itself so fiery +sunburnt, Herbert returned to his researches in the grass. + + * * * * * + +The peaceful street, shady and fragrant with summer, was so quiet that +the footfalls of the striding Noble were like an interruption of +coughing in a silent church. As he seethed adown the warm sidewalk the +soles of his shoes smote the pavement, for mentally he was walking not +upon cement but upon Mr. Atwater. + +Unconsciously his pace presently became slower for a more concentrated +brooding upon this slanderous old man who took advantage of his position +to poison his daughter's mind against the only one of her suitors who +cared in the highest way. And upon this there came an infinitesimal +consolation in the midst of anguish, for he thought of what Herbert had +told him about Mr. Newland Sanders's poems to Julia, and he had a strong +conviction that one time or another Mr. Atwater must have spoken even +more disparagingly of these poems and their author than he had of Orduma +cigarettes and their smoker. Perhaps the old man was not altogether +vile. + +This charitable moment passed. He recalled the little moonlit drama on +the embowered veranda, when Julia, in her voice of plucked harp strings, +told him that he smoked too much, and he had said it didn't matter; +nobody would care much if he died--and Julia said gently that his mother +would, and other people, too; he mustn't talk so recklessly. Out of this +the old eavesdropper had viciously represented him to be a poser, not +really reckless at all; had insulted his cigarettes and his salary. +Well, Noble would show him! He had doubts about being able to show Mr. +Atwater anything important connected with the cigarettes or the salary, +but he _could_ prove how reckless he was. With that, a vision formed +before him: he saw Julia and her father standing spellbound at a +crossing while a smiling youth stood directly between the rails in the +middle of the street and let a charging trolley-car destroy him--not +instantly, for he would live long enough to whisper, as the stricken +pair bent over him: "Now, Julia, which do you believe: your father, or +me?" And then with a slight, dying sneer: "Well, Mr. Atwater, is _this_ +reckless enough to suit you?" + + * * * * * + +Town squirrels flitted along their high paths in the shade-tree branches +above the embittered young lover, and he noticed them not at all, which +was but little less than he noticed the elderly human couple who +observed him from a side-yard as he passed by. Mr. and Mrs. Burgess had +been happily married for fifty-three years and four months. Mr. Burgess +lay in a hammock between two maple trees, and was soothingly swung by +means of a string connecting the hammock and the rocking-chair in which +sat Mrs Burgess, acting as a mild motor for both the chair and the +hammock. "That's Noble Dill walking along the sidewalk," Mrs. Burgess +said, interpreting for her husband's failing eyes. "I bowed to him, but +he hardly seemed to see us and just barely lifted his hat. He needn't be +cross with _us_ because some other young man's probably taking Julia +Atwater out driving!" + +"Yes, he need!" Mr. Burgess declared. "A boy in his condition needs to +be cross with everything. Sometimes they get so cross they go and drink +liquor. Don't you remember?" + +She laughed. "I remember once!" she assented, and laughed again. + +"Why, it's a terrible time of life," her husband went on. "Poets and +suchlike always take on about young love as if it were a charming and +romantic experience, but really it's just a series of mortifications. +The young lover is always wanting to do something dashing and romantic +and Sir Walter Raleigh-like, but in ordinary times about the wildest +thing he can do, if he can afford it, is to learn to run a Ford. And he +can't stand a word of criticism; he can't stand being made the least +little bit of fun of; and yet all the while his state of mind lays him +particularly open to all the things he can't stand. He can't stand +anything, and he has to stand everything. Why, it's a _horrible_ time of +life, mamma!" + +"Yes, it is," she assented placidly. "I'm glad we don't have to go +through it again, Freddie; though you're only eighty-two, and with a +girl like Julia Atwater around nobody ought to be sure." + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +Although Noble had saluted the old couple so crossly, thus unconsciously +making them, as he made the sidewalk, proxy for Mr. Atwater, so to +speak, yet the sight of them penetrated his outer layers of +preoccupation and had an effect upon him. In the midst of his suffering +his imagination paused for a shudder: What miserable old gray shadows +those two were! Thank Heaven he and Julia could never be like that! And +in the haze that rose before his mind's eye he saw himself leading Julia +through years of adventure in far parts of the world: there were +glimpses of himself fighting grotesque figures on the edge of Himalayan +precipices at dawn, while Julia knelt by the tent on the glacier and +prayed for him. He saw head-waiters bowing him and Julia to tables in +"strange, foreign cafes," and when they were seated, and he had ordered +dishes that amazed her, he would say in a low voice: "Don't look now, +but do you see that heavy-shouldered man with the insignia, sitting +with that adventuress and those eight officers who are really his +guards? Don't be alarmed, Julia, but I am here to _get_ that man! +Perhaps you remember what your father once said of me? Now, when what I +have to do here is done, perhaps you may wish to write home and mention +a few things to that old man!" And then a boy's changing voice seemed to +sound again close by: "He said he just could stand the smell of _some_ +cigarettes, but if you burned any more o' yours on his porch----" And +Noble came back miserably to town again. + +From an upper window of a new stucco house two maidens of nineteen +peered down at him. The shade of a striped awning protected the window +from the strong sun and the maidens from the sight of man--the latter +protection being especially fortunate, since they were preparing to take +a conversational afternoon nap, were robed with little substance, and +their heads appeared to be antlered; for they caught sight of Noble just +as they were preparing to put silk-and-lace things they called "caps" on +their heads. + +"Who's that?" the visiting one asked. + +"It's Noble Dill; he's kind of one of the crowd." + +"Is he nice?" + +"Oh, sort of. Kind of shambles around." + +"Looks like last year's straw hat to me," the visiting one giggled. + +"Oh, he tries to dress--lately, that is--but he never did know how." + +"Looks mad about something." + +"Yes. He's one of the ones in love with that Julia Atwater I told you +about." + +"Has he got any chance with her?" + +"Noble Dill? Mercy!" + +"Is he much in love with her?" + +"'Much'? _Murder!_" + +The visiting one turned from the window and yawned. "Come on: let's lie +down and talk about some of the nice ones!" + +The second house beyond this was--it was the house of Julia! + +And what a glamour of summer light lay upon it because it was the house +of Julia! The texture of the sunshine came under a spell here; glowing +flakes of amber were afloat; a powder of opals and rubies fell silently +adrizzle through the trees. The very air changed, beating faintly with a +fairy music, for breathing it was breathing sorcery: elfin symphonies +went tinkling through it. The grass in the next yard to Julia's was +just grass, but every blade of grass in her yard was cut of jewels. + +Julia's house was also the house of that person who through some +ungovernable horseplay of destiny happened to be her father: and this +gave the enchanted spot a background of lurking cyclone--no one could +tell at what instant there might rise above the roseate pleasance a +funnel-shaped cloud. With young Herbert's injurious narrative fresh in +his mind, Noble quickened his steps; but as he reached the farther fence +post, marking the southward limit of Mr. Atwater's property, he halted +short, startled beautifully. Through the open front door, just passed, a +voice had called his name; a voice of such arresting sweetness that his +breath stopped, like his feet. + +"Oh, Noble!" it called again. + +He turned back, and any one who might have seen his face then would have +known what was the matter with him, and must have been only the more +sure of it because his mouth was open. The next instant the adequate +reason for his disorder came lightly through the open door and down to +the gate. + +Julia was kind, much too kind! She had heard that her Aunt Harriet and +her Uncle Joe were frequently describing Mr. Atwater's most recent +explosion to other members of the extensive Atwater family league; and +though she had not discovered how Aunt Harriet and Uncle Joe had +obtained their material, yet, in Julia's way of wording her thoughts, an +account of the episode was "all over town," and she was almost certain +that by this time Noble Dill had heard it. And so, lest he should +suffer, the too-gentle creature seized the first opportunity to cheer +him up. That was the most harmful thing about Julia; when anybody liked +her--even Noble Dill--she couldn't bear to have him worried. She was the +sympathetic princess who wouldn't have her puppy's tail chopped off all +at once, but only a little at a time. + +"I just happened to see you going by," she said, and then, with an +astounding perfection of seriousness, she added the question: "Did you +_mind_ my calling to you and stopping you, Noble?" + +He leaned, drooping, upon the gatepost, seeming to yearn toward it; his +expression was such that this gatepost need not have been surprised if +Noble had knelt to it. + +"Why, no," he said hoarsely. "No, I don't have to be back at the office +any particular time. No." + +"I just wanted to ask you----" She hesitated. "Well, it really doesn't +amount to anything--it's nothing so important I couldn't have spoken to +you about it some other time." + +"Well," said Noble, and then on the spur of the moment he continued +darkly: "There might not be any other time." + +"How do you mean, Noble?" + +He smiled faintly. "I'm thinking of going away." This was true; +nevertheless, it was the first time he had thought of it. "Going away," +he repeated in a murmur. "From this old town." + +A shadowy, sweet reproach came upon Julia's eyes. "You mean--for good, +Noble?" she asked in a low voice, although no one knew better than she +what trouble such performances often cost her, later. "Noble, you don't +mean----" + +He made a vocal sound conveying recklessness, something resembling a +reckless laugh. "I might go--any day! Just as it happens to strike me." + +"But where to, Noble?" + +"I don't----Well, maybe to China." + +"China!" she cried in amazement. "Why, Noble Dill!" + +"There's lots of openings in China," he said. "A white man can get a +commission in the Chinese army any day." + +"And so," she said, "you mean you'd rather be an officer in the Chinese +army than stay--here?" With that, she bit her lip and averted her face +for an instant, then turned to him again, quite calm. Julia could not +help doing these things; she was born that way, and no punishment +changed her. + +"Julia----" the dazzled Noble began, but he stopped with this beginning, +his voice seeming to have exhausted itself upon the name. + +"When do you think you'll start?" she asked. + +His voice returned. "I don't know _just_ when," he said; and he began to +feel a little too much committed to this sudden plan of departure, and +to wonder how it had come about. "I--I haven't set any day--exactly." + +"Have you talked it over with your mother yet, Noble?" + +"Not yet--exactly," he said, and was conscious of a distaste for China +as something unpleasant and imminent. "I thought I'd wait till--till it +was certain I _would_ go." + +"When will that be, Noble?" And in spite of herself, Julia spoke in the +tone of one who controls herself to ask in calmness: "Is my name on the +list for the guillotine?" + +"Well," he said, "it'll be as soon as I've made up my mind to go. I +probably won't go before then; not till I've made up my mind to." + +"But you might do that any day, mightn't you?" + +Noble began to feel relieved; he seemed to have hit upon a way out. +"Yes; and then I'd be gone," he said firmly. "But probably I wouldn't go +at all unless I decided to." This seemed to save him from China, and he +added recklessly: "I guess I wouldn't be missed much around this old +town if I did go." + +"Yes, you would," Julia said quickly. "Your family'd miss you--and so +would everybody." + +"Julia, _you_ wouldn't----" + +She laughed lightly. "Of course I should, and so would papa." + +Noble released the gatepost and appeared to slant backward. "What?" + +"Papa was talking about you this very morning at breakfast," she said; +and she spoke the truth. "He said he _dreamed_ about you last night." + +"He did?" + +Julia nodded sunnily. "He dreamed that you and he were the very greatest +friends!" This also was true, so far as it went; she only omitted to +state that Mr. Atwater had gone on to classify his dream as a nightmare. +"There!" she cried. "Why, of course he'd miss you--he'd miss you as much +as he'd miss any friend of mine that comes here." + +Noble felt a sudden rush of tenderness toward Mr. Atwater; it is always +possible to misjudge a man for a few hasty words. And Julia went on +quickly: + +"I never saw anybody like you, Noble Dill!" she exclaimed. "I don't +suppose there's anybody in the United States except you that would be +capable of doing things like going off to be an officer in the Chinese +army--all just any minute like this. I've always declared you were about +the most reckless man I know!" + +Noble shook his head. "No," he said judicially. "I'm not reckless; it's +just that I don't care what happens." + +Julia became grave. "Don't you?" + +"To me," he said hurriedly. "I mean I don't care what happens to myself. +I mean that's more the way I am than just reckless." + +She was content to let his analysis stand, though she shook her head, as +if knowing herself to be wiser than he about his recklessness. A +cheerfulness came upon them; and the Chinese question seemed to have +been settled by these indirect processes;--in fact, neither of them ever +mentioned it again. "I mustn't keep you," she said, "especially when you +ought to be getting on downtown to business, but----Oh!" She gave the +little cry of a forgetful person reminded. "I almost forgot what I ran +out to ask you!" + +"What was it, Julia?" Noble spoke huskily, in a low voice. "What is it +you want me to do, Julia?" + +She gave a little fluttering laugh, half timid, half confiding. "You +know how funny papa is about tobacco smoke?" (But she hurried on without +waiting for an answer.) "Well, he is. He's the funniest old thing; he +doesn't like _any_ kind very much except his own special cheroot things. +He growls about every other kind, but the cigars Mr. _Ridgely_ smokes +when he comes here, papa really _does_ make a fuss over! And, you see, I +don't like to say 'No' when Mr. Ridgely asks if he can smoke, because it +always makes men so uncomfortable if they can't when they're sitting on +a veranda, so I wondered if I could just tactfully get him to buy +something different from his cigars?--and I thought the best thing would +be to suggest those cigarettes you always have, Noble. They're the ones +papa makes the _least_ fuss about and seems to stand the best--next to +his own, he seems to like them the most, I mean--but I'd forgotten the +name of them. That's what I ran out to ask you." + +"Orduma," said Noble. "Orduma Egyptian Cigarettes." + +"Would you mind giving me one--just to show Mr. Ridgely?" + +Noble gave her an Orduma cigarette. + +"Oh, thank you!" she said gratefully. "I mustn't keep you another +minute, because I know your father wouldn't know _what_ to do at the +office without you! Thank you so much for this!" She turned and walked +quickly halfway up the path, then paused, looking back over her +shoulder. "I'll only show it to him, Noble," she said. "I won't give it +to him!" + +She bit her lip as if she had said more than she should have; shook her +head as in self-chiding; then laughed, and in a flash touched the tiny +white cylinder to her lips, waved it to him;--then ran to the veranda +and up the steps and into the house. She felt satisfied that she had set +matters right, this kind Julia! + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +Before she thus set matters right with Noble he had been unhappy and his +condition had been bad; now he was happy, but his condition was worse. +In truth, he was much, much too happy; nothing rational remained in his +mind. No elfin orchestra seemed to buzz in his ears as he went down the +street, but a loud, triumphing brass band. His unathletic chest was +inflated; he heaved up with joy; and a little child, playing on the next +corner, turned and followed him for some distance, trying to imitate his +proud, singular walk. Restored to too much pride, Noble became also much +too humane; he thought of Mr. Atwater's dream, and felt almost a +motherly need to cherish and protect him, to be indeed his friend. There +was a warm spot in Noble's chest, produced in part by a yearning toward +that splendid old man. Noble had a good home, sixty-six dollars in the +bank and a dollar and forty cents in his pockets; he would have given +all for a chance to show Mr. Atwater how well he understood him now, at +last, and how deeply he appreciated his favour. + +Students of alcoholic intoxication have observed that in their cups +commonplace people, and not geniuses, do the most unusual things. So +with all other intoxications. Noble Dill was indeed no genius, and some +friend should have kept an eye upon him to-day; he was not himself. All +afternoon in a mood of tropic sunrise he collected rents, or with glad +vagueness consented instantly to their postponement. "I've come about +the rent again," he said beamingly to one delinquent tenant of his +father's best client; and turned and walked away, humming a waltz-song, +while the man was still coughing as a preliminary to argument. + +Late in the afternoon, as the entranced collector sat musing alone near +a window in his father's office, his exalted mood was not affected by +the falling of a preternatural darkness over the town, nor was he roused +to action by any perception of the fact that the other clerks and the +members of the firm had gone home an hour ago; that the clock showed him +his own duty to lock up the office and not keep his mother "waiting +dinner"; and that he would be caught in a most outrageous thunderstorm +if he didn't hurry. No; he sat, smiling fondly, by the open window, and +at times made a fragmentary gesture as of some heroic or benevolent +impulse in rehearsal. + +Meanwhile, paunchy with wind and wetness, unmannerly clouds came smoking +out of the blackened west. Rumbling, they drew on. Then from cloud to +cloud dizzy amazements of white fire staggered, crackled and boomed on +to the assault; the doors of the winds were opened; the tanks of deluge +were unbottomed; and the storm took the town. So, presently, Noble +noticed that it was raining and decided to go home. + +With an idea that he was fulfilling his customary duties, he locked the +doors of the two inner rooms, dropped the keys gently into a +wastebasket, and passing by an umbrella which stood in a corner, went +out to the corridor, and thence stepped into the street of whooping +rain. + +Here he became so practical as to turn up his collar; and, substantially +aided by the wind at his back, he was not long in leaving the purlieus +of commerce behind him for Julia's Street. Other people lived on this +street--he did, himself, for that matter; and, in fact, it was the +longest street in the town; moreover, it had an official name with +which the word "Julia" was entirely unconnected; but for Noble Dill (and +probably for Newland Sanders and for some others in age from nineteen to +sixty) it was "Julia's Street" and no other. + +It was a tumultuous street as Noble splashed along the sidewalk. +Incredibly elastic, the shade-trees were practising calisthenics, though +now and then one outdid itself and lost a branch; thunder and lightning +romped like loosed scandal; rain hissed upon the pavement and capered +ankle-high. It was a storm that asked to be left to itself for a time, +after giving fair warning that the request would be made; and Noble and +the only other pedestrian in sight had themselves to blame for getting +caught. + +This other pedestrian was some forty or fifty yards in advance of Noble +and moved in the same direction at about the same gait. He wore an old +overcoat, running with water; the brim of his straw hat sagged about his +head, so that he appeared to be wearing a bucket; he was a sodden and +pathetic figure. Noble himself was as sodden; his hands were wet in his +very pockets; his elbows seemed to spout; yet he spared a generous pity +for the desolate figure struggling on before him. + +All at once Noble's heart did something queer within his wet bosom. He +recognized that figure, and he was not mistaken. Except the One figure, +and those of his own father and mother and three sisters, this was the +shape that Noble would most infallibly recognize anywhere in the world +and under any conditions. In spite of the dusk and the riot of the +storm, Noble knew that none other than Mr. Atwater splashed before him. + +He dismissed a project for seizing upon a fallen branch and running +forward to walk beside Mr. Atwater and hold the branch over his +venerated head. All the branches were too wet; and Noble feared that Mr. +Atwater might think the picture odd and decline to be thus protected. +Yet he felt that something ought to be done to shelter Julia's father +and perhaps save him from pneumonia; surely there was some simple, +helpful, dashing thing that ordinary people couldn't think of, but that +Noble could. He would do it and not stay to be thanked. And then, +to-morrow evening, not sooner, he would go to Julia and smile and say; +"Your father didn't get too wet, I hope, after all?" And Julia: "Oh, +Noble, he's talked of you all day long as his 'new Sir Walter +Raleigh'!" + +Suddenly will-o'-the-wisp opportunity flickered before him, and in his +high mood he paused not at all to consider it, but insanely chased it. +He had just reached a crossing, and down the cross street, walking away +from Noble, was the dim figure of a man carrying an umbrella. It was +just perceptible that he was a fat man, struggling with seeming +feebleness in the wind and making poor progress. Mr. Atwater, moving up +Julia's Street, was out of sight from the cross street where struggled +the fat man. + +Noble ran swiftly down the cross street, jerked the umbrella from the +fat man's grasp; ran back, with hoarse sounds dying out behind him in +the riotous dusk; turned the corner, sped after Mr. Atwater, overtook +him, and thrust the umbrella upon him. Then, not pausing the shortest +instant for thanks or even recognition, the impulsive boy sped onward, +proud and joyous in the storm, leaving his beneficiary far behind him. + +In his young enthusiasm he had indeed done something for Mr. Atwater. In +fact, Noble's kindness had done as much for Mr. Atwater as Julia's +gentleness had done for Noble, but how much both Julia and Noble had +done was not revealed in full until the next evening. + +That was a warm and moonshiny night of air unusually dry, and yet +Florence sneezed frequently as she sat upon the "side porch" at the +house of her Great-Aunt Carrie and her Great-Uncle Joseph. Florence had +a cold in the head, though how it got to her head was a process involved +in the mysterious ways of colds, since Florence's was easily to be +connected with Herbert's remark that he wouldn't ever be caught takin' +his death o' cold sittin' on the damp grass in the night air just to +listen to a lot o' tooty-tooty. It appeared from Florence's narrative to +those interested listeners, Aunt Carrie and Uncle Joseph, that she had +been sitting on the grass in the night air when both air and grass were +extraordinarily damp. In brief, she had been at her post soon after the +storm cleared on the preceding evening, but she had heard no +tooty-tooty; her overhearings were of sterner stuff. + +"Well, what did Julia say _then_?" Aunt Carrie asked eagerly. + +"She said she'd go up and lock herself in her room and stuff cushions +over her ears if grandpa didn't quit makin' such a fuss." + +"And what did he say?" + +"He made more rumpus than ever," said Florence. "He went on and on, and +told the whole thing over and over again; he seemed like he couldn't +tell it enough, and every time he told it his voice got higher and +higher till it was kind of squealy. He said he'd had his raincoat on and +he didn't want an umberella anyhow, and hadn't ever carried one a single +time in fourteen years! And he took on about Noble Dill and all this and +that about how you _bet_ he knew who it was! He said he could tell Noble +Dill in the dark any time by his cigarette smell, and, anyway, it wasn't +too dark so's he couldn't see his skimpy little shoulders, and anyway he +saw his face. And he said Noble didn't _hand_ him the umberella; he +stuck it all down over him like he was somep'n on fire he wanted to put +out; and before he could get out of it and throw it away this ole fat +man that it belonged to and was chasin' Noble, he ran up to grandpa from +behind and took hold of him, or somep'n, and they slipped, and got to +fussin' against each other; and then after a while they got up and +grandpa saw it was somebody he knew and told him for Heaven's sake why +didn't he take his ole umberella and go on home; and so he did, because +it was raining, and I guess he proba'ly had to give up; he couldn't +out-talk grandpa." + +"No," said Uncle Joe. "He couldn't, whoever he was. But what happened +about Noble Dill?" + +Florence paused to accumulate and explode a sneeze, then responded +pleasantly: "He said he was goin' to kill him. He said he often and +often wanted to, and now he _was_. That's the reason I guess Aunt Julia +wrote that note this morning." + +"What note?" Aunt Carrie inquired. "You haven't told us of that." + +"I was over there before noon," said Florence, "and Aunt Julia gave me a +quarter and said she'd write a note for me to take to Noble Dill's house +when he came home for lunch, and give it to him. She kind of slipped it +to me, because grandpa came in there, pokin' around, while she was just +finishin' writin' it. She didn't put any envelope on it even, and she +never said a single thing to _me_ about its bein' private or my not +readin' it if I wanted to, or anything." + +"Of course you didn't," said Aunt Carrie. "You didn't, did you, +Florence?" + +"Why, she didn't _say_ not to," Florence protested, surprised. "It +wasn't even in an envelope." + +Mr. Joseph Atwater coughed. "I hardly think we ought to ask what the +note said, even if Florence was--well, indiscreet enough to read it." + +"No," said his wife. "I hardly think so either. It didn't say anything +important anyhow, probably." + +"It began, 'Dear Noble,'" said Florence promptly. "Dear Noble'; that's +the way it began. It said how grandpa was just all upset to think he'd +accepted an umberella from him when Noble didn't have another one for +himself like that, and grandpa was so embarrassed to think he'd let +Noble do so much for him, and everything, he just didn't know _what_ to +do, and proba'ly it would be tactful if he wouldn't come to the house +till grandpa got over being embarrassed and everything. She said not to +come till she let him know." + +"Did you notice Noble when he read it?" asked Aunt Carrie. + +"Yessir! And would you believe it; he just looked _too_ happy!" Florence +made answer, not wholly comprehending with what truth. + +"I'll bet," said Uncle Joseph;--"I'll bet a thousand dollars that if +Julia told Noble Dill he was six feet tall, Noble would go and order his +next suit of clothes to fit a six-foot man." + +And his wife complemented this with a generalization, simple, yet of a +significance too little recognized. "They don't see a thing!" she said. +"The young men that buzz around a girl's house don't see a _thing_ of +what goes on there! Inside, I mean." + +Yet at that very moment a young man was seeing something inside a girl's +house a little way down that same street. That same street was Julia's +Street and the house was Julia's. Inside the house, in the library, sat +Mr. Atwater, trying to read a work by Thomas Carlyle, while a rhythmic +murmur came annoyingly from the veranda. The young man, watching him +attentively, saw him lift his head and sniff the air with suspicion, but +the watcher took this pantomime to be an expression of distaste for +certain versifyings, and sharing that distaste, approved. Mr. Atwater +sniffed again, threw down his book and strode out to the veranda. There +sat dark-haired Julia in a silver dress, and near by, Newland Sanders +read a long young poem from the manuscript. + +"Who is smoking out here?" Mr. Atwater inquired in a dead voice. + +"Nobody, sir," said Newland with eagerness. "_I_ don't smoke. I have +never touched tobacco in any form in my life." + +Mr. Atwater sniffed once more, found purity; and returned to the +library. But here the air seemed faintly impregnated with Orduma +cigarettes. "Curious!" he said as he composed himself once more to +read--and presently the odour seemed to wear away and vanish. Mr. +Atwater was relieved; the last thing he could have wished was to be +haunted by Noble Dill. + +Yet for that while he was. Too honourable to follow such an example as +Florence's, Noble, of course, would not spy or eavesdrop near the +veranda where Julia sat, but he thought there could be no harm in +watching Mr. Atwater read. Looking at Mr. Atwater was at least the next +thing to looking at Julia. And so, out in the night, Noble was seated +upon the top of the side fence, looking through the library window at +Mr. Atwater. + +After a while Noble lit another Orduma cigarette and puffed strongly to +start it. The smoke was almost invisible in the moonlight, but the night +breeze, stirring gently, wafted it toward the house, where the open +window made an inward draft and carried it heartily about the library. + +Noble was surprised to see Mr. Atwater rise suddenly to his feet. He +smote his brow, put out the light, and stamped upstairs to his own room. + +His purpose to retire was understood when the watcher saw a light in the +bedroom window overhead. Noble thought of the good, peculiar old man +now disrobing there, and he smiled to himself at a whimsical thought: +What form would Mr. Atwater's embarrassment take, what would be his +feeling, and what would he do, if he knew that Noble was there now, +beneath his window and thinking of him? + +In the moonlight Noble sat upon the fence, and smoked Orduma cigarettes, +and looked up with affection at the bright window of Mr. Atwater's +bedchamber. Abruptly the light in that window went out. + +"Saying his prayers now," said Noble. "I wonder if----" But, not to be +vain, he laughed at himself and left the thought unfinished. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +A week later, on a hot July afternoon, Miss Florence Atwater, recovered +from her cold, stood in the shady back yard of her place of residence +and yawned more extensively than any one would have believed possible, +judging by her face in repose. Three of her friends, congenial in age +and sex, were out of town for the summer; two had been ascertained, by +telephonic inquiries, to be taking commanded siestas; and neither the +other one nor Florence had yet forgotten that yesterday, although they +were too religious to commit themselves to a refusal to meet as sisters +in the Great Beyond, they had taken the expurgated oath that by +Everything they would never speak to each other again so long as they +both should live. + +Florence was at the end of her resources. She had sought distraction in +experimental cookery; but, having scorched a finger, and having been +told by the cook that a person's own kitchen wasn't worth the price at +eleven dollars a week if it had to git all smelled up with broiled +rubber when the femometer stood at ninety-sevvum degrees in the shade, +the experimenter abusedly turned her back on the morose woman and went +out to the back yard for a little peace. + +After an interval of torpor, she decided to go and see what Herbert was +doing--a move not short of desperation, on account of Herbert's new +manner toward her. For a week Herbert had steadily pursued his +scientific career, and he seemed to feel that in it he had attained a +distinction beyond the reach of Florence. What made it ridiculous for +her to hope was, of course, the fact that she was a girl, and Herbert +had explained this to her in a cold, unpleasant way; for it is true that +what is called "feminism" must be acquired by men, and is not a +condition, or taste, natural to them. At thirteen it has not been +acquired. + +She found him at home. He was importantly engaged in a room in the +cellar, where were loosely stored all manner of incapacitated household +devices; two broken clothes-wringers, a crippled and rusted +sewing-machine, an ice-cream freezer in like condition, a cracked and +discarded marble mantelpiece, chipped porcelain and chinaware of all +sorts, rusted stove lids and flatirons, half a dozen dead mops and +brooms. This was the laboratory, and here, in congenial solitude, +Herbert conducted his investigations. That is to say, until Florence +arrived he was undisturbed by human intrusion, but he was not alone--far +from it! There was, in fact, almost too much life in the place. + +Where the light fell clearest from the cobwebby windows at the ground +level overhead, he had placed a long deal table, once a helpmate in the +kitchen, but now a colourless antique on three legs and two starch +boxes. Upon the table were seven or eight glass jars, formerly used for +preserves and pickles, and a dozen jelly glasses (with only streaks and +bits of jelly in them now) and five or six small round pasteboard +pill-boxes. The jars were covered, some with their own patent tops, +others with shingles or bits of board, and one with a brick. The jelly +glasses stood inverted, and were inhabited; so were the preserve jars +and pickle jars; and so were the pill-boxes, which evidently contained +star boarders, for they were pierced with "breathing holes," and one of +them, standing upon its side like a little wheel, now and then moved in +a faint, ghostly manner as if about to start rolling on its own +account--whereupon Herbert glanced up and addressed it sternly, though +somewhat inconsistently: "You shut up!" + +In the display of so much experimental paraphernalia, there may have +been a hint that Herbert's was a scientific nature craving rather +quantity than quality; his collection certainly possessed the virtue of +multitudinousness, if that be a virtue; and the birds in the +neighbourhood must have been undergoing a great deal of disappointment. +In brief, as many bugs as Herbert now owned have seldom been seen in the +custody of any private individual. And nearly all of them were alive, +energetic and swearing, though several of the preserve jars had been +imperfectly drained of their heavy syrups, and in one of them a great +many spiders seemed to be having, of the whole collection, the poorest +time; being pretty well mired down and yet still subject to +disagreements among themselves. The habits of this group, under such +unusual surroundings, formed the subject of Herbert's special study at +the moment of Florence's arrival. He was seated at the table and +frowning with science as he observed the unfortunates through that +magnifying-glass, his discovery of which was responsible for their +present condition and his own choice of a career. + +Florence paused in the doorway, but he gave no sign of recognition, +unless his intensified preoccupation was a sign, and Florence, +perceiving what line of conduct he meant to adopt, instinctively +selected a reciprocal one for herself. "Herbert Atwater, you ought to be +punished! I'm goin' to tell your father and mother." + +"You g'way," Herbert returned, unmoved; and, without condescending to +give her a glance, he set down the magnifying-glass, and with a pencil +wrote something profoundly entomological in a soiled memorandum book +upon the table. "Run away, Flor'nce. Run away somewheres and play." + +Florence approached. "'Play'!" she echoed tartly. "I should think _you_ +wouldn't talk much about 'playin',' the way you're teasing those poor, +poor little bugs!" + +"'Teasing'!" Herbert exclaimed: "That shows! That shows!" + +"Shows what?" + +"How much you know!" He became despondent about her. "See here, +Florence; it does look to me as though at your age a person ought to +know anyway enough not to disturb me when I'm expairamenting, and +everything. I should think----" + +But she did not prove so meek as to await the conclusion of his +remonstrance. "I never saw anything as wicked in my whole born days! +What did any of those poor, poor little bugs ever do to _you_, I'd like +to know, you got to go and confine 'em like this! And look how dirty +your hands are!" + +This final charge, wandering so far from her previous specifications of +his guilt, was purely automatic and conventional; Florence often +interjected it during the course of any cousinly discussion, whatever +the subject in dispute, and she had not even glanced at Herbert's hands +to assure herself that the accusation was warranted. But, as usual, the +facts supported her; and they also supported Herbert in his immediate +mechanical retort: "So're yours!" + +"Not either!" But here Florence, after instinctively placing her hands +behind her, brought forth the right one to point, and simultaneously +uttered a loud cry: "Oh, _look_ at your hands!" For now she did look at +Herbert's hands, and was amazed. + +"Well, what of it?" + +"They're all lumpy!" she cried, and, as her gaze rose to his cheek, her +finger followed her eyes and pointed to strange appearances there. "Look +at your _face_!" + +"Well, what of it?" he demanded, his tone not entirely free from +braggadocio. "A girl can't make expairaments the way I do, because if +one of these good ole bumblebees or hornets of mine was to give 'em a +little sting, once in a while, while they was catchin' 'em and puttin' +'em in a jar, all they'd know how to do'd be to holler and run home to +their mamma. Nobody with any gumption minds a few little stings after +you put mud on 'em." + +"I guess it serves you right," Florence said, "for persecutin' these +poor, poor little bugs." + +Herbert became plaintive. "Look here, Florence; I do wish you'd go on +back home where you belong." + +But Florence did not reply; instead she picked up the magnifying-glass, +and, gazing through it at a pickle jar of mixed beetles, caterpillars, +angleworms, and potato bugs, permitted herself to shudder. "Vile +things!" she said. + +"They are not, either!" Herbert retorted hotly. "They're about the +finest insecks that you or anybody else ever saw, and you ought to be +ashamed----" + +"I ought?" his cousin cried. "Well, I should think you're the one ought +to be ashamed, if anybody ought! Down here in the cellar playin' with +all these vile bugs that ought to be given their liberty, or thrown +down the sewer, or somep'n!" Again, as she peered through the lens, she +shuddered. "Vile----" + +"Florence," he said sternly, "you lay down that magnifying-glass." + +"Why?" + +"Because you don't know how to handle it. A magnifying-glass has got to +be handled in just the right way, and you couldn't learn if you tried a +thousand years. That's a mighty fine magnifying-glass, and I don't +intend to have it ruined." + +"Why, just lookin' through it can't spoil it, can it?" she inquired, +surprised. + +"You lay it down," said Herbert darkly. "Lookin' through it the wrong +way isn't going to do it any _good_." + +"Why, how could just _lookin'_ through it----" + +"Lookin' through it the wrong way isn't goin' to _help_ it any, I tell +you!" he insisted. "You're old enough to know that, and I'm not goin' to +have my magnifying-glass spoiled and all my insecks wasted just because +of a mere whin of yours!" + +"A what?" + +"A mere whin, I said!" + +"What's a whin?" + +"Never you mind," said Herbert ominously. "You'll proba'ly find out some +day when you aren't expectin' to!" + +Undeniably, Florence was somewhat impressed: she replaced the +magnifying-glass upon the table and picked up the notebook. + +"You lay that down, too," said Herbert instantly. + +"Oh, maybe it's somep'n you're _'shamed_ to----" + +"Go on and read it, then," he said, suddenly changing his mind, for he +was confident that she would find matter here that might cause her to +appreciate at least a little of her own inferiority. + +"'Nots'," Florence began. "'Nots'----" + +"Notes!" he corrected her fiercely. + +"'Notes'," she read. "'Notes on our inseck friends. The spidder----'" + +"_Spider!_" + +"'The spider spends his time mostly in cobwebs which he digilently spins +between posts and catches flies to eat them. They are different coloured +and sizes and have legs in pairs. Spiders also spin their webs in +corners or in weeds or on a fence and sometimes in the grass. They are +more able to get about quicker than catapillars or fishing worms, but +cannot fly such as pinching bugs, lightning bugs, and birds because +having no wings, nor jump as far as the grass hoper----'" + +"Grasshopper!" Herbert shouted. + +"I'm readin' it the way it's spelled," Florence explained. "Anyway, it +don't make much sense." + +Herbert was at least enough of an author to be furious. "Lay it down!" +he said bitterly. "And go on back home to your dolls." + +"Dolls certainly would be _cleaner_ than vile bugs," Florence retorted, +tossing the book upon the table. "But in regards to that, I haven't had +any," she went on, airily--"not for years and years and years and----" + +He interrupted her, his voice again plaintive. "See here, Florence, how +do you expect me to get my _work_ done, with you everlastin'ly talkin' +and goin' on around here like this? Can't you see I've got somep'n +pretty important on my hands?" + +Florence became thoughtful. "I never did see as many bugs before, all +together this way," she said. "What you goin' to do with 'em, Herbert?" + +"I'm makin' my expairaments." + +But her thoughtfulness increased. "It seems to me," she said +slowly:--"Herbert, it seems to me there must be some awful inter'sting +thing we could do with so many bugs all together like this." + +"'We'!" he cried. "My goodness, whose insecks do you think these insecks +are?" + +"I just know there's somep'n," she went on, following her own line of +thought, and indifferent to his outburst. "There's somep'n we could do +with 'em that we'd never forget, if we could only think of it." + +In spite of himself, Herbert was interested. "Well, what?" he asked. +"What could we do with 'em we'd never forget?" + +In her eyes there was a far-away light as of a seeress groping. "I don't +just know exackly, but I know there's _somep'n_--if we could only think +of it--if we could just----" And her voice became inaudible, as in +dreamy concentration she seated herself upon the discarded ice-cream +freezer, and rested her elbows upon her knees and her chin upon the +palms of her hands. + +In silence then, she thought and thought. Herbert also was silent, for +he, too, was trying to think, not knowing that already he had proved +himself to be wax in her hands, and that he was destined further to show +himself thus malleable. Like many and many another of his sex, he never +for an instant suspected that he spent the greater part of his time +carrying out ideas implanted within him by a lady-friend. Florence was +ever the imaginative one of those two, a maiden of unexpected fancies +and inexplicable conceptions, a mind of quicksilver and mist. There was +within her the seedling of a creative artist, and as she sat there, on +the ice-cream freezer in Herbert's cellar, with the slowly growing +roseate glow of deep preoccupation upon her, she looked strangely sweet +and good, and even almost pretty. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +"Do you s'pose," she said, at last, in a musing voice: "Herbert, do you +s'pose maybe there's some poor family's children somewheres that haven't +got any playthings or anything and we could take all these----" + +But here Herbert proved unsympathetic. "I'm not goin' to give my insecks +to any poor people's children," he said emphatically. "I don't care how +poor they are!" + +"Well, I thought maybe just as a surprise----" + +"I won't do it. I had mighty hard work to catch this c'lection, and I'm +not goin' to give it away to anybody, I don't care how surprised they'd +be! Anyway, I'd never get any thanks for it; they wouldn't know how to +handle 'em, and they'd get all stung up: and what'd be the use, anyhow? +I don't see how _that's_ goin' to be somep'n so interesting we'd never +forget it." + +"No," she said. "I guess it wouldn't. I just thought it would be kind of +a bellnevolent thing to do." + +This word disturbed Herbert, but he did not feel altogether secure in +his own impression that "benovvalent" was the proper rendition of what +she meant, and so refrained from criticism. Their musing was resumed. + +"There's one thing I do wish," Florence said suddenly, after a time. "I +wish we could find some way to use the c'lection that would be useful +for Noble Dill." + +Now, at this, her cousin's face showed simple amazement. "What on earth +you talkin' about?" + +"Noble Dill," she said dreamily. "He's the only one I like that comes to +see Aunt Julia. Anyway, I like him the most." + +"I bet Aunt Julia don't!" + +"I don't care: he's the one _I_ wish she'd get married to." + +Herbert was astounded. "Noble Dill? Why, I heard mamma and Aunt Hattie +and Uncle Joe talkin' about him yesterday." + +"What'd they say?" + +"Most of the time," said Herbert, "they just laughed. They said Noble +Dill was the very last person in this town Aunt Julia'd ever dream o' +marryin'. They said he wasn't anything: they said he wasn't handsome +and he wasn't distingrished-looking----" + +"I think he is," Florence interposed. "I think he's _very_ +distingrished-looking." + +"Well, they said he wasn't, and they know more'n you do. Why, Noble Dill +isn't hardly any taller'n I am myself, and he hasn't got any muscle +partickyourly. Aunt Julia wouldn't look at him!" + +"She does, too! My goodness, how could he sit on the porch, right in +front of her, for two or three hours at a time, without her lookin' at +him?" + +"I don't care," Herbert insisted stubbornly. "_They_ said Aunt Julia +wouldn't. They said she was the worst flirt had ever been in the whole +family and Noble Dill had the worst case they ever saw, but she wouldn't +ever look at him, and if she did she'd be crazy." + +"Well, anyway," said Florence, "I think he's the nicest of all that goes +to see her, and I wish we could use this c'lection some way that would +be nice for him." + +Herbert renewed his protest. "How many times I got to tell you I had a +hard enough time catchin' this c'lection, day in and day out, from +before daylight till after dark, and then fixin' 'em all up like this +and everything! I don't prapose to waste 'em just to suit Noble Dill, +and I'm not goin' to give 'em away either. If anybody wanted to buy 'em +and offered a good fair price, money down, why, I----" + +"_That's_ it, Herbert!" his lady-cousin exclaimed with sudden +excitement. "Let's sell 'em!" She jumped up, her eyes bright. "I bet we +could get maybe five dollars for 'em. We can pour the ones that are in +the jars that haven't got tops and the ones in the jelly glasses and +pill-boxes--we can pour all those into the jars that have got tops, and +put the tops on again, and that'd just about fill those jars--and then +we could put 'em in a basket and take 'em out and sell 'em!" + +"Where could we sell 'em?" Herbert inquired, not convinced. + +"At the fish store!" she cried. "Everybody uses bugs and worms for bait +when they go fishing, don't they? I bet the fish man'll buy all the +worms we got, even if he wouldn't buy anything else. I bet he'll buy all +the others, too! I bet he never saw as much good bait as this all at one +time in his whole life! I bet he'll give us five dollars--maybe more!" + +Herbert was dazzled; the thought of this market was a +revelation--nothing could have been more plausible. Considered as bait, +the c'lection at once seemed to acquire a practical and financial value +which it lacked, purely as a c'lection. And with that the amateur and +scientist disappeared, giving way to the person of affairs. "'Give _us_ +five dollars'?" he said, in this capacity, and for deeper effect he used +a rhetorical expression: "Who do you think is the owner of all this fish +bait, may I ask you, pray?" + +"Yes, you _may_, pray!" was his cousin's instant and supercilious +retort. "Pray where would you ever of got any five dollars from any fish +man, if it hadn't been for me, pray? Pray, didn't I first sajest our +doing somep'n with the bugs we'd never forget, and if the fish man gives +us five dollars for 'em won't we remember it all our lives, pray? And, +pray, what part did you think up of all this, pray? Not one single +thing, and if you don't divide even with me, I'll run ahead and tell the +fish man the whole c'lection has been in bottles that had old medicine +and poison in 'em--and then where'll _you_ be, pray?" + +It is to be doubted that Florence possessed the cold-blooded capacities +with which this impromptu in diplomacy seemed to invest her: probably +she would never have gone so far. But the words sufficed; and Herbert +was so perfectly intimidated that he was even unresentful. "Well, you +can have your ole two dollars and a half, whether you got a right to it +or not," he said. "But you got to carry the basket." + +"No," said Florence. "This has got to be done right, Herbert. We're +partners now and everything's got to be divided just exackly even. I'll +carry the basket half the way and you carry it the other half." + +"Well----" he grumbled, consenting. + +"That's the only right way," she said sunnily. "You carry it till we get +to the fish man's, and I'll carry it all the way back." + +But even Herbert could perceive the inequality here. "It'll be empty +then," he protested. + +"Fair's fair and wrong's wrong," she returned firmly. "I spoke first to +carry it on the way home, and the one that speaks first gets it!" + +"Look here!" + +"Herbert, we got to get all these bugs fixed up and ready," she urged. +"We don't want to waste the whole afternoon just talkin' about it, do +we? Besides, Herbert, on the way home you'll have two dollars and a half +in your pocket, or anyway as much as you have left, if you buy some +soda and candy and things, and you'll feel so fine then you won't mind +whether you're carrying the basket or not." + +The picture she now suggested to Herbert's mind was of himself carrying +the basket both to the fish man and from the fish man: and he found +himself anxious to protest, yet helpless in a maze of perplexity. "But +wait a minute," he began. "You said----" + +"Let's don't waste another minute," she interrupted briskly. "I +shouldn't wonder it was after four o'clock by this time, and we both +need money. Hurry, Herbert!" + +"But didn't you say----" He paused to rub his head. "You said I'd feel +so good I wouldn't mind if I--if----" + +"No. I said, 'Hurry'!" + +"Well----" And though he felt that a subtle injustice lurked somewhere, +he was unable to think the matter out clearly into its composing +elements, and gave up trying. Nevertheless, as he obeyed her, and began +to "hurry," there remained with him an impression that by some foggy and +underhand process he had been committed to acquiescence in an unfair +division of labour. + +In this he was not mistaken. An hour later he and Florence were on their +way home from the fish man's place of business, and Herbert, having +carried the basket thither, was now carrying it thence. Moreover, his +burden was precisely as heavy on this homeward leg of the course as it +had been on that terminating at the fish store, for, covered by a +discreet newspaper, the preserve and pickle jars still remained within +the basket, their crowding and indignant contents intact. The fish man +had explained in terms derisive, but plain, the difference between a +fish man and a fisherman. He had maintained his definitions of the two +economic functions in spite of persistent arguments on the part of the +bait-dealers, and in the face of reductions that finally removed ninety +per cent. of their asking price. He wouldn't give fifty cents, or ten +cents, or one cent, he said: and he couldn't furnish the address of +anybody else that would. His fish came by express, he declared, again +and again: and the only people he knew that did any fishing were mainly +coloured, and dug their own bait; and though these might possibly be +willing to accept the angle worms as a gift, they would probably incline +to resent a generosity including so many spiders, not to speak of the +dangerous winged members of the c'lection. On account of these latter, +he jocosely professed himself to be anxious lest the tops of some of the +jars might work loose--and altogether he was the most disheartening man +they had ever met. + +Anticlimax was never the stimulant of amiability, and, after an +altercation on the pavement just outside of the store, during which the +derisive fish man continually called to them to go on and take that +there basket out of the neighbourhood, the cousins moved morbidly away, +and walked for a time in silence. + +They brooded. Herbert was even more embittered with Florence than he was +with the fish man, and Florence found life full of unexpectedness; it +had been so clear to her that the fish man would say: "Why, certainly. +Here's five dollars; two dollars and a half for each of you. Would you +care to have the jars back?" The facts, so contrary, seemed to wear the +aspect of deliberate malice, and she felt ill-used, especially as she +had several physical grievances, due to her assistance in pouring part +of the c'lection into the jars with tops. In spite of every precaution +three or four of the liveliest items had made their escape, during this +pouring, and had behaved resentfully. Florence bore one result on the +back of her left hand, two others on the thumb and second finger of her +right hand, and another, naturally the most conspicuous, on the point of +her chin. These had all been painful, in spite of mud poultices, but, +excited by the anticipation of a kindly smiling fish man, and occupied +with plans for getting Herbert to spend part of his two dollars and a +half for mutual refreshment, she had borne up cheerfully. Now, +comprehending that she had suffered in vain, she suffered anew, and +hated bugs, all fish men, and the world. + +It was Herbert who broke the silence and renewed the altercation. "How +far you expeck me to go on luggin' this ole basket?" he demanded +bitterly. "All the way home?" + +"I don't care how far," she informed him. "You can throw it away if you +want to. It's certainly no propaty of mine, thank you!" + +"Look here, didn't you promise you'd carry it home?" + +"I said I _spoke_ to. I didn't say I _would_ carry it." + +"Well, I'd like to know the dif----" + +But Florence cut him off. "I'll tell you the difference, since you're so +anxious to know the truth, Mister Herbert Atwater! The difference is +just this: you had no biznuss to meddle with those vile ole bugs in the +first place, and get me all stung up so't I shouldn't wonder I'd haf to +have the doctor, time I get home, and if I do I'm goin' to tell mamma +all about it and make her send the bill to your father. I want you to +know I _hurt_!" + +"My goodness!" Herbert burst out. "Don't you s'pose _I_ hurt any? I +guess you don't hurt any worse than----" + +She stopped him: "Listen!" + +From down the street there came a brazen clamouring for the right of +way; it grew imperiously louder, and there were clatterings and +whizzings of metallic bodies at speed, while little blurs and +glistenings in the distance grew swiftly larger, taking shape as a fire +engine and a hose-cart. Then, round the near-by corner, came perilously +steering the long "hook-and-ladder wagon"; it made the turn and went by, +with its firemen imperturbable on the running boards. + +"Fire!" Florence cried joyfully. "Let's go!" And, pausing no instant, +she made off up the street, shouting at the top of her voice: "_Fire! +Fire! Fire! Fire!_" + +Herbert followed. He was not so swift a runner as she, though this he +never submitted to a test admitted to be fair and conclusive; and he +found her demonstration of superiority particularly offensive now, as +she called back over her shoulder: "Why don't you keep up with me? Can't +you keep up?" + +"I'd _show_ you!" he panted. "If I didn't haf to lug this ole basket, +I'd leave you a mile behind mighty quick." + +"Well, why'n't you drop it, then?" + +"You s'pose I'm goin' to throw my c'lection away after all the trouble I +been _through_ with it?" + +She slackened her gait, dropping back beside him. "Well, then, if you +think you could keep up with me if you didn't have it, why'n't you leave +it somewhere, and come back and get it after the fire's over?" + +"No place to leave it." + +She laughed, and pointed. "Why'n't you leave it at grandpa's?" + +"Will you wait for me and start fair?" + +"Come on!" They obliqued across the street, still running forward, and +at their grandfather's gate Herbert turned in and sped toward the house. + +"Take it around to the kitchen and give it to Kitty Silver," Florence +called. "Tell Kitty Silver to take care of it for you." + +But Herbert was in no mind to follow her advice; a glance over his +shoulder showed that Florence was taking another unfair advantage of +him. "You wait!" he shouted. "You stand still till I get back there! You +got half a mile start a'ready! You wait till we can start even!" + +But Florence was skipping lightly away and she caroled over her +shoulder, waving her hand in mocking farewell as she began to run: + + "Ole Mister Slowpoke can't catch me! + Ole Mister Slowpoke couldn't catch a flea!" + +"I'll show you!" he bellowed, and, not to lose more time, he dashed up +the steps of the deserted veranda, thrust his basket deep underneath a +wicker settee, and ran violently after his elusive cousin. + +She kept a tantalizing distance between them, but when they reached the +fire it was such a grand one they forgot all their differences--and also +all about the basket. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +Noble Dill came from his father's house, after dinner that evening, a +youth in blossom, like the shrubberies and garden beds in the dim yards +up and down Julia's Street. All cooled and bathed and in new clothes of +white, he took his thrilled walk through the deep summer twilight, on +his way to that ineffable Front Porch where sat Julia, misty in the +dusk. The girlish little new moon had perished naively out of the sky; +the final pinkness of the west was gone; blue evening held the quiet +world; and overhead, between the branches of the maple trees, were +powdered all those bright pin points of light that were to twinkle on +generations of young lovers after Noble Dill, each one, like Noble, +walking the same fragrant path in summer twilights to see the Prettiest +Girl of All. + +Now and then there came to the faintly throbbing ears of the pedestrian +a murmur of voices from lawns where citizens sat cooling after the day's +labour, or a tinkle of laughter from where maidens dull (not being +Julia) sat on verandas vacant of beauty and glamour. For these poor +things, Noble felt a wondering and disdainful pity; he pitied everything +in the world that was not on the way to starry Julia. + +Eight nights had passed since he, himself, had seen her, but to-day she +had replied (over the telephone) that Mr. Atwater seemed to have settled +down again, and she believed it might be no breach of tact for Noble to +call that evening--especially as she would be on the veranda, and he +needn't ring the bell. Would she be alone--for once? It was improbable, +yet it could be hoped. + +But as he came hoping up the street, another already sat beside Julia, +sharing with her the wicker settee on the dim porch, and this was the +horn-rimmed young poet. Newland had, as usual, a new poem with him; and +as others had proved of late that they could sit on Julia's veranda as +long as he could, he had seized the first opportunity to familiarize her +with this latest work. + +The veranda was dark, and to go indoors to the light might have involved +too close a juxtaposition to peculiar old Mr. Atwater who was in the +library; but the resourceful Newland, foreseeing everything, had +brought with him a small pocket flashlight to illumine his manuscript. +"It's _vers libre_, of course," he said as he moved the flashlight over +the sheets of scribbled paper. "I think I told you I was beginning to +give all the old forms up. It's the one new movement, and I felt I ought +to master it." + +"Of course," she said sympathetically, though with a little nervousness. +"Be just a wee bit careful with the flashlight--about turning it toward +the window, I mean--and read in your nice low voice. I always like +poetry best when it's almost whispered. I think it sounds more musical +that way, I mean." + +Newland obeyed. His voice was hushed and profoundly appreciative of the +music in itself and in his poem, as he read: + + "I--And Love! + Lush white lilies line the pool + Like laces limned on looking-glasses! + I tread the lilies underfoot, + Careless how they love me! + Still white maidens woo me, + Win me not! + But thou! + Thou art a cornflower + Sapphire-eyed! + I bend! + Cornflower, I ask a question. + O flower, speak----" + +Julia spoke. "I'm afraid," she said, while Newland's spirit filled with +a bitterness extraordinary even in an interrupted poet;--"I'm afraid +it's Mr. Dill coming up the walk. We'll have to postpone----" She rose +and went to the steps to greet the approaching guest. "How nice of you +to come!" + +Noble, remaining on the lowest step, clung to her hand in a fever. "Nice +to come!" he said hoarsely. "It's eight days--eight days--eight days +since----" + +"Mr. Sanders is here," she said. "It's so dark on this big veranda +people can hardly see each other. Come up and sit with us. I don't have +to introduce you two men to each other." + +She did not, indeed. They said "H'lo, Dill" and "H'lo Sanders" in a +manner of such slighting superiority that only the utmost familiarity +could have bred a contempt so magnificent. Then, when the three were +seated, Mr. Sanders thought well to add: "How's rent collecting these +days, Dill? Still hustling around among those darky shanties over in +Bucktown?" + +In the dark Noble moved convulsively, but contrived to affect a light +laugh, or a sound meant for one, as he replied, in a voice not entirely +under control: "How's the ole poetry, Sanders?" + +"What?" Newland demanded sharply. "What did you say?" + +"I said: 'How's the ole poetry?' Do you read it to all your relations +the way you used to?" + +"See here, Dill!" + +"Well, what you want, Sanders?" + +"You try to talk about things you understand," said Newland. "You better +keep your mind on collecting four dollars a week from some poor coloured +widow, and don't----" + +"I'd _rather_ keep my mind on that!" Noble was inspired to retort. "Your +Aunt Georgina told my mother that ever since you began thinkin' you +could write poetry the life your family led was just----" + +Newland interrupted. He knew the improper thing his Aunt Georgina had +said, and he was again, and doubly, infuriated by the prospect of its +repetition here. He began fiercely: + +"Dill, you see here----" + +"Your Aunt Georgina said----" + +Both voices had risen. Plainly it was time for someone to say: +"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" Julia glanced anxiously through the darkness of +the room beyond the open window beside her, to where the light of the +library lamp shone upon a door ajar; and she was the more nervous +because Noble, to give the effect of coolness, had lit an Orduma +cigarette. + +She laughed amiably, as if the two young gentlemen were as amiable as +she. "I've thought of something," she said. "Let's take the settee and +some chairs down on the lawn where we can sit and see the moon." + +"There isn't any," Noble remarked vacantly. + +"Let's go, anyhow," she said cheerily. "Come on." + +Her purpose was effected; the belligerents were diverted, and Noble +lifted the light wicker settee. "I'll carry this," he said. "It's no +trouble. Sanders can carry a chair--I guess he'd be equal to that much." +He stumbled, dropped the settee, and lifted a basket, its contents +covered with a newspaper. "Somebody must have----" + +"What is it?" + +"It's a basket," said Noble. + +"How curious!" + +Julia peered through the darkness. "I wonder who could have left that +market basket out _here_. I suppose----" She paused. "Our cook does do +more idiotic things than--I'll go ask her if it's ours." + +She stepped quickly into the house, leaving two concentrations of +inimical silence behind her, but she returned almost immediately, +followed by Kitty Silver. + +"It's no use to argue," Julia was saying as they came. "You did your +marketing and simply and plainly left it out there because you were too +shiftless to----" + +"No'm," Mrs. Silver protested in a high voice of defensive complaint. +"No'm, Miss Julia, I ain' lef no baskit on _no_ front po'che! I got jus' +th'ee markit baskits in the livin' worl' an' they ev'y las' one an' all +sittin' right where I kin lay my han's on 'em behime my back do'. No'm, +Miss Julia, I take my solemn oaf I ain' lef no----" But here she +debouched upon the porch, and in spite of the darkness perceived herself +to be in the presence of distinguished callers. "Pahdon me," she said +loftily, her tone altering at once, "I beg leaf to insis' I better take +thishere baskit back to my kitchen an' see whut-all's insiden of it." + +With an elegant gesture she received the basket from Noble Dill and took +the handle over her ample forearm. "Hum!" she said. "Thishere ole basket +kine o' heavy, too. I wunner whut-all she _is_ got in her!" And she +groped within the basket, beneath the newspaper. + +Now, it was the breath of Kitty Silver's life to linger, when she could, +in a high atmosphere; and she was a powerful gossip, exorbitantly +interested in her young mistress's affairs and all callers. Therefore it +was beyond her not to seize upon any excuse that might detain her for +any time whatever in her present surroundings. + +"Pusserve jugs," she said. "Pusserve or pickle. Cain't tell which." + +"You can in the kitchen," Julia said, with pointed suggestion. "Of +course you can't in the dark." + +But still Mrs. Silver snatched at the fleeting moment and did not go. +"Tell by smellin' 'em," she murmured, seemingly to herself. + +With ease she unscrewed the top of one of the jars; then held the open +jar to her nose. "Don't smell to me exackly like no pusserves," she +said. "Nor yit like no pickles. Don't smell to me----" She hesitated, +sniffed the jar again, and then inquired in a voice quickly grown +anxious: "Whut _is_ all thishere in thishere jug? Seem like to _me_----" + +But here she interrupted herself to utter a muffled exclamation, not +coherent. Instantly she added some words suitable to religious +observances, but in a voice of passion. At the same time, with a fine +gesture, she hurled the jar and the basket from her, and both came in +contact with the wall, not far away, with a sound of breakage. + +"Why, what----" Julia began. "Kitty Silver, are you crazy?" + +But Kitty Silver was moving hurriedly toward the open front door, where +appeared, at that moment, Mr. Atwater in his most irascible state of +peculiarity. + +He began: "What was that heathenish----" + +Shouting, Mrs. Silver jostled by him, and, though she disappeared into +the house, a trail of calamitous uproar marked her passage to the +kitchen. + +"What thing has happened?" Mr. Atwater demanded. "Is she----?" + +His daughter interrupted him. + +"_Oh_!" was all she said, and sped by him like a bit of blown +thistledown, into the house. He grasped at her as she passed him; then +suddenly he made other gestures, and, like Kitty Silver, used Jacobean +phrases. But now there were no auditors, for Noble Dill and Newland +Sanders, after thoughtlessly following a mutual and natural impulse to +step over and examine the fallen basket, had both gone out to the +street, where they lingered a while, then decided to go home. + +... Later, that evening, Florence and Herbert remembered the c'lection; +so they came for it, a mistake. Discovering the fragments upon the +veranda, they made the much more important mistake of entering the house +to demand an explanation, which they received immediately. It was +delivered with so much vigour, indeed, that Florence was surprised and +hurt. And yet, the most important of her dreamy wishes of the afternoon +had been fulfilled: the c'lection had been useful to Noble Dill, for Mr. +Atwater had smelled the smell of an Orduma cigarette and was just on the +point of coming out to say some harsh things, when the c'lection +interfered. And as Florence was really responsible for its having been +in a position to interfere, so to say, she had actually in a manner +protected her protege and also shown some of that power of which she had +boasted when she told him that sometimes she made members of her family +"step around pretty lively." + +Another of her wishes appeared to be on the way to fulfilment, too. She +had hoped that something memorable might be done with the c'lection, and +the interview with her grandfather, her Aunt Julia, and Kitty Silver +seemed to leave this beyond doubt. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +Now August came, that florid lazy month when mid-summer dawdles along in +trailing greeneries, and the day is like some jocund pagan, all flushed +and asleep, with dripping beard rosy in a wine bowl of fat vine leaves. +Yet, in this languorous time there may befall a brisker night, cool and +lively as an intrusive boy--a night made for dancing. On such a night a +hasty thought might put it as desirable that all the world should be +twenty-two years old and in love, like Noble Dill. + +Upon the white bed in his room, as he dressed, lay the flat black +silhouettes of his short evening coat and trousers, side by side, trim +from new pressing; and whenever he looked at them Noble felt rich, tall, +distinguished, and dramatic. It is a mistake, as most literary legends +are mistakes, to assume that girls are the only people subject to +before-the-party exhilaration. At such times a girl is often in the +anxious yet determined mood of a runner before a foot race, or she may +be merely hopeful; some are merry and some are grim, but arithmetical +calculation of some sort, whether glorious or uneasy, is busy in their +eyes as they pin and pat before their mirrors. To behold romance gone +light-headed, turn to the humbler sort of man-creature under +twenty-three. Alone in his room, he may enact for you scenes of flowery +grace and most capricious gallantry, rehearsals as unconscious as the +curtsies of field daisies in a breeze. He has neither doubt nor +certainty of his charm; he has no arithmetic at all, and is often so +free of calculation that he does not even pull down the shades at his +windows. + +Unfortunately for the neighbours, and even for passers-by, since Noble's +room had a window visible from the street, his prophetic mother had +closed his shutters before he began to dress. Thus she deprived honest +folk of what surely must have been to them the innocent pleasure of +seeing a very young man in light but complete underwear, lifting from +his head a Panama hat, new that day, in a series of courteous +salutations. At times, during this same stage of his toilet, they might +have had even more entertainment:--before putting on his socks Noble +"one-stepped" for several minutes, still retaining upon his head the +new hat. This was a hat of double value to him; not only was it pleasant +to behold in his mirror, but it was engaged in solidifying for the +evening the arrangement of his hair. + +It may be admitted that he was a little giddy, for the dance was +Julia's. Mr. Atwater had been summoned to New York on a blessed business +that would keep him a fortnight, and his daughter, alert to the first +flash of opportunity, had almost instantly summoned musicians, florists, +a caterer, and set plans before them. Coincidentally, Noble had chanced +to see Mr. Atwater driving down Julia's Street that morning, a +travelling bag beside him, and, immediately putting aside for the day +all business cares, hurried to the traveller's house. Thus he +forestalled, for the time being, that competition which helped to make +caring for Julia so continuous a strain upon whatever organ is the seat +of the anxieties. Kind Julia, busy as she was, agreed to dance the first +dance with him, and the last--those being considered of such +significance that he would be entitled to the perquisites of a special +cavalier; for instance, a seat beside her during the serving of the +customary light repast. In such high fortune, no wonder he was a little +giddy as he dressed! + +The process of clothing himself was disconnected, being broken by +various enacted fancies and interludes. Having approached the length of +one sock toward the completion of his toilet, he absently dropped the +other upon the floor, and danced again; his expression and attitude +signifying that he clasped a revered partner. Releasing her from this +respectful confinement, he offered the invisible lady a gracious arm and +walked up and down the room with a stateliness tempered to rhythm, a +cakewalk of strange refinement. Phrases seemed to be running in his +head, impromptus symbolic of the touching and romantic, for he spoke +them half aloud hi a wistful yet uplifted manner. "Oh, years!" he said. +"Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare!" Then he added, in a deeper +voice: + +"For life is but a golden dream so sweetly." + +Other whimsies came forth from him as the dressing slowly continued, +though one might easily be at fault in attempting to fathom what was his +thought when, during the passage of his right foot through the +corresponding leg of his trousers, he exclaimed commandingly: + +"Now, Jocko, for the stirrup cup!" + +Jack boots and a faithful squire, probably. + +During the long and dreamy session with his neck gear he went back to +the softer _motif_: + + "Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare! + For life is but a golden dream so sweetly." + +Then, pausing abruptly to look at his coat, so smoothly folded upon the +bed, he addressed it: "O noblest sample of the tailor's dext'rous art!" + +This was too much courtesy, for the coat was "ready-made," and looked +nobler upon the bed than upon its owner. In fact, it was by no means a +dext'rous sample; but evidently Noble believed in it with a high and +satisfying faith; and he repeated his compliment to it as he put it on: + +"Come, noblest sample of the tailor's art; I'll don thee!" + +During these processes he had been repeatedly summoned to descend to the +family dinner, and finally his mother came lamenting and called up from +the front hall that "everything" was "all getting cold!" + +But by this time he was on his way, and though he went back to leave his +hat in his room, unwilling to confide it to the hat-rack below, he +presently made his appearance in the dining-room and took his seat at +the table. This mere sitting, however, appeared to be his whole +conception of dining; he seemed as unaware of his mother's urging food +upon him as if he had been a Noble Dill of waxwork. Several tunes he +lifted a fork and set it down without guiding it to its accustomed +destination. Food was far from his thoughts or desires, and if he really +perceived its presence at all, it appeared to him as something vaguely +ignoble upon the horizon. + +But he was able to partake of coffee; drank two cups feverishly, his +hand visibly unsteady; and when his mother pointed out this confirmation +of many prophecies that cigarettes would ruin him, he asked if anybody +had noticed whether or not it was cloudy outdoors. At that his father +looked despondent, for the open windows of the dining-room revealed an +evening of fragrant clarity. + +"I see, I see," Noble returned pettishly when the fine state of this +closely adjacent weather was pointed out to him by his old-maid sister. +"It wouldn't be raining, of course. Not on a night like this." He jumped +up. "It's time for me to go." + +Mrs. Dill laughed. "It's only a little after seven. Julia won't be +through her own dinner yet. You mustn't----" + +But with a tremulous smile, Noble shook his head and hurriedly left the +room. He went upstairs for his hat, and while there pinned a geranium +blossom upon his lapel, for it may be admitted that in boutonnieres his +taste was as yet unformed. + +Coming down again, he took a stick under his arm and was about to set +forth when he noticed a little drift of talcum powder upon one of his +patent leather shoes. After carefully removing this accretion and adding +a brighter lustre to the shoe by means of friction against the back of +his ankle, he decided to return to his room and brush the affected +portion of his trousers. Here a new reverie arrested him; he stood with +the brush in his hand for some time; then, not having used it, he +dropped it gently upon the bed, lit an Orduma cigarette, descended, and +went forth to the quiet street. + +As he walked along Julia's Street toward Julia's Party, there was +something in his mien and look more dramatic than mere sprightliness; +and when he came within sight of the ineffable house and saw its many +lights shining before him, he breathed with profundity, half halting. +Again he murmured: + + "Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare! + For life is but a golden dream so sweetly." + +At the gate he hesitated. Perhaps--perhaps he was a little early. It +might be better to walk round the block. + +He executed this parade, and again hesitated at the gate. He could see +into the brightly lighted hall, beyond the open double doors; and it +contained nothing except its usual furniture. Once more he walked round +the block. The hall was again in the same condition. Again he went on. + +When he had been thrice round the block after that, he discovered human +beings in the hall; they were Florence, in a gala costume, and +Florence's mother, evidently arrived to be assistants at the party, for, +with the helpful advice of a coloured manservant, they were arranging +some bunches of flowers on two hall tables. Their leisurely manner +somewhat emphasized the air of earliness that hung about the place, and +Noble thought it better to continue to walk round the block. The third +time after that, when he completed his circuit, the musicians were just +arriving, and their silhouettes, headed by that of the burdened bass +fiddler, staggered against the light of the glowing doorway like a +fantasia of giant beetles. Noble felt that it would be better to let +them get settled, and therefore walked round the block again. + +Not far from the corner above Julia's, as he passed, a hoarse and +unctuous voice, issuing out of an undistinguishable lawn, called his +name: "Noble! Noble Dill!" And when Noble paused, Julia's Uncle Joseph +came waddling forth from the dimness and rested his monstrous arms upon +the top of the fence, where a street light revealed them as +shirt-sleeved and equipped with a palm-leaf fan. + +"What _is_ the matter, Noble?" Mr. Atwater inquired earnestly. + +"Matter?" Noble repeated. "Matter?" + +"We're kind of upset," said Mr. Atwater. "My wife and I been just +sittin' out here in our front yard, not doing any harm to anybody, and +here it's nine times we've counted you passing the place--always going +the same way!" He spoke as with complaint, a man with a grievance. "It's +kind of ghostlike," he added. "We'd give a good deal to know what _you_ +make of it." + +Noble was nonplussed. "Why----" he said. "Why----" + +"How do you get _back_? That's the mystery!" said Mr. Atwater. "You're +always walkin' down street and never up. You know my wife's never been +too strong a woman, Noble, and all this isn't doing her any good. +Besides, we sort of figured out that you ought really to be at Julia's +dance this evening." + +"I am," said Noble nervously. "I mean that's where I'm going. I'm going +there. I'm going there." + +"That's what's upsetting us so!" the fat man exclaimed. "You keep on +going there! Just when we've decided you must _be_ there, at last, here +you come, going there again. Well, don't let me detain you. But if you +do decide to go in, some time, Noble, I'm afraid you aren't going to be +able to do much dancing." + +Noble, who had begun to walk on, halted in sudden panic. Did this +sinister fear of Mr. Atwater's mean that, as an uncle, he had heard +Julia was suddenly ill? + +"Why won't I?" he asked quickly. "Is anything----" + +"Your poor feet!" said Mr. Atwater, withdrawing. "Good-night, Noble." + +The youth went on, somewhat disturbed; it seemed to him that this uncle, +though Julia's, was either going queer in the head or had chosen a poor +occasion to be facetious. Next time, probably, it would be better to +walk round the block below this. But it was no longer advisable to walk +round any block. When he came to the happy gateway, the tuning of +instruments and a fanfare of voices sounded from within the house; girls +in light wraps were fluttering through the hall with young men; it was +"time for the party!" And Noble went in. + +Throughout the accomplishment of the entrance he made, his outside and +his inside were directly contradictory. His inside was almost +fluttering: there might have been a nest of nervous young birds in his +chest; but as he went upstairs to the "gentlemen's dressing-room," to +leave his hat and stick, this flopping and scrambling within him was +never to be guessed from his outside. His outside was unsympathetic, +even stately; he greeted his fellow guests with negligent hauteur, while +his glance seemed to say: "Only peasantry here!" + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +The stairway was crowded as he descended; and as he looked down upon the +heads and shoulders of the throng below, in Julia's hall, the thought +came to him that since he had the first and last dances and supper +engaged with Julia, the hostess, this was almost the next thing to being +the host. It was a pleasing thought, and a slight graciousness now +flavoured his salutations. + +At the foot of the stairs he became part of the file of young people who +were moving into one of the large rooms where Julia stood to "receive." +And then, between two heads before him, he caught a first glimpse of +her;--and all the young birds fluttering in his chest burst into song; +his heart fainted, his head ballooned, his feet seemed to dangle from +him at the ends of two strings. + +There glowed sapphire-eyed Julia; never had she been prettier. + +The group closed, shutting out the vision, and he found himself able to +dry his brow and get back his breath before moving forward in a cold +and aristocratic attitude. Then he became incapable of any attitude--he +was before her, and she greeted him. A buzzing of the universe confused +him: he would have stood forever, but pressure from behind pushed him +on; and so, enveloped in a scented cloud, he passed into a corner. He +tried to remember what he had said to her, but could not; perhaps it +would have discouraged him to know that all he had said was, "Well!" + +Now there rattled out a challenge of drums; loud music struck upon the +air. Starting instantly to go to Julia, Noble's left leg first received +the electric impulse and crossed his laggard right; but he was no pacer, +and thus stumbled upon himself and plunged. Still convulsive, he came +headlong before her, and was the only person near who remained unaware +that his dispersal of an intervening group had the appearance of extreme +unconventionality. Noble knew nothing except that this was his dance +with Her. + +Then heaven played with him. She came close and touched him exquisitely. +She placed a lovely hand upon his shoulder, her other lovely cool hand +in one of his. The air filled with bursting stars. + +They danced. + +Noble was conscious of her within his clasping arm, but conscious of her +as nothing human. The fluffy white bodice pressed by his hand seemed to +be that of some angel doll; the charming shoulder that sometimes touched +his was made of a divine mist. Only the pretty head, close to his, was +actual; the black-sapphire eyes gave him a little blue-black glance, now +and then, and seemed to laugh. + +In truth, they did, though Julia's lips remained demure. So far as Noble +was able to comprehend what he was doing, he was floating rhythmically +to a faint, far music; but he was almost unconscious, especially from +the knees down. But to the eye of observers incapable of perceiving that +Noble was floating, it appeared that he was out of step most of the +time, and danced rather hoppingly. However, these mannerisms were no +novelty with him, and it cannot be denied that girls at dances usually +hurried impulsively away to speak to somebody when they saw him coming. +One such creature even went so far as to whisper to Julia now, during a +collision: "How'd you get caught?" + +Julia was loyal; she gave no sign of comprehension, but valiantly swung +onward with Noble, bumped and bumping everywhere, in spite of the most +extraordinary and graceful dexterity on her part. + +"That's one reason she's such a terrible belle," a damsel whispered to +another. + +"What is?" + +"The way she'll be just as nice to anybody like Noble Dill as she is to +anybody," said the first. "Look at her now: she won't laugh at him a +bit, though everybody else is." + +"Well, I wouldn't laugh either," said the other. "Not in Julia's +position. I'd be too busy being afraid." + +"What of?" + +"Of getting a sprained ankle!" + +It is well that telepathy remains, as a science, lethargic. Speculation +sets before us the prospect of a Life Beyond in which every thought is +communicated without the intervention of speech: a state wherein all +neighbours and neighbourhoods would promptly be dispersed and few +friendships long endure, one fears. If to Noble Dill's active +consciousness had penetrated merely the things thought about him and his +dancing, in this one short period of time before the music for that +dance stopped, he might easily have been understood if he had hurried +forth, obtained explosives, and blown up the place, himself indeed +included. As matters providentially were in reality, when the music +stopped he stood confounded: he thought the dance had just begun. + +His mouth remained open until the necessary gestures of articulation +intermittently closed it as he said: "_Oh!_ That was _divine_!" + +Too-gentle Julia agreed. + +"You said I could have part of some in between the first and last," he +reminded her. "Can I have the first part of the next?" + +She laughed. "I'm afraid not. The next is Mr. Clairdyce's and I really +_promised_ him I wouldn't give _any_ of his away or let anybody cut in." + +"Well, then," said Noble, frowning a little, "would you be willing for +me to cut in on the third?" + +"I'm afraid not. That's Newland Sanders', and I promised him the same +thing." + +"Well, the one after that?" + +"No, that one's Mr. Clairdyce's, too." + +"It _is_?" Noble was greatly disturbed. + +"Yes." + +"Two that quick with old Baldy Clairdyce!" he exclaimed, raising his +voice, but unaware of the fervour with which he spoke. "Two with that +old----" + +"_Sh_, Noble," she said, though she laughed. "He isn't really old; he's +just middle-aged, and only the least bit bald, just enough to be +distinguished-looking." + +"Well, you know what _I_ think of him!" he returned with a vehemence not +moderated. "_I_ don't think he's distinguished-looking; I think he's +simply and plainly a regular old----" + +"_Sh!_" Julia warned him again. "He's standing with some people just +behind us," she added. + +"Well, then," said Noble, "can I cut in on the next one after that?" + +She consulted a surreptitious little card. "I'm afraid you'll have to +wait till quite a little later on, Noble. That one is poor Mr. +Ridgely's. I promised him I wouldn't----" + +"Then can I cut in on the next one after that?" + +"It's Mr. Clairdyce's," said Julia--and she blushed. + +"My goodness!" said Noble. "Oh, my goodness!" + +"_Sh!_ I'm afraid people----" + +"Let's go out on the porch," said Noble, whose manner had suddenly +become desperate. "Let's go out and get some air where we can talk this +thing over." + +"I'm afraid I'd better not just now," she returned, glancing over her +shoulder. "You see, all the people aren't here yet." + +"You've got an aunt here," said Noble, "and a sister-in-law and a little +niece: I saw 'em. They can----" + +"I'm afraid I'd better stay indoors just now," she said persuasively. +"We can talk here just as well." + +"We can't!" he insisted feverishly. "We can't, Julia! I've got something +to say, Julia. Julia, you gave me the first dance and the last dance, +and of course sitting together at supper, or whatever there is, and you +know as well as I do that means it's just the same as if you weren't +giving this party but it was somewhere else and I took you to it, and +it's always understood you _never_ dance more with anybody else than the +one you went with, when you go with that person to a place, because +that's the rights of it; and other towns it's just the same way; they do +that way there, just the same as here; they do that way everywhere, +because nobody else has got a right to cut in and dance more with you +than the one you go with, when you goes to a place with that one. Julia, +don't you see that's the regular way it is, and the only fair way it +ought to be?" + +"What?" + +"Weren't you even _listening_?" he cried. + +"Yes, indeed, but----" + +"Julia," he said desperately, "let's go out on the porch. I want to +explain just the way I feel. Let's go out on the porch, Julia. If we +stay here, somebody's just bound to interrupt us any minute before I can +explain the way I----" + +But the prophecy was fulfilled even before it was concluded. A group of +loudly chattering girls and their escorts of the moment bore down upon +Julia, and shattered the tete-a-tete. Dislodged from Julia's side by a +large and eager girl, whom he had hated ever since she was six years old +and he five, Noble found himself staggering in a kind of suburb; for the +large girl's disregard of him, as she shouldered in, was actually +physical, and too powerful for him to resist. She wished to put her +coarse arm round Julia's waist, it appeared, and the whole group burbled +and clamoured: the party was _perfictly_ glorious; so was the waxed +floor; so was Julia, my _dear_, so was the music, the weather, and the +din they made! + +Noble felt that his rights were being outraged. Until the next dance +began, every moment of her time was legally his--yet all he could even +see of her was the top of her head. And the minutes were flying. + +He stood on tiptoe, thrust his head forward over the large girl's odious +shoulder, and shouted: "Julia! Let's go out on the porch!" + +No one seemed to hear him. + +"Julia----" + +_Boom!_ Rackety-_Boom_! The drummer walloped his drums; a saxophone +squawked, and fiddles squealed. Hereupon appeared a tall authoritative +man, at least thirty-two years old, and all swelled up with himself, as +interpreted by Noble and several other friends of Julia's--though this, +according to quite a number of people (all feminine) was only another +way of saying that he was a person of commanding presence. He wore a +fully developed moustache, an easy smile, clothes offensively knowing; +and his hair began to show that scarcity which Julia felt gave him +distinction--a curious theory, but natural to her age. What really did +give this Clairdyce some air of distinction, however, was the calmness +with which he walked through the group that had dislodged Noble Dill, +and the assurance with which he put his arm about Julia and swept her +away in the dance. + +Noble was left alone in the middle of the floor, but not for long. +Couples charged him, and he betook himself to the wall. The party, for +him, was already ruined. + +Sometimes, as he stood against the wall, there would be swirled to him, +out of all the comminglements of other scents, a faint, faint hint of +heliotrope and then Julia would be borne masterfully by, her flying +skirts just touching him. And sometimes, out of the medley of all other +sounds, there would reach his ear a little laugh like a run of lightly +plucked harp strings, and he would see her shining dark hair above her +partner's shoulder as they swept again near him for an instant. And +always, though she herself might be concealed from him, he could only +too painfully mark where she danced: the overtopping head of the tall +Clairdyce was never lost to view. The face on the front part of that +disliked head wore continuously a confident smile, which had a bad +effect on Noble. It seemed to him desecration that a man with so gross a +smile should be allowed to dance with Julia. And that she should smile +back at her partner, and with such terrible kindness--as Noble twice saw +her smile--this was like a calamity happening to her white soul without +her knowing it. If she should ever marry that man--well, it would be +the old story: May and December! Noble shuddered, and the drums, the +fiddles, the bass fiddle, and the saxophone seemed to have an evil +sound. + +When the music stopped he caromed hastily through the room toward Julia, +but she was in a thicket of her guests when he arrived, and for several +moments Mr. Clairdyce's broad back kept intervening--almost +intentionally, it seemed. When Noble tried to place himself in a +position to attract Julia's attention, this back moved, too, and Noble's +nose but pressed black cloth. And the noise everybody made was so +baffling that, in order to be heard, Julia herself was shouting. Finally +Noble contrived to squirm round the obtrusive back, and protruded his +strained face among all the flushed and laughing ones. + +"Julia, I got to----" he began. + +But this was just at the climax of a story that three people were +telling at the same time, Julia being one of them, and he received +little attention. + +"Julia," he said hoarsely; "I got something I want to _tell_ you +about----" + +He raised his voice: "Julia, come on! Let's go out on the _porch_!" + +Nobody even knew that he was there. Nevertheless, the tall and solid +Clairdyce was conscious of him, but only, it proved, as one is conscious +of something to rest upon. His elbow, a little elevated, was at the +height of Noble's shoulder, and this heavy elbow, without its owner's +direct or active cognizance, found for itself a comfortable support. +Then, as the story reached its conclusion, this old Clairdyce joined the +general mirth so heartily as to find himself quite overcome, and he +allowed most of his weight to depend upon the supported elbow. Noble +sank like feathers. + +"Here! What you doin'?" he said hotly. "I'll thank you to keep off o' +me!" + +Old Baldy recovered his balance without being aware what had threatened +it, while his elbow, apparently of its own volition, groped for its +former pedestal. Noble evaded it, and pushed forward. + +"Julia," he said. "I _got_ to say some----" + +But the accursed music began again, and horn-rimmed Newland Sanders +already had his arm about her waist. They disappeared into the ruck of +dancers. + +"Well, by George!" said Noble. "By George, I'm goin' to _do_ +something!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +He went outdoors and smoked Orduma cigarettes, one after the other. +Dances and intermissions succeeded each other but Noble had "enough of +_that_, for one while!" So he muttered. + +And remembering how Julia had told him that he was killing himself with +cigarettes, "All right," he said now, as he bitterly lighted his fifth +at the spark of the fourth;--"I hope I will!" + +"Lot o' difference it'd make!" he said, as he lighted the eighth of a +series that must, all told, have contained nearly as much tobacco as a +cigar. And, leaning back against the trunk of one of the big old walnut +trees in the yard, he gazed toward the house, where the open window +nearest him splashed with colour like a bright and crowded aquarium. "To +_her_, anyway!" he added, with a slight remorse, remembering that his +mother had frequently shown him evidences of affection. + +Yes, his mother would care, and his father and sisters would be upset, +but Julia--when the friends of the family were asked to walk by for a +last look, would she be one? What optimism remained to him presented a +sketch of Julia, in black, borne from the room in the arms of girl +friends who tried in vain to hush her; but he was unable to give this +more hopeful fragment an air of great reality. Much more probably, when +word came to her that he had smoked himself to death, she would be a +bride, dancing at Niagara Falls with her bald old husband--and she would +only laugh and pause to toss a faded rose out of the window, and then go +right on dancing. But perhaps, some day, when tears had taught her the +real meaning of life with such a man---- + +"You--_wow_!" + +Noble jumped. From the darkness of the yard beside the house there came +a grievous howl, distressful to the spinal marrow, a sound of animal +pain. It was repeated even more passionately, and another voice was also +heard, one both hoarsely bass and falsetto in the articulation of a +single syllable. "_Ouch!_" There were sounds of violent scuffing, and +the bass-falsetto voice cried: "What's that you _stuck_ me with?" and +another: "Drag her! Drag her back by her feet!" + +These alarms came from the almost impenetrable shadows of the small +orchard beside the house; and from the same quarter was heard the +repeated contact of a heavy body, seemingly wooden or metallic, with the +ground; but high over this there rose a shrieking: "Help! Help! Oh, +_hay_-yulp!" This voice was girlish. "Hay-_yulp_!" + +Noble dashed into the orchard, and at once fell prostrate upon what +seemed a log, but proved to be a large and solidly packed ice-cream +freezer lying on its side. + +Dark forms scrambled over the fence and vanished, but as Noble got to +his feet he was joined by a dim and smallish figure in white--though +more light would have disclosed a pink sash girdling its middle. It was +the figure of Miss Florence Atwater, seething with furious agitations. + +"Vile thieves!" she panted. + +"Who?" Noble asked, brushing at his knees, while Florence made some +really necessary adjustments of her own attire. "Who were they?" + +"It was my own cousin, Herbert, and that nasty little Henry Rooter and +their gang. Herbert thinks he hass to act perfectly horrable all the +time, now his voice is changing!" said Florence, her emotion not abated. +"Tried to steal this whole ice-cream freezer off the back porch and +sneak it over the fence and eat it! I stuck a pretty long pin in Herbert +and two more of 'em, every bit as far as it would go." And in the +extremity of her indignation, she added: "The dirty robbers!" + +"Did they hurt you?" + +"You bet your life they didn't!" the child responded. "Tried to drag me +back to the house! By the feet! I guess I gave 'em enough o' _that_!" + +Then, tugging the prostrate freezer into an upright position, she +exclaimed darkly: "I expect I gave ole Mister Herbert and some of the +others of 'em just a few kicks they won't be in such a hurry to forget!" +And in spite of his own gloomy condition, Noble was able, upon thinking +over matters, to spare some commiseration for Herbert and his friend, +that nasty little Henry Rooter and their gang. They seemed to have been +at a disadvantage. + +"I suppose I'd better carry the freezer back to the kitchen porch," he +said. "Somebody may want it." + +"'Somebody'!" Florence exclaimed. "Why, there's only two of these big +freezers, and if I hadn't happened to suspeck somep'n and be layin' for +those vile thieves, half the party wouldn't get _any_!" And as an +afterthought, when Noble had pantingly restored the heavy freezer to its +place by the kitchen door, she said: "Or else they'd had to have such +little saucers of it nobody would of been any way _like_ satisfied, and +prob'ly all the fam'ly that's here assisting would of had to go without +any at all. That'd 'a' been the worst of it!" + +She opened the kitchen door, and to those within explained loudly what +dangers had been averted, directing that both freezers be placed indoors +under guard; then she rejoined Noble, who was walking slowly back to the +front yard. + +"I guess it's pretty lucky you happened to be hangin' around out here," +she said. "I guess that's about the luckiest thing ever happened to me. +The way it looks to me, I guess you saved my life. If you hadn't chased +'em away, I wouldn't been a bit surprised if that gang would killed me!" + +"Oh, no!" said Noble. "They wouldn't----" + +"You don't know 'em like I do," the romantic child assured him. "I know +that gang pretty well, and I wouldn't been a bit surprised. I wouldn't +been!" + +"But----" + +She tossed her head, signifying recklessness. + +"Guess 'twouldn't make much difference to anybody particular, whether +they did or not," said this strange Florence. + +Noble regarded her with astonishment; they had reached the front yard, +and paused under the trees where the darkness was mitigated by the light +from the shining windows. "Why, you oughtn't to talk that way, +Florence," he said. "Think of your mamma and papa and your--and your +Aunt Julia." + +She tossed her head again. "Pooh! They'd all of 'em just say: 'Good +ribbons to bad rubbish,' I guess!" However, she seemed far from +despondent about this; in fact, she was naturally pleased with her +position as a young girl saved from the power of ruffians by a rescuer +who was her Very Ideal. "I bet if I died, they wouldn't even have a +funeral," she said cheerfully. "They'd proba'ly just leave me lay." + +The curiosities of the human mind are found not in high adventure: they +are everywhere in the commonplace. Never for a moment did it strike +Noble Dill that Florence's turn to the morbid bore any resemblance to +his recent visions of his own funeral. He failed to perceive that the +two phenomena were produced out of the same laboratory jar and were +probably largely chemical, at that. + +"Why, Florence!" he exclaimed. "That's a dreadful way to feel. I'm sure +your--your Aunt Julia loves you." + +"Oh, well," Florence returned lightly;--"maybe she does. I don't care +whether she does or not." And now she made a deduction, the profundity +of which his condition made him unable to perceive. "It makes less +difference to anybody whether their aunts love 'em or not than whether +pretty near anybody else at all does." + +"But not your Aunt _Julia_" he urged. "Your Aunt _Julia_----" + +"I don't care whether she does than any other aunt I got," said +Florence. "All of 'em's just aunts, and that's all there is to it." + +"But, Florence, your Aunt _Julia_----" + +"She's nothin' in the world but my _aunt_," Florence insisted, and her +emphasis showed that she was trying hard to make him understand. "She's +just the same as all of 'em. I don't get anything more from her than I +do from any the rest of 'em." + +Her auditor was dumfounded, but not by Florence's morals. The +cold-blooded calculation upon which her family affections seemed to be +founded, this aboriginal straightforwardness of hers, passed over him. +What shocked him was her appearing to see Julia as all of a piece with a +general lot of ordinary aunts. Helplessly, he muttered again: + +"But your Aunt _Julia_----" + +"There she is now," said Florence, pointing to the window nearest them. +"They've stopped dancing for a while so's that ole Mister Clairdyce can +get a chance to sing somep'n. Mamma told me he was goin' to." + +Dashing chords sounded from a piano invisible to Noble and his +companion; the windows exhibited groups of deferentially expectant young +people; and then a powerful barytone began a love song. From the yard +the singer could not be seen, but Julia could be: she stood in the +demurest attitude; and no one needed to behold the vocalist to know that +the scoundrel was looking pointedly and romantically at her. + + "Dee-urra-face that holds soswee tasmile for me, + Wairyew nah tmine how darrrk the worrrl dwooed be!" + +To Noble, suffering at every pore, this was less a song than a +bellowing; and in truth the confident Mr. Clairdyce did "let his voice +out," for he was seldom more exhilarated than when he shook the ceiling. +The volume of sound he released upon his climaxes was impressive, and +the way he slid up to them had a great effect, not indoors alone, but +upon Florence, enraptured out under the trees. + +"Oh, isn't it be-_you_-tiful!" she murmured. + +Her humid eyes were fixed upon Noble, who was unconscious of the honour. +Florence was susceptible to anything purporting to be music, and this +song moved her. Throughout its delivery from Mr. Clairdyce's unseen +chest, her large eyes dwelt upon Noble, and it is not at all impossible +that she was applying the tender words to him, just as the vehement +Clairdyce was patently addressing them to Julia. On he sang, while +Noble, staring glassily at the demure lady, made a picture of himself +leaping unexpectedly through the window, striding to the noisy barytone, +striking him down, and after stamping on him several times, explaining: +"There! That's for your insolence to our hostess!" But he did not +actually permit himself these solaces; he only clenched and unclenched +his fingers several times, and continued to listen. + + "Geev a-mee yewr ra-smile, + The luv va-ligh TIN yew rise, + Life cooed not hold a fairrerr paradise. + Geev a-mee the righ to luv va-yew all the wile, + My worrlda for AIV-vorr, + The sunshigh NUV vyewr-ra-smile!" + +The conclusion was thunderous, and as a great noise under such +circumstances is an automatic stimulant of enthusiasm, the applause was +thunderous too. Several girls were unable to subdue their outcries of +"Charming!" and "_Won_-derf'l!"--not even after Mr. Clairdyce had begun +to sing the same song as an encore. + +When this was concluded, a sigh, long and deep, was heard under the +trees. It came from Florence. Her eyes, wanly gleaming, like young +oysters in the faint light, were still fixed on Noble; and there can be +little doubt that just now there was at least one person in the world, +besides his mother, who saw him in a glamour as something rare, obs, +exquisite, and elegant. "I think that was the most be-_you_-tiful thing +I ever heard!" she said; and then, noting a stir within the house, she +became practical. "They're starting refreshments," she said. "We better +hurry in, Mr. Dill, so's to get good places. Thanks to me, there's +plenty to go round." + +She moved toward the house, but, observing that he did not accompany +her, paused and looked back. "Aren't you goin' to come in, Mr. Dill?" + +"I guess not. Don't tell any one I'm out here." + +"I won't. But aren't you goin' to come in for----" + +He shook his head. "No, I'm going to wait out here a while longer." + +"But," she said, "it's _refreshments_!" + +"I don't want any. I--I'm going to smoke some more, instead." + +She looked at him wistfully, then even more wistfully toward the house. +Evidently she was of a divided mind: her feeling for Noble fought with +her feeling for "refreshments." Such a struggle could not endure for +long: a whiff of coffee conjured her nose, and a sound of clinking china +witched her ear. "Well," she said, "I guess I ought to have some +nourishment," and betook herself hurriedly into the house. + +Noble lit another Orduma. He would follow the line of conduct he had +marked out for himself: he would not take his place by Julia for the +supper interval--perhaps that breach of etiquette would "show" her. He +could see her no longer--she had moved out of range--but he imagined +her, asking everywhere: "Hasn't _any_ one seen Mr. Dill?" And he thought +of her as biting her lip nervously, perhaps, and replying absently to +sallies and quips--perhaps even having to run upstairs to her own room +to dash something sparkling from her eyes, and, maybe, to look angrily +in her glass for an instant and exclaim, "Fool!" For Julia was proud, +and not used to be treated in this way. + +He felt the least bit soothed, and, lightly flicking the ash from his +Orduma with his little finger, an act indicating some measure of +restored composure, he strolled to the other side of the house and +brought other fields of vision into view through other windows. Abruptly +his stroll came to an end. + +There sat Julia, flushed and joyous, finishing her supper in company +with old Baldy Clairdyce, Newland Sanders, George Plum, seven or eight +other young gentlemen, and some inconsidered adhering girls--the +horrible barytone sitting closest of all to Julia. Moreover, upon that +very moment the orchestra, in the hall beyond, thought fit to pay the +recent vocalist a sickening compliment, and began to play "The Sunshine +of Your Smile." + +Thereupon, with Julia herself first taking up the air in a dulcet +soprano, all of the party, including the people in the other rooms, sang +the dreadful song in chorus, the beaming Clairdyce exerting such +demoniac power as to be heard tremendously over all other voices. He had +risen for this effort, and to Noble, below the window, everything in his +mouth was visible. + +The lone listener had a bitter thought, though it was a longing, rather +than a thought. For the first time in his life he wished that he had +adopted the profession of dentistry. + + "Geev a-mee the righ to luv va-yew ALL the wile, + My worrrlda for AIV-vorr, + The sunshigh NUV vyewr-ra-smile!" + +The musicians swung into dance music; old Baldy closed the exhibition +with an operatic gesture (for which alone, if for nothing else, at least +one watcher thought the showy gentleman deserved hanging), and this +odious gesture concluded with a seizure of Julia's hand. She sprang up +eagerly; he whirled her away, and the whole place fluctuated in the +dance once more. + +"Well, now," said Noble, between his teeth--"now, I _am_ goin' to do +something!" + +He turned his back upon that painful house, walked out to the front +gate, opened it, passed through, and looked southward. Not quite two +blocks away there shone the lights of a corner drug store, still open to +custom though the hour was nearing midnight. He walked straight to the +door of this place, which stood ajar, but paused before entering, and +looked long and nervously at the middle-aged proprietor who was +unconscious of his regard, and lounged in a chair, drowsily stroking a +cat upon his lap. Noble walked in. + +"Good evening," said the proprietor, rising and brushing himself +languidly. "Cat hairs," he said apologetically. "Sheddin', I reckon." +Then, as he went behind the counter, he inquired: "How's the party goin' +off?" + +"It's--it's----" Noble hesitated. "I stepped in to--to----" + +The druggist opened a glass case. "Aw right," he said, blinking, and +tossed upon the counter a package of Orduma cigarettes. "Old Atwater'd +have convulsions, I reckon," he remarked, "if he had to lay awake and +listen to all that noise. Price ain't changed," he added, referring +humorously to the purchase he mistakenly supposed Noble wished to make. +"F'teen cents, same as yesterday and the day before." + +Noble placed the sum upon the counter. "I--I was thinking----" He +gulped. + +"Huh?" said the druggist placidly, for he was too sleepy to perceive the +strangeness of his customer's manner. + +Noble lighted an Orduma with an unsteady hand, leaned upon the counter, +and inquired in a voice that he strove to make casual: "Is--is the soda +fountain still running this late?" + +"Sure." + +"I didn't know," said Noble. "I suppose you have more calls for soda +water than you do for--for--for real liquor?" + +The druggist laughed. "Funny thing: I reckon we don't have more'n half +the calls for real liquor than what we used to before we went dry." + +Noble breathed deeply. "I s'pose you probably sell quite a good deal of +it though, at that. By the glass, I mean--such as a glass of something +kind of strong--like--like whiskey. That is, I sort of supposed so. I +mean I thought I'd ask you about this." + +"No," said the druggist, yawning. "It never did pay well--not on this +corner, anyhow. Once there used to be a little money in it, but not +much." He roused himself somewhat. "Well, it's about twelve. Anything +you wanted 'cept them Ordumas before I close up?" + +Noble gulped again. He had grown pale. "_I_ want----" he said abruptly, +then his heart seemed to fail him. "I want a glass of----" Once more he +stopped and swallowed. His shoulders drooped, and he walked across to +the soda fountain. "Well," he said, "I'll take a chocolate sundae." + +The thought of going back to Julia's party was unendurable, yet a return +was necessary on account of his new hat, the abandonment of which he did +not for a moment consider. But about half way, as he walked slowly +along, he noticed an old horse-block at the curbstone, and sat down +there. He could hear the music at Julia's, sometimes loud and close at +hand, sometimes seeming to be almost a mile away. "All right!" he said, +so bitter had he grown. "Dance! Go on and _dance_!" + +... When finally he reentered Julia's gate, he shuffled up the walk, his +head drooping, and ascended the steps and crossed the veranda and the +threshold of the front door in the same manner. + +Julia stood before him. + +"Noble _Dill_!" she exclaimed. + +As for Noble, his dry throat refused its office; he felt that he might +never be able to speak to Julia again, even if he tried. + +"Where in the world have you been all evening?" she cried. + +"Why, Jew-Julia!" he quavered. "Did you notice that I was gone?" + +"Did I 'notice'!" she said. "You never came near me all evening after +the first dance! Not even at supper!" + +"You wouldn't--you didn't----" he faltered. "You wouldn't do anything +all evening except dance with that old Clairdyce and listen to him +trying to sing." + +But Julia would let no one suffer if she could help it; and she could +always help Noble. She made her eyes mysterious and used a voice of +honey and roses. "You don't think I'd _rather_ have danced with him, do +you, Noble?" + +Immediately sparks seemed to crackle about his head. He started. + +"What?" he said. + +The scent of heliotrope enveloped him; she laughed her silver +harp-strings laugh, and lifted her arms toward the dazzled young man. +"It's the last dance," she said. "Don't you want to dance it with me?" + +Then to the spectators it seemed that Noble Dill went hopping upon a +waxed floor and upon Julia's little slippers; he was bumped and bumping +everywhere; but in reality he floated in Elysian ether, immeasurably +distant from earth, his hand just touching the bodice of an angelic +doll. + +Then, on his way home, a little later, with his new hat on the back of +his head, his stick swinging from his hand, and a semi-fragrant Orduma +between his lips, his condition was precisely as sweet as the condition +in which he had walked to the party. + +No echoes of "The Sunshine of Your Smile" cursed his memory--that +lover's little memory fresh washed in heliotrope--and when his mother +came to his door, after he got home, and asked him if he'd had "a nice +time at the party," he said: + +"Just glorious!" and believed it. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +It was a pretty morning, two weeks after Julia's Dance; and blue and +lavender shadows, frayed with mid-summer sunshine, waggled gayly across +the grass beneath the trees of the tiny orchard, but trembled with +timidity as they hurried over the abnormal surfaces of Mrs. Silver as +she sat upon the steps of the "back porch." Her right hand held in +security one end of a leather leash; the other end of the leash was +fastened to a new collar about the neck of an odd and fascinating dog. +Seated upon the brick walk at her feet, he was regarding her with a +gravity that seemed to discomfort her. She was unable to meet his gaze, +and constantly averted her own whenever it furtively descended to his. +In fact, her expression and manner were singular, denoting +embarrassment, personal hatred, and a subtle bedazzlement. She could not +look at him, yet could not keep herself from looking at him. There was +something here that arose out of the depths of natural character; it was +intrinsic in the two personalities, that is to say; and was in addition +to the bitterness consequent upon a public experience, just past, which +had been brought upon Mrs. Silver partly by the dog's appearance (in +particular the style and colour of his hair) and partly by his +unprecedented actions in her company upon the highway. + +She addressed him angrily, yet with a profound uneasiness. + +"Dog!" she said. "You ain't feelin' as skittish as whut you did, li'l +while ago, is you? My glory! I dess would like to lay my han' to you' +hide once, Mister! I take an' lam you this livin' minute if I right sho' +you wouldn't take an' bite me." + +She jerked the leash vindictively, upon which the dog at once "sat up" +on his haunches, put his forepaws together above his nose, in an +attitude of prayer, and looked at her inscrutably from under the great +bang of hair that fell like a black chrysanthemum over his forehead. +Beneath this woolly lambrequin his eyes were visible as two garnet +sparks of which the coloured woman was only too nervously aware. She +gasped. + +"Look-a-here, dog, who's went an' ast you to take an' pray fer 'em?" + +He remained motionless and devout. + +"My goo'niss!" she said to him. "If you goin' keep on thisaway whut you +_is_ been, I'm goin' to up an' go way from here, ri' now!" Then she said +a remarkable thing. "Listen here, Mister! I ain' never los' no gran' +child, an' I ain' goin' 'dop' no stranger fer one, neither!" + +The explanation rests upon the looks and manners of him whom she +addressed. This dog was of a kind at the top of dog kingdoms. His size +was neither insignificant nor great; probably his weight would have been +between a fourth and a third of a St. Bernard's. He had the finest head +for adroit thinking that is known among dogs; and he had an athletic +body, the forepart muffled and lost in a mass of corded black fleece, +but the rest of him sharply clipped from the chest aft; and his trim, +slim legs were clipped, though tufts were left at his ankles, and at the +tip of his short tail, with two upon his hips, like fanciful buttons of +an imaginary jacket; for thus have such dogs been clipped to a fashion +proper and comfortable for them ever since (and no doubt long before) an +Imperial Roman sculptor so chiselled one in bas-relief. In brief, this +dog, who caused Kitty Silver so much disquietude, as she sat upon the +back steps at Mr. Atwater's, belonged to that species of which no +Frenchman ever sees a specimen without smiling and murmuring: +"_Caniche!_" He was that golden-hearted little clown of all the world, a +French Poodle. + +To arrive at what underlay Mrs. Silver's declaration that she had never +lost a grandchild and had no intention of adopting a stranger in the +place of one, it should be first understood that in many respects she +was a civilized person. The quality of savagery, barbarism, or +civilization in a tribe may be tested by the relations it +characteristically maintains with domestic animals; and tribes that eat +dogs are often inferior to those inclined to ceremonial cannibalism. +Likewise, the civilization, barbarism, or savagery of an individual may +be estimated by the same test, which sometimes gives us evidence of +sporadic reversions to mud. Such reversions are the stomach priests: +whatever does not minister to their own bodily inwards is a "parasite." +Dogs are "parasites"; they should not live, because to fat and eat them +somehow appears uncongenial. "Kill Dogs and Feed Pigs," they write to +the papers, and, with a Velasquez available, would burn it rather than +go chilly. "Kill dogs, feed pigs, and let _me_ eat the pigs!" they cry, +even under no great stress, these stern economists who have not noticed +how wasteful the Creator is proved to be if He made themselves. They +take the strictly intestinal view of life. It is not intelligent; +parasite bacilli will get them in the end. + +Mrs. Silver was not of these. True, she sometimes professed herself +averse to all "animals," but this meant nothing more than her +unwillingness to have her work increased by their introduction into the +Atwater household. No; the appearance of the dog had stirred something +queer and fundamental within her. All coloured people look startled the +first time they see a French Poodle, but there is a difference. Most +coloured men do not really worry much about being coloured, but many +coloured women do. In the expression of a coloured man, when he looks at +a black and woolly French Poodle, there is something fonder and more +indulgent than there is in the expression of a coloured woman when she +looks at one. In fact, when some coloured women see a French Poodle they +have the air of being insulted. + +Now, when Kitty Silver had first set eyes on this poodle, an hour +earlier, she looked, and plainly was, dumfounded. Never in her life had +she seen a creature so black, so incredibly black, or with hair so +kinky, so incredibly kinky. Julia had not observed Mrs. Silver closely +nor paused to wonder what thoughts were rousing in her mind, but bade +her take the poodle forth for exercise outdoors and keep him strictly +upon the leash. Without protest, though wearing a unique expression, +Kitty obeyed; she walked round the block with this mystifying dog; and +during the promenade had taken place the episode that so upset her +nerves. + +She had given a little jerk to the leash, speaking sharply to the poodle +in reproach for some lingering near a wonderful sidewalk smell, +imperceptible to any one except himself. Instantly the creature rose and +walked beside her on his hind legs. He continued to parade in this +manner, rapidly, but nevertheless as if casually, without any apparent +inconvenience; and Mrs. Silver, never having seen a dog do such a thing +before, for more than a yard or so, and then only under the pressure of +many inducements, was unfavourably impressed. In fact, she had +definitely a symptom of M. Maeterlinck's awed feeling when he found +himself left alone with the talking horses: "With _whom_ was she?" + +"Look-a-here, dog!" she said breathlessly. "Who you tryin' to skeer? +_You_ ain't no person!" + +And then a blow fell. It came from an elderly but ever undignified woman +of her own race, who paused, across the street, and stood teetering from +side to side in joyful agitation, as she watched the approach of Mrs. +Silver with her woolly little companion beside her. When this smaller +silhouette in ink suddenly walked upright, the observer's mouth fell +open, and there was reason to hope that it might remain so, in silence, +especially as several other pedestrians had stopped to watch the +poodle's uncalled-for exhibition. But all at once the elderly rowdy saw +fit to become uproarious. + +"Hoopsee!" she shouted. "Oooh, _Gran'ma_!" + + * * * * * + +And so, when the poodle "sat up," unbid, to pray, while Kitty Silver +rested upon the back steps, on her return from the excursion, she +fiercely informed him that she had never lost a grandchild and that she +would not adopt a stranger in place of one; her implication being that +he, a stranger, had been suggested for the position and considered +himself eligible for it. + +He continued to pray, not relaxing a hair. + +"Listen to me, dog," said Kitty Silver. "Is you a dog, or isn't you a +dog? Whut _is_ you, anyway?" + +But immediately she withdrew the question. "I ain't astin' you!" she +exclaimed superstitiously. "If you isn't no dog, don't you take an' tell +me whut you is: you take an' keep it to you'se'f, 'cause I don' want to +listen to it!" + +For the garnet eyes beneath the great black chrysanthemum indeed seemed +to hint that their owner was about to use human language in a human +voice. Instead, however, he appeared to be content with his little +exhibition, allowed his forepaws to return to the ground, and looked at +her with his head wistfully tilted to one side. This reassured her and +even somewhat won her. There stirred within her that curious sense of +relationship evoked from the first by his suggestive appearance; +fondness was being born, and an admiration that was in a way a form of +Narcissism. She addressed him in a mollified voice: + +"Whut you want now? Don' tell me you' hungry, 'cause you awready done et +two dog biskit an' big saucer milk. Whut you stick you' ole black face +crossways at _me_ fer, honey?" + +But just then the dog rose to look pointedly toward the corner of the +house. "Somebody's coming," he meant. + +"Who you spectin', li'l dog?" Mrs. Silver inquired. + +Florence and Herbert came round the house, Herbert trifling with a +tennis ball and carrying a racket under his arm. Florence was peeling an +orange. + +"For Heavenses' sakes!" Florence cried. "Kitty Silver, where on earth'd +this dog come from?" + +"B'long you' Aunt Julia." + +"When'd she get him?" + +"Dess to-day." + +"Who gave him to her?" + +"She ain't sayin'." + +"You mean she won't tell?" + +"She ain't sayin'," Kitty Silver repeated. "I ast her. I say, I say: +'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, who ever sen' you sech a +unlandish-lookin' dog?' I say. All she say when I ast her: 'Nemmine!' +she say, dess thataway. 'Nemmine!' she say. I reckon she ain't goin' +tell nobody who give her this dog." + +"He's certainly a mighty queer-lookin' dog," said Herbert. "I've seen a +few like that, but I can't remember where. What kind is he, Kitty +Silver?" + +"Miss Julia tell me he a poogle dog." + +"A poodle," Florence corrected her, and then turned to Herbert in +supercilious astonishment. "A French Poodle! My goodness! I should think +you were old enough to know that much, anyway--goin' on fourteen years +old!" + +"Well, I did know it," he declared. "I kind of knew it, anyhow; but I +sort of forgot it for once. Do you know if he bites, Kitty Silver?" + +She was noncommittal. "He ain't bit nobody yit." + +"I don't believe he'll bite," said Florence. "I bet he likes me. He +looks like he was taking a fancy to me, Kitty Silver. What's his name?" + +"Gammire." + +"What?" + +"Gammire." + +"What a funny name! Are you sure, Kitty Silver?" + +"Gammire whut you' Aunt Julia tole _me_," Mrs. Silver insisted. "You kin +go on in the house an' ast her; she'll tell you the same." + +"Well, anyway, I'm not afraid of him," said Florence; and she stepped +closer to the poodle, extending her hand to caress him. Then she shouted +as the dog, at her gesture, rose to his hind legs, and, as far as the +leash permitted, walked forward to meet her. She flung her arms about +him rapturously. + +"Oh, the lovely thing!" she cried. "He walks on his hind legs! Why, he's +crazy about me!" + +"Let him go," said Herbert. "I bet he don't like you any more than he +does anybody else. Leave go of him, and I bet he shows he likes me +better than he does you." + +But when Florence released him, Gammire caressed them both impartially. +He leaped upon one, then upon the other, and then upon Kitty Silver with +a cordiality that almost unseated her. + +"Let him off the leash," Florence cried. "He won't run away, 'cause the +gates are shut. Let him loose and see what he'll do." + +Mrs. Silver snapped the catch of the leash, and Gammire departed in the +likeness of a ragged black streak. With his large and eccentric ears +flapping back in the wind and his afterpart hunched in, he ran round and +round the little orchard like a dog gone wild. Altogether a comedian, +when he heard children shrieking with laughter, he circled the more +wildly; then all upon an unexpected instant came to a dead halt, facing +his audience, his nose on the ground between his two forepaws, his +hindquarters high and unstooping. And, seeing they laughed at this, too, +he gave them enough of it, then came back to Kitty Silver and sat by +her feet, a spiral of pink tongue hanging from a wide-open mouth roofed +with black. + +Florence resumed the peeling of her orange. + +"Who do you _think_ gave Gammire to Aunt Julia?" she asked. + +"I ain't stedyin' about it." + +"Yes, but who do you _guess_?" + +"I ain't----" + +"Well, but if you had to be burned to death or guess somebody, who would +you guess?" + +"I haf to git burn' up," said Kitty Silver. "Ev'y las' caller whut comes +here _is_ give her some doggone animal awready. Mista Sammerses, he give +her them two Berjum cats, an' ole Mister Ridgways whut los' his wife, he +give you' Aunt Julia them two canaries that tuck an' hopped out the cage +an' then out the window, las' week, one day, when you' grampaw was alone +in the room with 'em; an' Mista George Plummers, he give her that +Airydale dog you' grampaw tuck an' give to the milkman; an' Mista +Ushers, he give her them two pups whut you' grampaw tuck an' skeer off +the place soon as he laid eyes on 'em, an' thishere Mista Clairidge, he +give her that ole live allagatuh from Florida whut I foun' lookin' at +me over the aidge o' my kitchen sink--ugly ole thing!--an' you' grampaw +tuck an' give it to the greenhouse man. Ain't none nem ge'lmun goin' try +an' give her no _mo'_ animals, I bet! So how anybody goin' guess who +sen' her thishere Gammire? Nobody lef' whut ain't awready sen' her one +an' had the gift spile." + +"Yes, there is," said Florence. + +"Who?" + +"Noble Dill." + +"That there li'l young Mista Dills?" Kitty Silver cried. "Listen me! +Thishere dog 'spensive dog." + +"I don't care; I bet Noble Dill gave him to her." + +Mrs. Silver hooted. "Go way! That there young li'l Mista Dills, he ain' +nev' did show no class, no way nor no time. He be hunderd year ole b'fo' +you see him in autamobile whut b'long to him. Look at a way some nem +fine big rich men like Mista Clairidge an' Mista Ridgways take an' th'ow +they money aroun'! New necktie ev'y time you see 'em; new straw hat +right spang the firs' warm day. Ring do' bell. I say, I say: 'Walk right +in, Mista Ridgways.' Slip me dollah bill dess like that! Mista Sammerses +an' Mista Plummers, an' some nem others, they all show class. Look Mista +Sammerses' spectickles made turtle back; fancy turtle, too. I ast Miss +Julia; she tell me they fancy turtle. Gol' rim spectickles ain't in it; +no ma'am! Mista Sammerses' spectickles--jes' them rims on his +spectickles alone--I bet they cos' mo'n all whut thishere young li'l +Mista Dills got on him from his toes up an' his skin out. I bet Mista +Plummers th'ow mo' money aroun' dess fer gittin' his pants press' than +whut Mista Dills afford to spen' to buy his'n in the firs' place! He +lose his struggle, 'cause you' Aunt Julia, she out fer the big class. +Thishere Gammire, he dog cos' money; he show class same you' Aunt Julia. +Ain't neither one of 'em got to waste they time on nobody whut can't +show no mo' class than thishere li'l young dish-cumbobbery Mista Dills!" + +"I don't care," Florence said stubbornly. "He could of saved up and +saved up, and if he saved up long enough he could of got enough money to +buy a dog like Gammire, because you can get money enough for anything if +you're willing to save up long enough. Anyway, I bet he's the one gave +him to her." + +Herbert joined Kitty Silver in laughter. "Florence is always talkin' +about Noble Dill," he said. "She's sort of crazy, anyway, though." + +[Illustration: _"Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He +bawled, 'She made it up! It's somep'n she made up herself! She----'"_] + +"It runs in the family," Florence retorted, automatically. "I caught it +from my cousins. Anyhow, I don't think there's a single one of any that +wants to marry Aunt Julia that's got the slightest co'parison to Noble +Dill. I admire him because he's so uncouth." + +"He so who?" Kitty Silver inquired. + +"Uncouth." + +"Yes'm," said Mrs. Silver. + +"It's in the ditchanary," Florence explained. "It means rare, elegant, +exquisite, obs, unknown, and a whole lot else." + +"It does not," Herbert interposed. "It means kind of countrified." + +"You go look in the ditchanary," his cousin said severely. "Then, maybe, +you'll know what you're talkin' about just for once. Anyhow, I _do_ like +Noble Dill, and I bet so does Aunt Julia." + +Kitty Silver shook her head. "He lose his struggle, honey! Miss Julia, +she out fer the big class. She ain't stedyin' about him 'cept maybe dess +to let him run her erran's. She treat 'em all mighty nice, 'cause the +mo' come shovin' an' pushin' each other aroun', class or no class, why, +the mo' harder that big class got to work to git her--an' the mo' she +got after her the mo' keeps a-comin'. But thishere young li'l Mista +Dills, I kine o' got strong notion he liable not come no mo' 'tall!" Her +tone had become one of reminiscent amusement, which culminated in a +burst of laughter. "Whee!" she concluded. "After las' night, I reckon +thishere Mista Dills better keep away from the place--yes'm!" + +Florence looked thoughtful, and for the time said nothing. It was +Herbert who asked: "Why'd Noble Dill better stay away from here?" + +"You' grampaw," Mrs. Silver said, shaking her head. "You' grampaw!" + +"What about grandpa?" said Herbert. "What'd he do last night?" + +"'Do'? Oh, me!" Then Mrs. Silver uttered sounds like the lowing of kine, +whereby she meant to indicate her inability to describe Mr. Atwater's +performance. "Well, ma'am," she said, in the low and husky voice of +simulated exhaustion, "all I got to say: you' grampaw beat hisse'f! He +beat hisse'f!" + +"How d'you mean? How could he----" + +"He beat hisse'f! He dess out-talk hisse'f! No, ma'am; I done hear him +many an' many an' many's the time, but las' night he beat hisse'f." + +"What about?" + +"Nothin' in the wide worl' but dess thishere young li'l Noble Dills whut +we talkin' about this livin' minute." + +"What started him?" + +"Whut _start_ him?" Mrs. Silver echoed with sudden loudness. "My +goo'niss! He _b'en_ started ev' since the very firs' time he ev' lay +eyes on him prancin' up the front walk to call on Miss Julia. You' +grampaw don' like none nem callers, but he everlas'n'ly did up an' take +a true spite on thishere li'l Dills!" + +"I mean," said Herbert, "what started him last night?" + +"Them cigareets," said Kitty Silver. "Them cigareets whut thishere Noble +Dills smoke whiles he settin' out on the front po'che callin' on you' +Aunt Julia. You' grampaw mighty funny man about smellin'! You know's +well's I do he don't even like the smell o' violet. Well, ma'am, if he +can't stan' _violet_, how in the name o' misery he goin' stan' the smell +nem cigareets thishere Dills smoke? I can't hardly stan' 'em myse'f. +When he light one on the front po'che, she sif' all through the house, +an' come slidin' right the whole way out to my kitchen, an' _bim_! she +take me in the nose! You' grampaw awready tole Miss Julia time an' time +again if that li'l Dills light dess one mo' on his front po'che he goin' +to walk out there an' do some harm! Co'se she nev' tuck an' pay no +'tention, 'cause Miss Julia, she nev' pay no 'tention to nobody; an' she +like caller have nice time--she ain' goin' tell 'em you' grampaw make +such a fuss. 'Yes, 'deed, kine frien',' she say, she say, when they ast +her: 'Miss Julia, ma'am,' they say, 'I like please strike a match fer to +light my cigareet if you please, ma'am.' She say: 'Light as many as you +please, kine frien',' she say, she say. She say: 'Smell o' cigareet dess +deligh'ful li'l smell,' she say. 'Go 'head an' smoke all you kin stan',' +she say, ''cause I want you injoy you'se'f when you pay call on me,' she +say. Well, so thishere young li'l Dills settin' there puffin' an' +blowin' his ches' out and in, an' feelin' all nice 'cause it about the +firs' time this livin' summer he catch you' Aunt Julia alone to hisse'f +fer while--an' all time the house dess fillin' up, an' draf' blowin' +straight at you' grampaw whur he settin' in his liberry. Ma'am, he sen' +me out an' tell her come in, he got message mighty important fer to +speak to her. So she tell thishere Dills wait a minute, an' walk in the +liberry. Oh, ladies!" + +"What'd he say?" Herbert asked eagerly. + +"He di'n' say nothin'," Mrs. Silver replied eloquently. "He hollered." + +"What did he holler?" + +"He want know di'n' he never tell her thishere Dills can't smoke no mo' +cigareets on his property, an' di'n' he tell her he was'n' goin' allow +him on the place if he did? He say she got to go back on the po'che an' +run thishere li'l Dills off home. He say he give her fair choice; she +kin run him off, or else he go on out and chase him away hisse'f. He +claim li'l Dills ain' got no biznuss roun' callin' nowhere 't all, +'cause he on'y make about eighteen dollars a week an' ain't wuth it. He +say----" + +She was confirmed in this report by an indignant interruption from +Florence. "That's just what he did say, the old thing! I heard him, +myself, and if you care to ask _me_, I'll be glad to inform you that I +think grandpa's conduck was simply insulting!" + +"'Deed it were!" said Mrs. Silver. "An' dess whut he claim hisse'f he +mean it fer! But you tell me, please, how you hear whut you' grampaw +say? He mighty noisy, but you nev' could a-hear him plumb to whur you +live." + +"I wasn't home," said Florence. "I was over here." + +"Then you mus' 'a' made you'se'f mighty skimpish, 'cause _I_ ain't seen +you!" + +"Nobody saw me. I wasn't in the house," said Florence, "I was out in +front." + +"Whurbouts 'out in front'?" + +"Well, I was sitting on the ground, up against the latticework of the +front porch." + +"Whut fur?" + +"Well, it was dark," said Florence. "I just kind of wanted to see what +might be going on." + +"An' you hear all whut you' grampaw take on about an' ev'ything?" + +"I should say so! You could of heard him _lots_ farther than where I +was." + +"Lan' o' misery!" Kitty Silver cried. "If you done hear him whur you +was, thishere li'l Dills mus' a-hear him _mighty_ plain?" + +"He did. How could he help it? He heard every word, and pretty soon he +came down off the porch and stood a minute; then he went on out the +gate, and I don't know whether he went home or not, because it was too +dark to see. But he didn't come back." + +"Yo' right he didn'!" exclaimed Mrs. Silver. "I reckon he got fo'thought +'nough fer that, anyhow! I bet he ain't nev' _goin'_ come back neither. +You' grampaw say he goin' be fix fer him, if he do." + +"Yes, that was while he was standing there," said Florence ruefully. "He +heard all that, too." + +"Miss Julia, she s'picion' he done hear somep'm 'nother, I guess," Kitty +Silver went on. "She shet the liberry do' right almos' on you' grampaw's +nose, whiles he still a-rampin', an' she slip out on the po'che, an' +take look 'roun'; then go on up to her own room. I 'uz up there, while +after that, turn' down her bed; an' she injoyin' herse'f readin' book. +She feel kine o' put out, I reckon, but she ain't stedyin' about no +young li'l Dills. She want 'em all to have nice time an' like her, but +she goin' lose this one, an' she got plenty to spare. She show too much +class fer to fret about no Dills." + +"I don't care," said Florence. "I think she ought to whether she does or +not, because I bet he was feeling just awful. And I think grandpa +behaved like an ole hoodlum." + +"That'll do," Herbert admonished her sternly. "You show some respect for +your relations, if you please." + +But his loyalty to the Atwater family had a bad effect on Florence. "Oh, +_will_ I?" she returned promptly. "Well, then, if you care to inquire +_my_ opinion, I just politely think grandpa ought to be hanged." + +"See here----" + +But Florence and Kitty Silver interrupted him simultaneously. + +"Look at _that_!" Florence cried. + +"My name!" exclaimed Kitty Silver. + +It was the strange taste of Gammire that so excited them. Florence had +peeled her orange and divided it rather fairly into three parts, but the +vehemence she exerted in speaking of her grandfather had caused her to +drop one of these upon the ground. Gammire promptly ate it, "sat up" and +adjusted his paws in prayer for more. + +"Now you listen me!" said Kitty Silver. "I ain't see no dog eat orange +in all my days, an' I ain't see nobody else whut see dog eat orange! No, +ma'am, an' I ain't nev' hear o' nobody else whut ev' see nobody whut see +dog eat orange!" + +Herbert decided to be less impressed. "Oh, I've heard of dogs that'd eat +apples," he said. "Yes, and watermelon and nuts and things." As he +spoke he played with the tennis ball upon his racket, and concluded by +striking the ball high into the air. Its course was not true; and it +descended far over toward the orchard, where Herbert ran to catch +it--but he was not quick enough. At the moment the ball left the racket +Gammire abandoned his prayers: his eyes, like a careful fielder's, +calculating and estimating, followed the swerve of the ball in the +breeze, and when it fell he was on the correct spot. He caught it. + +Herbert shouted. "He caught it on the _fly_! It must have been an +accident. Here----" And he struck the ball into the air again. It went +high--twice as high as the house--and again Gammire "judged" it; +continuously shifting his position, his careful eyes never leaving the +little white globe, until just before the last instant of its descent he +was motionless beneath it. He caught it again, and Herbert whooped. + +Gammire brought the ball to him and invited him to proceed with the +game. That there might be no mistaking his desire, Gammire "sat up" and +prayed; nor did he find Herbert anything loth. Out of nine chances +Gammire "muffed" the ball only twice, both times excusably, and +Florence once more flung her arms about the willing performer. + +"_Who_ do you s'pose trained this wonderful, darling doggie?" she cried. + +Mrs. Silver shook her marvelling head. "He mus' 'a' _come_ thataway," +she said. "I bet nobody 't all ain' train him; he do whut he want to +hisse'f. That Gammire don' ast nobody to train him." + +"Oh, goodness!" Florence said, with sudden despondency. "It's awful!" + +"Whut is?" + +"To think of as lovely a dog as this having to face grandpa!" + +"'Face' him!" Kitty Silver echoed forebodingly. "I reckon you' grampaw +do mo'n dess 'face' him." + +"That's what I mean," Florence explained. "I expect he's just brute +enough to drive him off." + +"Yes'm," said Mrs. Silver. "He git madder ev'y time somebody sen' her +new pet. You' grampaw mighty nervous man, an' everlas'n'ly do hate +animals." + +"He hasn't seen Gammire, has he?" + +"Don't look like it, do it?" said Kitty Silver. "Dog here yit." + +"Well, then I----" Florence paused, glancing at Herbert, for she had +just been visited by a pleasant idea and had no wish to share it with +him. "Is Aunt Julia in the house?" + +"She were, li'l while ago." + +"I want to see her about somep'n I ought to see her about," said +Florence. "I'll be out in a minute." + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +She ran into the house, and found Julia seated at a slim-legged desk, +writing a note. + +"Aunt Julia, it's about Gammire." + +"Gamin." + +"What?" + +"His name is Gamin." + +"Kitty Silver says his name's Gammire." + +"Yes," said Julia. "She would. His name is Gamin, though. He's a little +Parisian rascal, and his name is Gamin." + +"Well, Aunt Julia, I'd rather call him Gammire. How much did he cost?" + +"I don't know; he was brought to me only this morning, and I haven't +asked yet." + +"But I thought somebody gave him to you." + +"Yes; somebody did." + +"Well, I mean," said Florence, "how much did the person that gave him to +you pay for him?" + +Julia sighed. "I just explained, I haven't had a chance to ask." + +Florence looked hurt. "I don't mean you _would_ ask 'em right out. I +just meant: Wouldn't you be liable to kind of hint around an' give 'em a +chance to tell you how much it was? You know perfeckly well it's the way +most the fam'ly do when they give each other somep'n pretty expensive, +Christmas or birthdays, and I thought proba'ly you'd----" + +"No. I shouldn't be surprised, Florence, if nobody _ever_ got to know +how much Gamin cost." + +"Well----" Florence said, and decided to approach her purpose on a new +tack. "Who was it trained him?" + +"I understand that the person who gave him to me has played with him at +times during the few days he's been keeping him, but hasn't 'trained' +him particularly. French Poodles almost learn their own tricks if you +give them a chance. It's natural to them; they love to be little clowns +if you let them." + +"But who was this person that gave him to you?" + +Julia laughed. "It's a secret, Florence--like Gamin's price." + +At this Florence looked piqued. "Well, I guess I got _some_ manners!" +she exclaimed. "I know as well as you do, Aunt Julia, there's no +etiquette in coming right square out and asking how much it was when +somebody goes and makes you a present. I'm certainly enough of a lady to +keep my mouth shut when it's more polite to! But I don't see what harm +there is in telling who it is that gives anybody a present." + +"No harm at all," Julia murmured as she sealed the note she had written. +Then she turned smilingly to face her niece. "Only I'm not going to." + +"Well, then, Aunt Julia"--and now Florence came to her point--"what I +wanted to know is just simply the plain and simple question: Will you +give this dog Gammire to me?" + +Julia leaned forward, laughing, and suddenly clapped her hands together, +close to Florence's face. "No, I won't!" she cried. "There!" + +The niece frowned, lines of anxiety appearing upon her forehead. "Well, +why won't you?" + +"I won't do it!" + +"But, Aunt Julia, I think you ought to!" + +"Why ought I to?" + +"Because----" said Florence. "Well, it's necessary." + +"Why?" + +"Because you know as well as I do what's bound to happen to him!" + +"What is?" + +"Grandpa'll chase him off," said Florence. "He'll take after him the +minute he lays eyes on him, and scare him to death--and then he'll get +lost, and he won't be _anybody's_ dog! I should think you'd just as lief +he'd be my dog as have him chased all over town till a street car hits +him or somep'n." + +But Julia shook her head. "That hasn't happened yet." + +"It _did_ happen with every other one you ever had," Florence urged +plaintively. "He chased 'em every last one off the place, and they never +came back. You know perfectly well, Aunt Julia, grandpa's just bound to +hate this dog, and you know just exactly how he'll act about him." + +"No, I don't," said Julia. "Not just _exactly_." + +"Well, anyway, you know he'll behave awful." + +"It's probable," the aunt admitted. + +"He always does," Florence continued. "He behaves awful about everything +I ever heard about. He----" + +"I'll go pretty far with you, Florence," Julia interposed, "but we'd +better leave him a loophole. You know he's a constant attendant at +church and contributes liberally to many good causes." + +"Oh, you know what I mean! I mean he always acts horrable about +anything pleasant. Of course I know he's a _good_ man, and everything; I +just mean the way he behaves is perfeckly disgusting. So what's the use +your not givin' me this dog? You won't have him yourself as soon as +grandpa comes home to lunch in an hour or so." + +"Oh, yes, I will!" + +"Grandpa hasn't already seen him, has he?" + +"No." + +"Then what makes you say----" + +"He isn't coming home to lunch. He won't be home till five o'clock this +afternoon." + +"Well, then, about six you won't have any dog, and poor little +Gammire'll get run over by an automobile some time this very evening!" +Florence's voice became anguished in the stress of her appeal. "Aunt +Julia, _won't_ you give me this dog?" + +Julia shook her head. + +"Won't you, _please_?" + +"No, dear." + +"Aunt Julia, if it was Noble Dill gave you this dog----" + +"Florence!" her aunt exclaimed. "What in the world makes you imagine +such absurd things? Poor Mr. Dill!" + +"Well, if it was, I think you ought to give Gammire to me because I +_like_ Noble Dill, and I----" + +But here her aunt laughed again and looked at her with some curiosity. +"You still do?" she asked. "What for?" + +"Well," said Florence, swallowing, "he may be rather smallish for a man, +but he's very uncouth and distingrished-looking, and I think he doesn't +get to enjoy himself much. Grandpa talks about him so torrably +and--and----" Here, such was the unexpected depth of her feeling that +she choked, whereupon her aunt, overcome with laughter, but nevertheless +somewhat touched, sprang up and threw two pretty arms about her +charmingly. + +"You _funny_ Florence!" she cried. + +"Then will you give me Gammire?" Florence asked instantly. + +"No. We'll bring him in the house now, and you can stay for lunch." + +Florence was imperfectly consoled, but she had a thought that brightened +her a little. + +"Well, there'll be an awful time when grandpa comes home this +afternoon--but it certainly will be inter'sting!" + +She proved a true prophet, at least to the extent that when Mr. Atwater +opened his front gate that afternoon he was already in the presence of a +deeply interested audience whose observation was unknown to him. Through +the interstices of the lace curtains at an open window, the gaze of +Julia and Florence was concentrated upon him in a manner that might have +disquieted even so opinionated and peculiar a man as Mr. Atwater, had he +been aware of it; and Herbert likewise watched him fixedly from an +unseen outpost. Herbert had shown some recklessness, declaring loudly +that he intended to lounge in full view; but when the well-known form of +the ancestor was actually identified, coming up the street out of the +distance, the descendant changed his mind. The good green earth ceased +to seem secure; and Herbert climbed a tree. He surrounded himself with +the deepest foliage; and beneath him some outlying foothills of Kitty +Silver were visible, where she endeavoured to lurk in the concealment of +a lilac bush. + +Gammire was the only person in view. He sat just in the middle of the +top step of the veranda, and his air was that of an endowed and settled +institution. What passing traffic there was interested him but vaguely, +not affecting the world to which he belonged--that world being this +house and yard, of which he felt himself now, beyond all question, the +official dog. + +It had been a rather hard-working afternoon, for he had done everything +suggested to him as well as a great many other things that he thought of +himself. He had also made it clear that he had taken a fancy to +everybody, but recognized Julia to be the head of the house and of his +own universe; and though he was at the disposal of all her family and +friends, he was at her disposal first. Whithersoever she went, there +would he go also, unless she otherwise commanded. Just now she had +withdrawn, closing the door, but he understood that she intended no +permanent exclusion. Who was this newcomer at the gate? + +The newcomer came to a halt, staring intolerantly. Then he advanced, +slamming the gate behind him. "Get out o' here!" he said. "You get off +the place!" + +Gammire regarded him seriously, not moving, while Mr. Atwater cast an +eye about the lawn, seeming to search for something, and his gaze, thus +roving, was arrested by a slight movement of great areas behind a lilac +bush. It appeared that the dome of some public building had covered +itself with antique textiles and was endeavouring to hide there--a +failure. + +"Kitty Silver!" he said. "What are you doing?" + +"Suh?" + +Debouching sidewise she came into fuller view, but retired a few steps. +"Whut I doin' whur, Mista Atwater?" + +"How'd that dog get on my front steps?" + +Her face became noncommittal entirely. "Thishere dog? He just settin' +there, suh." + +"How'd he get in the yard?" + +"Mus' somebody up an' brung him in." + +"Who did it?" + +"You mean: Who up an' brung him in, suh?" + +"I mean: Who does he belong to?" + +"Mus' be Miss Julia's. I reckon he is, so fur." + +"What! She knows I don't allow dogs on the place." + +"Yessuh." + +Mr. Atwater's expression became more outraged and determined. "You mean +to say that somebody's trying to give her another dog after all I've +been through with----" + +"It look that way, suh." + +"Who did it?" + +"Miss Julia ain't sayin'; an' me, I don' know who done it no mo'n the +lilies of the valley whut toil not neither do they spins." + +In response, Mr. Atwater was guilty of exclamations lacking in courtesy; +and turning again toward Gammire, he waved his arm. "Didn't you hear me +tell you to get out of here?" + +Gammire observed the gesture, and at once "sat up," placing his forepaws +over his nose in prayer, but Mr. Atwater was the more incensed. + +"Get out of here, you woolly black scoundrel!" + +Mrs. Silver uttered a cry of injury before she perceived that she had +mistaken her employer's intention. Gammire also appeared to mistake it, +for he came down upon the lawn, rose to his full height, on his "hind +legs," and in that humanlike posture "walked" in a wide circle. He did +this with an affectation of conscientiousness thoroughly hypocritical; +for he really meant to be humorous. + +"My heavens!" Mr. Atwater cried, lamenting. "Somebody's given her one of +those things at last! I don't like _any_ kind of dog, but if there's one +dam thing on earth I _won't_ stand, it's a trick poodle!" + +And while the tactless Gammire went on, "walking" a circle round him, +Mr. Atwater's eye furiously searched the borders of the path, the lawn, +and otherwheres, for anything that might serve as missile. He had never +kicked a dog, or struck one with his hand, in his life; he had a theory +that it was always better to throw something. "Idiot poodle!" he said. + +But Gammire's tricks were not idiocy in the eyes of Mr. Atwater's +daughter, as she watched them. They had brought to her mind the tricks +of the Jongleur of Notre Dame, who had nothing to offer heaven itself, +to mollify heaven's rulers, except his entertainment of juggling and +nonsense; so that he sang his thin jocosities and played his poor tricks +before the sacred figure of the Madonna; but when the pious would have +struck him down for it, she miraculously came to life just long enough +to smile on him and show that he was right to offer his absurd best. And +thus, as Julia watched the little Jongleur upon the lawn, she saw this +was what he was doing: offering all he knew, hoping that someone might +laugh at him, and like him. And, not curiously, after all, if everything +were known, she found herself thinking of another foolish creature, who +had nothing in the world to offer anybody, except what came out of the +wistfulness of a foolish, loving heart. Then, though her lips smiled +faintly as she thought of Noble Dill, all at once a brightness trembled +along the eyelids of the Prettiest Girl in Town, and glimmered over, a +moment later, to shine upon her cheek. + +"You get out!" Mr. Atwater shouted, "D'ye hear me, you poodle?" + +He found the missile, a stone of fair diameter. He hurled it violently. + +"_There_, darn you!" + +The stone missed, and Gammire fled desperately after it. + +"You get over that fence!" Mr. Atwater cried. "You wait till I find +another rock and I'll----" + +He began to search for another stone, but, before he could find one, +Gammire returned with the first. He deposited it upon the ground at Mr. +Atwater's feet. + +"There's your rock," he said. + +Mr. Atwater looked down at him fiercely, and through the black +chrysanthemum two garnet sparks glinted waggishly. + +"Didn't you hear me tell you what I'd do if you didn't get out o' here, +you darn poodle?" + +Gammire "sat up," placed his forepaws together over his nose and +prayed. "There's your rock," he said. And he added, as clearly as if he +used a spoken language, "Let's get on with the game!" + +Mr. Atwater turned to Kitty Silver. "Does he--does he know how to speak, +or shake hands, or anything like that?" he asked. + + * * * * * + +The next morning, as the peculiar old man sat at breakfast, he said to +the lady across the table: "Look here. Who did give Gamin to us?" + +Julia bit her lip; she even cast down her eyes. + +"Well, who was it?" + +Her demureness still increased. "It was--Noble Dill." + +Mr. Atwater was silent; he looked down and caught a clownish garnet +gleam out of a blackness neighbouring his knee. "Well, see here," he +said. "Why can't you--why can't you----" + +"Why can't I what?" + +"Why can't you sit out in the yard the next time he calls here, instead +of on the porch where it blows all through the house? It's just as +pleasant to sit under the trees, isn't it?" + +"Pleasanter," said Julia. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + + +By the end of October, with the dispersal of foliage that has served all +summer long as a screen for whatever small privacy may exist between +American neighbours, we begin to perceive the rise of our autumn high +tides of gossip. At this season of the year, in our towns of moderate +size and ambition, where apartment houses have not yet condensed and at +the same time sequestered the population, one may look over back yard +beyond back yard, both up and down the street; especially if one takes +the trouble to sit for an hour or so daily, upon the top of a high fence +at about the middle of a block. + +Of course an adult who followed such a course would be thought peculiar, +no doubt he would be subject to inimical comment; but boys are +considered so inexplicable that they have gathered for themselves many +privileges denied their parents and elders, and a boy can do such a +thing as this to his full content, without anybody's thinking about it +at all. So it was that Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., sat for a +considerable time upon such a fence, after school hours, every afternoon +of the last week in October; and only one person particularly observed +him or was stimulated to any mental activity by his procedure. Even at +that, this person was affected only because she was Herbert's relative, +of an age sympathetic to his and of a sex antipathetic. + +In spite of the fact that Herbert, thus seriously disporting himself on +his father's back fence, attracted only an audience of one (and she +hostile at a rather distant window) his behaviour might well have been +thought piquant by anybody. After climbing to the top of the fence he +would produce from interior pockets a small memorandum-book and a +pencil. His expression was gravely alert, his manner more than +businesslike; yet nobody could have failed to comprehend that he was +enjoying himself, especially when his attitude became tenser, as it +frequently did. Then he would rise, balancing himself at adroit ease, +his feet one before the other on the inner rail, below the top of the +boards, and with eyes dramatically shielded beneath a scoutish palm, he +would gaze sternly in the direction of some object or movement that had +attracted his attention and then, having satisfied himself of something +or other, he would sit and decisively enter a note in his +memorandum-book. + +He was not always alone; sometimes he was joined by a friend, male, and, +though shorter than Herbert, about as old; and this companion was +inspired, it seemed, by motives precisely similar to those from which +sprang Herbert's own actions. Like Herbert he would sit upon the top of +the high fence; like Herbert he would rise at intervals, for the better +study of something this side the horizon; then, also like Herbert, he +would sit again and write firmly in a little notebook. And seldom in the +history of the world have any such sessions been invested by the +participants with so intentional an appearance of importance. + +That was what most irritated their lone observer at the somewhat distant +upstairs back window. The important importance of Herbert and his friend +was so extreme as to be all too plainly visible across four intervening +broad back yards; in fact, there was sometimes reason to suspect that +the two performers were aware of their audience and even of her goaded +condition; and that they deliberately increased the outrageousness of +their importance on her account. And upon the Saturday of that week, +when the notebook writers were upon the fence the greater part of the +afternoon, Florence's fascinated indignation became vocal. + +"Vile Things!" she said. + +Her mother, sewing beside another window of the room, looked up +inquiringly. + +"What are, Florence?" + +"Cousin Herbert and that nasty little Henry Rooter." + +"Are you watching them again?" her mother asked. + +"Yes, I am," said Florence; and added tartly, "Not because I care to, +but merely to amuse myself at their expense." + +Mrs. Atwater murmured, "Couldn't you find some other way to amuse +yourself, Florence?" + +"I don't call this amusement," the inconsistent girl responded, not +without chagrin. "Think I'd spend all my days starin' at Herbert +Illingsworth Atwater, Junior, and that nasty little Henry Rooter, and +call it _amusement_?" + +"Then why do you do it?" + +"Why do I do _what_, mamma?" Florence inquired, as in despair of Mrs. +Atwater's ever learning to put things clearly. + +"Why do you 'spend all your days' watching them? You don't seem able to +keep away from the window, and it appears to make you irritable. I +should think if they wouldn't let you play with them you'd be too +proud----" + +"Oh, good heavens, mamma!" + +"Don't use such expressions, Florence, please." + +"Well," said Florence, "I got to use _some_ expression when you accuse +me of wantin' to 'play' with those two vile things! My goodness mercy, +mamma, I don't want to 'play' with 'em! I'm more than four years old, I +guess; though you don't ever seem willing to give me credit for it. I +don't haf to 'play' all the time, mamma: and anyway, Herbert and that +nasty little Henry Rooter aren't playing, either." + +"Aren't they?" Mrs. Atwater inquired. "I thought the other day you said +you wanted them to let you play with them at being a newspaper reporter +or editor or something like that, and they were rude and told you to go +away. Wasn't that it?" + +Florence sighed. "No, mamma, it cert'nly wasn't." + +"They weren't rude to you?" + +"Yes, they cert'nly were!" + +"Well, then----" + +"Mamma, _can't_ you understand?" Florence turned from the window to +beseech Mrs. Atwater's concentration upon the matter. "It isn't +'_playing_'! I didn't want to 'play' being a reporter; _they_ ain't +'playing'----" + +"_Aren't_ playing, Florence." + +"Yes'm. They're not. Herbert's got a real printing-press; Uncle Joseph +gave it to him. It's a _real_ one, mamma, can't you understand?" + +"I'll try," said Mrs. Atwater. "You mustn't get so excited about it, +Florence." + +"I'm not!" Florence returned vehemently. "I guess it'd take more than +those two vile things and their old printing-press to get _me_ excited! +_I_ don't care what they do; it's far less than nothing to me! All _I_ +wish is they'd fall off the fence and break their vile ole necks!" + +With this manifestation of impersonal calmness, she turned again to the +window; but her mother protested. "Do quit watching those foolish boys; +you mustn't let them upset you so by their playing." + +Florence moaned. "They don't 'upset' me, mamma! They have no effects on +me by the slightest degree! And I _told_ you, mamma, they're not +'playing'." + +"Then what are they doing?" + +"Well, they're having a newspaper. They got the printing-press and an +office in Herbert's stable, and everything. They got somebody to give +'em some ole banisters and a railing from a house that was torn down +somewheres, and then they got it stuck up in the stable loft, so it runs +across with a kind of a gate in the middle of these banisters, and on +one side is the printing-press and a desk from that nasty little Henry +Rooter's mother's attic; and a table and some chairs, and a map on the +wall; and that's their newspaper office. They go out and look for what's +the news, and write it down in lead pencil; and then they go up to their +office and write it in ink; and then they print it for their newspaper." + +"But what do they do on the fence?" + +"That's where they go to watch what the news is," Florence explained +morosely. "They think they're so grand, sittin' up there, pokin' around! +They go other places, too; and they ask people. That's all they said _I_ +could be!" Here the lady's bitterness became strongly intensified. "They +said maybe I could be one o' the ones they asked if I knew anything, +sometimes, if they happened to think of it! I just respectf'ly told 'em +I'd decline to wipe my oldest shoes on 'em to save their lives!" + +Mrs. Atwater sighed. "You mustn't use such expressions, Florence." + +"I don't see why not," the daughter promptly objected. "They're a lot +more refined than the expressions they used on me!" + +"Then I'm very glad you didn't play with them." + +But at this, Florence once more gave way to filial despair. "Mamma, you +just _can't_ see through anything! I've said anyhow fifty times they +ain't--aren't--playing! They're getting up a _real_ newspaper, and have +people _buy_ it and everything. They been all over this part of town and +got every aunt and uncle they have besides their own fathers and +mothers, and some people in the neighbourhood, and Kitty Silver and two +or three other coloured people besides. They're going to charge +twenty-five cents a year, collect-in-advance because they want the money +first; and even papa gave 'em a quarter last night; he told me so." + +"How often do they intend to publish their paper, Florence?" Mrs. +Atwater inquired absently, having resumed her sewing. + +"Every week; and they're goin' to have the first one a week from +to-day." + +"What do they call it?" + +"The North End Daily Oriole. It's the silliest name I ever heard for a +newspaper; and I told 'em so. I told 'em what _I_ thought of it, I +guess!" + +"Was that the reason?" Mrs. Atwater asked. + +"Was it what reason, mamma?" + +"Was it the reason they wouldn't let you be a reporter with them?" + +"Poot!" Florence exclaimed airily. "_I_ didn't want anything to do with +their ole paper. But anyway I didn't make fun o' their callin' it 'The +North End Daily Oriole' till after they said I couldn't be in it. _Then_ +I did, you bet!" + +"Florence, don't say----" + +"Mamma, I got to say somep'n! Well, I told 'em I wouldn't be in their +ole paper if they begged me on their bented knees; and I said if they +begged me a thousand years I wouldn't be in any paper with such a crazy +name and I wouldn't tell 'em any news if I knew the President of the +United States had the scarlet fever! I just politely informed 'em they +could say what they liked, if they was dying _I_ declined so much as +wipe the oldest shoes I got on 'em!" + +"But why _wouldn't_ they let you be on the paper?" her mother insisted. + +Upon this Florence became analytical. "Just so's they could act so +important." And she added, as a consequence, "They ought to be +arrested!" + +Mrs. Atwater murmured absently, but forbore to press her inquiry; and +Florence was silent, in a brooding mood. The journalists upon the fence +had disappeared from view, during her conversation with her mother; and +presently she sighed, and quietly left the room. She went to her own +apartment, where, at a small and rather battered little white desk, +after a period of earnest reverie, she took up a pen, wet the point in +purple ink, and without great effort or any critical delayings, produced +a poem. + +It was in a sense an original poem, though like the greater number of +all literary projections, it was so strongly inspirational that the +source of its inspiration might easily become manifest to a cold-blooded +reader. Nevertheless, to the poetess herself, as she explained later in +good faith, the words just seemed to _come to_ her;--doubtless with +either genius or some form of miracle implied; for sources of +inspiration are seldom recognized by inspired writers themselves. She +had not long ago been party to a musical Sunday afternoon at her +Great-Uncle Joseph's house, where Mr. Clairdyce sang some of his songs +again and again, and her poem may have begun to coagulate within her +then. + + + THE ORGANEST + + BY FLORENCE ATWATER + + The organest was seated at his organ in a church, + In some beautiful woods of maple and birch, + He was very weary while he played upon the keys, + But he was a great organest and always played with ease, + When the soul is weary, + And the wind is dreary, + I would like to be an organest seated all day at the organ, + Whether my name might be Fairchild or Morgan, + I would play music like a vast amen, + The way it sounds in a church of men. + +Florence read her poem seven or eight times, the deepening pleasure of +her expression being evidence that repetition failed to denature this +work, but on the contrary, enhanced an appreciative surprise at its +singular merit. Finally she folded the sheet of paper with a delicate +carefulness unusual to her, and placed it in her skirt pocket; then she +went downstairs and out into the back yard. Her next action was +straightforward and anything but prudish; she climbed the high wooden +fences, one after the other, until she came to a pause at the top of +that whereon the two journalists had lately made themselves so odiously +impressive. + +Before her, if she had but taken note of them, were a lesson in history +and the markings of a profound transition in human evolution. Beside the +old frame stable was a little brick garage, obviously put to the daily +use intended by its designer. Quite as obviously the stable was +obsolete; anybody would have known from its outside that there was no +horse within it. There, visible, was the end of the pastoral age. + +All this was lost upon Florence. She sat upon the fence, her gaze +unfavourably though wistfully fixed upon a sign of no special aesthetic +merit above the stable door. + + THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE + ATWATER & ROOTER OWNERS & + PROPREITORS SUBSCRIBE NOW 25 CENTS + +The inconsistency of the word "daily" did not trouble Florence; +moreover, she had found no fault with "Oriole" until the Owners & +Propreitors had explained to her in the plainest terms known to their +vocabularies that she was excluded from the enterprise. Then, indeed, +she had been reciprocally explicit in regard not only to them and +certain personal characteristics of theirs, which she pointed out as +fundamental, but in regard to any newspaper which should deliberately +call itself an "Oriole." The partners remained superior in manner, +though unable to conceal a natural resentment; they had adopted "Oriole" +not out of a sentiment for the city of Baltimore, nor, indeed, on +account of any ornithologic interest of theirs, but as a relic left over +from an abandoned club or secret society, which they had previously +contemplated forming, its members to be called "The Orioles" for no +reason whatever. The two friends had talked of this plan at many +meetings throughout the summer, and when Mr. Joseph Atwater made his +great-nephew the unexpected present of a printing-press, and a newspaper +consequently took the place of the club, Herbert and Henry still +entertained an affection for their former scheme and decided to +perpetuate the name. They were the more sensitive to attack upon it by +an ignorant outsider and girl like Florence, and her chance of +ingratiating herself with them, if that could be now her intention, was +not a promising one. + +She descended from the fence with pronounced inelegance, and, +approaching the old double doors of the "carriage-house," which were +open, paused to listen. Sounds from above assured her that the editors +were editing--or at least that they could be found at their place of +business. Therefore, she ascended the cobwebby stairway, emerged from it +into the former hay loft, and thus made her appearance in the +printing-room of _The North End Daily Oriole_. + +Herbert, frowning with the burden of composition, sat at a table beyond +the official railing, and his partner was engaged at the press, +earnestly setting type. This latter person (whom Florence so seldom +named otherwise than as "that nasty little Henry Rooter") was of a pure, +smooth, fair-haired appearance, and strangely clean for his age and +occupation. His profile was of a symmetry he had not yet himself begun +to appreciate; his dress was scrupulous and modish; and though he was +short, nothing outward about him confirmed the more sinister of +Florence's two adjectives. Nevertheless, her poor opinion of him was +plain in her expression as she made her present intrusion upon his +working hours. He seemed to reciprocate. + +"Listen! Didn't I and Herbert tell you to keep out o' here?" he said. +"Look at her, Herbert! She's back again!" + +"You get out o' here, Florence," said Herbert, abandoning his task with +a look of pain. "How often we got to tell you we don't want you around +here when we're in our office like this?" + +"For Heaven's sake!" Henry Rooter thought fit to add. "Can't you quit +runnin' up and down our office stairs once in a while, long enough for +us to get our newspaper work done? Can't you give us a little _peace_?" + +The pinkiness of Florence's altering complexion was justified; she had +not been within a thousand miles of their old office for four days. With +some heat she stated this to be the fact, adding, "And I only came then +because I knew somebody ought to see that this stable isn't ruined. It's +my own uncle and aunt's stable, I guess, isn't it? Answer me that, if +you'll kindly please to do so!" + +"It's my father and mother's stable," Herbert asserted. "Haven't I got a +right to say who's allowed in my own father and mother's stable?" + +"You have not," the prompt Florence replied. "It's my own uncle and +aunt's stable, and I got as much right here as anybody." + +"You have not!" Henry Rooter protested hotly. "This isn't either your +ole aunt and uncle's stable." + +"_It isn't_?" + +"No, it is not! This isn't anybody's stable. It's my and Herbert's +Newspaper Building, and I guess you haven't got the face to stand there +and claim you got a right to go in a Newspaper Building and say you got +a right there when everybody tells you to stay outside of it, I guess!" + +"Oh, haven't I?" + +"No, you 'haven't--I'!" Mr. Rooter maintained bitterly. "You just walk +down town and go in any Newspaper Buildings down there and tell 'em you +got a right to stay there all day long when they tell you to get out o' +there! Just try it! That's all I ask!" + +Florence uttered a cry of derision. "And pray, whoever told you I was +bound to do everything you ask me to, Mister Henry Rooter?" And she +concluded by reverting to that hostile impulse, so ancient, which, in +despair of touching an antagonist effectively, reflects upon his +ancestors. "If you got anything you want to ask, you go ask your +grandmother!" + +"Here!" Herbert sprang to his feet. "You try and behave like a lady!" + +"Who'll make me?" she inquired. + +"You got to behave like a lady as long as you're in our Newspaper +Building, anyway," Herbert said ominously. "If you expect to come up +here after you been told five dozen times to keep out----" + +"For Heaven's sakes!" his partner interposed. "When we goin' to get our +newspaper _work_ done? She's _your_ cousin; I should think you could get +her out!" + +"Well, I'm goin' to, ain't I?" Herbert protested plaintively. "I expect +to get her out, don't I?" + +"Oh, do you?" Miss Atwater inquired, with severe mockery. "Pray, how +would you expect to accomplish it, pray?" + +Herbert looked desperate, but was unable to form a reply consistent with +a few new rules of etiquette and gallantry that he had begun to observe +during the past year or so. "Now, see here, Florence," he said. "You're +old enough to know when people tell you to keep out of a place, why, it +means they want you to stay away from there." + +Florence remained cold to this reasoning. "Oh, Poot!" she said. + +"Now, look here!" her cousin remonstrated, and went on with his +argument. "We got our newspaper work to do, and you ought to have sense +enough to know newspaper work like this newspaper work we got on _our_ +hands here isn't--well, it ain't any child's play." + +His partner appeared to approve of the expression, for he nodded +severely and then used it himself. "No, you _bet_ it isn't any child's +play!" he said. + +"No, sir," Herbert continued. "This newspaper work we got on our hands +here isn't any child's play." + +"No, sir," Henry Rooter again agreed. "Newspaper work like this isn't +any child's play at _all_!" + +"It isn't any child's play, Florence," said Herbert. "It ain't any +child's play at all, Florence. If it was just child's play or something +like that, why, it wouldn't matter so much your always pokin' up here, +and----" + +"Well," his partner interrupted judicially;--"we wouldn't want her +around, even if it _was_ child's play." + +"No, we wouldn't; that's so," Herbert agreed. "We wouldn't want you +around, anyhow, Florence." Here his tone became more plaintive. "So, for +mercy's sakes can't you go on home and give us a little rest? What you +want, anyhow?" + +"Well, I guess it's about time you was askin' me that," she said, not +unreasonably. "If you'd asked me that in the first place, instead of +actin' like you'd never been taught anything, and was only fit to +associate with hoodlums, perhaps my time is of _some_ value, myself!" + +Here the lack of rhetorical cohesion was largely counteracted by the +strong expressiveness of her tone and manner, which made clear her +position as a person of worth, dealing with the lowest of her inferiors. +She went on, not pausing: + +"I thought being as I was related to you, and all the family and +everybody else is goin' to haf to read your ole newspaper, anyway it'd +be a good thing if what was printed in it wasn't _all_ a disgrace to the +family, because the name of our family's got mixed up with this +newspaper;--so here!" + +Thus speaking, she took the poem from her pocket and with dignity held +it forth to her cousin. + +"What's that?" Herbert inquired, not moving a hand. He was but an +amateur, yet already enough of an editor to be suspicious. + +"It's a poem," Florence said. "I don't know whether I exackly ought to +have it in your ole newspaper or not, but on account of the family's +sake I guess I better. Here, take it." + +Herbert at once withdrew a few steps, placing his hands behind him. +"Listen here," he said;--"you think we got time to read a lot o' nothin' +in your ole hand-writin' that nobody can read anyhow, and then go and +toil and moil to print it on our printin'-press? I guess we got work +enough printin' what we write for our newspaper our own selves! My +goodness, Florence, I _told_ you this isn't any child's play!" + +For the moment, Florence appeared to be somewhat baffled. "Well," she +said. "Well, you better put this poem in your ole newspaper if you want +to have anyhow one thing in it that won't make everybody sick that reads +it." + +"_I_ won't do it!" Herbert said decisively. + +"What you take us for?" his partner added. + +"All right, then," Florence responded. "I'll go and tell Uncle Joseph +and he'll take this printing-press back." + +"He will not take it back. I already did tell him how you kept pokin' +around, tryin' to _run_ everything, and how we just worried our lives +out tryin' to keep you away. He said he bet it was a hard job; that's +what Uncle Joseph said! So go on, tell him anything you want to. You +don't get your ole poem in _our_ newspaper!" + +"Not if she lived to be two hunderd years old!" Henry Rooter added. +Then he had an afterthought. "Not unless she pays for it." + +"How do you mean?" Herbert asked, puzzled by this codicil. + +Now Henry's brow had become corrugated with no little professional +impressiveness. "You know what we were talkin' about this morning?" he +said. "How the right way to run our newspaper, we ought to have some +advertisements in it and everything? Well, we want money, don't we? We +could put this poem in our newspaper like an advertisement;--that is, if +Florence has got any money, we could." + +Herbert frowned. "If her ole poem isn't too long I guess we could. Here, +let's see it, Florence." And, taking the sheet of paper in his hand, he +studied the dimensions of the poem, without paining himself to read it. +"Well, I guess, maybe we can do it," he said. "How much ought we to +charge her?" + +This question sent Henry Rooter into a state of calculation, while +Florence observed him with veiled anxiety; but after a time he looked +up, his brow showing continued strain. "Do you keep a bank, +Florence--for nickels and dimes and maybe quarters, you know?" he +inquired. + +It was her cousin who impulsively replied for her. "No, she don't," he +said. + +"Not since I was about seven years old!" And Florence added sharply, +though with dignity: "Do you still make mud pies in your back yard, +pray?" + +"Now, see here!" Henry objected. "Try and be a lady anyway for a few +minutes, can't you? I got to figure out how much we got to charge you +for your ole poem, don't I?" + +"Well, then," Florence returned, "you better ask _me_ somep'n about +that, hadn't you?" + +"Well," said Henry Rooter, "have you got any money at home?" + +"No, I haven't." + +"Have you got any money with you?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"How much is it?" + +"I won't tell you." + +Henry frowned. "I guess we ought to make her pay about two dollars and a +half," he said, turning to his partner. + +Herbert became deferential; it seemed to him that he had formed a +business association with a genius, and for a moment he was dazzled; +then he remembered Florence's financial capacities, always well known +to him, and he looked depressed. Florence, herself, looked indignant. + +"Two dollars and a half!" she cried. "Why, I could buy this whole place +for two dollars and a half, printing-press, railing, and all--yes, and +you thrown in, Mister Henry Rooter!" + +"See here, Florence," Henry said earnestly. "Haven't you got two dollars +and a half?" + +"Of course she hasn't!" his partner assured him. "She never had two +dollars and a half in her life!" + +"Well, then," said Henry gloomily, "what we goin' to do about it? How +much _you_ think we ought to charge her?" + +Herbert's expression became noncommittal. "Just let me think a minute," +he said, and with his hand to his brow he stepped behind the +unsuspicious Florence. + +"I got to think," he murmured; then with the straightforwardness of his +age, he suddenly seized his damsel cousin from the rear and held her in +a tight but far from affectionate embrace, pinioning her arms. She +shrieked, "Murder!" and "Let me go!" and "Help! Hay-yulp!" + +"Look in her pocket," Herbert shouted. "She keeps her money in her skirt +pocket when she's got any. It's on the left side of her. Don't let her +kick you! Look out!" + +"I got it!" said the dexterous Henry, retreating and exhibiting coins. +"It's one dime and two nickels--twenty cents. Has she got any more +pockets?" + +"No, I haven't!" Florence fiercely informed him, as Herbert released +her. "And I guess you better hand that money back if you don't want to +be arrested for stealing!" + +But Henry was unmoved. "Twenty cents," he said calculatingly. "Well, all +right; it isn't much, but you can have your poem in our newspaper for +twenty cents, Florence. If you don't want to pay that much, why, take +your ole twenty cents and go on away." + +"Yes," said Herbert. "That's as cheap as we'll do it, Florence. Take it +or leave it." + +"Take it or leave it," Henry Rooter agreed. "That's the way to talk to +her; take it or leave it, Florence. If you don't take it you got to +leave it." + +Florence was indignant, but she decided to take it. "All right," she +said coldly. "I wouldn't pay another cent if I died for it." + +"Well, you haven't got another cent, so that's all right," Mr. Rooter +remarked; and he honourably extended an open palm toward his partner. +"Here, Herbert; you can have the dime, or the two nickels, whichever you +rather. It makes no difference to me; I'd as soon have one as the +other." + +Herbert took the two nickels, and turned to Florence. "See here, +Florence," he said, in a tone of strong complaint. "This business is all +done and paid for now. What you want to hang around here any _more_ +for?" + +"Yes, Florence," his partner faithfully seconded him, at once. "We +haven't got any more time to waste around here to-day, and so what you +want to stand around in the way and everything for? You ought to know +yourself we don't want you." + +"I'm not in the way," said Florence hotly. "Whose way am I in?" + +"Well, anyhow, if you don't go," Herbert informed her, "we'll carry you +downstairs and lock you out." + +"I'd just like to see you!" she returned, her eyes flashing. "Just you +dare to lay a finger on me again!" And she added, "Anyway, if you did, +those ole doors haven't got any lock on 'em: I'll come right back in and +walk right straight up the stairs again!" + +Herbert advanced toward her. "Now you pay attention, to me," he said. +"You've paid for your ole poem, and we got to have some peace around +here. I'm goin' straight over to your mother and ask her to come and get +you." + +Florence gave up. "What difference would _that_ make, Mister +Taddletale?" she inquired mockingly. "_I_ wouldn't be here when she +came, would I? I'll thank you to notice there's some value to my time, +myself; and I'll just politely ask you to excuse me, pray!" + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + + +With a proud air she crushingly departed, returning to her own home far +from dissatisfied with what she had accomplished. Moreover, she began to +expand with the realization of a new importance; and she was gratified +with the effect upon her parents, at dinner that evening, when she +informed them that she had written a poem, which was to be published in +the prospective first number of _The North End Daily Oriole_. + +"Written a _poem_?" said her father. "Well, I declare! Why, that's +remarkable, Florence!" + +"I'm glad the boys were nice about it," said her mother. "I should have +feared they couldn't appreciate it, after being so cross to you about +letting you have anything to do with the printing-press. They must have +thought it was a very good poem." + +"Where is the poem, Florence?" Mr. Atwater asked. "Let's read it and see +what our little girl can do when she really tries." + +Unfortunately Florence had not a copy, and when she informed her father +of this fact, he professed himself greatly disappointed as well as eager +for the first appearance of _The Oriole_, that he might felicitate +himself upon the evidence of his daughter's heretofore unsuspected +talent. Florence was herself anxious for the newspaper's debut, and she +made her anxiety so clear to Atwater & Rooter, Owners & Propreitors, +every afternoon after school, during the following week, that by +Thursday further argument and repartee on their part were felt to be +indeed futile; and in order to have a little peace around there, they +carried her downstairs. At least, they defined their action as +"carrying," and, having deposited her in the yard, they were obliged to +stand guard at the doors, which they closed and contrived to hold +against her until her strength was worn out for that day. + +Florence consoled herself. During the week she dropped in on all the +members of "the family"--her grandfather, uncles and aunts and cousins, +her great-aunts and great-uncles--and in each instance, after no +protracted formal preliminaries, lightly remarked that she wrote poetry +now; her first to appear in the forthcoming _Oriole_. And when +Great-Aunt Carrie said, "Why, Florence, you're wonderful! I couldn't +write a poem to save my life. I never _could_ see how they do it," +Florence laughed, made a deprecatory little side motion with her head, +and responded, "Why, Aunt Carrie, that's nothing! It just kind of comes +to you." + +This also served as her explanation when some of her school friends +expressed their admiration, after being told the news in confidence; +though to one of the teachers she said, smiling ruefully, as in +remembrance of midnight oil, "It _does_ take work, of course!" + + * * * * * + +When opportunity offered, upon the street, she joined people she knew +(or even rather distant acquaintances) to walk with them a little way +and lead the conversation to the subject of poetry, including her own +contribution to that art. Altogether, if Florence was not in a fair way +to become a poetic celebrity it was not her own fault but entirely that +of _The North End Daily Oriole_, which was to make its appearance on +Saturday, but failed to do so on account of too much enthusiasm on the +part of Atwater & Rooter in manipulating the printing-press. It broke, +had to be repaired; and Florence, her nerves upset by the accident, +demanded her money back. This was impossible, and the postponement +proved to be but an episode; moreover, it gave her time to let more +people know of the treat that was coming. + +Among these was Noble Dill. Until the Friday following her +disappointment she had found no opportunity to acquaint her Very Ideal +with the news; and but for an encounter partly due to chance, he might +not have heard of it. A sentimental enrichment of colour in her cheeks +was the result of her catching sight of him, as she was on the point of +opening and entering her own front door, that afternoon, on her return +from school. He was passing the house, walking somewhat dreamily. + +Florence stepped into the sheltering vestibule, peeping round it with +earnest eyes to watch him as he went by; obviously he had taken no note +of her. Satisfied of this, she waited until he was at a little distance, +then ran lightly down to the gate, hurried after him and joined him. + +"Why, Mr. Dill!" she exclaimed, in her mother's most polished manner. +"How supprising to see _you_! I presume as we both happen to be walking +the same direction we might just's well keep together." + +"Surprising to see me?" Noble said vaguely. "I haven't been away +anywhere in particular, Florence." Then, at a thought, he brightened. +"I'm glad to see you, Florence. Do you know if any of your family or +relatives have heard when your Aunt Julia is coming home?" + +"Aunt Julia? She's out of town," said Florence. "She's visiting +different people she used to know when she was away at school." + +"Yes, I know," Mr. Dill returned. "But she's been gone six weeks." + +"Oh, I don't believe it's that long," Florence said casually; then with +more earnestness: "Mr. Dill, I was goin' to ask you somep'n--it's kind +of a funny question for _me_ to ask, but----" + +"Yes, she has," Noble interrupted, not aware that his remark was an +interruption. "Oh, yes, she has!" he said. "It was six weeks +day-before-yesterday afternoon. I saw your father downtown this morning, +and he said he didn't know that any of the family had heard just when +she was coming home. I thought maybe some of your relatives had a letter +from her by this afternoon's mail, perhaps." + +"I guess not," said Florence. "Mr. Dill, there was a question I thought +I'd ask you. It's kind of a funny question for _me_----" + +"Are you _sure_ nobody's heard from your Aunt Julia to-day?" Noble +insisted. + +"I guess they haven't. Mr. Dill, I was goin' to ask you----" + +"It's strange," he murmured, "I don't see how people can enjoy visits +that long. I should think they'd get anxious about what might happen at +home." + +"Oh, grandpa's all right; he says he kind of likes to have the house +nice and quiet to himself; and anyway Aunt Julia enjoys visiting," +Florence assured him. "Aunt Fanny saw a newspaper from one the places +where Aunt Julia's visiting her school room-mate. It had her picture in +it and called her 'the famous Northern Beauty'; it was down South +somewhere. Well, Mr. Dill, I was just sayin' I believe I'd ask you----" + +But a sectional rancour seemed all at once to affect the young man. "Oh, +yes. I heard about that," he said. "Your Aunt Fanny lent my mother the +newspaper. Those people in _that_ part of the country--well----" He +paused, remembering that it was only Florence he addressed; and he +withheld from utterance his opinion that the Civil War ought to be +fought all over again. "Your father said your grandfather hadn't heard +from her for several days, and even then she hadn't said when she was +coming home." + +"No, I expect she didn't," said Florence. "Mr. Dill, I was goin' to ask +you somep'n--it's kind of a queer kind of question for _me_ to ask, I +guess----" She paused. However, he did not interrupt her, seeming +preoccupied with gloom; whereupon Florence permitted herself a +deprecatory laugh, and continued, "It might be you'd answer yes, or it +might be you'd answer no; but anyway I was goin' to ask you--it's kind +of a funny question for _me_ to ask, I expect--but do you like poetry?" + +"What?" + +"Well, as things have turned out lately I guess it's kind of a funny +question, Mr. Dill, but do you like poetry?" + +Noble's expression took on a coldness; for the word brought to his mind +a thought of Newland Sanders. "Do I like poetry?" said Noble. "No, I +don't." + +Florence was momentarily discouraged; but at her age people usually +possess an invaluable faculty, which they lose later in life; and it is +a pity that they do lose it. At thirteen--especially the earlier months +of thirteen--they are still able to set aside and dismiss from their +minds almost any facts, no matter how audibly those facts have asked for +recognition. Children superbly allow themselves to become deaf, so to +speak, to undesirable circumstances; most frequently, of course, to +undesirable circumstances in the way of parental direction; so that +fathers, mothers, nurses, or governesses, not comprehending that this +mental deafness is for the time being entirely genuine, are liable to +hoarseness both of throat and temper. Thirteen is an age when the fading +of this gift or talent, one of the most beautiful of childhood, begins +to impair its helpfulness under the mistaken stress of discipline; but +Florence retained something of it. In a moment or two Noble Dill's +disaffection toward poetry was altogether as if it did not exist. + +She coughed, inclined her head a little to one side, in her mother's +manner of politeness to callers, and, repeating her deprecatory laugh, +remarked: "Well, of course it's kind of a funny question for _me_ to +ask, of course." + +"What is, Florence?" Noble inquired absently. + +"Well--what I was saying was that 'course it's sort of queer _me_ askin' +if you liked poetry, of course, on account of my _writing_ poetry the +way I do now." + +She looked up at him with a bright readiness to respond modestly to +whatever exclamation his wonder should dictate; but Noble's attention +had straggled again. + +"Has she written your mother lately?" he asked. + +Florence's expression denoted a mental condition slightly disturbed. +"No," she said. "It's goin' to be printed in _The North End Daily +Oriole_." + +"What?" + +"My poem. It's about a vast amen--anyhow, that's proba'ly the best thing +in it, I guess--and they're goin' to have it out to-morrow, or else +they'll have to settle with _me_; that's one thing certain! I'll bring +one over to your house and leave it at the door for you, Mr. Dill." + +Noble had but a confused notion of what she thus generously promised. +However, he said, "Thank you," and nodded vaguely. + +"Of course, I don't know as it's so awful good," Florence admitted +insincerely. "The family all seem to think it's something pretty much; +but I don't know if it is or not. _Really_, I don't!" + +"No," said Noble, still confused. "I suppose not." + +"I'm half way through another one I think myself'll be a good deal +better. I'm not goin' as fast with it as I did with the other one, and I +expect it'll be quite a ways ahead of this one." She again employed the +deprecatory little laugh. "I don't know how I do it, myself. The family +all think it's sort of funny I don't know how I do it, myself; but +that's the way it is. They all say if they could do it they're sure +they'd know how they did it; but I guess they're wrong. I presume if you +can do it, why, it just _comes_ to you. Don't you presume that's the way +it is, Mr. Dill?" + +"I--guess so." They had reached his gate, and he stopped. "You're sure +none of your family have heard anything to-day?" he asked anxiously. + +"From Aunt Julia? I don't think they have." + +He sighed, and opened the gate. "Well, good evening, Florence." + +"Good evening." Her eyes followed him wistfully as he passed within the +enclosure; then she turned and walked quickly toward her own home; but +at the corner of the next fence she called back over her shoulder, "I'll +leave it with your mother for you, if you're not home when I bring it." + +"What?" he shouted, from his front door. + +"I'll leave it with your _mother_." + +"Leave what?" + +"The _poem_!" + +"Oh!" said Noble. "Thanks!" + +But when his mother handed him a copy of the first issue of _The North +End Daily Oriole_, the next day, when he came home to lunch, he read it +without edification; there was nothing about Julia in it. + + THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE + + Atwater & Rooter Owners & Propreitors + + SUBSCRIBE NOW 25 Cents Per Year + + Subscriptions shloud be brought to the East etrance of Atwater + & Rooter Newspaper Building every afternoon 4.30 to 6. 25 cents. + + ======================================= + + NEWS OF THE CITY + + ---------- + + The Candidates for mayor at the election are Mr P. N. Gordon and + John T Milo. The contest is very great between these candidates. + + Holcombs chickens get in MR. Joseph Atwater's yard a god deal + lately. He says chickens are out of place in a city of this size. + + Minnie the cook of Mr. F. L. Smith's residisence goes downtown + every Thrusday afts about three her regular day for it. + + A new ditch is being dug accross the MR. Henry D. Vance backyrad. + ;Tis about dug but nobody is working there now. Patty Fairchild + received the highest mark in declamation of the 7A at Sumner School + last Friday. + + Balf's grorcey wagon ran over a cat of the Mr. Rayfort family. Geo. + the driver of the wagom stated he had not but was willing to take + it away and burg it somewheres Geo. stated regret and claimed + nothing but an accident which could not be helped and not his team + that did the damage. + + MissColfield teacher of the 7A atSumner School was reproted on the + sink list. We hope she will soon be well. + + There were several deaths in the city this week. + + Mr. Fairchild father of Patty Fairchild was on the sick list + several days and did not go to his office but is out now. + + Been Kriso the cHauffeur of the Mr. R. G. Atwater family washes + their car on Monday. In using the hose he turned water over the + fence accidently and hit Lonnie the washWOman in back of MRS. + Bruffs who called him some low names. Ben told her if he had have + been a man he wrould strike her but soon the distrubance was at an + end. There is a good deal more of other news which will be printed + in our next NO. + + Advertisements & Poems + 20 Cents Each Up. + + JOSEPH K. ATWATER & CO. + 127 South Iowa St, + Steam Pumps. + + THE Organstep + BY Florence Atwater + + The Organstep was seated at his organ in a + In some beautifil words of vagle and brir + But he was a gReat organstep and always + When the soil is weary + And the mind is drearq + I would play music like a vast amen + The way it sounds in a church of new + Subscribe NOW 25 cents Adv & Poetry + 20 cents up. Atwater & Rooter News + Paper Building 25 cents per YEAR + +Such was the first issue, complete, of _The North End Daily Oriole_. +What had happened to the poem was due partly to Atwater & Rooter's +natural lack of experience in a new and exacting trade; partly to their +enviable unconsciousness of any necessity for proof-reading; and +somewhat to their haste in getting through the final and least +interesting stage of their undertaking; for of course so far as the +printers were concerned, the poem was mere hack work anti-climax. + +And as they later declared, under fire, anybody that could make out more +than three words in five of Florence's ole handwriting was welcome to do +it. Besides, what did it matter if a little bit was left out at the end +of one or two of the lines? They couldn't be expected to run the lines +out over their margin, could they? And they never knew anything crazier +than makin' all this fuss, because: Well, what if some of it wasn't +printed just exactly right, who in the world was goin' to notice it, and +what was the difference of just a few words different in that ole poem, +anyhow? + +For by the time these explanations (so to call them) took place, +Florence was indeed makin' a fuss. Her emotion, at first, had been +happily stimulated at sight of "BY Florence Atwater." A singular +tenderness had risen in her--a tremulous sense as of something almost +sacred coming at last into its own; and she hurried to distribute, +gratis, among relatives and friends, several copies of the _Oriole_, +paying for them, too (though not without injurious argument), at the +rate of two cents a copy. But upon returning to her own home, she became +calm enough (for a moment or so) to look over the poem with attention to +details. She returned hastily to the Newspaper Building, but would have +been wiser to remain away, since all subscribers had received their +copies by the time she got there; and under the circumstances little +reparation was practicable. + +She ended her oration--or professed to end it--by declaring that she +would never have another poem in their ole vile newspaper as long as she +lived. + +"You're right about that!" Henry Rooter agreed heartily. "We wouldn't +_let_ another one in it. Not for fifty dollars! Just look at all the +trouble we took, moiling and toiling, to get your ole poem printed as +nice as we could, so it wouldn't ruin our newspaper, and then you come +over here and go on like this, and all this and that, why, I wouldn't go +through it again for a _hunderd_ dollars! We're makin' good money +anyhow, with our newspaper, Florence Atwater. You needn't think we +depend on _you_ for our living!" + +"That's so," his partner declared. "We knew you wouldn't be satisfied, +anyway, Florence. Didn't we, Henry?" + +"I should say we did!" + +"Yes, sir!" said Herbert. "Right when we were havin' the worst time +tryin' to print it and make out some o' the words, I said right then we +were just throwing away our time. I said, 'What's the use? That ole +girl's bound to raise Cain anyhow, so what's the use wastin' a whole lot +of our good time and brains like this, just to suit _her_? Whatever we +do, she's certain to come over and insult us.' Isn't that what I said, +Henry?" + +"Yes, it is; and I said then you were right, and you _are_ right!" + +"Cert'nly I am," said Herbert. "Didn't I tell you she'd be just the way +some the family say she is? A good many of 'em say she'd find fault with +the undertaker at her own funeral. That's just exactly what I said!" + +"Oh, you did?" Florence burlesqued a polite interest. "How _vir_ry +considerate of you! Then, perhaps you'll try to be a gentleman enough +for one simple moment to allow me to tell you my last remarks on this +subject. I've said enough----" + +"Oh, _have_ you?" Herbert interrupted with violent sarcasm. "Oh, no! Say +not so! Florence, say not so!" + +At this, Henry Rooter loudly shouted with applausive hilarity; whereupon +Herbert, rather surprised at his own effectiveness, naturally repeated +his waggery. + +"Say not so, Florence! Say not so! Say not so!" + +"I'll tell you one thing!" his lady cousin cried, thoroughly infuriated. +"I wish to make just one last simple remark that I would care to soil +myself with in _your_ respects, Mister Herbert Illingsworth Atwater and +Mister Henry Rooter!" + +"Oh, say not so, Florence!" they both entreated. "Say not so! Say not +so!" + +"I'll just simply state the simple truth," Florence announced. "In the +first place, you're goin' to live to see the day when you'll come and +beg me on your bented knees to have me put poems or anything I want to +in your ole newspaper, but I'll just _laugh_ at you! '_Indeed_?' I'll +say! 'So you come beggin' around _me_, do you? Ha, ha!' I'll say! 'I +guess it's a little too late for that! Why, I wouldn't----'" + +"Oh, say not so, Florence! Say not so!" + +"'_Me_ to allow you to have one of my poems?' I'll say, 'Much less than +_that_!' I'll say, 'because even if I was wearing the oldest shoes I got +in the world I wouldn't take the trouble to----'" + +Her conclusion was drowned out. "Oh, _Florence_, say not so! Say not so, +Florence! Say not so!" + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + + +The hateful entreaty still murmured in her resentful ears, that night, +as she fell asleep; and she passed into the beginnings of a dream with +her lips slightly dimpling the surface of her pillow in belated +repartee. And upon waking, though it was Sunday, her first words, half +slumbrous in the silence of the morning, were, "Vile Things!" Her +faculties became more alert during the preparation of a toilet that was +to serve not only for breakfast, but with the addition of gloves, a hat, +and a blue-velvet coat, for Church and Sunday-school as well; and she +planned a hundred vengeances. That is to say, her mind did not occupy +itself with plots possible to make real; but rather it dabbled among +those fragmentary visions that love to overlap and displace one another +upon the changeful retina of the mind's eye. + +In all of these pictures, wherein prevailingly she seemed to be some +sort of deathly powerful Queen of Poetry, the postures assumed by the +figures of Messrs. Atwater and Rooter (both in an extremity of rags) +were miserably suppliant. So she soothed herself a little--but not long. +Herbert, in the next pew, in church, and Henry in the next beyond that, +were perfect compositions in smugness. They were cold, contented, +aristocratic; and had an imperturbable understanding between themselves +(even then perceptible to the sensitive Florence) that she was a +nuisance now capably disposed of by their beautiful discovery of "Say +not so!" Florence's feelings were unbecoming to the place and occasion. + +But at four o'clock, that afternoon, she was assuaged into a milder +condition by the arrival, according to an agreement made in +Sunday-school, of the popular Miss Patty Fairchild. + +Patty was thirteen and a half; an exquisite person with gold-dusted +hair, eyes of singing blue, and an alluring air of sweet +self-consciousness. Henry Rooter and Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., +out gathering news, saw her entering Florence's gate, and immediately +forgot that they were reporters. They became silent, gradually moving +toward the house of their newspaper's sole poetess. + +Florence and Patty occupied themselves indoors for half an hour; then +went out in the yard to study a mole's tunnel that had interested +Florence recently. They followed it across the lawn at the south side of +the house, discussing the habits of moles and other matters of zooelogy; +and finally lost the track near the fence, which was here the "side +fence" and higher than their heads. Patty looked through a knot-hole to +see if the tunnel was visible in the next yard, but, without reporting +upon her observations, she turned, as if carelessly, and leaned back +against the fence, covering the knot-hole. + +"Florence," she said, in a tone softer than she had been using +heretofore;--"Florence, do you know what I think?" + +"No. Could you see any more tracks over there?" + +"Florence," said Patty;--"I was just going to tell you something, only +maybe I better not." + +"Why not?" Florence inquired. "Go on and tell me." + +"No," said Patty gently. "You might think it was silly." + +"No, I won't." + +"Yes, you _might_." + +"I promise I won't." + +"Well, then--oh, Florence I'm _sure_ you'll think it's silly!" + +"I _promised_ I wouldn't." + +"Well--I don't think I better say it." + +"Go on," Florence urged. "Patty, you _got_ to." + +"Well, then, if I got to," said Patty. "What I was going to say, +Florence: Don't you think your cousin Herbert and Henry Rooter have got +the nicest eyes of any boy in town?" + +"_Who_?" Florence was astounded. + +"I do," Patty said in her charming voice. "I think Herbert and Henry've +got the nicest eyes of any boy in town." + +"You do?" Florence cried incredulously. + +"Yes, I really do, Florence. I think Herbert Atwater and Henry Rooter +have got the nicest eyes of any boy in town." + +"Well, I never heard anything like _this_ before!" Florence declared. + +"But _don't_ you think they've got the nicest eyes of any boy in town?" +Patty insisted, appealingly. + +"I think," said Florence, "their eyes are just horrable!" + +"What?" + +"_Herbert's_ eyes," continued Florence, ardently, "are the very worst +lookin' ole squinty eyes I ever saw, and that nasty little Henry +_Rooter's_ eyes----" + +But Patty had suddenly become fidgety; she hurried away from the fence. +"Come over here, Florence," she said. "Let's go over to the other side +of the yard and talk." + +It was time for her to take some such action. Messrs. Atwater and +Rooter, seated quietly together upon a box on the other side of the +fence (though with their backs to the knot-hole), were beginning to show +signs of inward disturbance. Already flushed with the unexpected +ineffabilities overheard, their complexions had grown even pinker upon +Florence's open-hearted expressions of opinion. Slowly they turned their +heads to look at the fence, upon the other side of which stood the +maligner of their eyes. Not that they cared what _that_ ole girl +thought--but she oughtn't to be allowed to go around talking like this +and perhaps prejudicing everybody that had a kind word to say for them. + +"Come on over here, Florence," called Patty huskily, from the other side +of the yard. "Let's talk over here." + +Florence was puzzled, but consented. "What you want to talk over here +for?" she asked as she came near her friend. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Patty. "Let's go out in the front yard." + +She led the way round the house, and a moment later uttered a cry of +surprise as the firm of Atwater & Rooter, passing along the pavement, +hesitated at the gate. Their celebrated eyes showed doubt for a moment, +then a brazenness: Herbert and Henry decided to come in. + +"Isn't this the funniest thing?" cried Patty. "After what I just said +awhile ago--_you_ know, Florence. Don't you dare to tell 'em!" + +"I cert'nly won't!" her hostess promised, and, turning inhospitably to +the two callers, "What on earth you want around here?" she inquired. + +Herbert chivalrously took upon himself the duty of response. "Look here; +this is my own aunt and uncle's yard, isn't it? I guess if I want to +come in it I got a perfect right to." + +"I should say so," his partner said warmly. + +"Why, of course!" the cordial Patty agreed. "We can play some nice +Sunday games, or something. Let's sit on the porch steps and think what +to do." + +"_I_ just as soon," said Henry Rooter. "_I_ got nothin' p'ticular to +do." + +"I haven't either," said Herbert. + +Thereupon, Patty sat between them on the steps. + +"This is _per-feckly_ grand!" she cried. "Come on, Florence, aren't you +going to sit down with all the rest of us?" + +"Well, pray kindly excuse _me_!" said Miss Atwater; and she added that +she would neither sit on the same steps with Herbert Atwater and Henry +Rooter, nor, even if they entreated her with accompanying genuflections, +would she have anything else whatever to do with them. She concluded +with a reference to the oldest pair of shoes she might ever come to +possess; and withdrew to the railing of the veranda at a point farthest +from the steps; and, seated there, swinging one foot rhythmically, she +sang hymns in a tone at once plaintive and inimical. + +It was not lost upon her, however, that her withdrawal had little effect +upon her guests. They chattered gaily, and Patty devised, or remembered, +harmless little games that could be played by a few people as well as by +many; and the three participants were so congenial and noisy and made so +merry, that before long Florence was unable to avoid the impression +that whether she liked it or not she was giving quite a party. + +At times the noted eyes of Atwater & Rooter were gentled o'er with the +soft cast of enchantment, especially when Patty felt called upon to +reprove the two with little coquetries of slaps and pushes. Noted for +her sprightliness, she was never sprightlier; her pretty laughter tooted +continuously, and the gentlemen accompanied it with doting sounds so +repulsive to Florence that without being actively conscious of what she +did, she embodied the phrase, "perfeckly sickening," in the hymn she was +crooning, and repeated it over and over to the air of "Rock of Ages." + +"Now I tell you what let's play," the versatile Patty proposed, after +exhausting the pleasures of "Geography," "Ghosts" and other tests of +intellect. "Let's play 'Truth.' We'll each take a piece o' paper and a +pencil, and then each of us asks the other one some question, and we haf +to write down the answer and sign your name and fold it up so nobody can +see it except the one that asked the question, and we haf to keep it a +secret and never tell as long as we live." + +"All right," said Henry Rooter. "I'll be the one to ask you a question, +Patty." + +"No," Herbert said promptly. "I ought to be the one to ask Patty." + +"Why ought you?" Henry demanded. "Why ought you?" + +"Listen!" Patty cried, "_I_ know the way we'll do. I'll ask each of you +a question--we haf to whisper it--and each one of you'll ask me one, and +then we'll write it. That'll be simply grand!" She clapped her hands; +then checked herself. "Oh, I guess we can't either. We haven't got any +paper and pencils unless----" Here she seemed to recall her hostess. +"Oh, Florrie, dear! Run in the house and get us some paper and pencils." + +Florence gave no sign other than to increase the volume of her voice as +she sang: "Perf'ly sick'ning, clef' for me, let me _perf'_ly +sick-kin-_ning_!" + +"We got plenty," said Herbert; whereupon he and Henry produced pencils +and their professional note-books, and supplied their fair friend and +themselves with material for "Truth." "Come on, Patty, whisper me +whatever you want to." + +"No; I ought to have her whisper _me_, first," Henry Rooter objected. +"I'll write the answer to _any_ question; I don't care what it's about." + +"Well, it's got to be the _truth_, you know," Patty warned them. "We +all haf to write down just exackly the truth on our word of honour and +sign our name. Promise?" + +They promised earnestly. + +"All right," said Patty. "Now I'll whisper Henry a question first, and +then you can whisper yours to me first, Herbert." + +This seemed to fill all needs happily, and the whispering and writing +began, and continued with a coziness little to the taste of the piously +singing Florence. She altered all previous opinions of her friend Patty, +and when the latter finally closed the session on the steps, and +announced that she must go home, the hostess declined to accompany her +into the house to help her find where she had left her hat and wrap. + +"I haven't the _least_ idea where I took 'em off!" Patty declared in the +airiest manner. "If you won't come with me, Florrie, s'pose you just +call in the front door and tell your mother to get 'em for me." + +"Oh, they're _somewhere_ in there," Florence said coldly, not ceasing to +swing her foot, and not turning her head. "You can find 'em by yourself, +I presume, or if you can't I'll have our maid throw 'em out in the yard +or somep'n to-morrow." + +"Well, _thank_ you!" Miss Fairchild rejoined, as she entered the house. + +The two boys stood waiting, having in mind to go with Patty as far as +her own gate. "That's a _pretty_ way to speak to company!" Herbert +addressed his cousin with heavily marked severity. "Next time you do +anything like that I'll march straight in the house and inform your +mother of the fact." + +Florence still swung her foot and looked dreamily away. She sang, to the +air of "Rock of Ages": + +"Henry Rooter, Herbert, too--they make me sick, they make me sick, +that's what they do." + +However, they were only too well prepared with their annihilating +response. + +"Oh, say not so! Florence, say not so! _Florence!_ Say not so!" + +They even sent this same odious refrain back to her from the street, as +they departed with their lovely companion; and, so tenuous is feminine +loyalty sometimes, under these stresses, Miss Fairchild mingled her +sweet, tantalizing young soprano with their changing and cackling +falsetto. + +"Say not so, Florence! Oh, say not so! Say not so!" + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + + +They went satirically down the street, their chumminess with one another +bountifully increased by their common derision of the outsider on the +porch; and even at a distance they still contrived to make themselves +intolerable; looking back over their shoulders, at intervals, with +say-not-so expressions on their faces. Even when these faces were far +enough away to be but yellowish oval planes, their say-not-so +expressions were still bitingly eloquent. + +Now a northern breeze chilled the air, as the hateful three became +indistinguishable in the haze of autumn dusk, whereupon Florence stopped +swinging her foot, left the railing, and went morosely into the house. +And here it was her fortune to make two discoveries vital to her present +career; the first arising out of a conversation between her father and +mother in the library, where a gossipy fire of soft coal encouraged this +proper Sunday afternoon entertainment for man and wife. + +"Sit down and rest, Florence," said her mother. "I'm afraid you play too +hard when Patty and the boys are here. Do sit down quietly and rest +yourself a little while." And as Florence obeyed, Mrs. Atwater turned to +her husband, resuming: "Well, that's what _I_ said. I told Aunt Carrie I +thought the same way about it that _you_ did. Of course nobody _ever_ +knows what Julia's going to do next, and nobody needs to be surprised at +anything she does do. Ever since she came home from school, about +four-fifths of all the young men in town have been wild about her--and +so's every old bachelor, for the matter of that!" + +"Yes," Mr. Atwater added. "And every old widower, too." + +His wife warmly accepted the amendment. "And every old widower, too," +she said, nodding. "Rather! And of course Julia's just done exactly as +she pleased about everything, and naturally she's going to do as she +pleases about _this_." + +"Well, of course it's her own affair, Mollie," Mr. Atwater said mildly. +"She couldn't be expected to consult the whole Atwater family connection +before she----" + +"Oh, no," she agreed. "I don't say she could. Still, it _is_ rather +upsetting, coming so suddenly like this, when not one of the family has +ever seen him--never even heard his very name before." + +[Illustration: _"'Well, men ... I don't want to see any loafin' around +here, men. I expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week.'"_] + +"Well, that part of it isn't especially strange, Mollie. He was born and +brought up in a town three hundred miles from here. I don't see just how +we _could_ have heard his name unless he visited here or got into the +papers in some way." + +Mrs. Atwater seemed unwilling to yield a mysterious point. She rocked +decorously in her rocking-chair, shook her head, and after setting her +lips rigidly, opened them to insist that she could never change her +mind: Julia had acted very abruptly. "Why couldn't she have let her poor +father know at least a _few_ days before she did?" + +Mr. Atwater sighed. "Why, she explains in her letter that she only knew +it, herself, an hour before she wrote." + +"Her poor father!" his wife repeated commiseratingly. + +"Why, Mollie, I don't see how father's especially to be pitied." + +"Don't you?" said Mrs. Atwater. "That old man, to have to live in that +big house all alone, except a few negro servants?" + +"Why, no! About half the houses in the neighbourhood, up and down the +street, are fully occupied by close relatives of his: I doubt if he'll +be really as lonely as he'd like to be. And he's often said he'd give a +great deal if Julia had been a plain, unpopular girl. I'm strongly of +the opinion, myself, that he'll be pleased about this. Of course it may +upset him a little at first." + +"Yes; I think it will!" Mrs. Atwater shook her head forebodingly. "And +he isn't the only one it's going to upset." + +"No, he isn't," her husband admitted seriously. "That's always been the +trouble with Julia; she never could bear to seem disappointing; and so, +of course, I suppose every one of 'em has a special idea that he's +really about the top of the list with her." + +"Every last one of 'em is positive of it," said Mrs. Atwater. "That was +Julia's way with 'em!" + +"Yes, Julia's always been much too kind-hearted for other people's +good." Thus Mr. Atwater summed up Julia; and he was her brother. +Additionally, since he was the older, he had known her since her birth. + +"If you ask _me_," said his wife, "I'll really be surprised if it all +goes through without a suicide." + +"Oh, not quite suicide, perhaps," Mr. Atwater protested. "I'm glad it's +a fairly dry town though." + +She failed to fathom his simple meaning. "Why?" + +"Well, some of 'em might feel _that_ desperate at least," he explained. +"Prohibition's a safeguard for the disappointed in love." + +This phrase and a previous one stirred Florence, who had been sitting +quietly, according to request, and "resting", but not resting her +curiosity. "_Who's_ disappointed in love, papa?" she inquired with an +explosive eagerness that slightly startled her preoccupied parents. +"What _is_ all this about Aunt Julia, and grandpa goin' to live alone, +and people committing suicide and prohibition and everything? What _is_ +all this, mamma?" + +"Nothing, Florence." + +"Nothing! That's what you always say about the very most inter'sting +things that happen in the whole family! What _is_ all this, papa?" + +"It's nothing that would be interesting to little girls, Florence. +Merely some family matters." + +"My goodness!" Florence exclaimed. "I'm not a 'little girl' any more, +papa! You're _always_ forgetting my age! And if it's a family matter I +belong to the family, I guess, about as much as anybody else, don't I? +Grandpa himself isn't any _more_ one of the family than I am, I don't +care _how_ old he is!" + +This was undeniable, and her father laughed. "It's really nothing you'd +care about one way or the other," he said. + +"Well, I'd care about it if it's a secret," Florence insisted. "If it's +a secret I'd want to know it, whatever it's about." + +"Oh, it isn't a secret, particularly, I suppose. At least, it's not to +be made public for a time; it's only to be known in the family." + +"Well, didn't I just _prove_ I'm as much one o' the family as----" + +"Never mind," her father said soothingly. "I don't suppose there's any +harm in your knowing it--if you won't go telling everybody. Your Aunt +Julia has just written us that she's engaged." + +Mrs. Atwater uttered an exclamation, but she was too late to check him. + +"I'm afraid you oughtn't to have told Florence. She _isn't_ just the +most discreet----" + +"Pshaw!" he laughed. "She certainly is 'one of the family', however, and +Julia wrote that all of the family might be told. You'll not speak of it +outside the family, will you, Florence?" + +But Florence was not yet able to speak of it, even inside the family; so +surprising, sometimes, are parents' theories of what will not interest +their children. She sat staring, her mouth open, and in the uncertain +illumination of the room these symptoms of her emotional condition went +unobserved. + +"I say, you won't speak of Julia's engagement outside the family, will +you, Florence?" + +"Papa!" she gasped. "Did Aunt Julia write she was _engaged_?" + +"Yes." + +"To get _married_?" + +"It would seem so." + +"To _who_?" + +"'To whom,' Florence," her mother suggested primly. + +"Mamma!" the daughter cried. "Who's Aunt Julia engaged to get married +to? Noble Dill?" + +"Good gracious, _no_!" Mrs. Atwater exclaimed. "What an absurd idea! +It's to a young man in the place she's visiting--a stranger to all of +us. Julia only met him a few weeks ago." Here she forgot Florence, and +turned again to her husband, wearing her former expression of +experienced foreboding. + +"It's just as I said. It's exactly like Julia to do such a reckless +thing!" + +"But as we don't know anything at all about the young man," he +remonstrated, "how do you know it's reckless?" + +"How do you know he's young?" Mrs. Atwater retorted crisply. "All in the +world she said about him was that he's a lawyer. He may be a widower, +for all we know, or divorced, with seven or eight children." + +"Oh, no, Mollie!" + +"Why, he _might_!" she insisted. "For all we know, he may be a widower +for the third or fourth _time_, or divorced, with any _number_ of +children! If such a person proposed to Julia, you know yourself she'd +hate to be disappointing!" + +Her husband laughed. "I don't think she'd go so far as to actually +accept 'such a person' and write home to announce her engagement to the +family. I suppose most of her swains here have been in the habit of +proposing to her just as frequently as she was unable to prevent them +from going that far; and while I don't think she's been as discouraging +with them as she might have been, she's never really accepted any of +'em. She's never been engaged before." + +"No," Mrs. Atwater admitted. "Not to this extent! She's never quite +announced it to the family before, that is." + +"Yes; I'd hate to have Julia's job when she comes back!" Julia's brother +admitted ruefully. + +"What job?" + +"Breaking it to her admirers." + +"Oh, _she_ isn't going to do that!" + +"She'll have to, now," he said. "She'll either have to write the news to +'em, or else tell 'em, face to face, when she comes home." + +"She won't do either." + +"Why, how could she get out of it?" + +His wife smiled pityingly. "She hasn't set a time for coming home, has +she? Don't you know enough of Julia's ways to see she'll never in the +world stand up to the music? She writes that all the family can be told, +because she knows the news will leak out, here and there, in confidence, +little by little, so by the time she gets home they'll all have been +through their first spasms, and after that she hopes they'll just send +her some forgiving flowers and greet her with manly hand-clasps--and get +ready to usher at the wedding!" + +"Well," said Mr. Atwater, "I'm afraid you're right. It does seem rather +like Julia to stay away till the first of the worst is over. I'm really +sorry for some of 'em. I suppose it _will_ get whispered about, and +they'll hear it; and there are some of the poor things that might take +it pretty hard." + +"'Take it pretty hard!'" his wife echoed loudly. "There's _one_ of 'em, +at least, who'll just merely lose his reason!" + +"Which one?" + +"Noble Dill." + +At this, the slender form of Florence underwent a spasmodic seizure in +her chair, but as the fit was short and also noiseless, it passed +without being noticed. + +"Yes," said Mr. Atwater thoughtfully. "I suppose he will." + +"He certainly will!" Mrs. Atwater declared. "Noble's mother told me last +week that he'd got so he was just as liable to drop a fountain-pen in +his coffee as a lump of sugar; and when any one speaks to him he either +doesn't know it, or else jumps. When he says anything, himself, she says +they can scarcely ever make out what he's talking about. He was trying +enough before Julia went away; but since she's been gone Mrs. Dill says +he's like nothing in her experience. She says he doesn't inherit it; +Mr. Dill wasn't anything like this about her." + +Mr. Atwater smiled faintly. "Mrs. Dill wasn't anything like Julia." + +"No," said his wife. "She was quite a sensible girl. I'd hate to be in +her place now, though, when she tells Noble about _this_." + +"How can Mrs. Dill tell him, since she doesn't know it herself?" + +"Well--perhaps she ought to know it, so that she _could_ tell him. +_Somebody_ ought to tell him, and it ought to be done with the greatest +tact. It ought to be broken to him with the most delicate care and +sympathy, or the consequences----" + +"Nobody could foretell the consequences," her husband interrupted:--"no +matter how tactfully it's broken to Noble." + +"No," she said, "I suppose that's true. I think the poor thing's likely +to lose his reason unless it _is_ done tactfully, though." + +"Do you think we really ought to tell Mrs. Dill, Mollie? I mean, +seriously: Do you?" + +For some moments she considered his question, then replied, "No. It's +possible we'd be following a Christian course in doing it; but still +we're rather bound not to speak of it outside the family, and when it +does get outside the family I think we'd better not be the ones +responsible--especially since it might easily be traced to us. I think +it's usually better to keep out of things when there's any doubt." + +"Yes," he said, meditating. "I never knew any harm to come of people's +sticking to their own affairs." + +But as he and his wife became silent for a time, musing in the +firelight, their daughter's special convictions were far from coinciding +with theirs, although she, likewise, was silent--a singularity they +should have observed. So far were they from a true comprehension of her, +they were unaware that she had more than a casual, young-cousinly +interest in Julia Atwater's engagement and in those possible +consequences to Noble Dill just sketched with some intentional +exaggeration. They did not even notice her expression when Mr. Atwater +snapped on the light, in order to read; and she went quietly out of the +library and up the stairs to her own room. + + * * * * * + +On the floor, near her bed, where Patty Fairchild had left her coat and +hat, Florence made another discovery. Two small, folded slips of paper +lay there, dropped by Miss Fairchild when she put on her coat in the +darkening room. They were the replies to Patty's whispered questions in +the game on the steps--the pledged Truth, written by Henry Rooter and +Herbert Atwater on their sacred words and honours. The infatuated pair +had either overestimated Patty's caution, or else each had thought she +would so prize his little missive that she would treasure it in a tender +safety, perhaps pinned upon her blouse (at the first opportunity) over +her heart. It is positively safe to say that neither of the two +veracities would ever have been set upon paper had Herbert and Henry any +foreshadowing that Patty might be careless; and the partners would have +been seized with the utmost horror could they have conceived the +possibility of their trustful messages ever falling into the hands of +the relentless creature who now, without an instant's honourable +hesitation, unfolded and read them. + +"_Yes if I got to tell the truth I know I have got pretty eyes_," +Herbert had unfortunately written. "I _am glad you think so too Patty +because your eyes are too Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr._" + +And Mr. Henry Rooter had likewise ruined himself in a coincidental +manner: + +"_Well Patty my eyes are pretty but suppose I would like to trade with +yours because you have beautiful eyes also, sure as my name is Henry +Rooter._" + +Florence stood close to the pink-shaded electric drop-light over her +small white dressing-table, reading again and again these pathetically +honest little confidences. Her eyelids were withdrawn to an +unprecedented retirement, so remarkably she stared; while her mouth +seemed to prepare itself for the attempted reception of a bulk beyond +its capacity. And these plastic tokens, so immoderate as to be +ordinarily the consequence of nothing short of horror, were overlaid by +others, subtler and more gleaming, which wrought the true significance +of the contortion--a joy that was dumfounding. + +Her thoughts were first of Fortune's kindness in selecting her for a +favour so miraculously dovetailing into the precise need of her life; +then she considered Henry and Herbert, each at this hour probably +brushing his hair in preparation for the Sunday evening meal, and both +touchingly unconscious of the calamity now befalling them; but what +eventually engrossed her mind was a thought about Wallie Torbin. + +This Master Torbin, fourteen years of age, was in all the town the boy +most dreaded by his fellow-boys, and also by girls, including many of +both sexes who knew him only by sight--and hearing. He had no physical +endowment or attainment worth mention; but boys who could "whip him with +one hand" became sycophants in his presence; the terror he inspired was +moral. He had a special over-development of a faculty exercised clumsily +enough by most human beings, especially in their youth; in other words, +he had a genius--not, however, a genius having to do with anything +generally recognized as art or science. True, if he had been a violinist +prodigy or mathematical prodigy, he would have had some respect from his +fellows--about equal to that he might have received if he were gifted +with some pleasant deformity, such as six toes on a foot--but he would +never have enjoyed such deadly prestige as had actually come to be his. +In brief, then, Wallie Torbin had a genius for mockery. + +Almost from his babyhood he had been a child of one purpose: to increase +by burlesques the sufferings of unfortunate friends. If one of them +wept, Wallie incessantly pursued him, yelping in horrid mimicry; if one +were chastised he could not appear out-of-doors for days except to +encounter Wallie and a complete rehearsal of the recent agony. "Quit, +Papa! _Pah_-puh, quee-yet! I'll _never_ do it again, Pah-puh! Oh, +_lemme_ alone, Pah-_puh_!" + +As he grew older, his insatiate curiosity enabled him to expose +unnumbered weaknesses, indiscretions, and social misfortunes on the part +of acquaintances and schoolmates; and to every exposure his noise and +energy gave a hideous publicity: the more his victim sought privacy the +more persistently he was followed by Wallie, vociferous and attended by +hilarious spectators. But above all other things, what most stimulated +the demoniac boy to prodigies of satire was a tender episode or any +symptom connected with the dawn of love. Florence herself had suffered +at intervals throughout her eleventh summer because Wallie discovered +that Georgie Beck had sent her a valentine; and the humorist's many, +many squealings of that valentine's affectionate quatrain finally left +her unable to decide which she hated the more, Wallie or Georgie. That +was the worst of Wallie: he never "let up"; and in Florence's circle +there was no more sobering threat than, "I'll tell Wallie Torbin!" As +for Henry Rooter and Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., they would as +soon have had a Head-hunter on their trail as Wallie Torbin in the +possession of anything that could incriminate them in an implication of +love--or an acknowledgment (in their own handwriting!) of their own +beauty. + +The fabric of civilized life is interwoven with blackmail: even some of +the noblest people do favours for other people who are depended upon not +to tell somebody something that the noblest people have done. Blackmail +is born into us all, and our nurses teach us more blackmail by +threatening to tell our parents if we won't do this and that--and our +parents threaten to tell the doctor--and so we learn! Blackmail is part +of the daily life of a child. Displeased, his first resort to get his +way with other children is a threat to "tell," but by-and-by his +experience discovers the mutual benefit of honour among blackmailers. +Therefore, at eight it is no longer the ticket to threaten to tell the +teacher; and, a little later, threatening to tell any adult at all is +considered something of a breakdown in morals. Notoriously, the code is +more liable to infraction by people of the physically weaker sex, for +the very reason, of course, that their inferiority of muscle so +frequently compels such a sin, if they are to have their way. But for +Florence there was now no such temptation. Looking to the demolition of +Atwater & Rooter, an exposure before adults of the results of "Truth" +would have been an effect of the sickliest pallor compared to what might +be accomplished by a careful use of the catastrophic Wallie Torbin. + + * * * * * + +On Sunday evening it was her privileged custom to go to the house of fat +old Great-Uncle Joseph and remain until nine o'clock, in chatty +companionship with Uncle Joseph and Aunt Carrie, his wife, and a few +other relatives (including Herbert) who were in the habit of dropping in +there, on Sunday evenings. In summer, lemonade and cake were frequently +provided; in the autumn, one still found cake, and perhaps a pitcher of +clear new cider: apples were a certainty. + +This evening was glorious: there were apples and cider and cake, with +walnuts, perfectly cracked, and a large open-hearted box of candy; for +Uncle Joseph and Aunt Carrie had foreseen the coming of several more +Atwaters than usual, to talk over the new affairs of their beautiful +relative, Julia. Seldom have any relative's new affairs been more +thoroughly talked over than were Julia's that evening; though all the +time by means of symbols, since it was thought wiser that Herbert and +Florence should not yet be told of Julia's engagement; and Florence's +parents were not present to confess their indiscretion. Julia was +referred to as "the traveller"; other makeshifts were employed with the +most knowing caution, and all the while Florence merely ate inscrutably. +The more sincere Herbert was placid; the foods absorbing his attention. + +"Well, all I say is, the traveller better enjoy herself on her travels," +said Aunt Fanny, finally, as the subject appeared to be wearing toward +exhaustion. "She certainly is in for it when the voyaging is over and +she arrives in the port she sailed from, and has to show her papers. I +agree with the rest of you: she'll have a great deal to answer for, and +most of all about the shortest one. My own opinion is that the shortest +one is going to burst like a balloon." + +"The shortest one," as the demure Florence had understood from the +first, was none other than her Very Ideal. Now she looked up from the +stool where she sat with her back against a pilaster of the mantelpiece. +"Uncle Joseph," she said;--"I was just thinking. What is a person's +reason?" + +The fat gentleman, rosy with firelight and cider, finished his fifth +glass before responding. "Well, there _are_ persons I never could find +any reason for at all. 'A person's reason'? What do you mean, 'a +person's reason,' Florence?" + +"I mean: like when somebody says, 'They'll lose their reason,'" she +explained. "Has everybody got a reason, and if they have, what is it, +and how do they lose it, and what would they do then?" + +"Oh! I see!" he said. "You needn't worry. I suppose since you heard it +you've been hunting all over yourself for your reason and looking to see +if there was one hanging out of anybody else, somewhere. No; it's +something you can't see, ordinarily, Florence. Losing your reason is +just another way of saying, 'going crazy'!" + +"Oh!" she murmured, and appeared to be disturbed. + +At this, Herbert thought proper to offer a witticism for the pleasure of +the company. + +"_You_ know, Florence," he said, "it only means acting like _you_ most +always do." He applauded himself with a burst of changing laughter +ranging from a bullfrog croak to a collapsing soprano; then he added: +"Espeshually when you come around my and Henry's Newspaper Building! You +cert'nly 'lose your reason' every time you come around _that_ ole +place!" + +"Well, course I haf to act like the people that's already there," +Florence retorted, not sharply, but in a musing tone that should have +warned him. It was not her wont to use a quiet voice for repartee. +Thinking her humble, he laughed the more raucously. + +"Oh, Florence!" he besought her. "Say not so! Say not so!" + +"Children, children!" Uncle Joseph remonstrated. + +Herbert changed his tone; he became seriously plaintive. "Well, she does +act that way, Uncle Joseph! When she comes around there you'd think we +were runnin' a lunatic asylum, the way she takes on. She hollers and +bellers and squalls and squawks. The least little teeny thing she don't +like about the way we run our paper, she comes flappin' over there and +goes to screechin' around you could hear her out at the Poor House +Farm!" + +"Now, now, Herbert," his Aunt Fanny interposed. "Poor little Florence +isn't saying anything impolite to you--not right now, at any rate. Why +don't you be a little sweet to her just for once?" + +Her unfortunate expression revolted all the manliness in Herbert's +bosom. "Be a little _sweet_ to her?" he echoed with poignant +incredulity, and then in candour made plain how poorly Aunt Fanny +inspired him. "I just exackly as soon be a little sweet to an +alligator," he said. + +"Oh, oh!" said Aunt Carrie. + +"I would!" Herbert insisted. "Or a mosquito. I'd rather, to _either_ of +'em, 'cause anyway they don't make so much noise. Why, you just ought to +_hear_ her," he went on, growing more and more severe. "You ought to +just come around our Newspaper Building any afternoon you please, after +school, when Henry and I are tryin' to do our work in anyway _some_ +peace. Why, she just squawks and squalls and squ----" + +"It must be terrible," Uncle Joseph interrupted. "What do you do all +that for, Florence, every afternoon?" + +"Just for exercise," she answered dreamily; and her placidity the more +exasperated her journalist cousin. + +"She does it because she thinks _she_ ought to be runnin' our own +newspaper, my and Henry's; that's why she does it! She thinks she knows +more about how to run newspapers than anybody alive; but there's one +thing she's goin' to find out; and that is, she don't get anything +_more_ to do with my and Henry's newspaper. We wouldn't have another +single one of her ole poems in it, no matter how much she offered to +pay us! Uncle Joseph, I think you ought to _tell_ her she's got no +business around my and Henry's Newspaper Building." + +"But, Herbert," Aunt Fanny suggested;--"you might let Florence have a +little share in it of some sort. Then everything would be all right." + +"It would?" he said. "It _woo_-wud? Oh, my goodness, Aunt Fanny, I guess +you'd like to see our newspaper just utterably ruined! Why, we wouldn't +let that girl have any more to do with it than we would some horse!" + +"Oh, oh!" both Aunt Fanny and Aunt Carrie exclaimed, shocked. + +"We wouldn't," Herbert insisted. "A horse would know any amount more how +to run a newspaper than she does. Soon as we got our printing-press, we +said right then that we made up our minds Florence Atwater wasn't ever +goin' to have a single thing to do with our newspaper. If you let her +have anything to do with anything she wants to run the whole thing. But +she might just as well learn to stay away from our Newspaper Building, +because after we got her out yesterday we fixed a way so's she'll never +get in _there_ again!" + +Florence looked at him demurely. "Are you sure, Herbert?" she inquired. + +"Just you try it!" he advised her, and he laughed tauntingly. "Just come +around to-morrow and try it; that's all I ask!" + +"I cert'nly intend to," she responded with dignity. "I may have a slight +supprise for you." + +"Oh, _Florence_, say not so! Say not so, Florence! Say not so!" + +At this, she looked full upon him, and already she had something in the +nature of a surprise for him; for so powerful was the still balefulness +of her glance that he was slightly startled. "I might say not so," she +said. "I might, if I was speaking of what pretty eyes you say yourself +you know you have, Herbert." + +It staggered him. "What--what do you mean?" + +"Oh, nothin'," she replied airily. + +Herbert began to be mistrustful of the solid earth: somewhere there was +a fearful threat to his equipoise. "What you talkin' about?" he said +with an effort to speak scornfully; but his sensitive voice almost +failed him. + +"Oh, nothin'," said Florence. "Just about what pretty eyes you know you +have, and Patty's being pretty, too, and so you're glad she thinks +yours are pretty, the way _you_ do--and everything!" + +Herbert visibly gulped. He believed that Patty had betrayed him; had +betrayed the sworn confidence of "Truth!" + +"That's all I was talkin' about," Florence added. "Just about how you +knew you had such pretty eyes. Say not so, Herbert! Say not so!" + +"Look here!" he said. "When'd you see Patty again between this afternoon +and when you came over here?" + +"What makes you think I saw her?" + +"Did you telephone her?" + +"What makes you think so?" + +Once more Herbert gulped. "Well, I guess you're ready to believe +anything anybody tells you," he said, with palsied bravado. "You don't +believe everything Patty Fairchild says, do you?" + +"Why, Herbert! Doesn't she always tell the _truth_?" + +"Her? Why, half the time," poor Herbert babbled, "you can't tell whether +she's just makin' up what she says or not. If you've gone and believed +everything that ole girl told you, you haven't got even what little +sense I used to think you had!" So base we are under strain, +sometimes--so base when our good name is threatened with the truth of +us! "I wouldn't believe anything she said," he added, in a sickish +voice, "if she told me fifty times and crossed her heart!" + +"Wouldn't you if she said you _wrote down_ how pretty you knew your eyes +were, Herbert? Wouldn't you if it was on paper in your own handwriting?" + +"What's this about Herbert having 'pretty eyes'?" Uncle Joe inquired, +again bringing general attention to the young cousins; and Herbert +shuddered. This fat uncle had an unpleasant reputation as a joker. + +The nephew desperately fell back upon the hopeless device of attempting +to drown out his opponent's voice as she began to reply. He became +vociferous with scornful laughter, badly cracked. "Florence got mad!" he +shouted, mingling the purported information with hoots and cacklings. +"She got mad because I and Henry played some games with Patty and +wouldn't let her play! She's tryin' to make up stories on us to get +even. She made it up! It's all made up! She----" + +"No, no," Mr. Atwater interrupted. "Let Florence tell us. Florence, +what was it about Herbert's knowing he had 'pretty eyes'?" + +Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He bawled. "She made it +_up_! It's somep'n she made up her_self_! She----" + +"Herbert," said Uncle Joseph;--"if you don't keep quiet, I'll take back +the printing-press." + +Herbert substituted a gulp for the continuation of his noise. + +"Now, Florence," said Uncle Joseph, "tell us what you were saying about +how Herbert knows he has such 'pretty eyes'." + +Then it seemed to Herbert that a miracle befell. Florence looked up, +smiling modestly. "Oh, it wasn't anything, Uncle Joseph," she said. "I +was Just trying to tease Herbert any way I could think of." + +"Oh, was that all?" A hopeful light faded out of Uncle Joseph's large +and inexpressive face. "I thought perhaps you'd detected him in some +indiscretion." + +Florence laughed, "I was just teasin' him. It wasn't anything, Uncle +Joseph." + +Hereupon, Herbert resumed a confused breathing. Dazed, he remained +uneasy, profoundly so: and gratitude was no part of his emotion. He +well understood that in conflicts such as these Florence was never +susceptible to impulses of compassion; in fact, if there was warfare +between them, experience had taught him to be wariest when she seemed +kindest. He moved away from her, and went into another room where his +condition was one of increasing mental discomfort, though he looked over +the pictures in his great-uncle's copy of "Paradise Lost." These +illustrations, by M. Gustave Dore, failed to aid in reassuring his +troubled mind. + +When Florence left the house, he impulsively accompanied her, +maintaining a nervous silence as they walked the short distance between +Uncle Joseph's front gate and her own. There, however, he spoke. + +"Look here! You don't haf to go and believe everything that ole girl +told you, do you?" + +"No," said Florence heartily. "I don't haf to." + +"Well, look here," he urged, helpless but to repeat. "You don't haf to +believe whatever it was she went and told you, do you?" + +"What was it you think she told me, Herbert?" + +"All that guff--you know. Well, whatever it was you _said_ she told +you." + +"I didn't," said Florence. "I didn't say she told me anything at all." + +"Well, she did, didn't she?" + +"Why, no," Florence replied, lightly. "She didn't say anything to _me_. +Only I'm glad to have your _opinion_ of her, how she's such a +story-teller and all--if I ever want to tell her, and everything!" + +But Herbert had greater alarms than this, and the greater obscured the +lesser. "Look here," he said, "if she didn't tell you, how'd you know it +then?" + +"How'd I know what?" + +"That--that big story about my ever writin' I knew I had"--he gulped +again--"pretty eyes." + +"Oh, about _that_!" Florence said, and swung the gate shut between them. +"Well, I guess it's too late to tell you to-night, Herbert; but maybe if +you and that nasty little Henry Rooter do every single thing I tell you +to, and do it just _exackly_ like I tell you from this time on, why +maybe--I only say 'maybe'--well, maybe I'll tell you some day when I +feel like it." + +She ran up the path and up the veranda steps, but paused before opening +the front door, and called back to the waiting Herbert: + +"The only person I'd ever _think_ of tellin' about it before I tell you +would be a boy I know." She coughed, and added as by an afterthought, +"He'd just love to know all about it; I know he would. So, when I tell +anybody about it I'll only tell just you and this other boy." + +"What other boy?" Herbert demanded. + +And her reply, thrilling through the darkness, left him demoralized with +horror. + +"Wallie Torbin!" + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + + +The next afternoon, about four o'clock, Herbert stood gloomily at the +main entrance of Atwater & Rooter's Newspaper Building awaiting his +partner. The other entrances were not only nailed fast but massively +barricaded; and this one (consisting of the ancient carriage-house +doors, opening upon a driveway through the yard) had recently been made +effective for exclusion. A long and heavy plank leaned against the wall, +near by, ready to be set in hook-shaped iron supports fastened to the +inner sides of the doors; and when the doors were closed, with this +great plank in place, a person inside the building might seem entitled +to count upon the enjoyment of privacy, except in case of earthquake, +tornado, or fire. In fact, the size of the plank and the substantial +quality of the iron fastenings could be looked upon, from a certain +viewpoint, as a real compliment to the energy and persistence of +Florence Atwater. + +Herbert had been in no complimentary frame of mind, however, when he +devised the obstructions, nor was he now in such a frame of mind. He was +pessimistic in regard to his future, and also embarrassed in +anticipation of some explanations it would be necessary to make to his +partner. He strongly hoped that Henry's regular after-school appearance +at the Newspaper Building would precede Florence's, because these +explanations required both deliberation and tact, and he was convinced +that it would be almost impossible to make them at all if Florence got +there first. + +He understood that he was unfortunately within her power; and he saw +that it would be dangerous to place in operation for her exclusion from +the Building this new mechanism contrived with such hopeful care, and at +a cost of two dollars and twenty-five cents taken from the _Oriole's_ +treasury. What he wished Henry to believe was that for some good reason, +which Herbert had not yet been able to invent, it would be better to +show Florence a little politeness. He had a desperate hope that he might +find some diplomatic way to prevail on Henry to be as subservient to +Florence as she had seemed to demand, and he was determined to touch any +extremity of unveracity, rather than permit the details of his answer +in "Truth" to come to his partner's knowledge. Henry Rooter was not +Wallie Torbin; but in possession of material such as this he could +easily make himself intolerable. + +Therefore, it was in a flurried state of mind that Herbert waited; and +when his friend appeared, over the fence, his perturbation was not +decreased. He even failed to notice the unusual gravity of Henry's +manner. + +"Hello, Henry! I thought I wouldn't start in working till you got here. +I didn't want to haf to come all the way downstairs again to open the +door and hi'st our good ole plank up again." + +"I see," said Henry, glancing nervously at their good ole plank. "Well, +I guess Florence'll never get in _this_ good ole door--that is, she +won't if we don't let her, or something." + +This final clause would have astonished Herbert if he had been less +preoccupied with his troubles. "You bet she won't!" he said +mechanically. "She couldn't ever get in here again--if the _family_ +didn't go intafering around and give me the dickens and everything, +because they think--they _say_ they do, anyhow--they say they +think--they think----" + +He paused, disguising a little choke as a cough of scorn for the +family's thinking. + +"What did you say your family think?" Henry asked absently. + +"Well, they say we ought to let her have a share in our newspaper." +Again he paused, afraid to continue lest his hypocrisy appear so +bare-faced as to invite suspicion. "Well, maybe we _ought_," he said +finally, his eyes guiltily upon his toe, which slowly scuffed the +ground. "I don't say we ought, and I don't say we oughtn't." + +He expected at the least a sharp protest from his partner, who, on the +contrary, surprised him. "Well, that's the way _I_ look at it," Henry +said. "I don't say we ought and I don't say we oughtn't." + +And he, likewise, stared at the toe of a shoe that scuffed the ground. +Herbert felt a little better; this particular subdivision of his +difficulties seemed to be working out with unexpected ease. + +"I don't say we will and I don't say we won't," Henry added. "That's the +way I look at it. My father and mother are always talkin' to me: how I +got to be polite and everything, and I guess maybe it's time I began to +pay some 'tention to what they say. You don't have your father and +mother for always, you know, Herbert." + +Herbert's mood at once chimed with this unprecedented filial +melancholy. "No, you don't, Henry. That's what I often think about, +myself. No, sir, a fellow doesn't have his father and mother to advise +him our whole life, and you ought to do a good deal what they say while +they're still alive." + +"That's what I say," Henry agreed gloomily; and then, without any +alteration of his tone, or of the dejected thoughtfulness of his +attitude, he changed the subject in a way that painfully startled his +companion. "Have you seen Wallie Torbin to-day, Herbert?" + +"What!" + +"Have you seen Wallie Torbin to-day?" + +Herbert swallowed. "Why, what makes--what makes you ask me that, Henry?" +he said. + +"Oh, nothin'." Henry still kept his eyes upon his gloomily scuffing toe. +"I just wondered, because I didn't happen to see him in school this +afternoon when I happened to look in the door of the Eight-A when it was +open. I didn't want to know on account of anything particular. I just +happened to say that about him because I didn't have anything else to +think about just then, so I just happened to think about him, the way you +do when you haven't got anything much on your mind and might get to +thinkin' about you can't tell what. That's all the way it was; I just +happened to kind of wonder if he was around anywhere maybe." + +Henry's tone was obviously, even elaborately, sincere; and Herbert was +reassured. "Well, I didn't see him," he responded. "Maybe he's sick." + +"No, he isn't," his friend said. "Florence said she saw him chasin' his +dog down the street about noon." + +At this Herbert's uneasiness was uncomfortably renewed. "_Florence_ did? +Where'd you see Florence?" + +Mr. Rooter swallowed. "A little while ago," he said, and again +swallowed. "On the way home from school." + +"Look--look here!" Herbert was flurried to the point of panic. +"Henry--did Florence--did she go and tell you--did she tell you----?" + +"_I_ didn't hardly notice what she was talkin' about," Henry said +doggedly. "She didn't have anything to say that _I'd_ ever care two +cents about. She came up behind me and walked along with me a ways, but +I got too many things on my mind to hardly pay the least attention to +anything _she_ ever talks about. She's a girl what I think about her +the less people pay any 'tention to what she says the better off they +are." + +"That's the way with me, Henry," his partner assured him earnestly. "I +never pay any notice to what _she_ says. The way I figure it out about +_her_, Henry, everybody'd be a good deal better off if nobody ever paid +the least notice to anything she says. I never even notice what she +says, myself." + +"I don't either," said Henry. "All _I_ think about is what my father and +mother say, because I'm not goin' to have their advice all the rest o' +my life, after they're dead. If they want me to be polite, why, I'll do +it and that's all there is about it." + +"It's the same way with me, Henry. If she comes flappin' around here +blattin' and blubbin' how she's goin' to have somep'n to do with our +newspaper, why, the only reason _I'd_ ever let her would be because my +_family_ say I ought to show more politeness to her than up to now. I +wouldn't do it on any other account, Henry." + +"Neither would I. That's just the same way _I_ look at it, Herbert. If I +ever begin to treat her any better, she's got my father and mother to +thank, not me. That's the only reason _I'd_ be willing to say we better +leave the plank down and let her in, if she comes around here like she's +liable to." + +"Well," said Herbert. "_I'm_ willing. I don't want to get in trouble +with the family." + +And they mounted the stairs to their editorial, reportorial, and +printing rooms; and began to work in a manner not only preoccupied but +apprehensive. At intervals they would give each other a furtive glance, +and then seem to reflect upon their fathers' and mothers' wishes and the +troublous state of the times. Florence did not keep them waiting long, +however. + +She might have been easier to bear had her manner of arrival been less +assured. She romped up the stairs, came skipping across the old floor, +swinging her hat by a ribbon, flung open the gate in the sacred railing, +and, flouncing into the principal chair, immodestly placed her feet on +the table in front of that chair. Additionally, such was her lively +humour, she affected to light and smoke the stub of a lead pencil. +"Well, men," she said heartily, "I don't want to see any loafin' around +here, men. I expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week; yes, +sir, a pretty good newspaper, and I guess you men got to jump around a +good deal to do everything I think of, or else maybe I guess I'll have +to turn you off. I don't want to haf to do that, men." + +The blackmailed partners made no reply, on account of an inability that +was perfect for the moment. They stared at her helplessly, though not +kindly; for in their expressions the conflict between desire and policy +was almost staringly vivid. And such was their preoccupation, each with +the bitterness of his own case, that neither wondered at the other's +strange complaisance. + +Florence made it clear to them that henceforth she was the editor of +_The North End Daily Oriole_. (She said she had decided not to change +the name.) She informed them that they were to be her printers; she did +not care to get all inky and nasty herself, she said. She would, +however, do all the writing for her newspaper, and had with her a new +poem. Also, she would furnish all the news and it would be printed just +as she wrote it, and printed _nicely_, too, or else----She left the +sentence unfinished. + +Thus did this cool hand take possession of an established industry, and +in much the same fashion did she continue to manage it. There were +unsuppressible protests; there was covert anguish; there was even a +strike--but it was a short one. When the printers remained away from +their late Newspaper Building, on Wednesday afternoon, Florence had an +interview with Herbert after dinner at his own door. He explained coldly +that Henry and he had grown tired of the printing-press and had decided +to put in all their spare time building a theatre in Henry's attic; but +Florence gave him to understand that the theatre could not be; she +preferred the _Oriole_. + +Henry and Herbert had both stopped "speaking" to Patty Fairchild, for +each believed her treacherous to himself; but Florence now informed +Herbert that far from depending on mere hearsay, she had in her own +possession the confession of his knowledge that he had ocular beauty; +that she had discovered the paper where Patty had lost it; and that it +was now in a secure place, and in an envelope, upon the outside of which +was already written, "For Wallie Torbin. Kindness of Florence A." + +Herbert surrendered. + +So did Henry Rooter, a little later that evening, after a telephoned +conversation with the slave-driver. + +Therefore, the two miserable printers were back in their places the next +afternoon. They told each other that the theatre they had planned wasn't +so much after all; and anyhow your father and mother didn't last all +your life, and it was better to do what they wanted, and be polite while +they were alive. + +And on Saturday the new _Oriole_, now in every jot and item the inspired +organ of feminism, made its undeniably sensational appearance. + +A copy, neatly folded, was placed in the hand of Noble Dill, as he set +forth for his place of business, after lunching at home with his mother. +Florence was the person who placed it there; she came hurriedly from +somewhere in the neighbourhood, out of what yard or alley he did not +notice, and slipped the little oblong sheet into his lax fingers. + +"There!" she said breathlessly. "There's a good deal about you in it +this week, Mr. Dill, and I guess--I guess----" + +"What, Florence?" + +"I guess maybe you'll----" She looked up at him shyly; then, with no +more to say, turned and ran back in the direction whence she had come. +Noble walked on, not at once examining her little gift, but carrying it +absently in fingers still lax at the end of a dangling arm. There was no +life in him for anything. Julia was away. + +Away! And yet the dazzling creature looked at him from sky, from earth, +from air; looked at him with the most poignant kindness, yet always +shook her head! She had answered his first letter by a kind little note, +his second by a kinder and littler one, and his third, fourth, fifth, +and sixth by no note at all; but by the kindest message (through one of +her aunts) that she was thinking about him a great deal. And even this +was three weeks ago. Since then from Julia--nothing at all! + +But yesterday something a little stimulating had happened. On the +street, downtown, he had come face to face, momentarily, with Julia's +father; and for the first time in Noble's life Mr. Atwater nodded to him +pleasantly. Noble went on his way, elated. Was there not something +almost fatherly in this strange greeting? + +An event so singular might be interpreted in the happiest way: What had +Julia written her father, to change him so toward Noble? And Noble was +still dreamily interpreting as he walked down the street with _The North +End Daily Oriole_ idle in an idle hand. + +He found a use for that hand presently, and, having sighed, lifted it to +press it upon his brow, but did not complete the gesture. As his hand +came within the scope of his gaze, levelled on the unfathomable +distance, he observed that the fingers held a sheet of printed paper; +and he remembered Florence. Instead of pressing his brow he unfolded the +journal she had thrust upon him. As he began to read, his eye was +lustreless, his gait slack and dreary; but soon his whole demeanour +changed, it cannot be said for the better. + + THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE + + Atwater & Co., Owners & Propietors + Subscribe NOW 25 cents Per. Year. Sub- + scriptions should be brought to the East + Main Entrance of Atwater & Co., News- + paper Building every afternoon + 430 to VI 25 Cents + + POEMS + + My Soul by Florence Atwater + + When my heart is dreary + Then my soul is weary + As a bird with a broken wing + Who never again will sing + Like the sound of a vast amen + That comes from a church of men. + + When my soul is dreary + It could never be cheery + But I think of myideal + And everything seems real + Like the sound of the bright church bells peal. + + Poems by Florence Atwater will be in the paper each and every Sat. + + Advertisements 45c. each Up + + Joseph K. Atwater Co. + 127 South Iowa St. + Steam Pumps + + The News of the City + + Miss Florence Atwater of tHis City received a mark of 94 in History + Examination at the concusion of the school Term last June. + + Blue hair ribbons are in style again. + + Miss Patty Fairchild of this City has not been doing as well in + Declamation lately as formerly. + + MR. Noble Dill of this City is seldom seen on the streets of the + City without smoking a cigarette. + + Miss Julia Atwater of this City is out of the City. + + The MR. Rayfort family of this City have been presentde with the + present of a new Cat by Geo. the man employeD by Balf & CO. This + cat is perfectly baeutiful and still quit young. + + Miss Julia Atwater of this City is visiting friends in the Soth. + The family have had many letters from her that are read by each and + all of the famild. + + Mr. Noble Dill of this City is in business with his Father. + + There was quite a wind storm Thursday doing damage to shade trees + in many parts of our beautiful City. + + From Letters to the family Miss Julia Atwater of this City is + enjoying her visit in the south a greadeal. + + Miss Patty Fairchild of the 7 A of this City, will probably not + pass in ARithmetiC--unless great improvement takes place before + Examination. + + Miss Julia Atwater of this City wrote a letter to the family + stating while visiting in the SOuth she has made an engagement to + be married to MR. Crum of that City. The family do not know who + this MR. Crum is but It is said he is a widower though he has been + diVorced with a great many children. + + The new ditch of the MR. Henry D. Vance, backyard of this City is + about through now as little remain to be done and it is thought the + beighborhood will son look better. Subscribe NOW 25c. Per Year Adv. + 45c. up. Atwater & Co. Newspaper Building 25 Cents Per Years. + +It may be assumed that the last of the news items was wasted upon Noble +Dill and that he never knew of the neighbourhood improvement believed to +be imminent as a result of the final touches to the ditch of the Mr. +Henry D. Vance backyard. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + + +Throughout that afternoon adult members of the Atwater family connection +made futile efforts to secure all the copies of the week's edition of +_The North End Daily Oriole_. It could not be done. + +It was a trying time for "the family." Great Aunt Carrie said that she +had the "worst afternoon of any of 'em," because young Newland Sanders +came to her house at two and did not leave until five; all the time +counting over, one by one, the hours he'd spent with Julia since she was +seventeen and turned out, unfortunately, to be a Beauty. Newland had not +restrained himself, Aunt Carrie said, and long before he left she wished +Julia had never been born--and as for Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, +Junior, the only thing to do with him was to send him to some strict +Military School. + +Florence's father telephoned to her mother from downtown at three, and +said that Mr. George Plum and the ardent vocalist, Clairdyce, had just +left his office. They had not called in company, however, but +coincidentally; and each had a copy of _The North End Daily Oriole_, +already somewhat worn with folding and unfolding. Mr. Clairdyce's +condition was one of desperate calm, Florence's father said, but Mr. +Plum's agitation left him rather unpresentable for the street, though he +had finally gone forth with his hair just as he had rumpled it, and with +his hat in his hand. They wished the truth, they said: Was it true or +was it not true? Mr. Atwater had told them that he feared Julia was +indeed engaged, though he knew nothing of her fiance's previous marriage +or marriages, or of the number of his children. They had responded that +they cared nothing about that. This man Crum's record was a matter of +indifference to them, they said. All they wanted to know was whether +Julia was engaged or not--and she was! + +"The odd thing to _me_," Mr. Atwater continued to his wife, "is where on +earth Herbert could have got his story about this Crum's being a +widower, and divorced, and with all those children. Do you know if +Julia's written any of the family about these things and they haven't +told the rest of us?" + +"No," said Mrs. Atwater. "I'm sure she hasn't. Every letter she's +written to any of us has passed all through the family, and I know I've +seen every one of 'em. She's never said anything about him at all, +except that he was a lawyer. I'm sure _I_ can't imagine where Herbert +got his awful information; I never thought he was the kind of boy to +just make up such things out of whole cloth." + +Florence, sitting quietly in a chair near by, with a copy of "Sesame and +Lilies" in her lap, listened to her mother's side of this conversation +with an expression of impersonal interest; and if she could have +realized how completely her parents had forgotten (naturally enough) the +details of their first rambling discussion of Julia's engagement, she +might really have felt as little alarm as she showed. + +"Well," said Mr. Atwater, "I'm glad _our_ branch of the family isn't +responsible. That's a comfort, anyhow, especially as people are reading +copies of Herbert's dreadful paper all up and down the town, my clerk +says. He tells me that over at the Unity Trust Company, where young +Murdock Hawes is cashier, they only got hold of one copy, but typewrote +it and multigraphed it, and some of 'em have already learned it by heart +to recite to poor young Hawes. He's the one who sent Julia the three +fivepound boxes of chocolates from New York all at the same time, you +remember." + +"Yes," Mrs. Atwater sighed. "Poor thing!" + +"Florence is out among the family, I suppose?" he inquired. + +"No; she's right here. She's just started to read Ruskin this afternoon. +She says she's going to begin and read all of him straight through. +That's very nice, don't you think?" + +He seemed to muse before replying. + +"I think that's very nice, at her age especially," Mrs. Atwater urged. +"Don't you?" + +"Ye-es! Oh, yes! At least I suppose so. Ah--you don't think--of course +she hasn't had anything at all to do with this?" + +"Well, I don't _see_ how she could. You know Aunt Fanny told us how +Herbert declared before them all, only last Sunday night, that Florence +should never have one thing to do with his printing-press, and said they +wouldn't even let her come near it." + +"Yes, that's a fact. I'm glad Herbert made it so clear that she can't be +implicated. I suppose the family are all pretty well down on Uncle +Joseph?" + +"Uncle Joseph is being greatly blamed," said Mrs. Atwater primly. "He +really ought to have known better than to put such an instrument as a +printing-press into the hands of an irresponsible boy of that age. Of +course it simply encouraged him to print all kinds of things. We none of +us think Uncle Joseph ever dreamed that Herbert would publish, anything +exactly like _this_, and of course Uncle Joseph says himself he never +dreamed such a thing; he's said so time and time and time again, all +afternoon. But of course he's greatly blamed." + +"I suppose there've been quite a good many of 'em over there blaming +him?" her husband inquired. + +"Yes--until he telephoned to a garage and hired a car and went for a +drive. He said he had plenty of money with him and didn't know when he'd +be back." + +"Serves him right," said Mr. Atwater. "Does anybody know where Herbert +is?" + +"Not yet!" + +"Well----" and he returned to a former theme. "I _am_ glad we aren't +implicated. Florence is right there with you, you say?" + +"Yes," Mrs. Atwater replied. "She's right here, reading. You aren't +worried about her, are you?" she added. + +"Oh, no; I'm sure it's all right. I only thought----" + +"Only thought what?" + +"Well, it _did_ strike me as curious," said Mr. Atwater; "especially +after Aunt Fanny's telling us how Herbert declared Florence could never +have a single thing to do with his paper again----" + +"Well, what?" + +"Well, here's her poem right at the top of it, and a _very_ friendly +item about her history mark of last June. It doesn't seem like Herbert +to be so complimentary to Florence, all of a sudden. Just struck me as +rather curious; that's all." + +"Why, yes," said Mrs. Atwater, "it does seem a little odd, when you +think of it." + +"Have you _asked_ Florence if she had anything to do with getting out +this week's _Oriole_?" + +"Why, no; it never occurred to me, especially after what Aunt Fanny told +us," said Mrs. Atwater. "I'll ask her now." + +But she was obliged to postpone putting the intended question. "Sesame +and Lilies" lay sweetly upon the seat of the chair that Florence had +occupied; but Florence herself had gone somewhere else. + +She had gone for a long, long ramble; and pedestrians who encountered +her, and happened to notice her expression, were interested; and as they +went on their way several of them interrupted the course of their +meditations to say to themselves that she was the most thoughtful +looking young girl they had ever seen. There was a touch of wistfulness +about her, too; as of one whose benevolence must renounce all hope of +comprehension and reward. + +Now, among those who observed her unusual expression was a gentleman of +great dimensions disposed in a closed automobile that went labouring +among mudholes in an unpaved outskirt of the town. He rapped upon the +glass before him, to get the driver's attention, and a moment later the +car drew up beside Florence, as she stood in a deep reverie at the +intersection of two roads. + +Uncle Joseph opened the door and took his cigar from his mouth. "Get in, +Florence," he said. "I'll take you for a ride." She started violently; +whereupon he restored the cigar to his mouth, puffed upon it, breathing +heavily the while as was his wont, and added, "I'm not going home. I'm +out for a nice long ride. Get in." + +"I was takin' a walk," she said dubiously. "I haf to take a whole lot of +exercise, and I ought to walk and walk and walk. I guess I ought to +keep on walkin'." + +"Get in," he said. "I'm out riding. I don't know _when_ I'll get home!" + +Florence stepped in, Uncle Joseph closed the door, and the car slowly +bumped onward. + +"You know where Herbert is?" Uncle Joseph inquired. + +"No," said Florence, in a gentle voice. + +"I do," he said. "Herbert and your friend Henry Rooter came to our house +with one of the last copies of the _Oriole_ they were distributing to +subscribers; and after I read it I kind of foresaw that the feller +responsible for their owning a printing-press was going to be in some +sort of family trouble or other. I had quite a talk with 'em and they +hinted they hadn't had much to do with this number of the paper, except +the mechanical end of it; but they wouldn't come out right full with +what they meant. They seemed to have some good reason for protecting a +third party, and said quite a good deal about their fathers and mothers +being but mortal and so on; so Henry and Herbert thought they oughtn't +to expose this third party--whoever she may happen to be. Well, I +thought they better not stay too long, because I was compromised enough +already, without being seen in their company; and I gave 'em something +to help 'em out with at the movies. You can stay at movies an awful long +time, and if you've got money enough to go to several of 'em, why, +you're fixed for pretty near as long as you please. A body ought to be +able to live a couple o' months at the movies for nine or ten dollars, I +should think." + +He was silent for a time, then asked, "I don't suppose your papa and +mamma will be worrying about you, will they, Florence?" + +"Oh, no!" she said quickly. "Not in the least! There was nothin' at all +for me to do at our house this afternoon." + +"That's good," he said, "because before we go back I was thinking some +of driving around by way of Texas." + +Florence looked at him trustfully and said nothing. It seemed to her +that he suspected something; she was not sure; but his conversation was +a little peculiar, though not in the least sinister. Indeed she was able +to make out that he had more the air of an accomplice than of a +prosecutor or a detective. Nevertheless, she was convinced that far, far +the best course for her to pursue, during the next few days, would be +one of steadfast reserve. And such a course was congenial to her mood, +which was subdued, not to say apprehensive; though she was sure her +recent conduct, if viewed sympathetically, would be found at least +Christian. The trouble was that probably it would not be viewed +sympathetically. No one would understand how carefully and tactfully she +had prepared the items of the _Oriole_ to lead suavely up to the news of +Aunt Julia's engagement and break it to Noble Dill in a manner that +would save his reason. + +Therefore, on account of this probable lack of comprehension on the part +of the family and public, it seemed to her that the only wise and good +course to follow would be to claim nothing for herself, but to allow +Herbert and Henry to remain undisturbed in full credit for publishing +the _Oriole_. This involved a disappointment, it is true; nevertheless, +she decided to bear it. + +She had looked forward to surprising "the family" delightfully. As they +fluttered in exclamation about her, she had expected to say, "Oh, the +_poem_ isn't so much, I guess--I wrote it quite a few days ago and I'm +writing a couple new ones now--but I did take quite a lot o' time and +trouble with the rest of the paper, because I had to write every single +word of it, or else let Henry and Herbert try to, and 'course they'd +just of ruined it. Oh, it isn't so much to talk about, I guess; it just +sort of _comes_ to me to do things that way." + +Thirteen attempts to exercise a great philanthropy, and every grown +person in sight, with the possible exception of Great-Uncle Joseph, goes +into wholly unanticipated fits of horror. Cause and effect have no +honest relation: Fate operates without justice or even rational +sequence; life and the universe appear to be governed, not in order and +with system, but by Chance, becoming sinister at any moment without +reason. + +And while Florence, thus a pessimist, sat beside fat Uncle Joseph during +their long, long drive, relatives of hers were indeed going into fits; +at least, so Florence would have described their gestures and +incoherences of comment. Moreover, after the movies, straight into such +a fitful scene did the luckless Herbert walk when urged homeward by +thoughts of food, at about six that evening. Henry Rooter had strongly +advised him against entering the house. + +"You better not," he said earnestly. "_Honest_, you better not, +Herbert!" + +"Well, we got apple dumplings for dinner," Herbert said, his tone +showing the strain of mental uncertainty. "Eliza told me this morning we +were goin' to have 'em. I kind of hate to go in, but I guess I better, +Henry." + +"_You_ won't see any apple dumplings," Henry predicted. + +"Well, I believe I better try it, Henry." + +"You better come home with me. My father and mother'll be perfectly +willing to have you." + +"I know that," said Herbert. "But I guess I better go in and try it, +anyhow, Henry. I didn't have anything to do with what's in the _Oriole_. +It's every last word ole Florence's doing. I haven't got any more right +to be picked on for that than a child." + +"Yes," Henry admitted. "But if you go and tell 'em so, I bet she'd get +even with you some way that would probably get _me_ in trouble, too, +before we get through with the job. _I_ wouldn't tell 'em if I was you, +Herbert!" + +"Well, I wasn't intending to," Herbert responded gloomily; and the +thought of each, unknown to the other, was the same, consisting of a +symbolic likeness of Wallie Torbin at his worst. "I _ought_ to tell on +Florence; by rights I ought," said Herbert; "but I've decided I won't. +There's no tellin' what she wouldn't do. Not that she could do anything +to _me_, particyourly----" + +"Nor me, either," his friend interposed hurriedly. "I don't worry about +anything like that! Still, if I was you I wouldn't tell. She's only a +girl, we got to remember." + +"Yes," said Herbert. "That's the way _I_ look at it, Henry; and the way +I look at it is just simply this: long as she _is_ a girl, why, simply +let her go. You can't tell what she'd do, and so what's the use to go +and tell on a girl?" + +"That's the way _I_ look at it," Henry agreed. "What's the use? If I was +in your place, I'd act just the same way you do." + +"Well," said Herbert, "I guess I better go on in the house, Henry. It's +a good while after dark." + +"You're makin' a big mistake!" Henry Rooter called after him. "_You_ +won't see any apple dumplings, I bet a hunderd dollars! You better come +on home with me." + +Herbert no more than half opened his front door before he perceived that +his friend's advice had been excellent. So clearly Herbert perceived +this, that he impulsively decided not to open the door any farther, but +on the contrary to close it and retire; and he would have done so, had +his mother not reached forth and detained him. She was, in fact, just +inside that door, standing in the hall with one of his great-aunts, one +of his aunts, two aunts-by-marriage, and an elderly unmarried cousin, +who were all just on the point of leaving. However, they changed their +minds and decided to remain, now that Herbert was among them. + +The captive's father joined them, a few minutes later, but it had +already become clear to Herbert that _The North End Daily Oriole_ was in +one sense a thing of the past, though in another sense this former owner +and proprietor was certain that he would never hear the last of it. +However, on account of the life of blackmail and slavery now led by the +members of the old regime, the _Oriole's_ extinction was far less +painful to Herbert than his father supposed; and the latter wasted a +great deal of severity, insisting that the printing-press should be +returned that very night to Uncle Joseph. Herbert's heartiest +retrospective wish was that the ole printing-press had been returned to +Uncle Joseph long ago. + +"If you can find him to give it to!" Aunt Harriet suggested. "Nobody +_knows_ where he goes when he gets the way he did this afternoon when we +were discussing it with him! I only hope he'll be back to-night!" + +"He can't stay away forever," Aunt Fanny remarked. "That garage is +charging him five dollars an hour for the automobile he's in, and surely +even Joseph will decide there's a limit to wildness _some_ time!" + +"I don't care when he comes back," Herbert's father declared grimly. +"Whenever he does he's got to take that printing-press back--and Herbert +will be let out of the house long enough to carry it over. His mother or +I will go with him." + +Herbert bore much more than this. He had seated himself on the third +step of the stairway, and maintained as much dogged silence as he could. +Once, however, they got a yelp of anguish out of him. It was when Cousin +Virginia said: "Oh, Herbert, Herbert! How could you make up that +terrible falsehood about Mr. Crum? And, _think_ of it; right on the same +page with your cousin Florence's pure little poem!" + +Herbert uttered sounds incoherent but loud, and expressive of a supreme +physical revulsion. The shocked audience readily understood that he +liked neither Cousin Virginia's chiding nor Cousin Florence's pure +little poem. + +"Shame!" said his father. + +Herbert controlled himself. It could be seen that his spirit was broken, +when Aunt Fanny mourned, shaking her head at him, smiling ruefully: + +"Oh, if boys could only be girls!" + +Herbert just looked at her. + +"The worst thing," said his father;--"that is, if there's any part of it +that's worse than another--the worst thing about it all is this rumour +about Noble Dill." + +"What about that poor thing?" Aunt Harriet asked. "We haven't heard." + +"Why, I walked up from downtown with old man Dill," said Mr. Atwater, +"and the Dill family are all very much worried. It seems that Noble +started downtown after lunch, as usual, and pretty soon he came back to +the house and he had a copy of this awful paper that little Florence had +given him, and----" + +"_Who_ gave it to him?" Aunt Fanny asked. "_Who_?" + +"Little Florence." + +"Why, that's curious," Cousin Virginia murmured. "I must telephone and +ask her mother about that." + +The brooding Herbert looked up, and there was a gleam in his dogged eye; +but he said nothing. + +"Go on," Aunt Harriet urged. "What did Noble do?" + +"Why, his mother said he just went up to his room and changed his shoes +and necktie----" + +"I thought so," Aunt Fanny whispered. "Crazy!" + +"And then," Mr. Atwater continued, "he left the house and she supposed +he'd gone down to the office; but she was uneasy, and telephoned his +father. Noble hadn't come. He didn't come all afternoon, and he didn't +go back to the house; and they telephoned around to every place he +_could_ go that they know of, and they couldn't find him or hear +anything about him at all--not anywhere." Mr. Atwater coughed, and +paused. + +"But what," Aunt Harriet cried;--"_what_ do they think's become of him?" + +"Old man Dill said they were all pretty anxious," said Mr. Atwater. +"They're afraid Noble has--they're afraid he's disappeared." + +Aunt Fanny screamed. + +Then, in perfect accord, they all turned to look at Herbert, who rose +and would have retired upstairs had he been permitted. + +As that perturbing evening wore on, word gradually reached the most +outlying members of the Atwater family connection that Noble Dill was +missing. Ordinarily, this bit of news would have caused them no severe +anxiety. Noble's person and intellect were so +commonplace--"insignificant" was the term usually preferred in his own +circle--that he was considered to be as nearly negligible as it is +charitable to consider a fellow-being. True, there was one thing that +set him apart; he was found worthy of a superlative when he fell in love +with Julia; and of course this distinction caused him to become better +known and more talked about than he had been in his earlier youth. + +However, the eccentricities of a person in such an extremity of love are +seldom valued except as comedy, and even then with no warmth of heart +for the comedian, but rather with an incredulous disdain; so it is safe +to say that under other circumstances, Noble might have been missing, +indeed, and few of the Atwaters would have missed him. But as matters +stood they worried a great deal about him, fearing that a rash act on +his part might reflect notoriety upon themselves on account of their +beautiful relative--and _The North End Daily Oriole_. And when nine +o'clock came and Mrs. Dill reported to Herbert's father, over the +telephone, that nothing had yet been heard of her son, the pressure of +those who were blaming the _Oriole_ more than they blamed Julia became +so wearing that Herbert decided he would rather spend the remaining days +of his life running away from Wallie Torbin than put in any more of such +a dog's evening as he _was_ putting in. Thus he defined it. + +He made a confession; that is to say, it was a proclamation. He +proclaimed his innocence. He began history with a description of events +distinctly subsequent to Sunday pastimes with Patty Fairchild, and +explained how he and Henry had felt that their parents would not always +be with them, and as their parents wished them to be polite, they had +resolved to be polite to Florence. Proceeding, he related in detail her +whole journalistic exploit. + +Of the matter in hand he told the perfect and absolute truth--and was +immediately refuted, confuted, and demonstrated to be a false witness by +Aunt Fanny, Aunt Carrie, and Cousin Virginia, who had all heard him +vehemently declare, no longer ago than the preceding Sunday evening, +that he and his partner had taken secure measures to prevent Florence +from ever again setting foot within the Newspaper Building. In addition, +he was quite showered with definitions; and these, though so various, +all sought to phrase but the one subject: his conduct in seeking to drag +Florence into the mire, when she was absent and could not defend +herself. Poor Florence would answer later in the evening, he was told +severely; and though her cause was thus championed against the slander, +it is true that some of her defenders felt stirrings of curiosity in +regard to Florence. In fact, there was getting to be something almost +like a cloud upon her reputation. There were several things for her to +explain;--among them, her taking it upon herself to see that Noble +received a copy of the _Oriole_, and also her sudden departure from home +and rather odd protraction of absence therefrom. It was not thought she +was in good company. Uncle Joseph had telephoned from a suburb that they +were dining at a farmhouse and would thence descend to the general +region of the movies. + +"_Nobody_ knows what that man'll do, when he decides to!" Aunt Carrie +said nervously. "Letting the poor child stay up so late! She ought to be +in bed this minute, even if it is Saturday night! Or else she ought to +be here to listen to her own bad little cousin trying to put his +terrible responsibility on her shoulders." + +One item of this description of himself the badgered Herbert could not +bear in silence, although he had just declared that since the truth was +so ill-respected among his persecutors he would open his mouth no more +until the day of his death. He passed over "bad," but furiously stated +his height in feet, inches, and fractions of inches. + +Aunt Fanny shook her head in mourning. "That may be, Herbert," she said +gently. "But you must try to realize it can't bring poor young Mr. Dill +back to his family." + +Again Herbert just looked at her. He had no indifference more profound +than that upon which her strained conception of the relation between +cause and effect seemed to touch;--from his point of view, to be missing +should be the lightest of calamities. It is true that he was concerned +with the restoration of Noble Dill to the rest of the Dills so far as +such an event might affect his own incomparable misfortunes, but not +otherwise. He regarded Noble and Noble's disappearance merely as unfair +damage to himself, and he continued to look at this sorrowing great-aunt +of his until his thoughts made his strange gaze appear to her so +hardened that she shook her head and looked away. + +"Poor young Mr. Dill!" she said. "If someone could only have been with +him and kept talking to him until he got used to the idea a little!" + +Cousin Virginia nodded comprehendingly. "Yes, it might have tided him +over," she said. "He wasn't handsome, nor impressive, of course, nor +anything like that, but he always spoke so nicely to people on the +street. I'm sure he never harmed even a kitten, poor soul!" + +"I'm sure he never did," Herbert's mother agreed gently. "Not even a +kitten. I do wonder where he is now." + +But Aunt Fanny uttered a little cry of protest. "I'm afraid we may +hear!" she said. "Any moment!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + + +These sympathetic women had unanimously set their expectation in so +romantically pessimistic a groove that the most tragic news of Noble +would have surprised them little. But if the truth of his whereabouts +could have been made known to them, as they sat thus together at what +was developing virtually into his wake, with Herbert as a compulsory +participant, they would have turned the session into a riot of +amazement. Noble was in the very last place (they would have said, when +calmer) where anybody in the world could have even madly dreamed of +looking for him! They would have been right about it. No one could have +expected to find Noble to-night inside the old, four-square brick house +of H. I. Atwater, Senior, chief of the Atwaters and father of too gentle +Julia. Moreover, Mr. Atwater himself was not at present in the house; he +had closed and locked it the day before, giving the servants a week's +vacation and telling them not to return till he sent for them; and he +had then gone out of town to look over a hominy-mill he thought of +buying. And yet, as the wake went on, there was a light in the house, +and under that light sat Noble Dill. + +Returning home, after Florence had placed the shattering paper within +his hand, Noble had changed his shoes and his tie. He was but a +mechanism; he had no motive. The shoes he put on were no better than +those he took off; the fresh tie was no lovelier than the one he had +worn; nor had it even the lucidity to be a purple one, as the banner of +grief. No; his action was, if so viewed, "crazy," as Aunt Fanny had +called it. Agitation first took this form; that was all. Love and change +of dress are so closely allied; and in happier days, when Noble had come +home from work and would see Julia in the evening, he usually changed +his clothes. No doubt there is some faint tracery here, probably too +indistinct to repay contemplation. + +When he left the house he walked rapidly downtown, and toward the end of +this one-mile journey he ran; but as he was then approaching the railway +station, no one thought him eccentric. He was, however, for when he +entered the station he went to a bench and sat looking upward for more +than ten minutes before he rose, went to a ticket window and asked for +a time-table. + +"What road?" the clerk inquired. + +"All points South," said Noble. + +He placed the time-table, still folded, in his pocket, rested an elbow +on the brass apron of the window, and would have given himself up to +reflections, though urged to move away. Several people, wishing to buy +tickets, had formed a line behind him; they perceived that Noble had +nothing more to say to the clerk, and the latter encouraged their +protests, even going so far as to inquire: "For heaven's sakes, can't +you let these folk buy their tickets?" And since Noble still did not +move: "My gosh, haven't you got no _feet_?" + +"Feet? Oh, yes," said Noble gently. "I'm going away." And went back to +his seat. + +Afterwhile, he sought to study his time-table. Ordinarily, his mind was +one of those able to decipher and comprehend railway time-tables; he had +few gifts, but this was one of them. It failed him now; so he wandered +back to the ticket-window, and, after urgent coaching, eventually took +his place at the end instead of at the head of the line that waited +there. In his turn he came again to the window, and departed from it +after a conversation with the clerk that left the latter in accord with +Aunt Fanny Atwater's commiserating adjective, though the clerk's own +pity was expressed in argot. "The poor nut!" he explained to his next +client. "Wants to buy a ticket on a train that don't pull out until ten +thirty-five to-night; and me fillin' it all out, stampin' it and +everything, what for? Turned out all his pockets and couldn't come +within eight dollars o' the price! Where you want to go?" + +Noble went back to his bench and sat there for a long time, though there +was no time, long or short, for him. He was not yet consciously +suffering; nor was he thinking at all. True, he had a dim, persistent +impulse to action--or why should he be at the station?--but for the +clearest expression of his condition it is necessary to borrow a +culinary symbol; he was jelling. But the state of shock was slowly +dispersing, while a perception of approaching anguish as slowly +increased. He was beginning to swallow nothing at intervals and the +intervals were growing shorter. + +Dusk was misting down, outdoors, when with dragging steps he came out of +the station. He looked hazily up and down the street, where the +corner-lamps and shop-windows now were lighted; and, after dreary +hesitation, he went in search of a pawn-shop, and found one. The old man +who operated it must have been a philanthropist, for Noble was so +fortunate as to secure a loan of nine dollars upon his watch. Surprised +at this, he returned to the station, and went back to the same old +bench. + +It was fully occupied, and he stood for some time looking with vague +reproach at the large family of coloured people who had taken it. He had +a feeling that he lived there and that these coloured people were +trespassers; but upon becoming aware that part of an orange was being +rubbed over his left shoe by the youngest of the children, he groaned +abruptly and found another bench. + +A little after six o'clock a clanging and commotion in the train-shed +outside, attending the arrival of a "through express," stirred him from +his torpor, and he walked heavily across the room to the same +ticket-window he had twice blocked; but there was no queue attached to +it now. He rested his elbow upon the apron and his chin upon his hand, +while the clerk waited until he should state his wishes. This was a new +clerk, who had just relieved the other. + +"Well! Well!" he said at last. + +"I'll take it now," Noble responded. + +"What'll you take now?" + +"That ticket." + +"What ticket?" + +"The same one I wanted before," Noble sighed. + +The clerk gave him a piercing look, glanced out of the window and saw +that there were no other clients, then went to a desk at the farther end +of his compartment, and took up some clerical work he had in hand. + +Noble leaned upon the apron of the window, waiting; and if he thought +anything, he thought the man was serving him. + +The high, vaulted room became resonant with voices and the blurred +echoes of mingling footsteps on the marble floor, as passengers from the +express hurried anxiously to the street, or more gaily straggled +through, shouting with friends who came to greet them; and among these +moving groups there walked a youthful fine lady noticeably enlivening to +the dullest eye. She was preceded by a brisk porter who carried two +travelling-bags of a rich sort, as well as a sack of implements for the +game of golf; and she was warm in dark furs, against which the vasty +clump of violets she wore showed dewy gleamings of blue. + +At sight of Noble Dill, more than pensive at the ticket-window, she +hesitated, then stopped and observed him. That she should observe +anybody was in a way a coincidence, for, as it happened, she was herself +the most observed person in all the place. She was veiled in two veils, +but she had been seen in the train without these, and some of her +fellow-travellers, though strangers to her, were walking near her in a +hypocritical way, hoping still not to lose sight of her, even veiled. +And although the shroudings permitted the most meagre information of her +features, what they did reveal was harmfully piquant; moreover, there +was a sweetness of figure, a disturbing grace; while nothing could +disguise her air of wearing that many violets casually as a daily +perquisite and matter of course. + +[Illustration: _"He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from the +window; the whole person of Noble Dill seemed near collapse."_] + +So this observed lady stopped and observed Noble, who in return observed +her not at all, being but semi-conscious. Looked upon thoughtfully, it +is a coincidence that we breathe; certainly it is a mighty coincidence +that we speak to one another and comprehend; for these are true marvels. +But what petty interlacings of human action so pique our sense of +the theatrical that we call them coincidences and are astonished! That +Julia should arrive during Noble's long process of buying a ticket to go +to her was stranger than that she stopped to look at him, though still +not comparable in strangeness to the fact that either of them, or any +living creature, stood upon the whirling earth;--yet when Noble Dill +comprehended what was happening he was amazed. + +She spoke to him. + +"Noble!" she said. + +He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from the window; the whole +person of Noble Dill seemed near collapse. He shook; he had no voice. + +"I just this minute got off the train," she said. "Are you going away +somewhere?" + +"No," he whispered; then obtained command of a huskiness somewhat +greater in volume. "I'm just standing here." + +"I told the porter to get me a taxicab," she said. "If you're going home +for dinner I'll drop you at your house." + +"I--I'm--I----" His articulation encountered unsurmountable +difficulties, but Julia had been with him through many such trials +aforetime. She said briskly, "I'm awfully hungry and I want to get +home. Come on--if you like?" + +He walked waveringly at her side through the station, and followed her +into the dim interior of the cab, which became fragrant of violets--an +emanation at once ineffable and poisonous. + +"I'm so glad I happened to run across you," she said, as they began to +vibrate tremulously in unison with the fierce little engine that drew +them. "I want to hear all the news. Nobody knows I'm home. I didn't +write or telegraph to a soul; and I'll be a complete surprise to father +and everybody--I don't know how pleasant a one! _You_ didn't seem so +frightfully glad to see me, Noble!" + +"Am I?" he whispered. "I mean--I mean--I mean: Didn't I?" + +"No!" she laughed. "You looked--you looked shocked! It couldn't have +been because I'm ill or anything, because I'm not; and if I were you +couldn't have told it through these two veils. Possibly I'd better take +your expression as a compliment." She paused, then asked hesitatingly, +"Shall I?" + +This was the style for which the Atwaters held Julia responsible; but +they were mistaken: she was never able to control it. Now she went +cheerily on: "Perhaps not, as you don't answer. I shouldn't be so bold! +Do you suppose anybody at all will be glad to see me?" + +"I--I----" He seemed to hope that words would come in their own good +time. + +"Noble!" she cried. "Don't be so glum!" And she touched his arm with her +muff, a fluffy contact causing within him a short convulsion, naturally +invisible. "Noble, aren't you going to tell me what's all the news?" + +"There's--some," he managed to inform her. "Some--some news." + +"What is it?" + +"It's--it's----" + +"Never mind," she said soothingly. "Get your breath; I can wait. I hope +nothing's wrong in your family, Noble." + +"No. Oh, no." + +"It isn't just my turning up unexpectedly that's upset you so, of +course," she dared to say. "Naturally, I know better than to think such +a thing as that." + +"Oh, Julia!" he said. "Oh, Julia!" + +"What is it, Noble?" + +"Noth-ing," he murmured, disjointing the word. + +"How odd you happened to be there at the station," she said, "just when +my train came in! You're sure you weren't going away anywhere?" + +"No; oh, no." + +She was thoughtful, then laughed confidentially. "You're the only person +in town that knows I'm home, Noble." + +"I'm glad," he said humbly. + +She laughed again. "I came all of a sudden--on an impulse. It's a little +idiotic. I'll tell you all about it, Noble. You see, ten or twelve days +ago I wrote the family a more or less indiscreet letter. That is, I told +them something I wanted them to be discreet about, and, of course, when +I got to thinking it over, I knew they wouldn't. You see, I wrote them +something I wanted them to keep a secret, but the more I thought about +it, the more I saw I'd better hurry back. Yesterday it got into my head +that I'd better jump on the next train for home!" + +She paused, then added, "So I did! About ten or twelve days is as long +as anybody has a right to expect the Atwater family connection to keep +the deadliest kind of a secret, isn't it?" And as he did not respond, +she explained, modestly, "Of course, it wasn't a very deadly secret; it +was really about something of only the least importance." + +The jar of this understatement restored Noble's voice to a sudden and +startling loudness. "'Only the least importance'!" he shouted. "With a +man named Crum!" + +"What!" she cried + +"Crum!" Noble insisted. "That's exactly what it said his name was!" + +"_What_ said his name was?" + +"_The North End Daily Oriole!_" + +"What in heaven's name is that?" + +"It's the children's paper, Herbert's and Florence's: your own niece and +nephew, Julia! You don't mean you deny it, do you, Julia?" + +She was in great confusion: "Do I deny what?" + +"That his name's Crum!" Noble said passionately. "That his name's Crum +and that he's a widower and he's been divorced and's got nobody knows +how many children!" + +Julia sought to collect herself. "I don't know what you're talking +about," she said. "If you mean that I happened to meet a very charming +man while I was away, and that his name happened to be Crum, I don't +know why I should go to the trouble of denying it. But if Mr. Crum has +had the experiences you say he has, it is certainly news to me! I think +someone told me he was only twenty-six years old. He looked rather +younger." + +"You 'think someone told' you!" Noble groaned. "Oh, Julia! And here it +is, all down in black and white, in my pocket!" + +"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." Julia's tone +was cold, and she drew herself up haughtily, though the gesture was +ineffective in the darkness of that quivering interior. The quivering +stopped just then, however, as the taxicab came to a rather abrupt halt +before her house. + +"Will you come in with me a moment, please?" Julia said as she got out. +"There are some things I want to ask you--and I'm sure my father hasn't +come home from downtown yet. There's no light in the front part of the +house." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + + +There was no light in any other part of the house, they discovered, +after abandoning the front door bell for an excursion to the rear. +"That's disheartening to a hungry person," Julia remarked: and then +remembered that she had a key to the front door in her purse. She opened +the door, and lighted the hall chandelier while Noble brought in her +bags from the steps where the taxicab driver had left them. + +"There's nobody home at all," Julia said thoughtfully. "Not even Gamin." + +"No. Nobody," her sad companion agreed, shaking his head. "Nobody at +all, Julia. Nobody at all." Rousing himself, he went back for the golf +tools, and with a lingering gentleness set them in a corner. Then, +dumbly, he turned to go. + +"Wait, please," said Julia. "I want to ask you a few things--especially +about what you've got 'all down in black and white' in your pocket. Will +you shut the front door, if you please, and go into the library and +turn on the lights and wait there while I look over the house and see if +I can find why it's all closed up like this?" + +Noble went into the library and found the control of the lights. She +came hurrying in after him. + +"It's chilly. The furnace seems to be off," she said. "I'll----" But +instead of declaring her intentions, she enacted them; taking a match +from a little white porcelain trough on the mantelpiece and striking it +on the heel of her glittering shoe. Then she knelt before the grate and +set the flame to paper beneath the kindling-wood and coal. "You mustn't +freeze," she said, with a thoughtful kindness that killed him; and as +she went out of the room he died again;--for she looked back over her +shoulder. + +She had pushed up her veils and this was his first sight of that +disastrous face in long empty weeks and weeks. Now he realized that all +his aching reveries upon its contours had shown but pallid likenesses; +for here was the worst thing about Julia's looks;--even her most +extravagant suitor, in absence, could not dream an image of her so +charming as he found herself when he saw her again. Thus, seeing Julia +again was always a discovery. And this glance over her shoulder as she +left a room--not a honeyed glance but rather inscrutable, yet implying +that she thought of the occupant, and might continue to think of him +while gone from him--this was one of those ways of hers that experience +could never drill out of her. + +"I'm Robinson Crusoe, Noble," she said, when she came back. "I suppose I +might as well take off my furs, though." But first she unfastened the +great bouquet she wore and tossed it upon a table. Noble was standing +close to the table, and he moved away from it hurriedly--a revulsion +that she failed to notice. She went on to explain, as she dropped her +cloak and stole upon a chair: "Papa's gone away for at least a week. +He's taken his ulster. It doesn't make any difference what the weather +is, but when he's going away for a week or longer, he always takes it +with him, except in summer. If he's only going to be gone two or three +days he takes his short overcoat. And unless I'm here when he leaves +town he always gives the servants a holiday till he gets back; so +they've gone and even taken Gamin with 'em, and I'm all alone in the +house. I can't get even Kitty Silver back until to-morrow, and then I'll +probably have to hunt from house to house among her relatives. Papa left +yesterday, because the numbers on his desk calender are pulled off up +to to-day, and that's the first thing he does when he comes down for +breakfast. So here I am, Robinson Crusoe for to-night at least." + +"I suppose," said Noble huskily, "I suppose you'll go to some of your +aunts or brothers or cousins or something." + +"No," she said. "My trunk may come up from the station almost any time, +and if I close the house they'll take it back." + +"You needn't bother about that, Julia. I'll look after it." + +"How?" + +"I could sit on the porch till it comes," he said. "I'd tell 'em you +wanted 'em to leave it." He hesitated, painfully. "I--if you want to +lock up the house I--I could wait out on the porch with your trunk, to +see that it was safe, until you come back to-morrow morning." + +She looked full at him, and he plaintively endured the examination. + +"_Noble!_" Undoubtedly she had a moment's shame that any creature should +come to such a pass for her sake. "What crazy nonsense!" she said; and +sat upon a stool before the crackling fire. "Do sit down, Noble--unless +your dinner will be waiting for you at home?" + +"No," he murmured. "They never wait for me. Don't you want me to look +after your trunk?" + +"Not by sitting all night with it on the porch!" she said. "I'm going to +stay here myself. I'm not going out; I don't want to see any of the +family to-night." + +"I thought you said you were hungry?" + +"I am; but there's enough in the pantry. I looked." + +"Well, if you don't want to see any of 'em," he suggested, "and they +know your father's away and think the house is empty, they're liable to +notice the lights and come in, and then you'd have to see 'em." + +"No, you can't see the lights of this room from the street, and I lit +the lamp at the other end of the hall. The light near the front door," +Julia added, "I put out." + +"You did?" + +"I can't see any of 'em to-night," she said resolutely. "Besides, I want +to find out what you meant by what you said in the taxicab before I do +anything else." + +"What I meant in the taxicab?" he echoed. "Oh, Julia! Julia!" + +She frowned, first at the fire, then, turning her head, at Noble. "You +seem to feel reproachful about something," she observed. + +"No, I don't. I don't feel reproachful, Julia. I don't know what I feel, +but I don't feel reproachful." + +She smiled faintly. "Don't you? Well, there's something perhaps you do +feel, and that's hungry. Will you stay to dinner with me--if I go and +get it?" + +"What?" + +"You can have dinner with me--if you want to? You can stay till ten +o'clock--if you want to? Wait!" she said, and jumped up and ran out of +the room. + +Half an hour later she came back and called softly to him from the +doorway; and he followed her to the dining-room. + +"It isn't much of a dinner, Noble," she said, a little tremulously, +being for once (though strictly as a cook) genuinely apologetic;--but +the scrambled eggs, cold lamb, salad, and coffee were quite as "much of +a dinner" as Noble wanted. To him everything on that table was hallowed, +yet excruciating. + +"Let's eat first and talk afterward," Julia proposed; but what she +meant by "talk" evidently did not exclude interchange of information +regarding weather and the health of acquaintances, for she spoke freely +upon these subjects, while Noble murmured in response and swallowed a +little of the sacred food, but more often swallowed nothing. Bitterest +of all was his thought of what this unexampled seclusion with Julia +could have meant to him, were those poisonous violets not at her +waist--for she had put them on again--and were there no Crum in the +South. Without these fatal obstructions, the present moment would have +been to him a bit of what he often thought of as "dream life"; but all +its sweetness was a hurt. + +"_Now_ we'll talk!" said Julia, when she had brought him back to the +library fire again, and they were seated before it. "Don't you want to +smoke?" He shook his head dismally, having no heart for what she +proposed. "Well, then," she said briskly, but a little ruefully, "let's +get to the bottom of things. Just what did you mean you had 'in black +and white' in your pocket?" + +Slowly Noble drew forth the historic copy of _The North End Daily +Oriole_; and with face averted, placed it in her extended hand. + +"What in the world!" she exclaimed, unfolding it; and then as its title +and statement of ownership came into view, "Oh, yes! I see. Aunt Carrie +wrote me that Uncle Joseph had given Herbert a printing-press. I suppose +Herbert's the editor?" + +"And that Rooter boy," Noble said sadly. "I think maybe your little +niece Florence has something to do with it, too." + +"'Something' to do with it? She usually has _all_ to do with anything +she gets hold of! But what's it got to do with me?" + +"You'll see!" he prophesied accurately. + +She began to read, laughing at some of the items as she went along; then +suddenly she became rigid, holding the small journal before her in a +transfixed hand. + +"Oh!" she cried. "_Oh!_" + +"That's--that's what--I meant," Noble explained. + +Julia's eyes grew dangerous. "The little fiends!" she cried. "Oh, +really, this is a long-suffering family, but it's time these outrages +were stopped!" + +She jumped up. "Isn't it frightful?" she demanded of Noble. + +"Yes, it is," he said, with a dismal fervour. "Nobody knows that better +than I do, Julia!" + +"I mean _this_!" she cried, extending the _Oriole_ toward him with a +vigorous gesture. "I mean this dreadful story about poor Mr. Crum!" + +"But it's true," he said. + +"Noble Dill!" + +"Julia?" + +"Do you dare to say you believed it?" + +He sprang up. "It isn't true?" + +"Not one word of it! I told you Mr. Crum is only twenty-six. He hasn't +been out of college more than three or four years, and it's the most +terrible slander to say he's ever been married at all!" + +Noble dropped back into his chair of misery. "I thought you meant it +wasn't true." + +"I've just told you there isn't one _word_ of tr----" + +"But you're--engaged," Noble gulped. "You're engaged to him, Julia!" + +She appeared not to hear this. "I suppose it _can_ be lived down," she +said. "To think of Uncle Joseph putting such a thing into the hands of +those awful children!" + +"But, Julia, you're eng----" + +"Noble!" she said sharply. + +"Well, you _are_ eng----" + +Julia drew herself up. "Different people mean different things by that +word," she said with severity, like an annoyed school-teacher. "There +are any number of shades of meaning to words; and if I used the word you +mention, in writing home to the family, I may have used a certain shade +and they may have thought I intended another." + +"But, Julia----" + +"Mr. Crum is a charming young man," she continued with the same +primness. "I liked him very much indeed. I liked him very, very much. I +liked him very, _very_----" + +"I understand," he interrupted. "Don't say it any more, Julia." + +"No; you don't understand! At _first_ I liked him very much--in fact, I +still do, of course--I'm sure he's one of the best and most attractive +young men in the world. I think he's a man any girl ought to be happy +with, if he were only to be considered by himself. I don't deny that. I +liked him very much indeed, and I don't deny that for several days after +he--after he proposed to me--I don't deny I thought something serious +_might_ come of it. But at that time, Noble, I hadn't--hadn't really +thought of what it meant to give up living here at home, with all the +family and everything--and friends--friends like you, Noble. I hadn't +thought what it would mean to me to give all this up. And besides, there +was something very important. At the time I wrote that letter mentioning +poor Mr. Crum to the family, Noble, I hadn't--I hadn't----" She paused, +visibly in some distress. "I hadn't----" + +"You hadn't what?" he cried. + +"I hadn't met his mother!" + +Noble leaped to his feet. "Julia! You aren't--you aren't engaged?" + +"I am not," she answered decisively. "If I ever was--in the slightest--I +certainly am not now." + +Poor Noble was transfigured. He struggled; making half-formed gestures, +speaking half-made words. A rapture glowed upon him. + +"Julia--Julia----" He choked. "Julia, promise me something. Will you +promise me something? Julia, promise to promise me something." + +"I will," she said quickly. "What do you want me to do?" + +Then he saw that it was his time to speak; that this was the moment for +him to dare everything and ask for the utmost he could hope from her. + +"Give me your word!" he said, still radiantly struggling. "Give me your +word--your word--your word and your sacred promise, Julia--that you'll +never be engaged to anybody at all!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + + +At six minutes after four o'clock on the second afternoon following +Julia's return, Noble Dill closed his own gate behind him and set forth +upon the four-minute walk that would bring him to Julia's. He wore a bit +of scarlet geranium in the buttonhole of his new light overcoat; he +flourished a new walking-stick and new grey gloves. As for his +expression, he might have been a bridegroom. + +Passing the mouth of an alley, as he swung along the street, he was +aware of a commotion, of missiles hurled and voices clashed. In this +alley there was a discord: passion and mockery were here inimically +intermingled. + +Casting _a_ glance that way, Noble could see but one person; a boy of +fourteen who looked through a crack in a board fence, steadfastly +keeping an eye to this aperture and as continuously calling through it, +holding his head to a level for this purpose, but at the same time +dancing--and dancing tauntingly, it was conveyed--with the other parts +of his body. His voice was now sweet, now piercing, and again far too +dulcet with the overkindness of burlesque; and if, as it seemed, he was +unburdening his spleen, his spleen was a powerful one and gorged. He +appeared to be in a torment of tormenting; and his success was proved by +the pounding of bricks, parts of bricks and rocks of size upon the other +side of the fence, as close to the crack as might be. + +"Oh, dolling!" he wailed, his tone poisonously amorous. "Oh, dolling +Henery! Oo's dot de mos' booful eyes in a dray bid nasty world. Henery! +Oh, _has_ I dot booful eyes, dolling Pattywatty? Yes, I _has_! I _has_ +dot pretty eyes!" His voice rose unbearably. "_Oh_, what prettiest eyes +I dot! Me and Herbie Atwater! _Oh_, my booful eyes! Oh, my _booful_----" + +But even as he reached this apex, the head, shoulders, and arms of +Herbert Atwater rose momentarily above the fence across the alley, +behind the tormentor. Herbert's expression was implacably resentful, and +so was the gesture with which he hurled an object at the comedian +preoccupied with the opposite fence. This object, upon reaching its +goal, as it did more with a splash than a thud, was revealed as a +tomato, presumably in a useless state. The taunter screamed in +astonishment, and after looking vainly for an assailant, began +necessarily to remove his coat. + +Noble, passing on, thought he recognized the boy as one of the Torbin +family, but he was not sure, and he had no idea that the episode was in +any possible manner to be connected with his own recent history. How +blindly we walk our ways! As Noble flourished down the street, there +appeared a wan face at a prison window; and the large eyes looked out +upon him wistfully. But Noble went on, as unwitting that he had to do +with this prison as that he had to do with Master Torbin's tomato. + +The face at the window was not like Charlotte Corday's, nor was the +window barred, though the prisoner knew a little solace in wondering if +she did not suggest that famous picture. For all purposes, except during +school hours, the room was certainly a cell; and the term of +imprisonment was set at three days. Uncle Joseph had been unable to +remain at the movies forever: people do have to go home eventually, +especially when accompanied by thirteen-year-old great-nieces. Florence +had finally to face the question awaiting her; and it would have been +better for her had she used less imagination in her replies. + +Yet she was not wholly despondent as her eyes followed the disappearing +figure of Noble Dill. His wholesome sprightliness was visible at any +distance; and who would not take a little pride in having been even the +mistaken instrument of saving so gay a young man from the loss of his +reason? No; Florence was not cast down. Day-after-to-morrow she would +taste Freedom again, and her profoundest regret was that after all her +Aunt Julia was not to be married. Florence had made definite plans for +the wedding, especially for the principal figure at the ceremony. This +figure, as Florence saw things, would have been that of the "Flower +Girl," naturally a niece of the bride; but she was able to dismiss the +bright dream with some philosophy. And to console her for everything, +had she not a star in her soul? Had she not discovered that she could +write poetry whenever she felt like it? + +Noble passed from her sight, but nevertheless continued his radiant +progress down Julia's Street. Life stretched before him, serene, +ineffably fragrant, unending. He saw it as a flower-strewn sequence of +calls upon Julia, walks with Julia, talks with Julia by the library +fire. Old Mr. Atwater was to be away four days longer, and Julia, that +great-hearted bride-not-to-be, had given him her promise. + +Blushing, indeed divinely, she had promised him upon her sacred word, +never so long as she lived, to be engaged to anybody at all. + + + THE END + + * * * * * + + BOOKS BY BOOTH TARKINGTON + + ALICE ADAMS + BEASLEY'S CHRISTMAS PARTY + BEAUTY AND THE JACOBIN + CHERRY + CONQUEST OF CANAAN + GENTLE JULIA + HARLEQUIN AND COLUMBINE + HIS OWN PEOPLE + IN THE ARENA + MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE + PENROD + PENROD AND SAM + RAMSEY MILHOLLAND + SEVENTEEN + THE BEAUTIFUL LADY + THE FLIRT + THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA + THE GIBSON UPRIGHT + THE GUEST OF QUESNAY + THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS + THE MAN FROM HOME + THE TURMOIL + THE TWO VANREVELS + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +1. Punctuation normalized to contemporary standards. + +2. List of "Books by Booth Tarkington" originally before frontispiece + moved to end of text. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gentle Julia, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENTLE JULIA *** + +***** This file should be named 18259.txt or 18259.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/5/18259/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Gentle Julia + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Illustrator: C. Allan Gilbert and Worth Brehm + +Release Date: April 26, 2006 [EBook #18259] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENTLE JULIA *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;"> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="Julia" title="Julia" /> +<span class="caption">Julia</span> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<table width="450" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Title Page" border="1"> + <col style="width:80%;" /> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <p style="margin-top: 5em"></p> + <span style="font-size: 200%">GENTLE JULIA</span> + <br /><br /> + BY + <br /> + <span style="font-size: 120%;">BOOTH TARKINGTON</span> + <br /><br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 70%"> + AUTHOR OF + </span> + <br /> + <span style="font-size: 90%"> + PENROD, PENROD AND SAM,<br />THE TURMOIL, <span class="smcap">Etc</span>. + </span> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 70%">ILLUSTRATED BY</span><br /> + <span style="font-size: 90%">C. ALLAN GILBERT</span><br /> + <span style="font-size: 70%">AND</span><br /> + <span style="font-size: 90%">WORTH BREHM</span><br /> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <span style="text-align:center; font-size: 120%"> + GROSSET & DUNLAP + </span> + <br /> + <span style="font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 1em">PUBLISHERS + + NEW YORK<br /><br /><br /> + </span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 75%">Made in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 85%">COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY<br /> +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY P. F. COLLIER AND SON COMPANY<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY THE PICTORIAL REVIEW COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, +GARDEN CITY, N. Y.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p class="center">TO M. L. K.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>Table of Contents</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:65%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr><td>CHAPTER ONE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_ONE">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWO</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWO">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER THREE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_THREE">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER FOUR</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_FOUR">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER FIVE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_FIVE">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER SIX</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_SIX">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER SEVEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVEN">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER EIGHT</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHT">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER NINE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_NINE">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TEN">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER ELEVEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_ELEVEN">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWELVE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWELVE">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTEEN">187</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTEEN">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_FIFTEEN">225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_SIXTEEN">251</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN">268</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN">279</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER NINETEEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_NINETEEN">309</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWENTY</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY">324</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE">346</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO">360</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE">371</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p class="center">GENTLE JULIA</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 30%; font-size: 80%">"Rising +to the point of order, this one said +that since the morgue was not yet established +as the central monument and inspiration of +our settlement, and true philosophy was as +well expounded in the convivial manner as +in the miserable, he claimed for himself, not +the license, but the right, to sing a ballad, if +he chose, upon even so solemn a matter as +the misuse of the town pump by witches."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span> +<h2><a name="GENTLE_JULIA" id="GENTLE_JULIA"></a>GENTLE JULIA</h2> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_ONE" id="CHAPTER_ONE"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h3> + +<p>Superciliousness is not safe after all, because +a person who forms the habit of wearing +it may some day find his lower lip grown +permanently projected beyond the upper, so that he +can't get it back, and must go through life looking +like the King of Spain. This was once foretold +as a probable culmination of Florence Atwater's +still plastic profile, if Florence didn't change her +way of thinking; and upon Florence's remarking +dreamily that the King of Spain was an awf'ly han'some +man, her mother retorted: "But not for a girl!" +She meant, of course, that a girl who looked too much +like the King of Spain would not be handsome, but +her daughter decided to misunderstand her.</p> + +<p>"Why, mamma, he's my Very Ideal! I'd marry +him to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater paused in her darning, and let the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +stocking collapse flaccidly into the work-basket in +her lap. "Not at barely thirteen, would you?" she +said. "It seems to me you're just a shade too +young to be marrying a man who's already got a wife +and several children. Where did you pick up that +'I'd-marry-him-to-morrow,' Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hear that everywhere!" returned the +damsel, lightly. "Everybody says things like that. +I heard Aunt Julia say it. I heard Kitty Silver +say it."</p> + +<p>"About the King of Spain?" Mrs. Atwater inquired.</p> + +<p>"I don't know who they were saying it about," +said Florence, "but they were saying it. I don't +mean they were saying it together; I heard one say +it one time and the other say it some other time. I +think Kitty Silver was saying it about some coloured +man. She proba'ly wouldn't want to marry any +white man; at least I don't expect she would. She's +<i>been</i> married to a couple of coloured men, anyhow; +and she was married twice to one of 'em, and the +other one died in between. Anyhow, that's what she +told me. She weighed over two hunderd pounds +the first time she was married, and she weighed over +two hunderd-and-seventy the last time she was married<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +to the first one over again, but she says she don't +know how much she weighed when she was married +to the one in between. She says she never got +weighed all the time she was married to that one. +Did Kitty Silver ever tell you that, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, often!" Mrs. Atwater replied. "I don't +think it's very entertaining; and it's not what we +were talking about. I was trying to tell you——"</p> + +<p>"I know," Florence interrupted. "You said I'd +get my face so's my underlip wouldn't go back where +it ought to, if I didn't quit turning up my nose at +people I think are beneath contemp'. I guess the +best thing would be to just feel that way without +letting on by my face, and then there wouldn't be +any danger."</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Atwater. "That's not what I +meant. You mustn't let your feelings get <i>their</i> +nose turned up, or their underlip out, either, because +feelings can grow warped just as well as——"</p> + +<p>But her remarks had already caused her daughter +to follow a trail of thought divergent from the main +road along which the mother feebly struggled to progress. +"Mamma," said Florence, "do you b'lieve +it's true if a person swallows an apple-seed or a +lemon-seed or a watermelon-seed, f'r instance, do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +you think they'd have a tree grow up inside of 'em? +Henry Rooter said it would, yesterday."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater looked a little anxious. "Did you +swallow some sort of seed?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It was only some grape-seeds, mamma; and +you needn't think I got to take anything for it, because +I've swallowed a million, I guess, in my time!"</p> + +<p>"In your time?" her mother repeated, seemingly +mystified.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and so have you and papa," Florence went +on. "I've seen you when you ate grapes. Henry +said maybe not, about grapes, because I told him +all what I've just been telling you, mamma, how I +must have swallowed a million, in my time, and he +said grape-seeds weren't big enough to get a good +holt, but he said if I was to swallow an apple-seed a +tree would start up, and in a year or two, maybe, +it would grow up so't I couldn't get my mouth shut +on account the branches."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Henry said another boy told <i>him</i>, but he said you +could ask anybody and they'd tell you it was true. +Henry said this boy that told him's uncle died of it +when he was eleven years old, and this boy knew a +grown woman that was pretty sick from it right now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +I expect Henry wasn't telling such a falsehood about +it, mamma, but proba'ly this boy did, because I +didn't believe it for a minute! Henry Rooter says he +never told a lie <i>yet</i>, in his whole life, mamma, and he +wasn't going to begin now." She paused for a +moment, then added: "I don't believe a word he +says!"</p> + +<p>She continued to meditate disapprovingly upon +Henry Rooter. "Old thing!" she murmured gloomily, +for she had indeed known moments of apprehension +concerning the grape-seeds. "Nothing but an +old thing—what he is!" she repeated inaudibly.</p> + +<p>"Florence," said Mrs. Atwater, "don't you want to +slip over to grandpa's and ask Aunt Julia if she has +a very large darning needle? And don't forget not to +look supercilious when you meet people on the way. +Even your grandfather has been noticing it, and he +was the one that spoke of it to me. Don't forget!"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>Florence went out of the house somewhat moodily, +but afternoon sunshine enlivened her; and, opening +the picket gate, she stepped forth with a fair renewal +of her chosen manner toward the public, +though just at that moment no public was in sight. +Miss Atwater's underlip resumed the position for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +which her mother had predicted that regal Spanish +fixity, and her eyebrows and nose were all three perceptibly +elevated. At the same time, her eyelids +were half lowered, while the corners of her mouth +somewhat deepened, as by a veiled mirth, so that +this well-dressed child strolled down the shady +sidewalk wearing an expression not merely of high-bred +contempt but also of mysterious derision. +It was an expression that should have put any pedestrian +in his place, and it seems a pity that the long +street before her appeared to be empty of human life. +No one even so much as glanced from a window of +any of the comfortable houses, set back at the end +of their "front walks" and basking amid pleasant +lawns; for, naturally, this was the "best residence +street" in the town, since all the Atwaters and other +relatives of Florence dwelt there. Happily, an +old gentleman turned a corner before she had gone +a hundred yards, and, as he turned in her direction, it +became certain that they would meet. He was a +stranger—that is to say, he was unknown to Florence—and +he was well dressed; while his appearance of +age (proba'ly at least forty or sixty or something) +indicated that he might have sense enough to be +interested in other interesting persons.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>An extraordinary change took place upon the +surface of Florence Atwater: all superciliousness and +derision of the world vanished; her eyes opened wide, +and into them came a look at once far-away and +intently fixed. Also, a frown of concentration appeared +upon her brow, and her lips moved silently, +but with rapidity, as if she repeated to herself +something of almost tragic import. Florence had +recently read a newspaper account of the earlier struggles +of a now successful actress: As a girl, this determined +genius went about the streets repeating the +lines of various roles to herself—constantly rehearsing, +in fact, upon the public thoroughfares, so carried +away was she by her intended profession and so set +upon becoming famous. This was what Florence +was doing now, except that she rehearsed no rôle in +particular, and the words formed by her lips were +neither sequential nor consequential, being, in fact, +the following: "Oh, the darkness ... never, +never, never! ... you couldn't ... he +wouldn't ... Ah, mother! ... Where the +river swings so slowly ... Ah, <i>no</i>!" Nevertheless, +she was doing all she could for the elderly +stranger, and as they came closer, encountered, and +passed on, she had the definite impression that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +did indeed take her to be a struggling young actress +who would some day be famous—and then he might +see her on a night of triumph and recognize her as the +girl he had passed on the street, that day, so long +ago! But by this time, the episode was concluded; +the footsteps of him for whom she was performing +had become inaudible behind her, and she began to +forget him; which was as well, since he went out of +her life then, and the two never met again. The +struggling young actress disappeared, and the previous +superiority was resumed. It became elaborately +emphasized as a boy of her own age emerged +from the "side yard" of a house at the next corner +and came into her view.</p> + +<p>The boy caught sight of Florence in plenty of time +to observe this emphasis, which was all too obviously +produced by her sensations at sight of himself; +and, after staring at her for a moment, he allowed +his own expression to become one of painful fatigue. +Then he slowly swung about, as if to return into +that side-yard obscurity whence he had come; +making clear by this pantomime that he reciprocally +found the sight of her insufferable. In truth, he did; +for he was not only her neighbour but her first-cousin +as well, and a short month older, though taller<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +than she—tall beyond his years, taller than need be, +in fact, and still in knickerbockers. However, his +parents may not have been mistaken in the matter, +for it was plain that he looked as well in knickerbockers +as he could have looked in anything. He had +no visible beauty, though it was possible to hope for +him that by the time he reached manhood he would +be more tightly put together than he seemed at +present; and indeed he himself appeared to have +some consciousness of insecurity in the fastenings +of his members, for it was his habit (observable +even now as he turned to avoid Miss Atwater) to +haul at himself, to sag and hitch about inside his +clothes, and to corkscrew his neck against the swathing +of his collar. And yet there were times, as the +most affectionate of his aunts had remarked, when, +for a moment or so, he appeared to be almost knowing; +and, seeing him walking before her, she had +almost taken him for a young man; and sometimes +he said something in a settled kind of way that was almost +adult. This fondest aunt went on to add, however, +that of course, the next minute after one of +these fleeting spells, he was sure to be overtaken by +his more accustomed moods, when his eye would +again fix itself with fundamental aimlessness upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +nothing. In brief, he was at the age when he spent +most of his time changing his mind about things, +or, rather, when his mind spent most of its time +changing him about things; and this was what +happened now.</p> + +<p>After turning his back on the hateful sight well +known to him as his cousin Florence at her freshest, +he turned again, came forth from his place of residence, +and joining her upon the pavement, walked +beside her, accompanying her without greeting or +inquiry. His expression of fatigue, indicating her +insufferableness, had not abated; neither had her +air of being a duchess looking at bugs.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> a pretty one!" he said; but his intention +was perceived to be far indeed from his words.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>am</i> I, Mister Herbert Atwater?" Florence +responded. "I'm <i>awf'ly</i> glad <i>you</i> think so!"</p> + +<p>"I mean about what Henry Rooter said," her +cousin explained. "Henry Rooter told me he made +you believe you were goin' to have a grapevine +climbin' up from inside of you because you ate some +grapes with the seeds in 'em. He says you thought +you'd haf to get a carpenter to build a little arbour +so you could swallow it for the grapevine to grow +on. He says——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence had become an angry pink. "That little +Henry Rooter is the worst falsehooder in this town; +and I never believed a word he said in his life! Anyway, +what affairs is it of yours, I'd like you to please +be so kind and obliging for to tell me, Mister Herbert +Illingsworth Atwater, Exquire!"</p> + +<p>"What affairs?" Herbert echoed in plaintive +satire. "What affairs is it of mine? That's just the +trouble! It's <i>got</i> to be my affairs because you're my +first-cousin. My goodness <i>I</i> didn't have anything +to do with you being my cousin, did I?"</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>I</i> didn't!"</p> + +<p>"That's neither here nor there," said Herbert. +"What <i>I</i> want to know is, how long you goin' to +keep this up?"</p> + +<p>"Keep what up?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, how do you think I like havin' somebody +like Henry Rooter comin' round me tellin' what they +made a cousin of mine believe, and more than thirteen +years old, goin' on fourteen ever since about a +month ago!"</p> + +<p>Florence shouted: "Oh, for goodness' <i>sakes</i>!" then +moderated the volume but not the intensity of her +tone. "Kindly reply to <i>this</i>. Whoever asked you +to come and take a walk with me to-day?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>Herbert protested to heaven. "Why, I wouldn't +take a walk with you if every policeman in this town +tried to make me! I wouldn't take a walk with you +if they brought a million horses and—"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't take a walk with <i>you</i>," Florence interrupted, +"if they brought a million million horses +and cows and camels and—"</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't," Herbert said. "Not if <i>I</i> +could help it!"</p> + +<p>But by this time Florence had regained her derisive +superciliousness. "There's a few things you +<i>could</i> help," she said; and the incautious Herbert +challenged her with the inquiry she desired.</p> + +<p>"What could I help?"</p> + +<p>"I should think you could help bumpin' into me +every second when I'm takin' a walk on my own +affairs, and walk along on your own side of the sidewalk, +anyway, and not be so awkward a person has +to keep trippin' over you about every time I try to +take a step!"</p> + +<p>Herbert withdrew temporarily to his own side +of the pavement. "Who?" he demanded hotly. +"<i>Who</i> says I'm awkward?"</p> + +<p>"All the fam'ly," Miss Atwater returned, with a +light but infuriating laugh. "You bump into 'em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +sideways and keep gettin' half in front of 'em whenever +they try to take a step, and then when it looks +as if they'd pretty near fall over you—"</p> + +<p>"You look here!"</p> + +<p>"And besides all that," Florence went on, undisturbed, +"why, you generally keep kind of snorting, +or somep'n, and then making all those noises in +your neck. You were doin' it at grandpa's last +Sunday dinner because every time there wasn't +anybody talking, why, everybody could hear you +plain as everything, and you ought to've seen grandpa +look at you! He looked as if you'd set him crazy +if you didn't quit that chuttering and cluckling!"</p> + +<p>Herbert's expression partook of a furious astonishment. +"I don't any such thing!" he burst out. +"I guess I wouldn't talk much about last Sunday +dinner, if I was <i>you</i> neither. Who got caught eatin' +off the ice cream freezer spoon out on the back porch, +if you please? Yes, and I guess you better study a +little grammar, while you're about it. There's no +such words in the English language as 'cluckling' and +'chuttering.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't care what language they're in," the stubborn +Florence insisted. "It's what you do, just +the same: cluckling and chuttering!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>Herbert's manners went to pieces. "Oh, dry +up!" he bellowed.</p> + +<p>"That's a <i>nice</i> way to talk! So gentlemanly——"</p> + +<p>"Well, you try be a lady, then!"</p> + +<p>"'Try!'" Florence echoed. "Well, after that, +I'll just politely thank you to dry up, yourself, +Mister Herbert Atwater!"</p> + +<p>At this Herbert became moody. "Oh, pfuff!" +he said; and for some moments walked in silence. +Then he asked: "Where you goin', Florence?"</p> + +<p>The damsel paused at a gate opening upon a +broad lawn evenly divided by a brick walk that led +to the white-painted wooden veranda of an ample +and honest old brick house. "Righ' there to grandpa's, +since you haf to know!" she said. "And thank +you for your delightful comp'ny which I never asked +for, if you care to hear the truth for once in your +life!"</p> + +<p>Herbert meditated. "Well, I got nothin' else to +do, as I know of," he said. "Let's go around to +the back door so's to see if Kitty Silver's got anything."</p> + +<p>Then, not amiably, but at least inconsequently, +they passed inside the gate together. Their brows +were fairly unclouded; no special marks of conflict<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +remained; for they had met and conversed in a manner +customary rather than unusual.</p> + +<p>They followed a branch of the brick walk and +passed round the south side of the house, where a +small orchard of apple-trees showed generous promise. +Hundreds of gay little round apples among the leaves +glanced the high lights to and fro on their polished +green cheeks as a breeze hopped through the yard, +while the shade beneath trembled with coquettishly +moving disks of sunshine like golden plates. A +pattern of orange light and blue shadow was laid like +a fanciful plaid over the lattice and the wide, slightly +sagging steps of the elderly "back porch"; and here, +taking her ease upon these steps, sat a middle-aged +coloured woman of continental proportions. +Beyond all contest, she was the largest coloured woman +in that town, though her height was not unusual, +and she had a rather small face. That is to say, +as Florence had once explained to her, her face was +small but the other parts of her head were terribly +wide. Beside her was a circular brown basket, of a +type suggesting arts-and-crafts; it was made with +a cover, and there was a bow of brown silk upon +the handle.</p> + +<p>"What you been up to to-day, Kitty Silver?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +Herbert asked genially. "Any thing special?" For this +was the sequel to his "so's we can see if Kitty Silver's +got anything." But Mrs. Silver discouraged him.</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't," she replied. "I ain't, an' I ain't +goin' to."</p> + +<p>"I thought you pretty near always made cookies +on Tuesday," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't <i>this</i> Tuesday," said Kitty Silver. +"I ain't, and I ain't goin' to. You might dess well +g'on home ri' now. I ain't, an' I ain't goin' to."</p> + +<p>Docility was no element of Mrs. Silver's present +mood, and Herbert's hopeful eyes became blank, as +his gaze wandered from her head to the brown basket +beside her. The basket did not interest him; the +ribbon gave it a quality almost at once excluding +it from his consciousness. On the contrary, the +ribbon had drawn Florence's attention, and she stared +at the basket eagerly.</p> + +<p>"What you got there, Kitty Silver?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What I got where?"</p> + +<p>"In that basket."</p> + +<p>"Nemmine what I got 'n 'at basket," said Mrs. +Silver crossly, but added inconsistently: "I dess <i>wish</i> +somebody ast me what I got 'n 'at basket! <i>I</i> ain't no +cat-washwoman fer <i>no</i>body!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Cats!" Florence cried. "Are there cats in that +basket, Kitty Silver? Let's look at 'em!"</p> + +<p>The lid of the basket, lifted by the eager, slim +hand of Miss Atwater, rose to disclose two cats of +an age slightly beyond kittenhood. They were of +a breed unfamiliar to Florence, and she did not obey +the impulse that usually makes a girl seize upon any +young cat at sight and caress it. Instead, she +looked at them with some perplexity, and after a +moment inquired: "Are they really cats, Kitty Silver, +do you b'lieve?"</p> + +<p>"Cats what she done tole <i>me</i>," the coloured +woman replied. "You betta shet lid down, you don' +wan' 'em run away, 'cause they ain't yoosta livin' +'n 'at basket yit; an' no matter whut kine o' cats +they is or they isn't, <i>one</i> thing true: they <i>wile</i> cats!"</p> + +<p>"But what makes their hair so long?" Florence +asked. "I never saw cats with hair a couple inches +long like that."</p> + +<p>"Miss Julia say they Berjum cats."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't tellin' no mo'n she tole me. You' aunt +say they Berjum cats."</p> + +<p>"Persian," said Herbert. "That's nothing. I've +seen plenty Persian cats. My goodness, I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +think you'd seen a Persian cat at yow age. Thirteen +goin' on fourteen!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I <i>have</i> seen Persian cats plenty times, I +guess," Florence said. "I thought Persian cats +were white, and these are kind of gray."</p> + +<p>At this Kitty Silver permitted herself to utter an +embittered laugh. "You wrong!" she said. "These +cats, they white; yes'm!"</p> + +<p>"Why, they aren't either! They're gray as——"</p> + +<p>"No'm," said Mrs. Silver. "They plum spang +white, else you' Aunt Julia gone out her mind; me or +her, one. I say: 'Miss Julia, them gray cats.' +'White,' she say. 'Them two cats is white cats,' she +say. 'Them cats been crated,' she say. 'They +been livin' in a crate on a dirty express train fer th'ee +fo' days,' she say. 'Them cats gone got all smoke' +up thataway,' she say. 'No'm, Miss Julia,' I say, +'No'm, Miss Julia, they ain't <i>no</i> train,' I say, 'they +ain't <i>no</i> train kin take an' smoke two white cats up like +these cats so's they hair is gray clean plum up to +they hide.' You betta put the lid down, I tell +you!"</p> + +<p>Florence complied, just in time to prevent one +of the young cats from leaping out of the basket, +but she did not fasten the cover. Instead, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +knelt, and, allowing a space of half an inch to intervene +between the basket and the rim of the cover, +peered within at the occupants. "I believe the one +to this side's a he," she said. "It's got greenisher +eyes than the other one; that's the way you can always +tell. I b'lieve this one's a he and the other +one's a she."</p> + +<p>"I ain't stedyin' about no he an' she!"</p> + +<p>"What did Aunt Julia say?" Florence asked.</p> + +<p>"Whut you' Aunt Julia say when?"</p> + +<p>"When you told her these were gray cats and not +white cats?"</p> + +<p>"She tole me take an' clean 'em," said Kitty Silver. +"She say, she say she want 'em clean' up +spick an' spang befo' Mista Sammerses git here +to call an' see 'em." And she added morosely: +"I ain't no cat-washwoman!"</p> + +<p>"She wants you to bathe 'em?" Florence inquired, +but Kitty Silver did not reply immediately. She +breathed audibly, with a strange effect upon vasty +outward portions of her, and then gave an incomparably +dulcet imitation of her own voice, as she +interpreted her use of it during the recent interview.</p> + +<p>'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say—'Miss Julia, ma'am,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +my bizniss cookin' vittles,' I say. 'Miss Julia, +ma'am,' I tole her, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, I cook fer +you' pa, an' cook fer you' fam'ly year in, year out, an' +I hope an' pursue, whiles some might make complaint, +I take whatever I find, an' I leave whatever +I find. No'm, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say—'no'm, +Miss Julia, ma'am, I ain't no cat-washwoman!'"</p> + +<p>"What did Aunt Julia say then?"</p> + +<p>"She say, she say: 'Di'n I tell you take them cats +downstairs an' clean 'em?' she say. I ain't <i>no</i>body's +cat-washwoman!"</p> + +<p>Florence was becoming more and more interested. +"I should think that would be kind of fun," she said. +"To be a cat-washwoman. <i>I</i> wouldn't mind that +at all: I'd kind of like it. I expect if you was a cat-washwoman, +Kitty Silver, you'd be pretty near the +only one was in the world. I wonder if they do +have 'em any place, cat-washwomen."</p> + +<p>"I don' know if they got 'em some place," said +Kitty Silver, "an' I don't know if they ain't got +'em no place; but I bet if they do got 'em any place, +it's some place else from here!"</p> + +<p>Florence looked thoughtful. "Who was it you +said is going to call this evening and see 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Mista Sammerses."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She means Newland Sanders," Herbert explained. +"Aunt Julia says all her callers that +ever came to this house in their lives, Kitty Silver +never got the name right of a single one of 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Newland Sanders is the one with the little moustache," +Florence said. "Is that the one you mean +by 'Sammerses,' Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"Mista Sammerses who you' Aunt Julia tole <i>me</i>," +Mrs. Silver responded stubbornly. "He ain't got +no moustache whut you kin look at—dess some blackish +whut don' reach out mo'n halfway todes the bofe +ends of his mouf."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Florence, "was Mr. Sanders the one +gave her these Persian cats, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon." Mrs. Silver breathed audibly again, +and her expression was strongly resentful. "When +she go fer a walk 'long with any them callers she +stop an' make a big fuss over any li'l ole dog or cat +an' I don't know whut all, an' after they done buy +her all the candy from all the candy sto's in the livin' +worl', an' all the flowers from all the greenhouses +they is, it's a wonder some of 'em ain't sen' her a mule +fer a present, 'cause seem like to me they done sen' +her mos' every kine of animal they is! Firs' come +Airydale dog you' grampaw tuck an' give away to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +the milkman; 'n'en come two mo' pups; I don't +know whut they is, 'cause they bofe had dess sense +enough to run away after you' grampaw try learn +'em how much he ain't like no pups; an' nex' come +them two canaries hangin' in the dinin'-room now, +an' nex'—di'n' I holler so's they could a-hear me +all way down town? Di'n' I walk in my kitchen one +mawnin' right slam in the face of ole warty allagatuh +three foot long a-lookin' at me over the aidge o' my +kitchen sink?"</p> + +<p>"It was Mr. Clairdyce gave her that," said Florence. +"He'd been to Florida; but she didn't care +for it very much, and she didn't make any fuss +at all when grandpa got the florist to take it. Grandpa +hates animals."</p> + +<p>"He don' hate 'em no wuss'n whut I do," said +Kitty Silver. "An' he ain't got to ketch 'em lookin' +at him outen of his kitchen sink—an' he ain't fixin' +to be no cat-washwoman neither!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Are</i> you fixing to?" Florence asked quickly. +"You don't need to do it, Kitty Silver. I'd be willing +to, and so'd Herbert. Wouldn't you, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>Herbert deliberated within himself, then brightened. +"I'd just as soon," he said. "I'd kind of like +to see how a cat acts when it's getting bathed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think it would be spesh'ly inter'sting to wash +Persian cats," Florence added, with increasing enthusiasm. +"I never washed a cat in my life."</p> + +<p>"Neither have I," said Herbert. "I always +thought they did it themselves."</p> + +<p>Kitty Silver sniffed. "Ain't I says so to you' +Aunt Julia? She done tole me, 'No,' she say. She +say, she say Berjum cats ain't wash they self; they +got to take an' git somebody else to wash 'em!"</p> + +<p>"If we're goin' to bathe 'em," said Florence, "we +ought to know their names, so's we can tell 'em to +hold still and everything. You can't do much with +an animal unless you know their name. Did Aunt +Julia tell you these cats' names, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"She say they name Feef an' Meemuh. Yes'm! +Feef an' Meemuh! Whut kine o' name is Feef an' +Meemuh fer cat name!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, those are lovely names!" Florence assured her, +and, turning to Herbert, explained: "She means +Fifi and Mimi."</p> + +<p>"Feef an' Meemuh," said Kitty Silver. "Them +name don' suit me, an' them long-hair cats don' suit +me neither." Here she lifted the cover of the basket +a little, and gazed nervously within. "Look at +there!" she said. "Look at the way they lookin' at me!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +Don't you look at <i>me</i> thataway, you Feef an' Meemuh!" +She clapped the lid down and fastened it. +"Fixin' to jump out an' grab me, was you?"</p> + +<p>"I guess, maybe," said Florence, "maybe I better +go ask Aunt Julia if I and Herbert can't wash 'em. +I guess I better go <i>ask</i> her anyhow." And she +ran up the steps and skipped into the house +by way of the kitchen. A moment later she appeared +in the open doorway of a room upstairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWO</h3> + + +<p>It was a pretty room, lightly scented with the +pink geraniums and blue lobelia and coral +fuchsias that poised, urgent with colour, in the +window-boxes at the open windows. Sunshine +paused delicately just inside, where forms of pale-blue +birds and lavender flowers curled up and +down the cretonne curtains; and a tempered, respectful +light fell upon a cushioned <i>chaise longue</i>; +for there fluffily reclined, in garments of tender fabric +and gentle colours, the prettiest twenty-year-old +girl in that creditably supplied town.</p> + +<p>It must be said that no stranger would have taken +Florence at first glance to be her niece, though everybody +admitted that Florence's hair was pretty. +("I'll say <i>that</i> for her," was the family way of putting +it.). Florence did not care for her hair herself; +it was dark and thick and long, like her Aunt Julia's; +but Florence—even in the realistic presence of a +mirror—preferred to think of herself as an ashen +blonde, and also as about a foot taller than she was.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +Persistence kept this picture habitually in her mind, +which, of course, helps to explain her feeling +that she was justified in wearing that manner of superciliousness +deplored by her mother. More middle-aged +gentlemen than are suspected believe that +they look like the waspen youths in the magazine advertisements +of clothes; and this impression of theirs +accounts (as with Florence) for much that is seemingly +inexplicable in their behaviour.</p> + +<p>Florence's Aunt Julia was reading an exquisitely +made little book, which bore her initials stamped in +gold upon the cover; and it had evidently reached +her by a recent delivery of the mail, for wrappings +bearing cancelled stamps lay upon the floor beside +the <i>chaise longue</i>. It was a special sort of book, +since its interior was not printed, but all laboriously +written with pen and ink—poems, in truth, containing +more references to a lady named Julia than have +appeared in any other poems since Herrick's. So +warmly interested in the reading as to be rather +pink, though not always with entire approval, this +Julia nevertheless, at the sound of footsteps, closed +the book and placed it beneath one of the cushions +assisting the <i>chaise longue</i> to make her position a +comfortable one. Her greeting was not enthusiastic.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you want, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"I was going to ask you if Herbert and me—I +mean: Was it Noble Dill gave you Fifi and Mimi, +Aunt Julia?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill? No."</p> + +<p>"I wish it was," Florence said. "I'd like these +cats better if they were from Noble Dill."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Julia inquired. "Why are you so partial +to Mr. Noble Dill?"</p> + +<p>"I think he's <i>so</i> much the most inter'sting looking +of all that come to see you. Are you <i>sure</i> it +wasn't Noble Dill gave you these cats, Aunt Julia?"</p> + +<p>A look of weariness became plainly visible upon +Miss Julia Atwater's charming face. "I do wish +you'd hurry and grow up, Florence," she said.</p> + +<p>"I do, too! What for, Aunt Julia?"</p> + +<p>"So there'd be somebody else in the family of an +eligible age. I really think it's an outrageous position +to be in," Julia continued, with languid vehemence—"to +be the only girl between thirteen and +forty-one in a large connection of near relatives, including +children, who all seem to think they haven't +anything to think of but Who comes to see her, and +Who came to see her yesterday, and Who was here +the day before, and Who's coming to-morrow, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +Who's she going to marry! You really ought to +grow up and help me out, because I'm getting tired +of it. No. It wasn't Noble Dill but Mr. Newland +Sanders that sent me Fifi and Mimi—and I want you +to keep away from 'em."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Florence.</p> + +<p>"Because they're very rare cats, and you aren't ordinarily +a very careful sort of person, Florence, if you +don't mind my saying so. Besides, if I let you go +near them, the next thing Herbert would be over here +mussing around, and he can't go near <i>anything</i> without +ruining it! It's just in him; he can't help it."</p> + +<p>Florence looked thoughtful for a brief moment; +then she asked: "Did Newland Sanders send 'em +with the names already to them?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Julia, emphasizing the patience of +her tone somewhat. "I named them after they +got here. Mr. Sanders hasn't seen them yet. He +had them shipped to me. He's coming this evening. +Anything more to-day, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was thinking," said Florence. "What +do you think grandpa'll think about these cats?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe there'll be any more outrages," +Julia returned, and her dark eyes showed a moment's +animation. "I told him at breakfast that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +the Reign of Terror was ended, and he and everybody +else had to keep away from Fifi and Mimi. +Is that about all, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"You let Kitty Silver go near 'em, though. She +says she's fixing to wash 'em."</p> + +<p>Julia smiled faintly. "I thought she would! I +had to go so far as to tell her that as long as I'm +housekeeper in my father's house she'd do what I +say or find some other place. She behaved outrageously +and pretended to believe the natural +colour of Fifi and Mimi is gray!"</p> + +<p>"I expect," said Florence, after pondering seriously +for a little while—"I expect it would take quite +some time to dry them."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. But I'd rather you didn't assist. I'd +rather you weren't even around looking on, Florence."</p> + +<p>A shade fell upon her niece's face at this. "Why, +Aunt Julia, I couldn't do any harm to Fifi and Mimi +just <i>lookin'</i> at 'em, could I?"</p> + +<p>Julia laughed. "That's the trouble; you never do +'just look' at anything you're interested in, and, if you +don't mind my saying so, you've got rather a record, +dear! Now, don't you care: you can find lots of other +pleasant things to do at home—or over at Herbert's, +or Aunt Fanny's. You run along now and——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well——" Florence said, moving as if to depart.</p> + +<p>"You might as well go out by the front door, +child," Julia suggested, with a little watchful urgency. +"You come over some day when Fifi and Mimi have +got used to the place, and you can look at them all +you want to."</p> + +<p>"Well, I just——"</p> + +<p>But as Florence seemed disposed still to linger, +her aunt's manner became more severe, and she +half rose from her reclining position.</p> + +<p>"No, I really mean it! Fifi and Mimi are royal-bred +Persian cats with a wonderful pedigree, and I +don't know how much trouble and expense it cost +Mr. Sanders to get them for me. They're entirely +different from ordinary cats; they're very fine and +queer, and if anything happens to them, after all +the trouble papa's made over other presents I've had, +I'll go straight to a sanitarium! No, Florence, you +keep away from the kitchen to-day, and I'd like +to hear the front door as you go out."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Florence; "I do wish if these cats are +as fine as all that, it was Noble Dill that gave 'em +to you. I'd like these cats lots better if <i>he</i> gave 'em +to you, wouldn't you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Well——" Florence said again, and departed.</p> + +<p>Twenty is an unsuspicious age, except when it +fears that its dignity or grace may be threatened +from without; and it might have been a "bad sign" +in revelation of Julia Atwater's character if she had +failed to accept the muffled metallic clash of the +front door's closing as a token that her niece had +taken a complete departure for home. A supplemental +confirmation came a moment later, fainter +but no less conclusive: the distant slamming of the +front gate; and it made a clear picture of an +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'obedidient'">obedient</ins> +Florence on her homeward way. Peace came +upon Julia: she read in her book, while at times she +dropped a languid, graceful arm, and, with the pretty +hand at the slimmer end of it, groped in a dark +shelter beneath her couch to make a selection, +merely by her well-experienced sense of touch, from a +frilled white box that lay in concealment there. +Then, bringing forth a crystalline violet become +scented sugar, or a bit of fruit translucent in hardened +sirup, she would delicately set it on the way +to that attractive dissolution hoped for it by the +wistful donor—and all without removing her shadowy +eyes from the little volume and its patient struggle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +for dignified rhymes with "Julia." Florence +was no longer in her beautiful relative's thoughts.</p> + +<p>Florence was idly in the thoughts, however, of +Mrs. Balche, the next-door neighbour to the south. +Happening to glance from a bay-window, she negligently +marked how the child walked to the front +gate, opened it, paused for a moment's meditation, +then hurled the gate to a vigorous closure, herself +remaining within its protection. "Odd!" Mrs. +Balche murmured.</p> + +<p>Having thus eloquently closed the gate, Florence +slowly turned and moved toward the rear of the +house, quickening her steps as she went, until at +a run she disappeared from the scope of Mrs. Balche's +gaze, cut off by the intervening foliage of Mr. Atwater's +small orchard. Mrs. Balche felt no great +interest; nevertheless, she paused at the sound of a +boy's voice, half husky, half shrill, in an early stage +of change. "What she say, Flor'nce? D'she say we +could?" But there came a warning "<i>Hush up</i>!" from +Florence, and then, in a lowered tone, the boy's voice +said: "Look here; these are mighty funny-actin' +cats. I think they're kind of crazy or somep'n. +Kitty Silver's fixed a washtub full o' suds for us."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Balche was reminded of her own cat, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +went to give it a little cream. Mrs. Balche was a +retired widow, without children, and too timid to +like dogs; but after a suitable interval, following the +loss of her husband, she accepted from a friend the +gift of a white kitten, and named it Violet. It may +be said that Mrs. Balche, having few interests in +life, and being of a sequestering nature, lived for +Violet, and that so much devotion was not good for +the latter's health. In his youth, after having +shown sufficient spirit to lose an eye during a sporting +absence of three nights and days, Violet was not +again permitted enough freedom of action to repeat +this disloyalty; though, now, in his advanced middle-age, +he had been fed to such a state that he seldom +cared to move, other than by a slow, sneering wavement +of the tail when friendly words were addressed +to him; and consequently, as he seemed beyond +all capacity or desire to run away, or to run at all, +Mrs. Balche allowed him complete liberty of action.</p> + +<p>She found him asleep upon her "back porch," and +placed beside him a saucer of cream, the second +since his luncheon. Then she watched him affectionately +as he opened his eye, turned toward the +saucer his noble Henry-the-Eighth head with its +great furred jowls, and began the process of rising<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +for more food, which was all that ever seemed even +feebly to rouse his mind. When he had risen, there +was little space between him anywhere and the floor.</p> + +<p>Violet took his cream without enthusiasm, pausing +at times and turning his head away. In fact, he +persisted only out of an incorrigible sensuality, and +finally withdrew a pace or two, leaving creamy traces +still upon the saucer. With a multitude of fond +words his kind mistress drew his attention to these, +whereupon, making a visible effort, he returned and +disposed of them.</p> + +<p>"Dat's de 'itty darlin'," she said, stooping to +stroke him. "Eat um all up nice clean. Dood for +ole sweet sin!" She continued to stroke him, and +Violet half closed his eye, but not with love or serenity, +for he simultaneously gestured with his tail, +meaning to say: "Oh, do take your hands off o' +me!" Then he opened the eye and paid a little +attention to sounds from the neighbouring yard. A +high fence, shrubberies, and foliage concealed that +yard from the view of Violet, but the sounds were +eloquent to him, since they were those made by +members of his own general species when threatening +atrocities. The accent may have been foreign, but +Violet caught perfectly the sense of what was being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +said, and instinctively he muttered reciprocal curses +within himself.</p> + +<p>"What a matta, honey?" his companion inquired +sympathetically. "Ess, bad people f'ighten poor +Violet!"</p> + +<p>From beyond the fence came the murmurings of a +boy and a girl in hushed but urgent conversation; and +with these sounds there mingled watery agitations, +splashings and the like, as well as those low vocalizings +that Violet had recognized; but suddenly there +were muffled explosions, like fireworks choked in feather +beds; and the human voices grew uncontrollably +somewhat louder, so that their import was distinguishable. +"<i>Ow!</i>" "Hush up, can't you? You want to +bring the whole town to—<i>ow!</i>" "Hush up yourself!" +"Oh, <i>goodness</i>!" "Look out! Don't let her——" +"Well, look what she's <i>doin'</i> to me, can't you?" +"For Heavenses' sakes, catch holt and——<i>Ow!</i>"</p> + +<p>Then came a husky voice, inevitably that of a +horrified coloured person hastening from a distance: +"Oh, my soul!" There was a scurrying, and the +girl was heard in furious yet hoarsely guarded vehemence: +"Bring the clo'es prop! Bring the clo'es +prop! We can poke that one down from the garage, +anyway. <i>Oh, my goodness, look at 'er go!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Balche shook her head. "Naughty children!" +she said, as she picked up the saucer and went +to the kitchen door, which she held open for Violet +to enter. "Want to come with mamma?"</p> + +<p>But Violet had lost even the faint interest in life +he had shown a few moments earlier. He settled +himself to another stupor in the sun.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," Mrs. Balche said indulgently. +"Afterwhile shall have some more nice keem."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Sunset was beginning to be hinted, two hours later, +when, in another quarter of the town, a little girl of +seven or eight, at play on the domestic side of an +alley gate, became aware of an older girl regarding +her fixedly over the top of the gate. The little girl +felt embarrassed and paused in her gayeties, enfolding +in her arms her pet and playmate. "Howdy' do," +said the stranger, in a serious tone. "What'll you +take for that cat?"</p> + +<p>The little girl made no reply, and the stranger, +opening the gate, came into the yard. She looked +weary, rather bedraggled, yet hurried: her air was +predominantly one of anxiety. "I'll give you a +quarter for that cat," she said. "I want an all-white +cat, but this one's only got that one gray spot over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +its eye, and I don't believe there's an all-white cat +left in town, leastways that anybody's willing to +part with. I'll give you twenty-five cents for it. I +haven't got it with me, but I'll promise to give it to +you day after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The little girl still made no reply, but continued to +stare, her eyes widening, and the caller spoke with +desperation.</p> + +<p>"See here," she said, "I <i>got</i> to have a whitish cat! +That'n isn't worth more'n a quarter, but I'll give +you thirty-five cents for her, money down, day after +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>At this, the frightened child set the cat upon the +ground and fled into the house. Florence Atwater +was left alone; that is to say, she was the only human +being in the yard, or in sight. Nevertheless, a +human voice spoke, not far behind her. It came +through a knot-hole in the fence, and it was a voice +almost of passion.</p> + +<p>"<i>You grab it!</i>"</p> + +<p>Florence stood in silence, motionless; there was a +solemnity about her. The voice exhorted. "My +goodness!" it said. "She didn't say she <i>wouldn't</i> sell +it, did she? You can bring her the money like you +said you would, can't you? I got <i>mine</i>, didn't I, almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +without any trouble at all! My Heavens! Ain't +Kitty Silver pretty near crazy? Just think of the +position we've put her into! I tell you, you <i>got</i> to!"</p> + +<p>But now Florence moved. She moved slowly +at first: then with more decision and rapidity.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That evening's dusk had deepened into blue night +when the two cousins, each with a scant, uneasy +dinner eaten, met by appointment in the alley behind +their mutual grandfather's place of residence, +and, having climbed the back fence, approached +the kitchen. Suddenly Florence lifted her right +hand, and took between thumb and forefinger a +lock of hair upon the back of Herbert's head.</p> + +<p>"Well, for Heavenses' sakes!" he burst out, justifiably +protesting.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" Florence warned him. "Kitty Silver's +talkin' to somebody in there. It might be +Aunt Julia! C'm'ere!"</p> + +<p>She led him to a position beneath an open window +of the kitchen. Here they sat upon the ground, +with their backs against the stone foundation of +the house, and listened to voices and the clink of +dishes being washed.</p> + +<p>"She's got another ole coloured darky woman in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +there with her," said Florence. "It's a woman +belongs to her church and comes to see her 'most +every evening. Listen; she's telling her about it. +I bet we could get the real truth of it maybe better +this way than if we went in and asked her right out. +Anyway, it isn't eavesdropping if you listen when +people are talkin' about you, yourself. It's only wrong +when it isn't any of your own bus—"</p> + +<p>"For Heavenses' sakes hush <i>up</i>!" her cousin +remonstrated. "Listen!"</p> + +<p>"'No'm, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say"—thus came +the voice of Mrs. Silver—"'no'm, Miss Julia, ma'am. +Them the same two cats you han' me, Miss Julia, +ma'am,' I say. 'Leas'wise,' I say, 'them the two +same cats whut was in nat closed-up brown basket +when I open it up an' take an' fix to wash 'em. Somebody +might 'a' took an' change 'em 'fo' they got to <i>me</i>,' +I say, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, but all the change happen +to 'em sence they been in charge of <i>me</i>, that's the gray +whut come off 'em whiles I washin' 'em an' dryin' +'em in corn meal and flannel. I dunno how much +<i>washin'</i> 'em change 'em, Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say, +''cause how much they change or ain't change, +that's fer you to say and me not to jedge,' I say."</p> + +<p>"Lan' o' misery!" cried the visitor, chuckling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +delightedly. "I wonder how you done kep' you +face, Miss Kitty. What Miss Julia say?"</p> + +<p>A loud, irresponsible outburst of mirth on the +part of Mrs. Silver followed. When she could +again control herself, she replied more definitely. +"Miss Julia say, she say she ain't never hear no sech +outragelous sto'y in her life! She <i>tuck</i> on! Hallelujah! +An' all time, Miz Johnson, I give you my +word, I stannin' there holdin' nat basket, carryin' +on up hill an' down dale how them the same two +Berjum cats Mista Sammerses sen' her: an' trouble +enough dess ten'in' to that basket, lemme say to +you, Miz Johnson, as anybody kin tell you whutever +tried to take care o' two cats whut ain't yoosta each +other in the same basket. An' every blessed minute +I stannin' there, can't I hear that ole Miz Blatch nex' +do', out in her back yod an' her front yod, an' plum +out in the street, hollerin': 'Kitty? Kitty? Kitty?' +'<i>Yes!</i>' Miss Julia say, she say, 'Fine sto'y!' she +say. 'Them two cats you claim my Berjum cats, +they got short hair, an' they ain't the same age an' +they ain't even nowheres near the same <i>size</i>,' she say. +'One of 'em's as fat as <i>bofe</i> them Berjum cats,' she +say: 'an' it's on'y got one eye,' she say. 'Well, +Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say—'<i>one</i> thing; they come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +out white, all 'cept dess around that there skinnier +one's eye,' I say: 'dess the same you tell me they +goin' to,' I say. 'You right about <i>that</i> much, +ma'am!' I say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, me!" Mrs. Johnson moaned, worn with applausive +laughter. "What she respon' then?"</p> + +<p>"I set that basket down," said Kitty Silver, "an' +I start fer the do', whiles she unfasten the lid fer to +take one mo' look at 'em, I reckon: but open window +mighty close by, an' nat skinny white cat make one +jump, an' after li'l while I lookin' out thishere window +an' see that ole fat Miz Blatch's tom, waddlin' +crost the yod todes home."</p> + +<p>"What she doin' now?" Mrs. Johnson inquired.</p> + +<p>"Who? Miss Julia? She settin' out on the front +po'che talkin' to Mista Sammerses."</p> + +<p>"My name! How she goin' fix it with <i>him</i>, after +all thishere dishcumaraddle?"</p> + +<p>"Who? Miss Julia? Leave her alone, honey! +She take an' begin talk so fas' an' talk so sweet, no +young man ain't goin' to ricklect he ever give her +no cats, not till he's gone an' halfway home! But I +ain't tole you the en' of it, Miz Johnson, an' the en' +of it's the bes' part whut happen."</p> + +<p>"What's that, Miss Kitty?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look!" said Mrs. Silver. "Mista Atwater +gone in yonder, after I come out, an' ast whut all +them goin's-on about. Well suh, an' di'n' he come +walkin' out in my kitchen an' slip me two bright +spang new silbuh dolluhs right in my han'?"</p> + +<p>"My name!"</p> + +<p>"Yessuh!" said Mrs. Silver triumphantly. And +in the darkness outside the window Florence drew a +deep breath. "I'd of felt just awful about this," +she said, "if Noble Dill had given Aunt Julia those +Persian cats."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Herbert inquired, puzzled by her way of +looking at things. "I don't see why it would +make it any worse <i>who</i> gave 'em to her."</p> + +<p>"Well, it would," Florence said. "But anyway, +I think we did rather wrong. Did you notice what +Kitty Silver said about what grandpa did?"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I think we ought to tell him our share of it," +Florence returned thoughtfully. "I don't want to +go to bed to-night with all this on my mind, and +I'm going to find grandpa right now and confess +every bit of it to him."</p> + +<p>Herbert hopefully decided to go with her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_THREE" id="CHAPTER_THREE"></a>CHAPTER THREE</h3> + + +<p>Julia, like Herbert, had been a little puzzled by +Florence's expression of a partiality for the +young man, Noble Dill; it was not customary +for anybody to confess a weakness for him. However, +the aunt dismissed the subject from her mind, +as other matters pressed sharply upon her attention; +she had more worries than most people +guessed.</p> + +<p>The responsibilities of a lady who is almost officially +the prettiest person in a town persistently +claiming sixty-five thousand inhabitants are often +heavier than the world suspects, and there were +moments when Julia found the position so trying +that she would have preferred to resign. She was +a warm-hearted, appreciative girl, naturally unable +to close her eyes to sterling merit wherever it appeared: +and it was not without warrant that she +complained of her relatives. The whole family, including +the children, she said, regaled themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +with her private affairs as a substitute for theatre-going. +But one day, a week after the irretrievable +disappearance of Fifi and Mimi, she went so far as +to admit a note of unconscious confession into her +protest that she was getting pretty tired of being +mistaken for a three-ring circus! Such was her +despairing expression, and the confession lies in her +use of the word "three."</p> + +<p>The misleading moderation of "three" was pointed +out to her by her niece, whose mind at once +violently seized upon the word and divested it +of context—a process both feminine and instinctive, +for this child was already beginning to be +feminine. "Three!" she said. "Why, Aunt Julia, +you must be crazy! There's Newland Sanders and +Noble Dill and that old widower, Ridgley, that +grandpa hates so, and Mister Clairdyce and George +Plum and the two new ones from out of town that +Aunt Fanny Patterson said you had at church Sunday +morning—Herbert said he didn't like one of +'em's looks much, Aunt Julia. And there's Parker +Kent Usher and that funny-lookin' one with the +little piece of whiskers under his underlip that Noble +Dill got so mad at when they were calling, and Uncle +Joe laughed about, and I don't know who all! Anyhow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +there's an awful lot more than three, Aunt +Julia."</p> + +<p>Julia looked down with little favour upon the +talkative caller. Florence was seated upon the +shady steps of the veranda, and Julia, dressed for +a walk, occupied a wicker chair above her. "Julia, +dressed for a walk"—how scant the words! It was +a summer walk that Julia had dressed for: and she +was all too dashingly a picture of coolness on a hot +day: a brunette in murmurous white, though her +little hat was a film of blackest blue, and thus also +in belt and parasol she had almost matched the colour +of her eyes. Probably no human-made fabric +could have come nearer to matching them, though +she had once met a great traveller—at least he went +far enough in his search for comparisons—who told +her that the Czarina of Russia had owned a deep +sapphire of precisely the colour, but the Czarina's +was the only sapphire yet discovered that had it. +One of Newland Sanders's longest Poems-to-Julia +was entitled "Black Sapphires."</p> + +<p>Julia's harmonies in black sapphire were uncalled +for. If she really had been as kind as she was +too often capable of looking, she would have fastened +patches over both eyes—one patch would have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +useless—and she would have worn flat shoes and +patronized a dressmaker with genius enough to +misrepresent her. But Julia was not great enough +for such generosities: she should have been locked +up till she passed sixty; her sufferings deserve no +pity.</p> + +<p>And yet an attack of the mumps during the winter +had brought Julia more sympathy than the epidemic +of typhoid fever in the Old Ladies' Infirmary +brought all of the nine old ladies who were under +treatment there. Julia was confined to her room +for almost a month, during which a florist's wagon +seemed permanent before the house: and a confectioner's +frequently stood beside the florist's. Young +Florence, an immune who had known the mumps +in infancy, became an almost constant attendant +upon the patient, with the result that the niece +contracted an illness briefer than the aunt's, but +more than equalling it in poignancy, caused by the +poor child's economic struggle against waste. Florence's +convalescence took place in her own home +without any inquiries whatever from the outer +world, but Julia's was spent in great part at the telephone. +Even a poem was repeated to her by the +instrument:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p class="blockquot"> +<i>How the world blooms anew<br /> +To think that you<br /> +Can speak again,<br /> +Can hear<br /> +The words of men<br /> +And the dear<br /> +Own voice of you.</i><br /> +</p> + +<p>This was Newland Sanders. He was just out of +college, a reviewer, a poet, and once, momentarily, +an atheist. It was Newland who was present and +said such a remarkable thing when Julia had the accident +to her thumb-nail in closing the double doors +between the living-room and the library, where her +peculiar old father sat reading. "To see you suffer," +Newland said passionately as she nursed her injury:—"to +see you in pain, that is the one thing in the universe +which I feel beyond all my capacities. Do you +know, when you are made to suffer pain, then I feel +that there is no God!"</p> + +<p>This strong declaration struck Herbert as one +of the most impressive things he had ever heard, +though he could not account for its being said to +any aunt of his. Herbert had just dropped in +without the formality of ringing the bell, and had +paused in the hall, outside the open door of the living-room. +He considered the matter, after Newland +had spoken, and concluded to return to his own place<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +of residence without disturbing anybody at his +grandfather's. At home he found his mother and +father entertaining one of his uncles, one of his +aunts, two of his great-uncles, one of his great-aunts, +and one of his grown-up cousins, at cards: and he +proved to be warranted in believing that they would +all like to know what he had heard. Newland's +statement became quite celebrated throughout the +family: and Julia, who had perceived almost a sacred +something in his original fervour, changed her mind +after hearing the words musingly repeated, over and +over, by her fat old Uncle Joe.</p> + +<p>Florence thought proper to remind her of this to-day, +after Julia's protest containing the too moderately +confessional word "three."</p> + +<p>"If you don't want to be such a circus," the niece +continued, reasoning perfectly, "I don't see what +you always keep leadin' all of 'em on all the time +just the same for."</p> + +<p>"Who've you heard saying that, Florence?" her +aunt demanded.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Fanny Patterson," Florence replied absently. +"F'r instance, Aunt Julia, I don't see what +you want to go walking with Newland Sanders for, +when you said yourself you wished he was dead, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +somep'n, after there got to be so muck talk in the +family and everywhere about his sayin' all that about +the Bible when you hurt your thumb. All the +family——"</p> + +<p>Julia sighed profoundly. "I wish 'all the family' +would try to think about themselves for just a little +while! There's entirely too little self-centredness +among my relatives to suit me!"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's only because you're related to me that +<i>I</i> pay the very <i>slightest</i> attention to what goes on +here," Florence protested. "It's my own grandfather's +house, isn't it? Well, if you didn't live +here, and if you wasn't my own grandfather's daughter, +Aunt Julia, I wouldn't ever pay the <i>very</i> slightest +attention to you! Anyway, I don't <i>much</i> criticize all +these people that keep calling on you—anyway not +half as much as Herbert does. Herbert thinks he always +hass to act so critical, now his voice is changing."</p> + +<p>"At your age," said Julia, "my mind was on my +schoolbooks."</p> + +<p>"Why, Aunt Julia!" Florence exclaimed in +frank surprise. "Grandpa says just the opposite +from that. I've heard him say, time and time and +time again, you always <i>were</i> this way, ever since +you were four years old."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What way?" asked her aunt.</p> + +<p>"Like you are now, Aunt Julia. Grandpa says by +the time you were fourteen it got so bad he had to +get a new front gate, the way they leaned on it. +He says he hoped when you grew up he'd get a little +peace in his own house, but he says it's worse, and +never for one minute the livelong day can he——"</p> + +<p>"I know," Julia interrupted. "He talks like a +Christian Martyr and behaves like Nero. I might +warn you to keep away from him, by the way, Florence. +He says that either you or Herbert was over +here yesterday and used his spectacles to cut a +magazine with, and broke them. I wouldn't be +around here much if I were you until he's got over +it."</p> + +<p>"It must have been Herbert broke 'em," said +Florence promptly.</p> + +<p>"Papa thinks it was you. Kitty Silver told him +it was."</p> + +<p>"Mean ole reptile!" said Florence, alluding to Mrs. +Silver; then she added serenely, "Well, grandpa don't +get home till five o'clock, and it's only about a quarter +of two now. Aunt Julia, what are you waitin' +around here for?"</p> + +<p>"I told you; I'm going walking."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I mean: Who with?"</p> + +<p>Miss Atwater permitted herself a light moan. +"With Mr. Sanders and Mr. Ridgely, Florence."</p> + +<p>Florence's eyes grew large and eager. "Why, +Aunt Julia, I thought those two didn't speak to each +other any more!"</p> + +<p>"They don't," Julia assented in a lifeless voice. +"It just happened that Mr. Sanders and Mr. Ridgley +and Mr. Dill, all three, asked me to take a walk this +afternoon at two o'clock."</p> + +<p>"But Noble Dill isn't going?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Julia. "I was fortunate enough to +remember that I'd already promised someone else +when he asked me. That's what I didn't remember +when Mr. Ridgely asked me."</p> + +<p>"I'd have gone with Noble Dill," Florence said +firmly. "Noble Dill is my Very Ideal! I'd marry +him to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," her aunt remarked, "I heard +your mother telling somebody the other day that +you had said the same thing about the King of +Spain."</p> + +<p>Florence laughed. "Oh, that was only a passing +fancy," she said lightly. "Aunt Julia, what's +Newland Sanders supposed to do?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think he hasn't entered any business or profession +yet."</p> + +<p>"I bet he couldn't," her niece declared. "What's +that old Ridgely supposed to be? Just a widower?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind!"</p> + +<p>"And that George Plum's supposed to do something +or other around Uncle Joe's ole bank, isn't he?" +Florence continued.</p> + +<p>"'Supposed'!" Julia protested. "What is all +this 'supposed to be'? Where did you catch that +horrible habit? You know the whole family worries +over your superciliousness, Florence; but until +now I've always thought it was just the way your +face felt easiest. If it's going to break out in +your talk, too, it's time you began to cure yourself +of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it doesn't hurt anything!" Florence made +careless response, and, as she saw the thin figure of +young Mr. Sanders approaching in the distance, +"Look!" she cried, pointing. "Why, he doesn't +even <i>compare</i> to Noble Dill!"</p> + +<p>"Don't point at people!"</p> + +<p>"Well, he's nothing much to point at!" She lowered +her finger. "It's no depredation to me, Aunt +Julia, to give up pointing at Newland Sanders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +Atch'ly, I wouldn't give Noble Dill's little finger +for a hunderd and fifty Newland Sanderses!"</p> + +<p>Julia smiled faintly as she watched Mr. Sanders, +who seemed not yet to be aware of her, because he +thought it would be better to reach the gate and +lift his hat just there. "What <i>has</i> brought on all +this tenderness in favour of Mr. Dill, Florence?"</p> + +<p>Her niece's eyes, concentrated in thought, then +became dreamy. "I like him because he's so uncouth," +she said. "I think he's the uncouthest of +any person I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"'Uncouth'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Florence. "Herbert said I was uncouth, +and I looked it up in the ditchanary. It +said, 'Rare, exquisite, elegant, unknown, obs, unfamiliar, +strange,' and a whole lot else. I never +did know a word that means so much, I guess. What's +'obs' mean, Aunt Julia?"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Julia, rising, for Mr. Sanders had +made a little startled movement as he reached the +gate and caught sight of her; and now, straw hat in +hand, he was coming up the brick walk that led to the +veranda. His eyes were fixed upon Julia with an +intensity that seemed to affect his breathing; there +was a hushedness about him. And Florence, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +fascination, watched Julia's expression and posture +take on those little changes that always seemed demanded +of her by the approach of a young or youngish +man, or a nicely dressed old one. By almost +imperceptible processes the commonplace moment +became dramatic at once.</p> + +<p>"You!" said Newland in a low voice.</p> + +<p>And Julia, with an implication as flattering as the +gesture was graceful, did not wait till he was within +reach, but suddenly extended her welcoming hand at +arm's length. He sprang forward convulsively and +grasped it, as if forever.</p> + +<p>"You see my little niece?" Julia said. "I think +you know her."</p> + +<p>"Know her?" Mr. Sanders repeated; then roused +his faculties and gave Florence a few fingers dangling +coldly after their recent emotion. "Florence. Oh, +yes, Florence."</p> + +<p>Florence had not risen, but remained seated upon +the steps, her look and air committed to that mood of +which so much complaint had been made. "How +do you do," she said. "There's Mr. Ridgely."</p> + +<p>"Where?" Newland asked loudly.</p> + +<p>"Comin' in at the gate," said Florence. "He's +goin' walkin' with you, too."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>In this crisis, Mr. Sanders's feeling was obviously +one of startled anguish. He turned to Julia.</p> + +<p>"Why, this is terrible!" he said. "You told +me——"</p> + +<p>"Sh!" she warned him; and whispered hastily, +all in a breath: "<i>Couldn't-be-helped-explain-next-time-I-see-you.</i>" +Then she advanced a gracious step to +meet the newcomer.</p> + +<p>But the superciliousness of Florence visibly increased +with this advent: Mr. Ridgely was easily +old enough to be her grandfather, yet she seemed +to wish it evident that she would not have +cared for him even in that capacity. He was, in +truth, one of those widowers who feel younger than +ever, and behave as they feel. Since his loss he +had shown the greatest willingness to forego whatever +advantages age and experience had given him +over the descendants of his old friends and colleagues, +and his cheerfulness as well as his susceptibility +to all that was charming had begun to make +him so famous in the town that some of his contemporaries +seemed to know scarce another topic. +And Julia had a kinder heart, as her father bitterly +complained, than most girls.</p> + +<p>The widower came, holding out to her a votive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +cluster of violets, a pink rose among them, their +stems wrapped in purple; and upon the lapel of his +jovial flannel coat were other violets about a pink +rosebud.</p> + +<p>"How pretty of you!" said Julia, taking the offering; +and as she pinned it at her waist, she added +rather nervously, "I believe you know Mr. Sanders; +he is going with us."</p> + +<p>She was warranted in believing the gentlemen to be +acquainted, because no longer ago than the previous +week they both had stated, in her presence and simultaneously, +that any further communication between +them would be omitted for life. Julia realized, +of course, that Mr. Ridgely must find the present +meeting as trying as Newland did, and, to help him +bear it, she contrived to make him hear the hurried +whisper: "<i>Couldn't-be-helped-explain-some-day.</i>"</p> + +<p>Then with a laugh not altogether assured, she +took up her parasol. "Shall we be starting?" she +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Here's Noble Dill," said Florence, "I guess he's +goin' to try to go walkin' with you, too, Aunt +Julia."</p> + +<p>Julia turned, for in fact the gate at that moment +clicked behind the nervously advancing form of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +Noble Dill. He came with, a bravado that was +merely pitiable and he tried to snap his Orduma +cigarette away with thumb and forefinger in a careless +fashion, only to see it publicly disappear through +an open cellar window of the house.</p> + +<p>"I hope there's no excelsior down there," said +Newland Sanders. "A good many houses have +burned to the ground just that way."</p> + +<p>"It fell on the cement floor," Florence reported, +peering into the window. "It'll go out pretty soon."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose we might as well do the same +thing," said Newland, addressing Julia first and Mr. +Dill second. "Miss Atwater and I are just starting +for a walk."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ridgely also addressed the new arrival. "Miss +Atwater and I are just starting for a walk."</p> + +<p>"You see, Noble," said the kind-hearted Julia, +"I did tell you I had another engagement."</p> + +<p>"I came by here," Mr. Dill began in a tone +commingling timidity, love, and a fatal stubbornness; +"I came by here—I mean I just happened to be +passing—and I thought if it was a walking-<i>party</i>, +well, why not go along? That's the way it struck +me." He paused, coughing for courage and trying +to look easily genial, but not succeeding; then he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +added, "Well, as I say, that's the way it struck me—as +it were. I suppose we might as well be starting."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we might," Newland Sanders said quickly; +and he placed himself at Julia's left, seizing upon her +parasol and opening it with determination.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ridgely had kept himself closely at the lady's +right. "You were mistaken, my boy," he said, +falsely benevolent. "It isn't a party—though +there's Miss Florence, Noble. Nobody's asked her +to go walking to-day!"</p> + +<p>Now, Florence took this satire literally. She +jumped up and said brightly: "I just as soon! +Let's <i>do</i> have a walking-party. I just as soon +walk with Mr. Dill as anybody, and we can all +keep together, kind of." With that, she stepped +confidently to the side of her selected escort, who +appeared to be at a loss how to avert her kindness.</p> + +<p>There was a moment of hesitation, during which +a malevolent pleasure slightly disfigured the countenances +of the two gentlemen with Julia; but when +Florence pointed to a house across the street and +remarked, "There's Great-Uncle Milford and Aunt +C'nelia; they been lookin' out of their second guestroom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +window about half an hour," Julia uttered an +exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Murder!" she said, and moved with decision +toward the gate. "Let's go!"</p> + +<p>Thus the little procession started, Mr. Sanders +and the sprightly widower at Beauty's side, with +Florence and Mr. Dill so close behind that, before +they had gone a block, Newland found it necessary +to warn this rear rank that the heels of his new shoes +were not part of the pavement. After that the rear +rank, a little abashed, consented to fall back some +paces. Julia's heightened colour, meanwhile, was +little abated by some slight episodes attending the +progress of the walking-party. Her Aunt Fanny +Patterson, rocking upon a veranda, rose and evidently +called to someone within the house, whereupon +she was joined by her invalid sister, Aunt +Harriet, with a trained nurse and two elderly domestics, +a solemnly whispering audience. And in the +front yard of "the Henry Atwater house," at the +next corner, Herbert underwent a genuine bedazzlement, +but he affected more. His violent gaze dwelt +upon Florence, and he permitted his legs slowly to +crumple under him, until, just as the party came +nearest him, he lay prostrate upon his back in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +swoon. Afterward he rose and for a time followed +in a burlesque manner; then decided to return home.</p> + +<p>"Old heathen!" said Florence, glancing back over +her shoulder as he disappeared from view.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dill was startled from a reverie inspired by +the back of Julia's head. "'Heathen'?" he said, in +plaintive inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I meant Herbert," Florence informed him. +"Cousin Herbert Atwater. He was following us, +walking Dutch."</p> + +<p>"'Cousin Herbert Atwater'?" said Noble dreamily. +"'Dutch'?"</p> + +<p>"He won't any more," said Florence. "He +always hass to show off, now his voice is changing." +She spoke, and she also walked, with dignity—a +rather dashing kind of dignity, which was what Herbert's +eccentricity of gait intended to point out injuriously. +In fact, never before had Florence been +so impressed with herself; never before, indeed, had +she been a member of a grown-up non-family party; +never before had she gone walking with an actual +adult young man for her escort; and she felt that +she owed it to her position to appear in as brilliant +an aspect as possible. She managed to give herself a +rhythmical, switching motion, causing her kneelength<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +skirt to swing from side to side—a pomp that +brought her a great deal of satisfaction as she now +and then caught the effect by twisting her neck +enough to see down behind, over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>But her poise was temporarily threatened when +the walking-party passed her own house. Her +mother happened to be sitting near an open window +upstairs, and, after gazing forth with warm interest +at Julia and her two outwalkers, Mrs. Atwater's +astonished eyes fell upon Florence taking care of +the overflow. Florence bowed graciously.</p> + +<p>"Florence!" her mother called down from the window: +whereupon both Florence and her Aunt Julia +were instantly apprehensive, for Mrs. George Atwater's +lack of tact was a legend in the family. +"Florence! Where on earth are you going?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" Florence thought best to respond. +"Never mind!"</p> + +<p>"You'd better come <i>in</i>," Mrs. Atwater called, her +voice necessarily louder as the party moved onward.</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" Florence called back.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater leaned out of the window. "Where +are you going? Come back and get your <i>hat</i>. You'll +get a <i>sunstroke</i>!"</p> + +<p>Florence was able to conceal her indignation, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +merely waved a hand in airy dismissal as they passed +from Mrs. Atwater's sight, leaving her still shouting.</p> + +<p>The daughter smiled negligently and shrugged +her shoulders. "She'll get over it!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"My mother. She was the one makin' all that +noise," said Florence. "Sometimes I do what she +says: sometimes I don't. It's all accordings to the +way I feel." She looked up in her companion's +face, and her expression became politely fond as she +thought how uncouth he was, for in Florence's eye +Noble Dill was truly rare, exquisite, and unfamiliar; +and she believed that he was obs, too, whatever +that meant. She often thought about him, and no +longer ago than yesterday she had told Kitty Silver +that she couldn't see "how Aunt Julia could <i>look</i> at +anybody else!"</p> + +<p>Florence's selection of Noble Dill for the bright +favourite of her dreams was one of her own mysteries. +Noble was not beautiful, neither did he present to the +ordinary eye of man anything especially rare, exquisite, +unfamiliar, or even so distinguished as to be +obsolete. He was about twenty-two, but not one of +those book-read sportsmen of that age, confident<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +in clothes and manner, easy travellers and debonair; +that is to say, Noble was not of the worldly type +twenty-two. True, he had graduated from the High-school +before entering his father's Real Estate and +Insurance office, but his geographical experiences (in +particular) had been limited to three or four railway +excursions, at special rates, to such points of interest +as Mammoth Cave and Petoskey, Michigan. His +other experiences were not more sparkling, and +except for the emotions within him, he was in all the +qualities of his mind as well as in his bodily contours +and the apparel sheltering the latter, the most +commonplace person in Florence's visible world. The +inner areas of the first and second fingers of his left +hand bore cigarette stains, seemingly indelible: the +first and second fingers of his right hand were +strongly ornamented in a like manner; tokens proving +him ambidextrous to but a limited extent, however. +Moreover, his garments and garnitures were not +comparable to those of either Newland Sanders or +that dapper antique, Mr. Ridgely. Noble's straw +hat might have brightened under the treatment of +lemon juice or other restorative; his scarf was +folded to hide a spot that worked steadily toward a +complete visibility, and some recent efforts upon his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +trousers with a tepid iron, in his bedchamber at +home, counteracted but feebly that tendency of cloth +to sculpture itself in hummocks upon repeated +pressure of the human knee.</p> + +<p>All in all, nothing except the expression of Noble's +face and the somewhat ill-chosen pansy in his buttonhole +hinted of the remarkable. Yet even here was a +thing for which he was not responsible himself; it +was altogether the work of Julia. What her work +was, in the case of Noble Dill, may be expressed +in a word—a word used not only by the whole Atwater +family connection, in completely expressing +Noble's condition, but by Noble's own family connection +as well. This complete word was "awful."</p> + +<p>Florence was the one exception on the Atwater +side: she was far, far from thinking or speaking of +Noble Dill in that way, although, until she looked +up "uncouth" in Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, +she had not found suitable means to describe him. +And now, as she walked at his side, she found her +sensations to be nothing short of thrilling. For it +must be borne in mind that this was her first and +wholly unexpected outburst into society; the experience +was that of an obscure aerolite suddenly become +a noble meteor. She longed to say or do something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +magnificent—something strange and exhilarating, +in keeping with her new station in life.</p> + +<p>It was this longing, and by no means a confirmed +unveracity, that prompted her to amplify her comments +upon her own filial independence. "Oh, I +guess I pretty near never do anything I don't want +to," she said. "I kind of run the house to suit myself. +I guess if the truth had to be told, I just about run +the whole Atwater family, when it comes to that!"</p> + +<p>The statement was so noticeable that it succeeded +in turning Noble's attention from the back of Julia's +head. "You do?" he said. "Well, that seems +queer," he added absently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know!" she laughed. In her increasing +exaltation things appeared actually to be as she +wished them to be; an atmosphere both queenly and +adventurous seemed to invest her, and any remnants +of human caution in her were assuaged by the circumstance +that her Aunt Julia's attention was subject +to the strong demands necessarily imposed upon +anybody taking a walk between two gentlemen who +do not "speak" to each other. "Oh, I don't know," +said Florence. "The family's used to it by this +time, I guess. The way I do things, they haf to be, +I guess. When they don't like it I don't say much for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +a while, then I just——" She paused, waiting for +her imagination to supply a sequel to the drama just +sketched. "Well, I guess they kind of find out they +better step around pretty lively," she concluded +darkly. "They don't bother around <i>too</i> much!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose not," said Noble, his vacancy and +credulity continuing to dovetail perfectly.</p> + +<p>"You bet not!" the exuberant Florence thought +proper to suggest as a preferable expression. And +then she had an inspiration to enliven his dreamy interest +in her conversation. "Grandpa, he's the one +I kind of run most of all of 'em. He's about fifty +or sixty, and so he hasn't got too much sense. What +I mean, he hasn't got too much sense <i>left</i>, you know. +So I haf to sort of take holt every now and then." +She lowered her voice a little, some faint whisper of +discretion reaching her inward ear. "Aunt Julia +can't do a thing with him. I guess that's maybe the +reason she kind of depen's on me so much; or anyway +somep'n like that. You know, f'r instance, I had +to help talk grandpa into lettin' her send to New +York for her things. Aunt Julia gets all her things in +New York."</p> + +<p>Undeniably, Mr. Dill's interest flickered up. +"<i>Things</i>?" he repeated inquiringly. "Her things?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. Everything she wears, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"What I was goin' to tell you," Florence continued, +"you know grandpa just about hates everybody. +Anyhow, he'd like to have some peace and quiet once +in a while in his own house, he says, instead of all +this moil and turmoil, and because the doctor said +all the matter with her was she eats too much candy, +and they keep sendin' more all the time—and there's +somep'n the trouble with grandpa: it makes him sick +to smell violets: he had it ever since he was a little +boy, and he can't help it; and he hates animals, and +they keep sendin' her Airedales and Persian kittens, +and then there was that alligator came from +Florida and upset Kitty Silver terribly—and so, +you see, grandpa just hates the whole everlasting +business."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dill nodded and spoke with conviction: +"He's absolutely right; absolutely!"</p> + +<p>"Well, some ways he is," said Florence; and she +added confidentially: "The trouble is, he seems to +think you're about as bad as any of 'em."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Well</i>!" Florence exclaimed, with upward gestures +both of eye and of hand, to signify what she left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +untold of Mr. Atwater's orations upon his favourite +subject: Noble Dill. "It's torrable!" she added.</p> + +<p>Noble breathed heavily, but a thought struggled +in him and a brightening appeared upon him. "You +mean——" he began. "Do you mean it's terrible +for your Aunt Julia? Do you mean his injustice +about me makes her feel terribly?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Florence. "No: I mean the way he +goes on about everybody. But Aunt Julia's kind of +used to it. And anyhow you needn't worry about +him 'long as I'm on your side. He won't do anything +much to you if I say not to. Hardly anything +at all." And then, with almost a tenderness, as she +marked the visibly insufficient reassurance of her +companion, she said handsomely: "He won't say a +word. I'll tell him not to."</p> + +<p>Noble was dazed; no novelty, for he had been dazed +almost continually during the past seven months, +since a night when dancing with Julia, whom he had +known all his life, he "noticed for the first time what +she looked like." (This was his mother's description.) +Somewhere, he vaguely recalled, he had +read of the extraordinary influence possessed by +certain angelic kinds of children; he knew, too, what +favourite grandchildren can do with grandfathers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +The effect upon him was altogether base; he immediately +sought by flattery to increase and retain +Florence's kindness. "I always <i>thought</i> you seemed +to know more than most girls of your age," he +began.</p> + +<p>It was a great afternoon for Florence. From +time to time she glanced over her shoulder at the +switching skirt, and increased its radius of action, +though this probably required more exercise, compared +to the extent of ground covered, than any lady +member of a walking-party had ever before taken, +merely as a pedestrian. Meanwhile, she chattered +on, but found time to listen to the pleasant things +said to her by her companion; and though most +of these were, in truth, rather vague, she was won +to him more than he knew. Henceforth she was +to be his champion indeed, sometimes with greater +energy than he would need.</p> + +<p>... The two were left alone together by Julia's +gate when the walk (as short as Julia dared to make +it) was over.</p> + +<p>"Well," Florence said, "I've had quite a nice time. +I hope you enjoyed yourself nicely, too, Mr. Dill." +Then her eye rose to the overhanging branch of a +shade-tree near them. "Would you like to see me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +chin myself?" she asked, stepping beneath the +branch. "I bet I could skin-the-cat on that limb! +Would you like to see me do it?"</p> + +<p>"I would <i>so</i>!" the flatterer enthused.</p> + +<p>She became thoughtful, remembering that she +was now a lady who took walks with grown gentlemen. +"I can, but I won't," she said. "I used to +do lots of things like that. I used to whenever I felt +like it. I could chin myself four times and Herbert +only three. I was lots better than Herbert when I +used to do all kinds of things like that."</p> + +<p>"Were you?"</p> + +<p>She laughed as in a musing retrospect of times +gone by. "I guess I used to be a pretty queer kind +of a girl in those days," she said. "Well—I s'pose +we ought to say good-bye for the present, so to speak, +Mr. Dill."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so."</p> + +<p>"Well——" She stood looking at him expectantly, +but he said nothing more. "Well, good-bye for +the present, Mr. Dill," she said again, and, turning, +walked away with dignity. But a moment later she +forgot all about her skirt and scampered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_FOUR" id="CHAPTER_FOUR"></a>CHAPTER FOUR</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Dill, Noble's mother, talked of organizing +a Young Men's Mothers' Club +against Julia, nevertheless she acknowledged +that in one solitary way Noble was being improved +by the experience. His two previous attacks +of love (one at twelve, and the other at eighteen) +had been incomparably lighter, and the changes +in him, noted at home, merely a slight general +irritability and a lack of domestic punctuality due +to too much punctuality elsewhere. But, when his +Julia Atwater trouble came, the very first symptom +he manifested was a strange new effort to become +beautiful; his mother even discovered that he +sometimes worked with pumice stone upon the cigarette +stains on his fingers.</p> + +<p>The most curious thing about his condition was +that for a long time he took it for granted that his +family did not know what was the matter with him; +and this shows as nothing else could the meekness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +and tact of the Dills; for, excluding bad cooks and +the dangerously insane, the persons most disturbing +to the serenity of households are young lovers. But +the world has had to accommodate itself to them +because young lovers cannot possibly accommodate +themselves to the world. For the young lover there +is no general life of the species; for him the universe +is a delicate blush under a single bonnet. He has +but an irritated perception of every vital thing in +nature except the vital thing under this bonnet; all +else is trivial intrusion. But whatever does concern +the centrifugal bonnet, whatever concerns it in the +remotest—ah, <i>then</i> he springs to life! So Noble Dill +sat through a Sunday dinner at home, seemingly +drugged to a torpor, while the family talk went on +about him; but when his father, in the course of +some remarks upon politics, happened to mention +the name of the county-treasurer, Charles J. Patterson, +Noble's startled attention to the conversation +was so conspicuous as to be disconcerting. Mrs. +Dill signalled with her head that comment should be +omitted, and Mr. Dill became, for the moment, one +factor in a fairly clear example of telepathic communication, +for it is impossible to believe that his +wife's almost imperceptible gesture was what caused<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +him to remember that Charles J. Patterson was Julia +Atwater's uncle.</p> + +<p>That name, Charles J. Patterson, coming thus +upon Noble's ear, was like an unexpected shrine on +the wayside where plods the fanatic pilgrim; and +yet Mr. Patterson was the most casual of Julia's +uncles-by-marriage: he neither had nor desired any +effect upon her destiny. To Noble he seemed a being +ineffably privileged and fateful, and something of the +same quality invested the wooden gateposts in front +of Julia's house; invested everything that had to do +with her. What he felt about her father, that +august old danger, himself, was not only the uncalled-for +affection inevitable toward Julia's next of +kin, but also a kind of horror due to the irresponsible +and awful power possessed by a sacred girl's +parent. Florence's offer of protection had not +entirely reassured the young lover, and, in sum, +Noble loved Mr. Atwater, but often, in his reveries, +when he had rescued him from drowning or being +burned to death, he preferred to picture the peculiar +old man's injuries as ultimately fatal.</p> + +<p>For the other Atwaters his feeling held less of +apprehension, more of tenderness; and whenever he +saw one of them he became deferential and a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +short of breath. Thus, on a sunny afternoon, having +been home to lunch after his morning labour +downtown, he paused in passing young Herbert's +place of residence and timidly began a conversation +with this glamoured nephew. It happened that +during the course of the morning Herbert had chosen +a life career for himself; he had decided to become a +scientific specialist, an entomologist; and he was now +on his knees studying the manners and customs of the +bug inhabitants of the lawn before the house, employing +for his purpose a large magnifying lens, or +"reading glass." (His discovery of this implement +in the attic, coincidentally with his reading a recent +"Sunday Supplement" article on bugs, had led to +his sudden choice of a vocation.)</p> + +<p>"Did somebody—ah, have any of the family lost +anything, Herbert?" Noble asked in a gentle voice, +speaking across the fence.</p> + +<p>Herbert did not look up, nor did he relax the +scientific frown upon his brow. "No," he said. +"They always <i>are</i> losin' things, espesh'ly Aunt Julia, +when she comes over here, or anywheres else; but I +wouldn't waste <i>my</i> time lookin' for any old earrings +or such. I got more important things to do on +my hands."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Has</i> your Aunt Julia lost an earring, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Her? Well, she nearly always <i>has</i> lost somep'n +or other, but that isn't bother'n' <i>me</i> any. I got +better things to do with my time." Herbert spoke +without interrupting his occupation or relaxing his +forehead. "Nacher'l history is a <i>little</i> more important +to the inhabitants of our universe than a lot +o' worthless jew'lry, I guess," he continued; and his +pride in discovering that he could say things like +this was so great that his frown gave way temporarily +to a look of pleased surprise, then came back +again to express an importance much increased. He +rose, approached the fence, and condescended to +lean upon it. "I don't guess there's one person in +a thousand," he said, "that knows what they <i>ought</i> +to know about our inseck friends."</p> + +<p>"No," Mr. Dill agreed readily. "I guess that's +so. I guess you're right about that, Herbert. When +did your Aunt Julia lose the earring, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"I d' know," said Herbert. "Now, you take my +own father and mother: What do they know? Well, +mighty little. They may have had to learn a little +teeny bit about insecks when they were in school, +but whatever little it was they went and forgot it +proba'ly long before they were married. Well, that's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +no way. F'r instance, you take a pinchin' bug: What +do you suppose my father and mother know about +its position in the inseck world?"</p> + +<p>"Well——" said Noble uneasily. "Well——" He +coughed, and hastened to add: "But as I was saying, +if she lost her earring somewhere in your yard, +or——"</p> + +<p>The scientific boy evidently did not follow this +line of thought, for he interrupted: "Why, they +wouldn't know a thing about it, and a pinchin' bug +isn't one of the highest insecks at all. Ants are way +up compared to most pinchin' bugs. Ants are +way up anyway. Now, you take an ant——" He +paused. "Well, everybody ought to know a lot +more'n they do about ants. It takes time, and you +got to study 'em the right way, and of course there's +lots of people wouldn't know how to do it. I'm goin' +to get a book I been readin' about. It's called +'The Ant.'"</p> + +<p>For a moment Noble was confused; he followed his +young friend's discourse but hazily, and Herbert +pronounced the word "ant" precisely as he pronounced +the word "aunt." The result was that +Noble began to say something rather dreamy concerning +the book just mentioned, but, realizing that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +he was being misunderstood, he changed his murmur +into a cough, and inquired:</p> + +<p>"When was she over here, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Your Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>"Yesterday evening," said Herbert. "Now, f'r +instance, you take a common lightning-bug——"</p> + +<p>"Did she lose it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Lose what?"</p> + +<p>"Her earring."</p> + +<p>"I d' know," said Herbert. "You take the +common lightning-bug or, as it's called in some +countries, the firefly——"</p> + +<p>He continued, quoting and misquoting the entomological +authority of the recent "Sunday Supplement"; +but his friend on the other side of the fence +was inattentive to the lecture. Noble's mind was +occupied with a wonder; he had realized, though +dimly, that here was he, trying to make starry Julia +the subject of a conversation with a person who had +the dear privilege of being closely related to her—and +preferred to talk about bugs.</p> + +<p>Herbert talked at considerable length about +lightning-bugs, but as his voice happened rather +precociously to be already in a state of adolescent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +change, the sound was not soothing; yet Noble +lingered. Nephews were queer, but this one was +Julia's, and he finally mentioned her again, as incidental +to lightning-bugs; whereupon the mere +hearer of sounds became instantly a listener to words.</p> + +<p>"Well, and then I says," Herbert continued;—"I +says: 'It's phosphorus, Aunt Julia.' I guess +there's hardly anybody in the world doesn't know +more than Aunt Julia, except about dresses and +parasols and every other useless thing under the sun. +She says: 'My! I always thought it was sulphur!' +Said nobody ever <i>told</i> her it wasn't sulphur! I asked +her: I said: 'You mean to sit there and tell me you +don't know the difference?' And she says: 'I +don't care one way or the other,' she says. She +said she just as soon a lightning-bug made his light +with sulphur as with phosphorus; it didn't make any +difference to her, she says, and they could go ahead +and make their light any way they wanted, <i>she</i> +wouldn't interfere! I had a whole hatful of 'em, and +she told me not to take 'em into their house, because +grandpa hates insecks as much as he does animals +and violets, and she said they never owned a microscope +or a magnifying-glass in their lives, and +wouldn't let me hunt for one. All in the world she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +knows is how to sit on the front porch and say: 'Oh +you don't mean <i>that!</i>' to somebody like Newland +Sanders or that ole widower!"</p> + +<p>"When?" Noble asked impulsively. "When did +she say that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I d' know," said Herbert. "I expect she +proba'ly says it to somebody or other about every +evening there is."</p> + +<p>"She does?"</p> + +<p>"Florence says so," Herbert informed him carelessly. +"Florence goes over to grandpa's after dark +and sits on the ground up against the porch and +listens."</p> + +<p>Noble first looked startled then uneasily reminiscent. +"I don't believe Florence ought to do that," +he said gravely.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> wouldn't do it!" Herbert was emphatic.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Herbert. I'm glad you wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," the manly boy declared. "You wouldn't +never catch <i>me</i> takin' my death o' cold sittin' on the +damp grass in the night air just to listen to a lot o' +tooty-tooty about 'I've named a star for you,' and +all such. You wouldn't catch me——"</p> + +<p>Noble partly concealed a sudden anguish. "Who?" +he interrupted. "Who did she say <i>that</i> to?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She didn't. They say it to her, and she says? +'Oh, you don't mean that!' and of course then they +haf to go on and say some more. Florence says——" +He checked himself. "Oh, I forgot! I promised +Florence I wouldn't tell anything about all this."</p> + +<p>"It's safe," Noble assured him quickly. "I'm +quite a friend of Florence's and it's absolutely safe +with me. I won't speak of it to anybody, Herbert. +Who was it told her he'd named a star for her?"</p> + +<p>"It was the way some ole poem began. Newland +Sanders wrote it. Florence found it under Aunt +Julia's sofa-cushions and read it all through, but <i>I</i> +wouldn't wade through all that tooty-tooty for a +million dollars, and I told her to put it back before +Aunt Julia noticed. Well, about every day he +writes her a fresh one, and then in the evening he +stays later than the rest, and reads 'em to her—and +you ought to hear grandpa when <i>he</i> gets to talkin' +about it!"</p> + +<p>"He's perfectly right," said Noble. "Perfectly! +What does he say when he talks about it, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he says all this and that; and then he kind +of mutters around, and you can't tell just what all +the words are exactly, so't he can deny it if any o' +the family accuses him of swearing or anything."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +And Herbert added casually: "He was kind of goin' +on like that about you, night before last."</p> + +<p>"About <i>me</i>! Why, what could he say about <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, all this and that."</p> + +<p>"But what did he find to say?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he heard her tellin' you how you oughtn't +to smoke so many cigarettes and all about how it was +killin' you, and you sayin' you guessed it wouldn't +matter if you <i>did</i> die, and Aunt Julia sayin' 'Oh, +you don't mean that,' and all this and such and so on, +you know. He can hear anything on the porch +pretty good from the lib'ary; and Florence told me +about that, besides, because she was sittin' in the +grass and all. She told Great-Uncle Joe and Aunt +Hattie about it, too."</p> + +<p>"My heavens!" Noble gasped, as for the first time +he realized to what trumpeting publicity that seemingly +hushed and moonlit bower, sacred to Julia, +had been given over. He gulped, flushed, repeated +"My heavens!" and then was able to add, with a +feeble suggestion of lightness: "I suppose your +grandfather understood it was just a sort of joke, +didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Herbert, and continued in a friendly +way, for he was flattered by Noble's interest in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +remarks, and began to feel a liking for him. "No. +He said Aunt Julia only talked like that because she +couldn't think of anything else to say, and it was +wearin' him out. He said all the good it did was to +make you smoke more to make her think how reckless +you were; but the worst part of it was, he'd be +the only one to suffer, because it blows all through +the house and he's got to sit in it. He said he just +could stand the smell of <i>some</i> cigarettes, but if you +burned any more o' yours on his porch he was goin' +to ask your father to raise your salary for collectin' +real-estate rents, so't you'd feel able to buy some real +tobacco. He——"</p> + +<p>But the flushed listener felt that he had heard as +much as he was called upon to bear; and he interrupted, +in a voice almost out of control, to say +that he must be "getting on downtown." His young +friend, diverted from bugs, showed the greatest willingness +to continue the narrative indefinitely, evidently +being in possession of copious material; but +Noble turned to depart. An afterthought detained +him. "Where was it she lost her earring?"</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Your Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>I</i> didn't say she lost any earring," Herbert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +returned. "I said she always <i>was</i> losin' 'em: I +didn't say she did."</p> + +<p>"Then you didn't mean——"</p> + +<p>"No," said Herbert, "<i>I</i> haven't heard of her losin' +anything at all, lately." Here he added: "Well, +grandpa kept goin' on about you, and he told her——Well, +so long!" And gazed after the departing Mr. +Dill in some surprise at the abruptness of the latter's +leave-taking. Then, wondering how the back of +Noble's neck could have got itself so fiery sunburnt, +Herbert returned to his researches in the grass.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The peaceful street, shady and fragrant with +summer, was so quiet that the footfalls of the striding +Noble were like an interruption of coughing in a silent +church. As he seethed adown the warm sidewalk the +soles of his shoes smote the pavement, for mentally he +was walking not upon cement but upon Mr. Atwater.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously his pace presently became slower +for a more concentrated brooding upon this slanderous +old man who took advantage of his position to +poison his daughter's mind against the only one of +her suitors who cared in the highest way. And +upon this there came an infinitesimal consolation in +the midst of anguish, for he thought of what Herbert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +had told him about Mr. Newland Sanders's poems +to Julia, and he had a strong conviction that one time +or another Mr. Atwater must have spoken even +more disparagingly of these poems and their author +than he had of Orduma cigarettes and their smoker. +Perhaps the old man was not altogether vile.</p> + +<p>This charitable moment passed. He recalled the +little moonlit drama on the embowered veranda, +when Julia, in her voice of plucked harp strings, told +him that he smoked too much, and he had said it +didn't matter; nobody would care much if he died—and +Julia said gently that his mother would, and +other people, too; he mustn't talk so recklessly. Out +of this the old eavesdropper had viciously represented +him to be a poser, not really reckless at all; +had insulted his cigarettes and his salary. Well, +Noble would show him! He had doubts about +being able to show Mr. Atwater anything important +connected with the cigarettes or the salary, but he +<i>could</i> prove how reckless he was. With that, a +vision formed before him: he saw Julia and her father +standing spellbound at a crossing while a smiling +youth stood directly between the rails in the middle +of the street and let a charging trolley-car destroy +him—not instantly, for he would live long enough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +to whisper, as the stricken pair bent over him: "Now, +Julia, which do you believe: your father, or me?" +And then with a slight, dying sneer: "Well, Mr. +Atwater, is <i>this</i> reckless enough to suit you?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Town squirrels flitted along their high paths in +the shade-tree branches above the embittered young +lover, and he noticed them not at all, which was but +little less than he noticed the elderly human couple +who observed him from a side-yard as he passed by. +Mr. and Mrs. Burgess had been happily married for +fifty-three years and four months. Mr. Burgess lay +in a hammock between two maple trees, and was +soothingly swung by means of a string connecting +the hammock and the rocking-chair in which sat Mrs +Burgess, acting as a mild motor for both the chair +and the hammock. "That's Noble Dill walking +along the sidewalk," Mrs. Burgess said, interpreting +for her husband's failing eyes. "I bowed to him, +but he hardly seemed to see us and just barely lifted +his hat. He needn't be cross with <i>us</i> because some +other young man's probably taking Julia Atwater +out driving!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he need!" Mr. Burgess declared. "A boy in +his condition needs to be cross with everything.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +Sometimes they get so cross they go and drink liquor. +Don't you remember?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "I remember once!" she assented, +and laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's a terrible time of life," her husband +went on. "Poets and suchlike always take on about +young love as if it were a charming and romantic +experience, but really it's just a series of mortifications. +The young lover is always wanting to do +something dashing and romantic and Sir Walter +Raleigh-like, but in ordinary times about the wildest +thing he can do, if he can afford it, is to learn to run +a Ford. And he can't stand a word of criticism; he +can't stand being made the least little bit of fun of; +and yet all the while his state of mind lays him +particularly open to all the things he can't stand. He +can't stand anything, and he has to stand everything. +Why, it's a <i>horrible</i> time of life, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," she assented placidly. "I'm glad we +don't have to go through it again, Freddie; though +you're only eighty-two, and with a girl like Julia +Atwater around nobody ought to be sure."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_FIVE" id="CHAPTER_FIVE"></a>CHAPTER FIVE</h3> + + +<p>Although Noble had saluted the old couple +so crossly, thus unconsciously making +them, as he made the sidewalk, proxy for +Mr. Atwater, so to speak, yet the sight of them +penetrated his outer layers of preoccupation and had +an effect upon him. In the midst of his suffering his +imagination paused for a shudder: What miserable +old gray shadows those two were! Thank Heaven +he and Julia could never be like that! And in the +haze that rose before his mind's eye he saw himself +leading Julia through years of adventure in far +parts of the world: there were glimpses of himself +fighting grotesque figures on the edge of Himalayan +precipices at dawn, while Julia knelt by the tent +on the glacier and prayed for him. He saw head-waiters +bowing him and Julia to tables in "strange, +foreign cafés," and when they were seated, and he +had ordered dishes that amazed her, he would say +in a low voice: "Don't look now, but do you see +that heavy-shouldered man with the insignia, sitting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +with that adventuress and those eight officers who +are really his guards? Don't be alarmed, Julia, but I +am here to <i>get</i> that man! Perhaps you remember +what your father once said of me? Now, when +what I have to do here is done, perhaps you may wish +to write home and mention a few things to that old +man!" And then a boy's changing voice seemed to +sound again close by: "He said he just could stand +the smell of <i>some</i> cigarettes, but if you burned any +more o' yours on his porch——" And Noble +came back miserably to town again.</p> + +<p>From an upper window of a new stucco house two +maidens of nineteen peered down at him. The shade +of a striped awning protected the window from the +strong sun and the maidens from the sight of man—the +latter protection being especially fortunate, since +they were preparing to take a conversational afternoon +nap, were robed with little substance, and their +heads appeared to be antlered; for they caught +sight of Noble just as they were preparing to +put silk-and-lace things they called "caps" on their +heads.</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" the visiting one asked.</p> + +<p>"It's Noble Dill; he's kind of one of the crowd."</p> + +<p>"Is he nice?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, sort of. Kind of shambles around."</p> + +<p>"Looks like last year's straw hat to me," the +visiting one giggled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he tries to dress—lately, that is—but he +never did know how."</p> + +<p>"Looks mad about something."</p> + +<p>"Yes. He's one of the ones in love with that +Julia Atwater I told you about."</p> + +<p>"Has he got any chance with her?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill? Mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Is he much in love with her?"</p> + +<p>"'Much'? <i>Murder!</i>"</p> + +<p>The visiting one turned from the window and +yawned. "Come on: let's lie down and talk about +some of the nice ones!"</p> + +<p>The second house beyond this was—it was the +house of Julia!</p> + +<p>And what a glamour of summer light lay upon +it because it was the house of Julia! The texture of +the sunshine came under a spell here; glowing flakes +of amber were afloat; a powder of opals and rubies +fell silently adrizzle through the trees. The very +air changed, beating faintly with a fairy music, for +breathing it was breathing sorcery: elfin symphonies +went tinkling through it. The grass in the next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +yard to Julia's was just grass, but every blade of +grass in her yard was cut of jewels.</p> + +<p>Julia's house was also the house of that person +who through some ungovernable horseplay of destiny +happened to be her father: and this gave the enchanted +spot a background of lurking cyclone—no +one could tell at what instant there might rise above +the roseate pleasance a funnel-shaped cloud. With +young Herbert's injurious narrative fresh in his +mind, Noble quickened his steps; but as he reached +the farther fence post, marking the southward limit +of Mr. Atwater's property, he halted short, startled +beautifully. Through the open front door, just +passed, a voice had called his name; a voice of such +arresting sweetness that his breath stopped, like his +feet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Noble!" it called again.</p> + +<p>He turned back, and any one who might have +seen his face then would have known what was the +matter with him, and must have been only the more +sure of it because his mouth was open. The next +instant the adequate reason for his disorder came +lightly through the open door and down to the gate.</p> + +<p>Julia was kind, much too kind! She had heard +that her Aunt Harriet and her Uncle Joe were frequently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +describing Mr. Atwater's most recent explosion +to other members of the extensive Atwater +family league; and though she had not discovered +how Aunt Harriet and Uncle Joe had obtained their +material, yet, in Julia's way of wording her thoughts, +an account of the episode was "all over town," +and she was almost certain that by this time Noble +Dill had heard it. And so, lest he should suffer, +the too-gentle creature seized the first opportunity to +cheer him up. That was the most harmful thing +about Julia; when anybody liked her—even Noble +Dill—she couldn't bear to have him worried. She +was the sympathetic princess who wouldn't have her +puppy's tail chopped off all at once, but only a little +at a time.</p> + +<p>"I just happened to see you going by," she said, +and then, with an astounding perfection of seriousness, +she added the question: "Did you <i>mind</i> my +calling to you and stopping you, Noble?"</p> + +<p>He leaned, drooping, upon the gatepost, seeming +to yearn toward it; his expression was such that this +gatepost need not have been surprised if Noble had +knelt to it.</p> + +<p>"Why, no," he said hoarsely. "No, I don't have +to be back at the office any particular time. No."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I just wanted to ask you——" She hesitated. +"Well, it really doesn't amount to anything—it's +nothing so important I couldn't have spoken to you +about it some other time."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Noble, and then on the spur of the +moment he continued darkly: "There might not +be any other time."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean, Noble?"</p> + +<p>He smiled faintly. "I'm thinking of going away." +This was true; nevertheless, it was the first time he +had thought of it. "Going away," he repeated in +a murmur. "From this old town."</p> + +<p>A shadowy, sweet reproach came upon Julia's +eyes. "You mean—for good, Noble?" she asked in +a low voice, although no one knew better than she +what trouble such performances often cost her, later. +"Noble, you don't mean——"</p> + +<p>He made a vocal sound conveying recklessness, +something resembling a reckless laugh. "I might +go—any day! Just as it happens to strike me."</p> + +<p>"But where to, Noble?"</p> + +<p>"I don't——Well, maybe to China."</p> + +<p>"China!" she cried in amazement. "Why, Noble +Dill!"</p> + +<p>"There's lots of openings in China," he said. "A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +white man can get a commission in the Chinese army +any day."</p> + +<p>"And so," she said, "you mean you'd rather be +an officer in the Chinese army than stay—here?" +With that, she bit her lip and averted her face for an +instant, then turned to him again, quite calm. Julia +could not help doing these things; she was born +that way, and no punishment changed her.</p> + +<p>"Julia——" the dazzled Noble began, but he stopped +with this beginning, his voice seeming to have +exhausted itself upon the name.</p> + +<p>"When do you think you'll start?" she asked.</p> + +<p>His voice returned. "I don't know <i>just</i> when," +he said; and he began to feel a little too much committed +to this sudden plan of departure, and to +wonder how it had come about. "I—I haven't set +any day—exactly."</p> + +<p>"Have you talked it over with your mother yet, +Noble?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet—exactly," he said, and was conscious +of a distaste for China as something unpleasant +and imminent. "I thought I'd wait till—till it was +certain I <i>would</i> go."</p> + +<p>"When will that be, Noble?" And in spite of +herself, Julia spoke in the tone of one who controls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +herself to ask in calmness: "Is my name on the list +for the guillotine?"</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "it'll be as soon as I've made +up my mind to go. I probably won't go before then; +not till I've made up my mind to."</p> + +<p>"But you might do that any day, mightn't you?"</p> + +<p>Noble began to feel relieved; he seemed to have hit +upon a way out. "Yes; and then I'd be gone," he +said firmly. "But probably I wouldn't go at all +unless I decided to." This seemed to save him from +China, and he added recklessly: "I guess I wouldn't +be missed much around this old town if I did go."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you would," Julia said quickly. "Your +family'd miss you—and so would everybody."</p> + +<p>"Julia, <i>you</i> wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>She laughed lightly. "Of course I should, and so +would papa."</p> + +<p>Noble released the gatepost and appeared to slant +backward. "What?"</p> + +<p>"Papa was talking about you this very morning at +breakfast," she said; and she spoke the truth. "He +said he <i>dreamed</i> about you last night."</p> + +<p>"He did?"</p> + +<p>Julia nodded sunnily. "He dreamed that you and +he were the very greatest friends!" This also was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +true, so far as it went; she only omitted to state that +Mr. Atwater had gone on to classify his dream as a +nightmare. "There!" she cried. "Why, of course +he'd miss you—he'd miss you as much as he'd miss +any friend of mine that comes here."</p> + +<p>Noble felt a sudden rush of tenderness toward +Mr. Atwater; it is always possible to misjudge a man +for a few hasty words. And Julia went on quickly:</p> + +<p>"I never saw anybody like you, Noble Dill!" she +exclaimed. "I don't suppose there's anybody in +the United States except you that would be capable +of doing things like going off to be an officer in the +Chinese army—all just any minute like this. I've +always declared you were about the most reckless +man I know!"</p> + +<p>Noble shook his head. "No," he said judicially. +"I'm not reckless; it's just that I don't care what +happens."</p> + +<p>Julia became grave. "Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"To me," he said hurriedly. "I mean I don't +care what happens to myself. I mean that's more +the way I am than just reckless."</p> + +<p>She was content to let his analysis stand, though +she shook her head, as if knowing herself to be wiser +than he about his recklessness. A cheerfulness came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +upon them; and the Chinese question seemed to +have been settled by these indirect processes;—in +fact, neither of them ever mentioned it again. "I +mustn't keep you," she said, "especially when you +ought to be getting on downtown to business, but——Oh!" +She gave the little cry of a forgetful person +reminded. "I almost forgot what I ran out to ask +you!"</p> + +<p>"What was it, Julia?" Noble spoke huskily, in a +low voice. "What is it you want me to do, Julia?"</p> + +<p>She gave a little fluttering laugh, half timid, half +confiding. "You know how funny papa is about +tobacco smoke?" (But she hurried on without +waiting for an answer.) "Well, he is. He's the +funniest old thing; he doesn't like <i>any</i> kind very +much except his own special cheroot things. He +growls about every other kind, but the cigars Mr. +<i>Ridgely</i> smokes when he comes here, papa really +<i>does</i> make a fuss over! And, you see, I don't like to +say 'No' when Mr. Ridgely asks if he can smoke, because +it always makes men so uncomfortable if +they can't when they're sitting on a veranda, so I +wondered if I could just tactfully get him to buy +something different from his cigars?—and I thought +the best thing would be to suggest those cigarettes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +you always have, Noble. They're the ones papa +makes the <i>least</i> fuss about and seems to stand the +best—next to his own, he seems to like them the most, +I mean—but I'd forgotten the name of them. That's +what I ran out to ask you."</p> + +<p>"Orduma," said Noble. "Orduma Egyptian Cigarettes."</p> + +<p>"Would you mind giving me one—just to show +Mr. Ridgely?"</p> + +<p>Noble gave her an Orduma cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you!" she said gratefully. "I mustn't +keep you another minute, because I know your +father wouldn't know <i>what</i> to do at the office without +you! Thank you so much for this!" She turned +and walked quickly halfway up the path, then +paused, looking back over her shoulder. "I'll only +show it to him, Noble," she said. "I won't give it +to him!"</p> + +<p>She bit her lip as if she had said more than she +should have; shook her head as in self-chiding; +then laughed, and in a flash touched the tiny white +cylinder to her lips, waved it to him;—then ran to +the veranda and up the steps and into the house. +She felt satisfied that she had set matters right, this +kind Julia!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_SIX" id="CHAPTER_SIX"></a>CHAPTER SIX</h3> + + +<p>Before she thus set matters right with +Noble he had been unhappy and his condition +had been bad; now he was happy, but +his condition was worse. In truth, he was much, +much too happy; nothing rational remained in his +mind. No elfin orchestra seemed to buzz in his ears +as he went down the street, but a loud, triumphing +brass band. His unathletic chest was inflated; he +heaved up with joy; and a little child, playing on the +next corner, turned and followed him for some distance, +trying to imitate his proud, singular walk. +Restored to too much pride, Noble became also +much too humane; he thought of Mr. Atwater's +dream, and felt almost a motherly need to cherish +and protect him, to be indeed his friend. There was +a warm spot in Noble's chest, produced in part by a +yearning toward that splendid old man. Noble +had a good home, sixty-six dollars in the bank and a +dollar and forty cents in his pockets; he would have +given all for a chance to show Mr. Atwater how well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +he understood him now, at last, and how deeply he +appreciated his favour.</p> + +<p>Students of alcoholic intoxication have observed +that in their cups commonplace people, and not +geniuses, do the most unusual things. So with +all other intoxications. Noble Dill was indeed no +genius, and some friend should have kept an +eye upon him to-day; he was not himself. All +afternoon in a mood of tropic sunrise he collected +rents, or with glad vagueness consented instantly +to their postponement. "I've come about the rent +again," he said beamingly to one delinquent tenant +of his father's best client; and turned and walked +away, humming a waltz-song, while the man was +still coughing as a preliminary to argument.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon, as the entranced collector +sat musing alone near a window in his father's office, +his exalted mood was not affected by the falling +of a preternatural darkness over the town, nor +was he roused to action by any perception of the +fact that the other clerks and the members of the +firm had gone home an hour ago; that the clock +showed him his own duty to lock up the office and +not keep his mother "waiting dinner"; and that he +would be caught in a most outrageous thunderstorm if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +he didn't hurry. No; he sat, smiling fondly, by the +open window, and at times made a fragmentary +gesture as of some heroic or benevolent impulse in +rehearsal.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, paunchy with wind and wetness, unmannerly +clouds came smoking out of the blackened +west. Rumbling, they drew on. Then from cloud +to cloud dizzy amazements of white fire staggered, +crackled and boomed on to the assault; the doors of +the winds were opened; the tanks of deluge were +unbottomed; and the storm took the town. So, +presently, Noble noticed that it was raining and decided +to go home.</p> + +<p>With an idea that he was fulfilling his customary +duties, he locked the doors of the two inner rooms, +dropped the keys gently into a wastebasket, and +passing by an umbrella which stood in a corner, +went out to the corridor, and thence stepped into +the street of whooping rain.</p> + +<p>Here he became so practical as to turn up his collar; +and, substantially aided by the wind at his +back, he was not long in leaving the purlieus of commerce +behind him for Julia's Street. Other people +lived on this street—he did, himself, for that matter; +and, in fact, it was the longest street in the town;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +moreover, it had an official name with which the +word "Julia" was entirely unconnected; but for +Noble Dill (and probably for Newland Sanders and +for some others in age from nineteen to sixty) it was +"Julia's Street" and no other.</p> + +<p>It was a tumultuous street as Noble splashed along +the sidewalk. Incredibly elastic, the shade-trees +were practising calisthenics, though now and then +one outdid itself and lost a branch; thunder and +lightning romped like loosed scandal; rain hissed +upon the pavement and capered ankle-high. It +was a storm that asked to be left to itself for a time, +after giving fair warning that the request would be +made; and Noble and the only other pedestrian in +sight had themselves to blame for getting caught.</p> + +<p>This other pedestrian was some forty or fifty +yards in advance of Noble and moved in the same +direction at about the same gait. He wore an +old overcoat, running with water; the brim of his +straw hat sagged about his head, so that he appeared +to be wearing a bucket; he was a sodden and pathetic +figure. Noble himself was as sodden; his hands were +wet in his very pockets; his elbows seemed to spout; +yet he spared a generous pity for the desolate figure +struggling on before him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>All at once Noble's heart did something queer +within his wet bosom. He recognized that figure, +and he was not mistaken. Except the One figure, +and those of his own father and mother and three +sisters, this was the shape that Noble would most +infallibly recognize anywhere in the world and under +any conditions. In spite of the dusk and the riot +of the storm, Noble knew that none other than +Mr. Atwater splashed before him.</p> + +<p>He dismissed a project for seizing upon a fallen +branch and running forward to walk beside Mr. +Atwater and hold the branch over his venerated +head. All the branches were too wet; and Noble +feared that Mr. Atwater might think the picture odd +and decline to be thus protected. Yet he felt +that something ought to be done to shelter Julia's +father and perhaps save him from pneumonia; +surely there was some simple, helpful, dashing thing +that ordinary people couldn't think of, but that +Noble could. He would do it and not stay to be +thanked. And then, to-morrow evening, not sooner, +he would go to Julia and smile and say; "Your +father didn't get too wet, I hope, after all?" And +Julia: "Oh, Noble, he's talked of you all day long +as his 'new Sir Walter Raleigh'!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>Suddenly will-o'-the-wisp opportunity flickered +before him, and in his high mood he paused not at all +to consider it, but insanely chased it. He had just +reached a crossing, and down the cross street, walking +away from Noble, was the dim figure of a man carrying +an umbrella. It was just perceptible that he was +a fat man, struggling with seeming feebleness in the +wind and making poor progress. Mr. Atwater, +moving up Julia's Street, was out of sight from the +cross street where struggled the fat man.</p> + +<p>Noble ran swiftly down the cross street, jerked +the umbrella from the fat man's grasp; ran back, +with hoarse sounds dying out behind him in the riotous +dusk; turned the corner, sped after Mr. Atwater, +overtook him, and thrust the umbrella upon +him. Then, not pausing the shortest instant for +thanks or even recognition, the impulsive boy sped +onward, proud and joyous in the storm, leaving his +beneficiary far behind him.</p> + +<p>In his young enthusiasm he had indeed done +something for Mr. Atwater. In fact, Noble's kindness +had done as much for Mr. Atwater as Julia's +gentleness had done for Noble, but how much both +Julia and Noble had done was not revealed in full +until the next evening.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>That was a warm and moonshiny night of air +unusually dry, and yet Florence sneezed frequently +as she sat upon the "side porch" at the house of her +Great-Aunt Carrie and her Great-Uncle Joseph. +Florence had a cold in the head, though how it got to +her head was a process involved in the mysterious +ways of colds, since Florence's was easily to be +connected with Herbert's remark that he wouldn't +ever be caught takin' his death o' cold sittin' on the +damp grass in the night air just to listen to a lot o' +tooty-tooty. It appeared from Florence's narrative +to those interested listeners, Aunt Carrie and Uncle +Joseph, that she had been sitting on the grass in the +night air when both air and grass were extraordinarily +damp. In brief, she had been at her post soon after +the storm cleared on the preceding evening, but she +had heard no tooty-tooty; her overhearings were of +sterner stuff.</p> + +<p>"Well, what did Julia say <i>then</i>?" Aunt Carrie +asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"She said she'd go up and lock herself in her room +and stuff cushions over her ears if grandpa didn't quit +makin' such a fuss."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He made more rumpus than ever," said Florence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +"He went on and on, and told the whole thing over +and over again; he seemed like he couldn't tell it +enough, and every time he told it his voice got higher +and higher till it was kind of squealy. He said he'd +had his raincoat on and he didn't want an umberella +anyhow, and hadn't ever carried one a single time in +fourteen years! And he took on about Noble Dill +and all this and that about how you <i>bet</i> he knew who +it was! He said he could tell Noble Dill in the dark +any time by his cigarette smell, and, anyway, it +wasn't too dark so's he couldn't see his skimpy little +shoulders, and anyway he saw his face. And he said +Noble didn't <i>hand</i> him the umberella; he stuck it all +down over him like he was somep'n on fire he wanted +to put out; and before he could get out of it and +throw it away this ole fat man that it belonged to +and was chasin' Noble, he ran up to grandpa from +behind and took hold of him, or somep'n, and they +slipped, and got to fussin' against each other; and +then after a while they got up and grandpa saw it +was somebody he knew and told him for Heaven's +sake why didn't he take his ole umberella and go on +home; and so he did, because it was raining, and I +guess he proba'ly had to give up; he couldn't out-talk +grandpa."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Uncle Joe. "He couldn't, whoever +he was. But what happened about Noble Dill?"</p> + +<p>Florence paused to accumulate and explode a +sneeze, then responded pleasantly: "He said he was +goin' to kill him. He said he often and often wanted +to, and now he <i>was</i>. That's the reason I guess Aunt +Julia wrote that note this morning."</p> + +<p>"What note?" Aunt Carrie inquired. "You +haven't told us of that."</p> + +<p>"I was over there before noon," said Florence, +"and Aunt Julia gave me a quarter and said she'd +write a note for me to take to Noble Dill's house +when he came home for lunch, and give it to him. +She kind of slipped it to me, because grandpa came in +there, pokin' around, while she was just finishin' writin' +it. She didn't put any envelope on it even, and she +never said a single thing to <i>me</i> about its bein' private +or my not readin' it if I wanted to, or anything."</p> + +<p>"Of course you didn't," said Aunt Carrie. "You +didn't, did you, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Why, she didn't <i>say</i> not to," Florence protested, +surprised. "It wasn't even in an envelope."</p> + +<p>Mr. Joseph Atwater coughed. "I hardly think +we ought to ask what the note said, even if Florence +was—well, indiscreet enough to read it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said his wife. "I hardly think so either. +It didn't say anything important anyhow, probably."</p> + +<p>"It began, 'Dear Noble,'" said Florence promptly. +"Dear Noble'; that's the way it began. It said how +grandpa was just all upset to think he'd accepted +an umberella from him when Noble didn't have +another one for himself like that, and grandpa was so +embarrassed to think he'd let Noble do so much for +him, and everything, he just didn't know <i>what</i> to do, +and proba'ly it would be tactful if he wouldn't come +to the house till grandpa got over being embarrassed +and everything. She said not to come till she let him +know."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice Noble when he read it?" asked +Aunt Carrie.</p> + +<p>"Yessir! And would you believe it; he just looked +<i>too</i> happy!" Florence made answer, not wholly comprehending +with what truth.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet," said Uncle Joseph;—"I'll bet a thousand +dollars that if Julia told Noble Dill he was six feet +tall, Noble would go and order his next suit of clothes +to fit a six-foot man."</p> + +<p>And his wife complemented this with a generalization, +simple, yet of a significance too little recognized. +"They don't see a thing!" she said. "The young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +men that buzz around a girl's house don't see a <i>thing</i> +of what goes on there! Inside, I mean."</p> + +<p>Yet at that very moment a young man was seeing +something inside a girl's house a little way down that +same street. That same street was Julia's Street +and the house was Julia's. Inside the house, in the +library, sat Mr. Atwater, trying to read a work by +Thomas Carlyle, while a rhythmic murmur came +annoyingly from the veranda. The young man, +watching him attentively, saw him lift his head and +sniff the air with suspicion, but the watcher took this +pantomime to be an expression of distaste for certain +versifyings, and sharing that distaste, approved. +Mr. Atwater sniffed again, threw down his book and +strode out to the veranda. There sat dark-haired +Julia in a silver dress, and near by, Newland Sanders +read a long young poem from the manuscript.</p> + +<p>"Who is smoking out here?" Mr. Atwater inquired +in a dead voice.</p> + +<p>"Nobody, sir," said Newland with eagerness. "<i>I</i> +don't smoke. I have never touched tobacco in any +form in my life."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater sniffed once more, found purity; and +returned to the library. But here the air seemed +faintly impregnated with Orduma cigarettes. "Curious!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +he said as he composed himself once more to +read—and presently the odour seemed to wear away +and vanish. Mr. Atwater was relieved; the last thing +he could have wished was to be haunted by Noble +Dill.</p> + +<p>Yet for that while he was. Too honourable to follow +such an example as Florence's, Noble, of course, +would not spy or eavesdrop near the veranda where +Julia sat, but he thought there could be no harm +in watching Mr. Atwater read. Looking at Mr. +Atwater was at least the next thing to looking at +Julia. And so, out in the night, Noble was seated +upon the top of the side fence, looking through the +library window at Mr. Atwater.</p> + +<p>After a while Noble lit another Orduma cigarette +and puffed strongly to start it. The smoke was +almost invisible in the moonlight, but the night +breeze, stirring gently, wafted it toward the house, +where the open window made an inward draft and +carried it heartily about the library.</p> + +<p>Noble was surprised to see Mr. Atwater rise suddenly +to his feet. He smote his brow, put out the +light, and stamped upstairs to his own room.</p> + +<p>His purpose to retire was understood when the +watcher saw a light in the bedroom window overhead.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +Noble thought of the good, peculiar old man +now disrobing there, and he smiled to himself at a +whimsical thought: What form would Mr. Atwater's +embarrassment take, what would be his feeling, and +what would he do, if he knew that Noble was there +now, beneath his window and thinking of him?</p> + +<p>In the moonlight Noble sat upon the fence, and +smoked Orduma cigarettes, and looked up with +affection at the bright window of Mr. Atwater's +bedchamber. Abruptly the light in that window +went out.</p> + +<p>"Saying his prayers now," said Noble. "I wonder +if——" But, not to be vain, he laughed at himself +and left the thought unfinished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN</h3> + + +<p>A week later, on a hot July afternoon, Miss +Florence Atwater, recovered from her cold, +stood in the shady back yard of her place of +residence and yawned more extensively than any one +would have believed possible, judging by her face in +repose. Three of her friends, congenial in age and +sex, were out of town for the summer; two had been +ascertained, by telephonic inquiries, to be taking +commanded siestas; and neither the other one nor +Florence had yet forgotten that yesterday, although +they were too religious to commit themselves to a +refusal to meet as sisters in the Great Beyond, they +had taken the expurgated oath that by Everything +they would never speak to each other again so long +as they both should live.</p> + +<p>Florence was at the end of her resources. She +had sought distraction in experimental cookery; but, +having scorched a finger, and having been told by +the cook that a person's own kitchen wasn't worth +the price at eleven dollars a week if it had to git all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +smelled up with broiled rubber when the femometer +stood at ninety-sevvum degrees in the shade, the +experimenter abusedly turned her back on the morose +woman and went out to the back yard for a little +peace.</p> + +<p>After an interval of torpor, she decided to go and +see what Herbert was doing—a move not short of +desperation, on account of Herbert's new manner +toward her. For a week Herbert had steadily pursued +his scientific career, and he seemed to feel that +in it he had attained a distinction beyond the reach +of Florence. What made it ridiculous for her to hope +was, of course, the fact that she was a girl, and Herbert +had explained this to her in a cold, unpleasant +way; for it is true that what is called "feminism" +must be acquired by men, and is not a condition, or +taste, natural to them. At thirteen it has not been +acquired.</p> + +<p>She found him at home. He was importantly +engaged in a room in the cellar, where were loosely +stored all manner of incapacitated household devices; +two broken clothes-wringers, a crippled and rusted +sewing-machine, an ice-cream freezer in like condition, +a cracked and discarded marble mantelpiece, +chipped porcelain and chinaware of all sorts, rusted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +stove lids and flatirons, half a dozen dead mops and +brooms. This was the laboratory, and here, in congenial +solitude, Herbert conducted his investigations. +That is to say, until Florence arrived he was undisturbed +by human intrusion, but he was not alone—far +from it! There was, in fact, almost too much life +in the place.</p> + +<p>Where the light fell clearest from the cobwebby +windows at the ground level overhead, he had placed +a long deal table, once a helpmate in the kitchen, but +now a colourless antique on three legs and two starch +boxes. Upon the table were seven or eight glass jars, +formerly used for preserves and pickles, and a dozen +jelly glasses (with only streaks and bits of jelly in +them now) and five or six small round pasteboard pill-boxes. +The jars were covered, some with their own +patent tops, others with shingles or bits of board, +and one with a brick. The jelly glasses stood inverted, +and were inhabited; so were the preserve +jars and pickle jars; and so were the pill-boxes, which +evidently contained star boarders, for they were +pierced with "breathing holes," and one of them, +standing upon its side like a little wheel, now and +then moved in a faint, ghostly manner as if about to +start rolling on its own account—whereupon Herbert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +glanced up and addressed it sternly, though somewhat +inconsistently: "You shut up!"</p> + +<p>In the display of so much experimental paraphernalia, +there may have been a hint that Herbert's +was a scientific nature craving rather quantity than +quality; his collection certainly possessed the virtue +of multitudinousness, if that be a virtue; and the birds +in the neighbourhood must have been undergoing +a great deal of disappointment. In brief, as many +bugs as Herbert now owned have seldom been seen +in the custody of any private individual. And +nearly all of them were alive, energetic and swearing, +though several of the preserve jars had been imperfectly +drained of their heavy syrups, and in one of +them a great many spiders seemed to be having, +of the whole collection, the poorest time; being pretty +well mired down and yet still subject to disagreements +among themselves. The habits of this group, +under such unusual surroundings, formed the subject +of Herbert's special study at the moment of Florence's +arrival. He was seated at the table and +frowning with science as he observed the unfortunates +through that magnifying-glass, his discovery +of which was responsible for their present condition +and his own choice of a career.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence paused in the doorway, but he gave no +sign of recognition, unless his intensified preoccupation +was a sign, and Florence, perceiving what +line of conduct he meant to adopt, instinctively +selected a reciprocal one for herself. "Herbert +Atwater, you ought to be punished! I'm goin' to +tell your father and mother."</p> + +<p>"You g'way," Herbert returned, unmoved; and, +without condescending to give her a glance, he set +down the magnifying-glass, and with a pencil wrote +something profoundly entomological in a soiled +memorandum book upon the table. "Run away, +Flor'nce. Run away somewheres and play."</p> + +<p>Florence approached. "'Play'!" she echoed tartly. +"I should think <i>you</i> wouldn't talk much about +'playin',' the way you're teasing those poor, poor +little bugs!"</p> + +<p>"'Teasing'!" Herbert exclaimed: "That shows! +That shows!"</p> + +<p>"Shows what?"</p> + +<p>"How much you know!" He became despondent +about her. "See here, Florence; it does look to +me as though at your age a person ought to know +anyway enough not to disturb me when I'm expairamenting, +and everything. I should think——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>But she did not prove so meek as to await the conclusion +of his remonstrance. "I never saw anything +as wicked in my whole born days! What did +any of those poor, poor little bugs ever do to <i>you</i>, +I'd like to know, you got to go and confine 'em like +this! And look how dirty your hands are!"</p> + +<p>This final charge, wandering so far from her previous +specifications of his guilt, was purely automatic +and conventional; Florence often interjected it during +the course of any cousinly discussion, whatever +the subject in dispute, and she had not even glanced +at Herbert's hands to assure herself that the accusation +was warranted. But, as usual, the facts supported +her; and they also supported Herbert in his +immediate mechanical retort: "So're yours!"</p> + +<p>"Not either!" But here Florence, after instinctively +placing her hands behind her, brought forth +the right one to point, and simultaneously uttered a +loud cry: "Oh, <i>look</i> at your hands!" For now she +did look at Herbert's hands, and was amazed.</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?"</p> + +<p>"They're all lumpy!" she cried, and, as her gaze +rose to his cheek, her finger followed her eyes and +pointed to strange appearances there. "Look at +your <i>face</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" he demanded, his tone not +entirely free from braggadocio. "A girl can't make +expairaments the way I do, because if one of these +good ole bumblebees or hornets of mine was to give +'em a little sting, once in a while, while they was +catchin' 'em and puttin' 'em in a jar, all they'd know +how to do'd be to holler and run home to their +mamma. Nobody with any gumption minds a few +little stings after you put mud on 'em."</p> + +<p>"I guess it serves you right," Florence said, "for +persecutin' these poor, poor little bugs."</p> + +<p>Herbert became plaintive. "Look here, Florence; +I do wish you'd go on back home where you belong."</p> + +<p>But Florence did not reply; instead she picked +up the magnifying-glass, and, gazing through it at +a pickle jar of mixed beetles, caterpillars, angleworms, +and potato bugs, permitted herself to shudder. +"Vile things!" she said.</p> + +<p>"They are not, either!" Herbert retorted hotly. +"They're about the finest insecks that you or anybody +else ever saw, and you ought to be ashamed——"</p> + +<p>"I ought?" his cousin cried. "Well, I should +think you're the one ought to be ashamed, if anybody +ought! Down here in the cellar playin' with all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +these vile bugs that ought to be given their liberty, or +thrown down the sewer, or somep'n!" Again, as she +peered through the lens, she shuddered. "Vile——"</p> + +<p>"Florence," he said sternly, "you lay down that +magnifying-glass."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because you don't know how to handle it. A +magnifying-glass has got to be handled in just the +right way, and you couldn't learn if you tried a +thousand years. That's a mighty fine magnifying-glass, +and I don't intend to have it ruined."</p> + +<p>"Why, just lookin' through it can't spoil it, can +it?" she inquired, surprised.</p> + +<p>"You lay it down," said Herbert darkly. "Lookin' +through it the wrong way isn't going to do it any +<i>good</i>."</p> + +<p>"Why, how could just <i>lookin'</i> through it——"</p> + +<p>"Lookin' through it the wrong way isn't goin' +to <i>help</i> it any, I tell you!" he insisted. "You're +old enough to know that, and I'm not goin' to have +my magnifying-glass spoiled and all my insecks +wasted just because of a mere whin of yours!"</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A mere whin, I said!"</p> + +<p>"What's a whin?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never you mind," said Herbert ominously. +"You'll proba'ly find out some day when you aren't +expectin' to!"</p> + +<p>Undeniably, Florence was somewhat impressed: +she replaced the magnifying-glass upon the table and +picked up the notebook.</p> + +<p>"You lay that down, too," said Herbert instantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, maybe it's somep'n you're <i>'shamed</i> to——"</p> + +<p>"Go on and read it, then," he said, suddenly +changing his mind, for he was confident that she +would find matter here that might cause her to appreciate +at least a little of her own inferiority.</p> + +<p>"'Nots'," Florence began. "'Nots'——"</p> + +<p>"Notes!" he corrected her fiercely.</p> + +<p>"'Notes'," she read. "'Notes on our inseck +friends. The spidder——'"</p> + +<p>"<i>Spider!</i>"</p> + +<p>"'The spider spends his time mostly in cobwebs +which he digilently spins between posts and catches +flies to eat them. They are different coloured and +sizes and have legs in pairs. Spiders also spin their +webs in corners or in weeds or on a fence and sometimes +in the grass. They are more able to get about +quicker than catapillars or fishing worms, but cannot +fly such as pinching bugs, lightning bugs, and birds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +because having no wings, nor jump as far as the grass +hoper——'"</p> + +<p>"Grasshopper!" Herbert shouted.</p> + +<p>"I'm readin' it the way it's spelled," Florence explained. +"Anyway, it don't make much sense."</p> + +<p>Herbert was at least enough of an author to be +furious. "Lay it down!" he said bitterly. "And go +on back home to your dolls."</p> + +<p>"Dolls certainly would be <i>cleaner</i> than vile bugs," +Florence retorted, tossing the book upon the table. +"But in regards to that, I haven't had any," she +went on, airily—"not for years and years and years +and——"</p> + +<p>He interrupted her, his voice again plaintive. +"See here, Florence, how do you expect me to get +my <i>work</i> done, with you everlastin'ly talkin' and +goin' on around here like this? Can't you see I've +got somep'n pretty important on my hands?"</p> + +<p>Florence became thoughtful. "I never did see +as many bugs before, all together this way," she said. +"What you goin' to do with 'em, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"I'm makin' my expairaments."</p> + +<p>But her thoughtfulness increased. "It seems to +me," she said slowly:—"Herbert, it seems to me +there must be some awful inter'sting thing we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +could do with so many bugs all together like +this."</p> + +<p>"'We'!" he cried. "My goodness, whose insecks +do you think these insecks are?"</p> + +<p>"I just know there's somep'n," she went on, following +her own line of thought, and indifferent to his +outburst. "There's somep'n we could do with 'em +that we'd never forget, if we could only think of it."</p> + +<p>In spite of himself, Herbert was interested. "Well, +what?" he asked. "What could we do with 'em +we'd never forget?"</p> + +<p>In her eyes there was a far-away light as of a seeress +groping. "I don't just know exackly, but I know +there's <i>somep'n</i>—if we could only think of it—if we +could just——" And her voice became inaudible, +as in dreamy concentration she seated herself upon +the discarded ice-cream freezer, and rested her elbows +upon her knees and her chin upon the palms +of her hands.</p> + +<p>In silence then, she thought and thought. Herbert +also was silent, for he, too, was trying to think, not +knowing that already he had proved himself to be +wax in her hands, and that he was destined further +to show himself thus malleable. Like many and +many another of his sex, he never for an instant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +suspected that he spent the greater part of his time +carrying out ideas implanted within him by a lady-friend. +Florence was ever the imaginative one of +those two, a maiden of unexpected fancies and inexplicable +conceptions, a mind of quicksilver and +mist. There was within her the seedling of a creative +artist, and as she sat there, on the ice-cream freezer +in Herbert's cellar, with the slowly growing roseate +glow of deep preoccupation upon her, she looked +strangely sweet and good, and even almost pretty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT</h3> + + +<p>"Do you s'pose," she said, at last, in a musing +voice: "Herbert, do you s'pose maybe +there's some poor family's children +somewheres that haven't got any playthings or +anything and we could take all these——"</p> + +<p>But here Herbert proved unsympathetic. "I'm +not goin' to give my insecks to any poor people's +children," he said emphatically. "I don't care how +poor they are!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought maybe just as a surprise——"</p> + +<p>"I won't do it. I had mighty hard work to +catch this c'lection, and I'm not goin' to give it +away to anybody, I don't care how surprised they'd +be! Anyway, I'd never get any thanks for it; they +wouldn't know how to handle 'em, and they'd +get all stung up: and what'd be the use, anyhow? +I don't see how <i>that's</i> goin' to be somep'n so interesting +we'd never forget it."</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "I guess it wouldn't. I just thought +it would be kind of a bellnevolent thing to do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>This word disturbed Herbert, but he did not feel +altogether secure in his own impression that "benovvalent" +was the proper rendition of what she +meant, and so refrained from criticism. Their +musing was resumed.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing I do wish," Florence said suddenly, +after a time. "I wish we could find some way +to use the c'lection that would be useful for Noble +Dill."</p> + +<p>Now, at this, her cousin's face showed simple +amazement. "What on earth you talkin' about?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill," she said dreamily. "He's the only +one I like that comes to see Aunt Julia. Anyway, I +like him the most."</p> + +<p>"I bet Aunt Julia don't!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care: he's the one <i>I</i> wish she'd get married +to."</p> + +<p>Herbert was astounded. "Noble Dill? Why, +I heard mamma and Aunt Hattie and Uncle Joe +talkin' about him yesterday."</p> + +<p>"What'd they say?"</p> + +<p>"Most of the time," said Herbert, "they just +laughed. They said Noble Dill was the very last +person in this town Aunt Julia'd ever dream o' marryin'. +They said he wasn't anything: they said he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +wasn't handsome and he wasn't distingrished-looking——"</p> + +<p>"I think he is," Florence interposed. "I think he's +<i>very</i> distingrished-looking."</p> + +<p>"Well, they said he wasn't, and they know more'n +you do. Why, Noble Dill isn't hardly any taller'n +I am myself, and he hasn't got any muscle partickyourly. +Aunt Julia wouldn't look at him!"</p> + +<p>"She does, too! My goodness, how could he +sit on the porch, right in front of her, for two or +three hours at a time, without her lookin' at him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care," Herbert insisted stubbornly. +"<i>They</i> said Aunt Julia wouldn't. They said she +was the worst flirt had ever been in the whole family +and Noble Dill had the worst case they ever saw, +but she wouldn't ever look at him, and if she did +she'd be crazy."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway," said Florence, "I think he's +the nicest of all that goes to see her, and I wish we +could use this c'lection some way that would be nice +for him."</p> + +<p>Herbert renewed his protest. "How many times +I got to tell you I had a hard enough time catchin' +this c'lection, day in and day out, from before daylight +till after dark, and then fixin' 'em all up like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +this and everything! I don't prapose to waste 'em +just to suit Noble Dill, and I'm not goin' to give 'em +away either. If anybody wanted to buy 'em and +offered a good fair price, money down, why, I——"</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> it, Herbert!" his lady-cousin exclaimed +with sudden excitement. "Let's sell 'em!" She +jumped up, her eyes bright. "I bet we could get +maybe five dollars for 'em. We can pour the ones +that are in the jars that haven't got tops and the +ones in the jelly glasses and pill-boxes—we can pour +all those into the jars that have got tops, and put the +tops on again, and that'd just about fill those jars—and +then we could put 'em in a basket and take 'em +out and sell 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Where could we sell 'em?" Herbert inquired, +not convinced.</p> + +<p>"At the fish store!" she cried. "Everybody uses +bugs and worms for bait when they go fishing, don't +they? I bet the fish man'll buy all the worms we +got, even if he wouldn't buy anything else. I bet +he'll buy all the others, too! I bet he never saw as +much good bait as this all at one time in his whole +life! I bet he'll give us five dollars—maybe more!"</p> + +<p>Herbert was dazzled; the thought of this market +was a revelation—nothing could have been more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +plausible. Considered as bait, the c'lection at once +seemed to acquire a practical and financial value +which it lacked, purely as a c'lection. And with +that the amateur and scientist disappeared, giving +way to the person of affairs. "'Give <i>us</i> five dollars'?" +he said, in this capacity, and for deeper effect +he used a rhetorical expression: "Who do you think +is the owner of all this fish bait, may I ask you, +pray?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you <i>may</i>, pray!" was his cousin's instant +and supercilious retort. "Pray where would you +ever of got any five dollars from any fish man, if it +hadn't been for me, pray? Pray, didn't I first sajest +our doing somep'n with the bugs we'd never forget, +and if the fish man gives us five dollars for 'em +won't we remember it all our lives, pray? And, +pray, what part did you think up of all this, pray? +Not one single thing, and if you don't divide even +with me, I'll run ahead and tell the fish man the +whole c'lection has been in bottles that had old +medicine and poison in 'em—and then where'll <i>you</i> +be, pray?"</p> + +<p>It is to be doubted that Florence possessed the +cold-blooded capacities with which this impromptu +in diplomacy seemed to invest her: probably she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +would never have gone so far. But the words sufficed; +and Herbert was so perfectly intimidated that he was +even unresentful. "Well, you can have your ole two +dollars and a half, whether you got a right to it or +not," he said. "But you got to carry the basket."</p> + +<p>"No," said Florence. "This has got to be done +right, Herbert. We're partners now and everything's +got to be divided just exackly even. I'll +carry the basket half the way and you carry it the +other half."</p> + +<p>"Well——" he grumbled, consenting.</p> + +<p>"That's the only right way," she said sunnily. +"You carry it till we get to the fish man's, and I'll +carry it all the way back."</p> + +<p>But even Herbert could perceive the inequality +here. "It'll be empty then," he protested.</p> + +<p>"Fair's fair and wrong's wrong," she returned +firmly. "I spoke first to carry it on the way home, +and the one that speaks first gets it!"</p> + +<p>"Look here!"</p> + +<p>"Herbert, we got to get all these bugs fixed up and +ready," she urged. "We don't want to waste the +whole afternoon just talkin' about it, do we? Besides, +Herbert, on the way home you'll have two +dollars and a half in your pocket, or anyway as much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +as you have left, if you buy some soda and candy and +things, and you'll feel so fine then you won't mind +whether you're carrying the basket or not."</p> + +<p>The picture she now suggested to Herbert's mind +was of himself carrying the basket both to the fish +man and from the fish man: and he found himself +anxious to protest, yet helpless in a maze of perplexity. +"But wait a minute," he began. "You +said——"</p> + +<p>"Let's don't waste another minute," she interrupted +briskly. "I shouldn't wonder it was after +four o'clock by this time, and we both need money. +Hurry, Herbert!"</p> + +<p>"But didn't you say——" He paused to rub his +head. "You said I'd feel so good I wouldn't mind +if I—if——"</p> + +<p>"No. I said, 'Hurry'!"</p> + +<p>"Well——" And though he felt that a subtle +injustice lurked somewhere, he was unable to think +the matter out clearly into its composing elements, +and gave up trying. Nevertheless, as he obeyed +her, and began to "hurry," there remained with him +an impression that by some foggy and underhand +process he had been committed to acquiescence in an +unfair division of labour.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>In this he was not mistaken. An hour later he +and Florence were on their way home from the fish +man's place of business, and Herbert, having carried +the basket thither, was now carrying it thence. +Moreover, his burden was precisely as heavy on this +homeward leg of the course as it had been on that +terminating at the fish store, for, covered by a discreet +newspaper, the preserve and pickle jars still remained +within the basket, their crowding and indignant +contents intact. The fish man had explained in +terms derisive, but plain, the difference between a +fish man and a fisherman. He had maintained +his definitions of the two economic functions in +spite of persistent arguments on the part of the +bait-dealers, and in the face of reductions that finally +removed ninety per cent. of their asking price. +He wouldn't give fifty cents, or ten cents, or one cent, +he said: and he couldn't furnish the address of anybody +else that would. His fish came by express, he +declared, again and again: and the only people he +knew that did any fishing were mainly coloured, and +dug their own bait; and though these might possibly be +willing to accept the angle worms as a gift, they would +probably incline to resent a generosity including so +many spiders, not to speak of the dangerous winged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +members of the c'lection. On account of these +latter, he jocosely professed himself to be anxious +lest the tops of some of the jars might work loose—and +altogether he was the most disheartening man +they had ever met.</p> + +<p>Anticlimax was never the stimulant of amiability, +and, after an altercation on the pavement just outside +of the store, during which the derisive fish man +continually called to them to go on and take that +there basket out of the neighbourhood, the cousins +moved morbidly away, and walked for a time in +silence.</p> + +<p>They brooded. Herbert was even more embittered +with Florence than he was with the fish man, +and Florence found life full of unexpectedness; it had +been so clear to her that the fish man would say: +"Why, certainly. Here's five dollars; two dollars +and a half for each of you. Would you care to have +the jars back?" The facts, so contrary, seemed to +wear the aspect of deliberate malice, and she felt ill-used, +especially as she had several physical grievances, +due to her assistance in pouring part of the +c'lection into the jars with tops. In spite of every +precaution three or four of the liveliest items had +made their escape, during this pouring, and had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +behaved resentfully. Florence bore one result on +the back of her left hand, two others on the thumb +and second finger of her right hand, and another, naturally +the most conspicuous, on the point of her chin. +These had all been painful, in spite of mud poultices, +but, excited by the anticipation of a kindly smiling +fish man, and occupied with plans for getting Herbert +to spend part of his two dollars and a half for +mutual refreshment, she had borne up cheerfully. +Now, comprehending that she had suffered in vain, +she suffered anew, and hated bugs, all fish men, +and the world.</p> + +<p>It was Herbert who broke the silence and renewed +the altercation. "How far you expeck me +to go on luggin' this ole basket?" he demanded +bitterly. "All the way home?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care how far," she informed him. "You +can throw it away if you want to. It's certainly +no propaty of mine, thank you!"</p> + +<p>"Look here, didn't you promise you'd carry it +home?"</p> + +<p>"I said I <i>spoke</i> to. I didn't say I <i>would</i> carry it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd like to know the dif——"</p> + +<p>But Florence cut him off. "I'll tell you the difference, +since you're so anxious to know the truth,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +Mister Herbert Atwater! The difference is just +this: you had no biznuss to meddle with those vile +ole bugs in the first place, and get me all stung up +so't I shouldn't wonder I'd haf to have the doctor, +time I get home, and if I do I'm goin' to tell mamma +all about it and make her send the bill to your father. +I want you to know I <i>hurt</i>!"</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" Herbert burst out. "Don't +you s'pose <i>I</i> hurt any? I guess you don't hurt any +worse than——"</p> + +<p>She stopped him: "Listen!"</p> + +<p>From down the street there came a brazen clamouring +for the right of way; it grew imperiously louder, +and there were clatterings and whizzings of metallic +bodies at speed, while little blurs and glistenings +in the distance grew swiftly larger, taking shape as a +fire engine and a hose-cart. Then, round the near-by +corner, came perilously steering the long "hook-and-ladder +wagon"; it made the turn and went by, with +its firemen imperturbable on the running boards.</p> + +<p>"Fire!" Florence cried joyfully. "Let's go!" +And, pausing no instant, she made off up the street, +shouting at the top of her voice: "<i>Fire! Fire! +Fire! Fire!</i>"</p> + +<p>Herbert followed. He was not so swift a runner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +as she, though this he never submitted to a test +admitted to be fair and conclusive; and he found her +demonstration of superiority particularly offensive +now, as she called back over her shoulder: "Why +don't you keep up with me? Can't you keep up?"</p> + +<p>"I'd <i>show</i> you!" he panted. "If I didn't haf +to lug this ole basket, I'd leave you a mile behind +mighty quick."</p> + +<p>"Well, why'n't you drop it, then?"</p> + +<p>"You s'pose I'm goin' to throw my c'lection away +after all the trouble I been <i>through</i> with it?"</p> + +<p>She slackened her gait, dropping back beside him. +"Well, then, if you think you could keep up with me +if you didn't have it, why'n't you leave it somewhere, +and come back and get it after the fire's over?"</p> + +<p>"No place to leave it."</p> + +<p>She laughed, and pointed. "Why'n't you leave +it at grandpa's?"</p> + +<p>"Will you wait for me and start fair?"</p> + +<p>"Come on!" They obliqued across the street, +still running forward, and at their grandfather's +gate Herbert turned in and sped toward the house.</p> + +<p>"Take it around to the kitchen and give it to Kitty +Silver," Florence called. "Tell Kitty Silver to take +care of it for you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Herbert was in no mind to follow her advice; +a glance over his shoulder showed that Florence was +taking another unfair advantage of him. "You +wait!" he shouted. "You stand still till I get back +there! You got half a mile start a'ready! You +wait till we can start even!"</p> + +<p>But Florence was skipping lightly away and she +caroled over her shoulder, waving her hand in mocking +farewell as she began to run:</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ole Mister Slowpoke can't catch me!<br /> +Ole Mister Slowpoke couldn't catch a flea!</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>"I'll show you!" he bellowed, and, not to lose +more time, he dashed up the steps of the deserted +veranda, thrust his basket deep underneath a +wicker settee, and ran violently after his elusive +cousin.</p> + +<p>She kept a tantalizing distance between them, +but when they reached the fire it was such a +grand one they forgot all their differences—and also +all about the basket.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_NINE" id="CHAPTER_NINE"></a>CHAPTER NINE</h3> + + +<p>Noble Dill came from his father's house, +after dinner that evening, a youth in blossom, +like the shrubberies and garden beds +in the dim yards up and down Julia's Street. All +cooled and bathed and in new clothes of white, he +took his thrilled walk through the deep summer +twilight, on his way to that ineffable Front Porch +where sat Julia, misty in the dusk. The girlish +little new moon had perished naïvely out of the sky; +the final pinkness of the west was gone; blue evening +held the quiet world; and overhead, between the +branches of the maple trees, were powdered all those +bright pin points of light that were to twinkle on +generations of young lovers after Noble Dill, each +one, like Noble, walking the same fragrant path in +summer twilights to see the Prettiest Girl of All.</p> + +<p>Now and then there came to the faintly throbbing +ears of the pedestrian a murmur of voices from lawns +where citizens sat cooling after the day's labour, or +a tinkle of laughter from where maidens dull (not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +being Julia) sat on verandas vacant of beauty and +glamour. For these poor things, Noble felt a wondering +and disdainful pity; he pitied everything +in the world that was not on the way to starry +Julia.</p> + +<p>Eight nights had passed since he, himself, had seen +her, but to-day she had replied (over the telephone) +that Mr. Atwater seemed to have settled down again, +and she believed it might be no breach of tact for +Noble to call that evening—especially as she would +be on the veranda, and he needn't ring the bell. +Would she be alone—for once? It was improbable, +yet it could be hoped.</p> + +<p>But as he came hoping up the street, another already +sat beside Julia, sharing with her the wicker +settee on the dim porch, and this was the horn-rimmed +young poet. Newland had, as usual, a new +poem with him; and as others had proved of late +that they could sit on Julia's veranda as long as he +could, he had seized the first opportunity to familiarize +her with this latest work.</p> + +<p>The veranda was dark, and to go indoors to the +light might have involved too close a juxtaposition +to peculiar old Mr. Atwater who was in the library; +but the resourceful Newland, foreseeing everything,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +had brought with him a small pocket flashlight to +illumine his manuscript. "It's <i>vers libre</i>, of course," +he said as he moved the flashlight over the sheets +of scribbled paper. "I think I told you I was beginning +to give all the old forms up. It's the one +new movement, and I felt I ought to master it."</p> + +<p>"Of course," she said sympathetically, though +with a little nervousness. "Be just a wee bit careful +with the flashlight—about turning it toward +the window, I mean—and read in your nice low voice. +I always like poetry best when it's almost whispered. +I think it sounds more musical that way, I mean."</p> + +<p>Newland obeyed. His voice was hushed and +profoundly appreciative of the music in itself and +in his poem, as he read:</p> + +<p class="blockquot" style="font-style: italic"> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"I—And Love!</span><br /> +Lush white lilies line the pool<br /> +Like laces limned on looking-glasses!<br /> +I tread the lilies underfoot,<br /> +Careless how they love me!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still white maidens woo me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Win me not!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But thou!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou art a cornflower</span><br /> +Sapphire-eyed!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I bend!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cornflower, I ask a question.</span><br /> +O flower, speak——"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>Julia spoke. "I'm afraid," she said, while Newland's +spirit filled with a bitterness extraordinary +even in an interrupted poet;—"I'm afraid it's Mr. +Dill coming up the walk. We'll have to postpone——" +She rose and went to the steps to greet +the approaching guest. "How nice of you to come!"</p> + +<p>Noble, remaining on the lowest step, clung to her +hand in a fever. "Nice to come!" he said hoarsely. +"It's eight days—eight days—eight days since——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sanders is here," she said. "It's so dark +on this big veranda people can hardly see each other. +Come up and sit with us. I don't have to introduce +you two men to each other."</p> + +<p>She did not, indeed. They said "H'lo, Dill" +and "H'lo Sanders" in a manner of such slighting +superiority that only the utmost familiarity could +have bred a contempt so magnificent. Then, when +the three were seated, Mr. Sanders thought well +to add: "How's rent collecting these days, Dill? +Still hustling around among those darky shanties +over in Bucktown?"</p> + +<p>In the dark Noble moved convulsively, but contrived +to affect a light laugh, or a sound meant for +one, as he replied, in a voice not entirely under control: +"How's the ole poetry, Sanders?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What?" Newland demanded sharply. "What +did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I said: 'How's the ole poetry?' Do you read +it to all your relations the way you used to?"</p> + +<p>"See here, Dill!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what you want, Sanders?"</p> + +<p>"You try to talk about things you understand," +said Newland. "You better keep your mind on +collecting four dollars a week from some poor coloured +widow, and don't——"</p> + +<p>"I'd <i>rather</i> keep my mind on that!" Noble was +inspired to retort. "Your Aunt Georgina told my +mother that ever since you began thinkin' you could +write poetry the life your family led was just——"</p> + +<p>Newland interrupted. He knew the improper +thing his Aunt Georgina had said, and he was again, +and doubly, infuriated by the prospect of its repetition +here. He began fiercely:</p> + +<p>"Dill, you see here——"</p> + +<p>"Your Aunt Georgina said——"</p> + +<p>Both voices had risen. Plainly it was time for +someone to say: "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" Julia +glanced anxiously through the darkness of the room +beyond the open window beside her, to where the +light of the library lamp shone upon a door ajar;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +and she was the more nervous because Noble, to +give the effect of coolness, had lit an Orduma cigarette.</p> + +<p>She laughed amiably, as if the two young gentlemen +were as amiable as she. "I've thought of +something," she said. "Let's take the settee and +some chairs down on the lawn where we can sit and +see the moon."</p> + +<p>"There isn't any," Noble remarked vacantly.</p> + +<p>"Let's go, anyhow," she said cheerily. "Come on."</p> + +<p>Her purpose was effected; the belligerents were +diverted, and Noble lifted the light wicker settee. +"I'll carry this," he said. "It's no trouble. Sanders +can carry a chair—I guess he'd be equal to that +much." He stumbled, dropped the settee, and lifted +a basket, its contents covered with a newspaper. +"Somebody must have——"</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's a basket," said Noble.</p> + +<p>"How curious!"</p> + +<p>Julia peered through the darkness. "I wonder +who could have left that market basket out <i>here</i>. +I suppose——" She paused. "Our cook does do +more idiotic things than—I'll go ask her if it's +ours."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>She stepped quickly into the house, leaving two concentrations +of inimical silence behind her, but she returned +almost immediately, followed by Kitty Silver.</p> + +<p>"It's no use to argue," Julia was saying as they came. +"You did your marketing and simply and plainly left +it out there because you were too shiftless to——"</p> + +<p>"No'm," Mrs. Silver protested in a high voice of +defensive complaint. "No'm, Miss Julia, I ain' lef +no baskit on <i>no</i> front po'che! I got jus' th'ee markit +baskits in the livin' worl' an' they ev'y las' one +an' all sittin' right where I kin lay my han's on 'em +behime my back do'. No'm, Miss Julia, I take my +solemn oaf I ain' lef no——" But here she debouched +upon the porch, and in spite of the darkness +perceived herself to be in the presence of distinguished +callers. "Pahdon me," she said loftily, her tone +altering at once, "I beg leaf to insis' I better take +thishere baskit back to my kitchen an' see whut-all's +insiden of it."</p> + +<p>With an elegant gesture she received the basket +from Noble Dill and took the handle over her ample +forearm. "Hum!" she said. "Thishere ole basket +kine o' heavy, too. I wunner whut-all she <i>is</i> got +in her!" And she groped within the basket, beneath +the newspaper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, it was the breath of Kitty Silver's life to +linger, when she could, in a high atmosphere; and +she was a powerful gossip, exorbitantly interested +in her young mistress's affairs and all callers. Therefore +it was beyond her not to seize upon any excuse +that might detain her for any time whatever in her +present surroundings.</p> + +<p>"Pusserve jugs," she said. "Pusserve or pickle. +Cain't tell which."</p> + +<p>"You can in the kitchen," Julia said, with pointed +suggestion. "Of course you can't in the dark."</p> + +<p>But still Mrs. Silver snatched at the fleeting moment +and did not go. "Tell by smellin' 'em," she +murmured, seemingly to herself.</p> + +<p>With ease she unscrewed the top of one of the +jars; then held the open jar to her nose. "Don't +smell to me exackly like no pusserves," she said. +"Nor yit like no pickles. Don't smell to me——" +She hesitated, sniffed the jar again, and then inquired +in a voice quickly grown anxious: "Whut +<i>is</i> all thishere in thishere jug? Seem like to <i>me</i>——"</p> + +<p>But here she interrupted herself to utter a muffled +exclamation, not coherent. Instantly she added +some words suitable to religious observances, but +in a voice of passion. At the same time, with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +fine gesture, she hurled the jar and the basket from +her, and both came in contact with the wall, not +far away, with a sound of breakage.</p> + +<p>"Why, what——" Julia began. "Kitty Silver, +are you crazy?"</p> + +<p>But Kitty Silver was moving hurriedly toward +the open front door, where appeared, at that moment, +Mr. Atwater in his most irascible state of peculiarity.</p> + +<p>He began: "What was that heathenish——"</p> + +<p>Shouting, Mrs. Silver jostled by him, and, though +she disappeared into the house, a trail of calamitous +uproar marked her passage to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"What thing has happened?" Mr. Atwater demanded. +"Is she——?"</p> + +<p>His daughter interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh</i>!" was all she said, and sped by him like a bit +of blown thistledown, into the house. He grasped +at her as she passed him; then suddenly he made +other gestures, and, like Kitty Silver, used Jacobean +phrases. But now there were no auditors, for +Noble Dill and Newland Sanders, after thoughtlessly +following a mutual and natural impulse to step over +and examine the fallen basket, had both gone out +to the street, where they lingered a while, then decided +to go home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>... Later, that evening, Florence and Herbert +remembered the c'lection; so they came for it, +a mistake. Discovering the fragments upon the +veranda, they made the much more important mistake +of entering the house to demand an explanation, +which they received immediately. It was +delivered with so much vigour, indeed, that Florence +was surprised and hurt. And yet, the most important +of her dreamy wishes of the afternoon had +been fulfilled: the c'lection had been useful to Noble +Dill, for Mr. Atwater had smelled the smell of an +Orduma cigarette and was just on the point of +coming out to say some harsh things, when the c'lection +interfered. And as Florence was really responsible +for its having been in a position to interfere, so +to say, she had actually in a manner protected her +protégé and also shown some of that power of which +she had boasted when she told him that sometimes +she made members of her family "step around +pretty lively."</p> + +<p>Another of her wishes appeared to be on the way to +fulfilment, too. She had hoped that something +memorable might be done with the c'lection, and the +interview with her grandfather, her Aunt Julia, and +Kitty Silver seemed to leave this beyond doubt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TEN" id="CHAPTER_TEN"></a>CHAPTER TEN</h3> + + +<p>Now August came, that florid lazy month +when mid-summer dawdles along in trailing +greeneries, and the day is like some jocund +pagan, all flushed and asleep, with dripping beard +rosy in a wine bowl of fat vine leaves. Yet, in +this languorous time there may befall a brisker +night, cool and lively as an intrusive boy—a night +made for dancing. On such a night a hasty thought +might put it as desirable that all the world should +be twenty-two years old and in love, like Noble +Dill.</p> + +<p>Upon the white bed in his room, as he dressed, lay +the flat black silhouettes of his short evening coat +and trousers, side by side, trim from new pressing; +and whenever he looked at them Noble felt rich, tall, +distinguished, and dramatic. It is a mistake, as most +literary legends are mistakes, to assume that girls +are the only people subject to before-the-party exhilaration. +At such times a girl is often in the +anxious yet determined mood of a runner before a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +foot race, or she may be merely hopeful; some are +merry and some are grim, but arithmetical calculation +of some sort, whether glorious or uneasy, +is busy in their eyes as they pin and pat before their +mirrors. To behold romance gone light-headed, +turn to the humbler sort of man-creature under +twenty-three. Alone in his room, he may enact for +you scenes of flowery grace and most capricious +gallantry, rehearsals as unconscious as the curtsies +of field daisies in a breeze. He has neither doubt +nor certainty of his charm; he has no arithmetic at all, +and is often so free of calculation that he does not +even pull down the shades at his windows.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately for the neighbours, and even for +passers-by, since Noble's room had a window visible +from the street, his prophetic mother had closed his +shutters before he began to dress. Thus she deprived +honest folk of what surely must have been to them +the innocent pleasure of seeing a very young man +in light but complete underwear, lifting from his head +a Panama hat, new that day, in a series of courteous +salutations. At times, during this same stage of his +toilet, they might have had even more entertainment:—before +putting on his socks Noble "one-stepped" +for several minutes, still retaining upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +his head the new hat. This was a hat of double +value to him; not only was it pleasant to behold in +his mirror, but it was engaged in solidifying for the +evening the arrangement of his hair.</p> + +<p>It may be admitted that he was a little giddy, for +the dance was Julia's. Mr. Atwater had been summoned +to New York on a blessed business that would +keep him a fortnight, and his daughter, alert to the +first flash of opportunity, had almost instantly +summoned musicians, florists, a caterer, and set plans +before them. Coincidentally, Noble had chanced +to see Mr. Atwater driving down Julia's Street that +morning, a travelling bag beside him, and, immediately +putting aside for the day all business cares, hurried +to the traveller's house. Thus he forestalled, for the +time being, that competition which helped to make +caring for Julia so continuous a strain upon whatever +organ is the seat of the anxieties. Kind Julia, busy +as she was, agreed to dance the first dance with him, +and the last—those being considered of such significance +that he would be entitled to the perquisites +of a special cavalier; for instance, a seat beside her +during the serving of the customary light repast. In +such high fortune, no wonder he was a little giddy as +he dressed!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>The process of clothing himself was disconnected, +being broken by various enacted fancies and interludes. +Having approached the length of one sock +toward the completion of his toilet, he absently +dropped the other upon the floor, and danced +again; his expression and attitude signifying that +he clasped a revered partner. Releasing her from +this respectful confinement, he offered the invisible +lady a gracious arm and walked up and down the +room with a stateliness tempered to rhythm, a cakewalk +of strange refinement. Phrases seemed to be +running in his head, impromptus symbolic of the +touching and romantic, for he spoke them half aloud +hi a wistful yet uplifted manner. "Oh, years!" +he said. "Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare!" +Then he added, in a deeper voice:</p> + +<p>"For life is but a golden dream so sweetly."</p> + +<p>Other whimsies came forth from him as the dressing +slowly continued, though one might easily be +at fault in attempting to fathom what was his +thought when, during the passage of his right foot +through the corresponding leg of his trousers, he +exclaimed commandingly:</p> + +<p>"Now, Jocko, for the stirrup cup!"</p> + +<p>Jack boots and a faithful squire, probably.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>During the long and dreamy session with his neck +gear he went back to the softer <i>motif</i>:</p> + +<p> +"Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare!<br /> +For life is but a golden dream so sweetly."<br /> +</p> + +<p>Then, pausing abruptly to look at his coat, so +smoothly folded upon the bed, he addressed it: "O +noblest sample of the tailor's dext'rous art!"</p> + +<p>This was too much courtesy, for the coat was +"ready-made," and looked nobler upon the bed +than upon its owner. In fact, it was by no means a +dext'rous sample; but evidently Noble believed in it +with a high and satisfying faith; and he repeated his +compliment to it as he put it on:</p> + +<p>"Come, noblest sample of the tailor's art; I'll +don thee!"</p> + +<p>During these processes he had been repeatedly +summoned to descend to the family dinner, and finally +his mother came lamenting and called up from +the front hall that "everything" was "all getting +cold!"</p> + +<p>But by this time he was on his way, and though +he went back to leave his hat in his room, unwilling +to confide it to the hat-rack below, he presently made +his appearance in the dining-room and took his seat +at the table. This mere sitting, however, appeared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +to be his whole conception of dining; he seemed as +unaware of his mother's urging food upon him as if +he had been a Noble Dill of waxwork. Several tunes +he lifted a fork and set it down without guiding it to +its accustomed destination. Food was far from his +thoughts or desires, and if he really perceived its +presence at all, it appeared to him as something +vaguely ignoble upon the horizon.</p> + +<p>But he was able to partake of coffee; drank two +cups feverishly, his hand visibly unsteady; and when +his mother pointed out this confirmation of many +prophecies that cigarettes would ruin him, he asked +if anybody had noticed whether or not it was cloudy +outdoors. At that his father looked despondent, +for the open windows of the dining-room revealed +an evening of fragrant clarity.</p> + +<p>"I see, I see," Noble returned pettishly when the +fine state of this closely adjacent weather was pointed +out to him by his old-maid sister. "It wouldn't +be raining, of course. Not on a night like this." +He jumped up. "It's time for me to go."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dill laughed. "It's only a little after seven. +Julia won't be through her own dinner yet. You +mustn't——"</p> + +<p>But with a tremulous smile, Noble shook his head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +and hurriedly left the room. He went upstairs for +his hat, and while there pinned a geranium blossom +upon his lapel, for it may be admitted that in boutonnières +his taste was as yet unformed.</p> + +<p>Coming down again, he took a stick under his arm +and was about to set forth when he noticed a little +drift of talcum powder upon one of his patent leather +shoes. After carefully removing this accretion +and adding a brighter lustre to the shoe by means of +friction against the back of his ankle, he decided to +return to his room and brush the affected portion of +his trousers. Here a new reverie arrested him; he +stood with the brush in his hand for some time; then, +not having used it, he dropped it gently upon the +bed, lit an Orduma cigarette, descended, and went +forth to the quiet street.</p> + +<p>As he walked along Julia's Street toward Julia's +Party, there was something in his mien and look +more dramatic than mere sprightliness; and when +he came within sight of the ineffable house and saw +its many lights shining before him, he breathed with +profundity, half halting. Again he murmured:</p> + +<p> +"Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare!<br /> +For life is but a golden dream so sweetly."<br /> +</p> + +<p>At the gate he hesitated. Perhaps—perhaps he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +was a little early. It might be better to walk round +the block.</p> + +<p>He executed this parade, and again hesitated at the +gate. He could see into the brightly lighted hall, +beyond the open double doors; and it contained +nothing except its usual furniture. Once more he +walked round the block. The hall was again in +the same condition. Again he went on.</p> + +<p>When he had been thrice round the block after +that, he discovered human beings in the hall; they +were Florence, in a gala costume, and Florence's +mother, evidently arrived to be assistants at the +party, for, with the helpful advice of a coloured +manservant, they were arranging some bunches of +flowers on two hall tables. Their leisurely manner +somewhat emphasized the air of earliness that hung +about the place, and Noble thought it better to +continue to walk round the block. The third time +after that, when he completed his circuit, the musicians +were just arriving, and their silhouettes, headed +by that of the burdened bass fiddler, staggered against +the light of the glowing doorway like a fantasia of +giant beetles. Noble felt that it would be better +to let them get settled, and therefore walked round +the block again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not far from the corner above Julia's, as he passed, +a hoarse and unctuous voice, issuing out of an undistinguishable +lawn, called his name: "Noble! +Noble Dill!" And when Noble paused, Julia's +Uncle Joseph came waddling forth from the dimness +and rested his monstrous arms upon the top of the +fence, where a street light revealed them as shirt-sleeved +and equipped with a palm-leaf fan.</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter, Noble?" Mr. Atwater inquired +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Matter?" Noble repeated. "Matter?"</p> + +<p>"We're kind of upset," said Mr. Atwater. "My +wife and I been just sittin' out here in our front yard, +not doing any harm to anybody, and here it's nine +times we've counted you passing the place—always +going the same way!" He spoke as with complaint, +a man with a grievance. "It's kind of ghostlike," +he added. "We'd give a good deal to know what +<i>you</i> make of it."</p> + +<p>Noble was nonplussed. "Why——" he said. +"Why——"</p> + +<p>"How do you get <i>back</i>? That's the mystery!" +said Mr. Atwater. "You're always walkin' down +street and never up. You know my wife's never been +too strong a woman, Noble, and all this isn't doing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +her any good. Besides, we sort of figured out that +you ought really to be at Julia's dance this evening."</p> + +<p>"I am," said Noble nervously. "I mean that's +where I'm going. I'm going there. I'm going +there."</p> + +<p>"That's what's upsetting us so!" the fat man exclaimed. +"You keep on going there! Just when +we've decided you must <i>be</i> there, at last, here you +come, going there again. Well, don't let me detain +you. But if you do decide to go in, some time, +Noble, I'm afraid you aren't going to be able to do +much dancing."</p> + +<p>Noble, who had begun to walk on, halted in sudden +panic. Did this sinister fear of Mr. Atwater's mean +that, as an uncle, he had heard Julia was suddenly +ill?</p> + +<p>"Why won't I?" he asked quickly. "Is anything——"</p> + +<p>"Your poor feet!" said Mr. Atwater, withdrawing. +"Good-night, Noble."</p> + +<p>The youth went on, somewhat disturbed; it +seemed to him that this uncle, though Julia's, was +either going queer in the head or had chosen a poor +occasion to be facetious. Next time, probably, it +would be better to walk round the block below this.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +But it was no longer advisable to walk round any +block. When he came to the happy gateway, the +tuning of instruments and a fanfare of voices +sounded from within the house; girls in light wraps +were fluttering through the hall with young men; +it was "time for the party!" And Noble went in.</p> + +<p>Throughout the accomplishment of the entrance +he made, his outside and his inside were directly contradictory. +His inside was almost fluttering: there +might have been a nest of nervous young birds in +his chest; but as he went upstairs to the "gentlemen's +dressing-room," to leave his hat and stick, +this flopping and scrambling within him was never +to be guessed from his outside. His outside was +unsympathetic, even stately; he greeted his fellow +guests with negligent hauteur, while his glance +seemed to say: "Only peasantry here!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVEN" id="CHAPTER_ELEVEN"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h3> + + +<p>The stairway was crowded as he descended; +and as he looked down upon the heads and +shoulders of the throng below, in Julia's hall, +the thought came to him that since he had the first +and last dances and supper engaged with Julia, the +hostess, this was almost the next thing to being the +host. It was a pleasing thought, and a slight +graciousness now flavoured his salutations.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the stairs he became part of the file +of young people who were moving into one of the +large rooms where Julia stood to "receive." And +then, between two heads before him, he caught a +first glimpse of her;—and all the young birds fluttering +in his chest burst into song; his heart fainted, +his head ballooned, his feet seemed to dangle from +him at the ends of two strings.</p> + +<p>There glowed sapphire-eyed Julia; never had she +been prettier.</p> + +<p>The group closed, shutting out the vision, and he +found himself able to dry his brow and get back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +his breath before moving forward in a cold and aristocratic +attitude. Then he became incapable of any +attitude—he was before her, and she greeted him. +A buzzing of the universe confused him: he would +have stood forever, but pressure from behind pushed +him on; and so, enveloped in a scented cloud, he +passed into a corner. He tried to remember what +he had said to her, but could not; perhaps it would +have discouraged him to know that all he had said +was, "Well!"</p> + +<p>Now there rattled out a challenge of drums; loud +music struck upon the air. Starting instantly to +go to Julia, Noble's left leg first received the electric +impulse and crossed his laggard right; but he was no +pacer, and thus stumbled upon himself and plunged. +Still convulsive, he came headlong before her, and +was the only person near who remained unaware that +his dispersal of an intervening group had the appearance +of extreme unconventionality. Noble knew +nothing except that this was his dance with Her.</p> + +<p>Then heaven played with him. She came close +and touched him exquisitely. She placed a lovely +hand upon his shoulder, her other lovely cool hand +in one of his. The air filled with bursting stars.</p> + +<p>They danced.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>Noble was conscious of her within his clasping +arm, but conscious of her as nothing human. The +fluffy white bodice pressed by his hand seemed to +be that of some angel doll; the charming shoulder that +sometimes touched his was made of a divine mist. +Only the pretty head, close to his, was actual; the +black-sapphire eyes gave him a little blue-black +glance, now and then, and seemed to laugh.</p> + +<p>In truth, they did, though Julia's lips remained +demure. So far as Noble was able to comprehend +what he was doing, he was floating rhythmically +to a faint, far music; but he was almost unconscious, +especially from the knees down. But to the eye of +observers incapable of perceiving that Noble was +floating, it appeared that he was out of step most of +the time, and danced rather hoppingly. However, +these mannerisms were no novelty with him, and it +cannot be denied that girls at dances usually hurried +impulsively away to speak to somebody when they +saw him coming. One such creature even went so +far as to whisper to Julia now, during a collision: +"How'd you get caught?"</p> + +<p>Julia was loyal; she gave no sign of comprehension, +but valiantly swung onward with Noble, +bumped and bumping everywhere, in spite of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +most extraordinary and graceful dexterity on her +part.</p> + +<p>"That's one reason she's such a terrible belle," a +damsel whispered to another.</p> + +<p>"What is?"</p> + +<p>"The way she'll be just as nice to anybody like +Noble Dill as she is to anybody," said the first. +"Look at her now: she won't laugh at him a bit, +though everybody else is."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't laugh either," said the other. +"Not in Julia's position. I'd be too busy being +afraid."</p> + +<p>"What of?"</p> + +<p>"Of getting a sprained ankle!"</p> + +<p>It is well that telepathy remains, as a science, +lethargic. Speculation sets before us the prospect +of a Life Beyond in which every thought is communicated +without the intervention of speech: a state +wherein all neighbours and neighbourhoods would +promptly be dispersed and few friendships long +endure, one fears. If to Noble Dill's active +consciousness had penetrated merely the things +thought about him and his dancing, in this one +short period of time before the music for that dance +stopped, he might easily have been understood if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +he had hurried forth, obtained explosives, and +blown up the place, himself indeed included. As +matters providentially were in reality, when the +music stopped he stood confounded: he thought +the dance had just begun.</p> + +<p>His mouth remained open until the necessary +gestures of articulation intermittently closed it +as he said: "<i>Oh!</i> That was <i>divine</i>!"</p> + +<p>Too-gentle Julia agreed.</p> + +<p>"You said I could have part of some in between +the first and last," he reminded her. "Can I have +the first part of the next?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "I'm afraid not. The next is +Mr. Clairdyce's and I really <i>promised</i> him I wouldn't +give <i>any</i> of his away or let anybody cut in."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Noble, frowning a little, "would +you be willing for me to cut in on the third?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not. That's Newland Sanders', and +I promised him the same thing."</p> + +<p>"Well, the one after that?"</p> + +<p>"No, that one's Mr. Clairdyce's, too."</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i>?" Noble was greatly disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Two that quick with old Baldy Clairdyce!" he +exclaimed, raising his voice, but unaware of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +fervour with which he spoke. "Two with that +old——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Sh</i>, Noble," she said, though she laughed. "He +isn't really old; he's just middle-aged, and only the +least bit bald, just enough to be distinguished-looking."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know what <i>I</i> think of him!" he returned +with a vehemence not moderated. "<i>I</i> don't +think he's distinguished-looking; I think he's simply +and plainly a regular old——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Sh!</i>" Julia warned him again. "He's standing +with some people just behind us," she added.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Noble, "can I cut in on the +next one after that?"</p> + +<p>She consulted a surreptitious little card. "I'm +afraid you'll have to wait till quite a little later on, +Noble. That one is poor Mr. Ridgely's. I promised +him I wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>"Then can I cut in on the next one after that?"</p> + +<p>"It's Mr. Clairdyce's," said Julia—and she blushed.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" said Noble. "Oh, my goodness!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Sh!</i> I'm afraid people——"</p> + +<p>"Let's go out on the porch," said Noble, whose manner +had suddenly become desperate. "Let's go out +and get some air where we can talk this thing over."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I'd better not just now," she returned, +glancing over her shoulder. "You see, all the people +aren't here yet."</p> + +<p>"You've got an aunt here," said Noble, "and a +sister-in-law and a little niece: I saw 'em. They +can——"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I'd better stay indoors just now," she +said persuasively. "We can talk here just as well."</p> + +<p>"We can't!" he insisted feverishly. "We can't, +Julia! I've got something to say, Julia. Julia, +you gave me the first dance and the last dance, and +of course sitting together at supper, or whatever there +is, and you know as well as I do that means it's just +the same as if you weren't giving this party but it +was somewhere else and I took you to it, and it's always +understood you <i>never</i> dance more with anybody +else than the one you went with, when you go with +that person to a place, because that's the rights of +it; and other towns it's just the same way; they do +that way there, just the same as here; they do that +way everywhere, because nobody else has got a right +to cut in and dance more with you than the one +you go with, when you goes to a place with that one. +Julia, don't you see that's the regular way it is, and +the only fair way it ought to be?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Weren't you even <i>listening</i>?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, but——"</p> + +<p>"Julia," he said desperately, "let's go out on the +porch. I want to explain just the way I feel. Let's +go out on the porch, Julia. If we stay here, somebody's +just bound to interrupt us any minute before I +can explain the way I——"</p> + +<p>But the prophecy was fulfilled even before it was +concluded. A group of loudly chattering girls and +their escorts of the moment bore down upon Julia, +and shattered the tête-à-tête. Dislodged from +Julia's side by a large and eager girl, whom he had +hated ever since she was six years old and he five, +Noble found himself staggering in a kind of suburb; +for the large girl's disregard of him, as she shouldered +in, was actually physical, and too powerful for him +to resist. She wished to put her coarse arm round +Julia's waist, it appeared, and the whole group burbled +and clamoured: the party was <i>perfictly</i> glorious; +so was the waxed floor; so was Julia, my <i>dear</i>, so was +the music, the weather, and the din they made!</p> + +<p>Noble felt that his rights were being outraged. +Until the next dance began, every moment of her time +was legally his—yet all he could even see of her was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +the top of her head. And the minutes were flying.</p> + +<p>He stood on tiptoe, thrust his head forward +over the large girl's odious shoulder, and shouted: +"Julia! Let's go out on the porch!"</p> + +<p>No one seemed to hear him.</p> + +<p>"Julia——"</p> + +<p><i>Boom!</i> Rackety-<i>Boom</i>! The drummer walloped +his drums; a saxophone squawked, and fiddles +squealed. Hereupon appeared a tall authoritative +man, at least thirty-two years old, and all swelled +up with himself, as interpreted by Noble and several +other friends of Julia's—though this, according to +quite a number of people (all feminine) was only +another way of saying that he was a person of commanding +presence. He wore a fully developed +moustache, an easy smile, clothes offensively knowing; +and his hair began to show that scarcity which +Julia felt gave him distinction—a curious theory, +but natural to her age. What really did give this +Clairdyce some air of distinction, however, was the +calmness with which he walked through the group +that had dislodged Noble Dill, and the assurance +with which he put his arm about Julia and swept her +away in the dance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>Noble was left alone in the middle of the floor, +but not for long. Couples charged him, and he betook +himself to the wall. The party, for him, was +already ruined.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, as he stood against the wall, there +would be swirled to him, out of all the comminglements +of other scents, a faint, faint hint of heliotrope +and then Julia would be borne masterfully by, +her flying skirts just touching him. And sometimes, +out of the medley of all other sounds, there would +reach his ear a little laugh like a run of lightly plucked +harp strings, and he would see her shining dark hair +above her partner's shoulder as they swept again +near him for an instant. And always, though she +herself might be concealed from him, he could only +too painfully mark where she danced: the overtopping +head of the tall Clairdyce was never lost to view. +The face on the front part of that disliked head wore +continuously a confident smile, which had a bad +effect on Noble. It seemed to him desecration that +a man with so gross a smile should be allowed to +dance with Julia. And that she should smile back at +her partner, and with such terrible kindness—as +Noble twice saw her smile—this was like a calamity +happening to her white soul without her knowing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +it. If she should ever marry that man—well, it +would be the old story: May and December! Noble +shuddered, and the drums, the fiddles, the bass fiddle, +and the saxophone seemed to have an evil sound.</p> + +<p>When the music stopped he caromed hastily +through the room toward Julia, but she was in a +thicket of her guests when he arrived, and for several +moments Mr. Clairdyce's broad back kept intervening—almost +intentionally, it seemed. When Noble +tried to place himself in a position to attract Julia's +attention, this back moved, too, and Noble's nose but +pressed black cloth. And the noise everybody made +was so baffling that, in order to be heard, Julia herself +was shouting. Finally Noble contrived to squirm +round the obtrusive back, and protruded his strained +face among all the flushed and laughing ones.</p> + +<p>"Julia, I got to——" he began.</p> + +<p>But this was just at the climax of a story that three +people were telling at the same time, Julia being one +of them, and he received little attention.</p> + +<p>"Julia," he said hoarsely; "I got something I +want to <i>tell</i> you about——"</p> + +<p>He raised his voice: "Julia, come on! Let's go +out on the <i>porch</i>!"</p> + +<p>Nobody even knew that he was there. Nevertheless,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +the tall and solid Clairdyce was conscious of him, +but only, it proved, as one is conscious of something +to rest upon. His elbow, a little elevated, was at +the height of Noble's shoulder, and this heavy elbow, +without its owner's direct or active cognizance, found +for itself a comfortable support. Then, as the +story reached its conclusion, this old Clairdyce +joined the general mirth so heartily as to find himself +quite overcome, and he allowed most of his weight +to depend upon the supported elbow. Noble sank +like feathers.</p> + +<p>"Here! What you doin'?" he said hotly. "I'll +thank you to keep off o' me!"</p> + +<p>Old Baldy recovered his balance without being +aware what had threatened it, while his elbow, apparently +of its own volition, groped for its former +pedestal. Noble evaded it, and pushed forward.</p> + +<p>"Julia," he said. "I <i>got</i> to say some——"</p> + +<p>But the accursed music began again, and horn-rimmed +Newland Sanders already had his arm about +her waist. They disappeared into the ruck of +dancers.</p> + +<p>"Well, by George!" said Noble. "By George, +I'm goin' to <i>do</i> something!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWELVE" id="CHAPTER_TWELVE"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE</h3> + + +<p>He went outdoors and smoked Orduma +cigarettes, one after the other. Dances +and intermissions succeeded each other +but Noble had "enough of <i>that</i>, for one while!" So he +muttered.</p> + +<p>And remembering how Julia had told him that he +was killing himself with cigarettes, "All right," he +said now, as he bitterly lighted his fifth at the spark +of the fourth;—"I hope I will!"</p> + +<p>"Lot o' difference it'd make!" he said, as he lighted +the eighth of a series that must, all told, have contained +nearly as much tobacco as a cigar. And, +leaning back against the trunk of one of the big old +walnut trees in the yard, he gazed toward the house, +where the open window nearest him splashed with +colour like a bright and crowded aquarium. "To +<i>her</i>, anyway!" he added, with a slight remorse, +remembering that his mother had frequently shown +him evidences of affection.</p> + +<p>Yes, his mother would care, and his father and +sisters would be upset, but Julia—when the friends<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +of the family were asked to walk by for a last look, +would she be one? What optimism remained to him +presented a sketch of Julia, in black, borne from the +room in the arms of girl friends who tried in vain to +hush her; but he was unable to give this more hopeful +fragment an air of great reality. Much more +probably, when word came to her that he had smoked +himself to death, she would be a bride, dancing at +Niagara Falls with her bald old husband—and she +would only laugh and pause to toss a faded rose out +of the window, and then go right on dancing. But +perhaps, some day, when tears had taught her the +real meaning of life with such a man——</p> + +<p>"You—<i>wow</i>!"</p> + +<p>Noble jumped. From the darkness of the yard +beside the house there came a grievous howl, distressful +to the spinal marrow, a sound of animal pain. +It was repeated even more passionately, and another +voice was also heard, one both hoarsely bass and +falsetto in the articulation of a single syllable. +"<i>Ouch!</i>" There were sounds of violent scuffing, +and the bass-falsetto voice cried: "What's that you +<i>stuck</i> me with?" and another: "Drag her! Drag her +back by her feet!"</p> + +<p>These alarms came from the almost impenetrable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +shadows of the small orchard beside the house; and +from the same quarter was heard the repeated contact +of a heavy body, seemingly wooden or metallic, +with the ground; but high over this there rose a +shrieking: "Help! Help! Oh, <i>hay</i>-yulp!" This +voice was girlish. "Hay-<i>yulp</i>!"</p> + +<p>Noble dashed into the orchard, and at once fell +prostrate upon what seemed a log, but proved to be +a large and solidly packed ice-cream freezer lying +on its side.</p> + +<p>Dark forms scrambled over the fence and vanished, +but as Noble got to his feet he was joined by +a dim and smallish figure in white—though more +light would have disclosed a pink sash girdling its +middle. It was the figure of Miss Florence Atwater, +seething with furious agitations.</p> + +<p>"Vile thieves!" she panted.</p> + +<p>"Who?" Noble asked, brushing at his knees, +while Florence made some really necessary adjustments +of her own attire. "Who were they?"</p> + +<p>"It was my own cousin, Herbert, and that nasty +little Henry Rooter and their gang. Herbert thinks +he hass to act perfectly horrable all the time, now +his voice is changing!" said Florence, her emotion +not abated. "Tried to steal this whole ice-cream<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +freezer off the back porch and sneak it over the fence +and eat it! I stuck a pretty long pin in Herbert and +two more of 'em, every bit as far as it would go." +And in the extremity of her indignation, she added: +"The dirty robbers!"</p> + +<p>"Did they hurt you?"</p> + +<p>"You bet your life they didn't!" the child responded. +"Tried to drag me back to the house! +By the feet! I guess I gave 'em enough o' <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>Then, tugging the prostrate freezer into an upright +position, she exclaimed darkly: "I expect +I gave ole Mister Herbert and some of the others of +'em just a few kicks they won't be in such a hurry to +forget!" And in spite of his own gloomy condition, +Noble was able, upon thinking over matters, to +spare some commiseration for Herbert and his +friend, that nasty little Henry Rooter and their gang. +They seemed to have been at a disadvantage.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I'd better carry the freezer back to +the kitchen porch," he said. "Somebody may +want it."</p> + +<p>"'Somebody'!" Florence exclaimed. "Why, +there's only two of these big freezers, and if I hadn't +happened to suspeck somep'n and be layin' for those +vile thieves, half the party wouldn't get <i>any</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +And as an afterthought, when Noble had pantingly +restored the heavy freezer to its place by the kitchen +door, she said: "Or else they'd had to have such +little saucers of it nobody would of been any way +<i>like</i> satisfied, and prob'ly all the fam'ly that's here +assisting would of had to go without any at all. +That'd 'a' been the worst of it!"</p> + +<p>She opened the kitchen door, and to those within +explained loudly what dangers had been averted, +directing that both freezers be placed indoors under +guard; then she rejoined Noble, who was walking +slowly back to the front yard.</p> + +<p>"I guess it's pretty lucky you happened to be +hangin' around out here," she said. "I guess that's +about the luckiest thing ever happened to me. The +way it looks to me, I guess you saved my life. If +you hadn't chased 'em away, I wouldn't been a bit +surprised if that gang would killed me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Noble. "They wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>"You don't know 'em like I do," the romantic +child assured him. "I know that gang pretty well, +and I wouldn't been a bit surprised. I wouldn't +been!"</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>She tossed her head, signifying recklessness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Guess 'twouldn't make much difference to anybody +particular, whether they did or not," said this strange +Florence.</p> + +<p>Noble regarded her with astonishment; they had +reached the front yard, and paused under the trees +where the darkness was mitigated by the light from +the shining windows. "Why, you oughtn't to +talk that way, Florence," he said. "Think of your +mamma and papa and your—and your Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>She tossed her head again. "Pooh! They'd +all of 'em just say: 'Good ribbons to bad rubbish,' +I guess!" However, she seemed far from despondent +about this; in fact, she was naturally pleased with +her position as a young girl saved from the power +of ruffians by a rescuer who was her Very Ideal. +"I bet if I died, they wouldn't even have a funeral," +she said cheerfully. "They'd proba'ly just leave +me lay."</p> + +<p>The curiosities of the human mind are found +not in high adventure: they are everywhere in the +commonplace. Never for a moment did it strike +Noble Dill that Florence's turn to the morbid bore +any resemblance to his recent visions of his own +funeral. He failed to perceive that the two phenomena +were produced out of the same laboratory<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +jar and were probably largely chemical, at +that.</p> + +<p>"Why, Florence!" he exclaimed. "That's a +dreadful way to feel. I'm sure your—your Aunt +Julia loves you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," Florence returned lightly;—"maybe +she does. I don't care whether she does or not." +And now she made a deduction, the profundity of +which his condition made him unable to perceive. +"It makes less difference to anybody whether their +aunts love 'em or not than whether pretty near anybody +else at all does."</p> + +<p>"But not your Aunt <i>Julia</i>" he urged. "Your +Aunt <i>Julia</i>——"</p> + +<p>"I don't care whether she does than any other +aunt I got," said Florence. "All of 'em's just +aunts, and that's all there is to it."</p> + +<p>"But, Florence, your Aunt <i>Julia</i>——"</p> + +<p>"She's nothin' in the world but my <i>aunt</i>," Florence +insisted, and her emphasis showed that she was trying +hard to make him understand. "She's just the +same as all of 'em. I don't get anything more from +her than I do from any the rest of 'em."</p> + +<p>Her auditor was dumfounded, but not by Florence's +morals. The cold-blooded calculation upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +which her family affections seemed to be founded, this +aboriginal straightforwardness of hers, passed over +him. What shocked him was her appearing to see +Julia as all of a piece with a general lot of ordinary +aunts. Helplessly, he muttered again:</p> + +<p>"But your Aunt <i>Julia</i>——"</p> + +<p>"There she is now," said Florence, pointing to +the window nearest them. "They've stopped dancing +for a while so's that ole Mister Clairdyce can +get a chance to sing somep'n. Mamma told me he +was goin' to."</p> + +<p>Dashing chords sounded from a piano invisible +to Noble and his companion; the windows exhibited +groups of deferentially expectant young people; +and then a powerful barytone began a love song. +From the yard the singer could not be seen, but +Julia could be: she stood in the demurest attitude; +and no one needed to behold the vocalist to know +that the scoundrel was looking pointedly and romantically +at her.</p> + +<p> +"<i>Dee-urra-face that holds soswee tasmile for me,<br /> +Wairyew nah tmine how darrrk the worrrl dwooed be!</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>To Noble, suffering at every pore, this was less +a song than a bellowing; and in truth the confident<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +Mr. Clairdyce did "let his voice out," for he was +seldom more exhilarated than when he shook +the ceiling. The volume of sound he released upon +his climaxes was impressive, and the way he +slid up to them had a great effect, not indoors +alone, but upon Florence, enraptured out under +the trees.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't it be-<i>you</i>-tiful!" she murmured.</p> + +<p>Her humid eyes were fixed upon Noble, who was +unconscious of the honour. Florence was susceptible +to anything purporting to be music, and +this song moved her. Throughout its delivery from +Mr. Clairdyce's unseen chest, her large eyes dwelt +upon Noble, and it is not at all impossible that +she was applying the tender words to him, just as +the vehement Clairdyce was patently addressing +them to Julia. On he sang, while Noble, staring +glassily at the demure lady, made a picture of himself +leaping unexpectedly through the window, striding +to the noisy barytone, striking him down, and +after stamping on him several times, explaining: +"There! That's for your insolence to our hostess!" +But he did not actually permit himself these solaces; +he only clenched and unclenched his fingers several +times, and continued to listen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p class="blockquot"> +"<i>Geev a-mee yewr ra-smile,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The luv va-ligh TIN yew rise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life cooed not hold a fairrerr paradise.</span><br /> +Geev a-mee the righ to luv va-yew all the wile,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My worrlda for AIV-vorr,</span><br /> +The sunshigh NUV vyewr-ra-smile!</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>The conclusion was thunderous, and as a great +noise under such circumstances is an automatic +stimulant of enthusiasm, the applause was thunderous +too. Several girls were unable to subdue +their outcries of "Charming!" and "<i>Won</i>-derf'l!"—not +even after Mr. Clairdyce had begun to sing the +same song as an encore.</p> + +<p>When this was concluded, a sigh, long and deep, +was heard under the trees. It came from Florence. +Her eyes, wanly gleaming, like young oysters in +the faint light, were still fixed on Noble; and there +can be little doubt that just now there was at least +one person in the world, besides his mother, who saw +him in a glamour as something rare, obs, exquisite, +and elegant. "I think that was the most be-<i>you</i>-tiful +thing I ever heard!" she said; and then, noting a +stir within the house, she became practical. "They're +starting refreshments," she said. "We better hurry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +in, Mr. Dill, so's to get good places. Thanks to me, +there's plenty to go round."</p> + +<p>She moved toward the house, but, observing that +he did not accompany her, paused and looked back. +"Aren't you goin' to come in, Mr. Dill?"</p> + +<p>"I guess not. Don't tell any one I'm out here."</p> + +<p>"I won't. But aren't you goin' to come in +for——"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "No, I'm going to wait out +here a while longer."</p> + +<p>"But," she said, "it's <i>refreshments</i>!"</p> + +<p>"I don't want any. I—I'm going to smoke some +more, instead."</p> + +<p>She looked at him wistfully, then even more wistfully +toward the house. Evidently she was of a +divided mind: her feeling for Noble fought with her +feeling for "refreshments." Such a struggle could +not endure for long: a whiff of coffee conjured her +nose, and a sound of clinking china witched her ear. +"Well," she said, "I guess I ought to have some +nourishment," and betook herself hurriedly into the +house.</p> + +<p>Noble lit another Orduma. He would follow the +line of conduct he had marked out for himself: he +would not take his place by Julia for the supper interval—perhaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +that breach of etiquette would +"show" her. He could see her no longer—she had +moved out of range—but he imagined her, asking +everywhere: "Hasn't <i>any</i> one seen Mr. Dill?" +And he thought of her as biting her lip nervously, +perhaps, and replying absently to sallies and quips—perhaps +even having to run upstairs to her own room +to dash something sparkling from her eyes, and, +maybe, to look angrily in her glass for an instant and +exclaim, "Fool!" For Julia was proud, and not +used to be treated in this way.</p> + +<p>He felt the least bit soothed, and, lightly flicking +the ash from his Orduma with his little finger, an +act indicating some measure of restored composure, +he strolled to the other side of the house and +brought other fields of vision into view through +other windows. Abruptly his stroll came to an +end.</p> + +<p>There sat Julia, flushed and joyous, finishing her +supper in company with old Baldy Clairdyce, Newland +Sanders, George Plum, seven or eight other +young gentlemen, and some inconsidered adhering +girls—the horrible barytone sitting closest of all to +Julia. Moreover, upon that very moment the orchestra, +in the hall beyond, thought fit to pay the recent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +vocalist a sickening compliment, and began to +play "The Sunshine of Your Smile."</p> + +<p>Thereupon, with Julia herself first taking up the air +in a dulcet soprano, all of the party, including the +people in the other rooms, sang the dreadful song +in chorus, the beaming Clairdyce exerting such demoniac +power as to be heard tremendously over all +other voices. He had risen for this effort, and to +Noble, below the window, everything in his mouth +was visible.</p> + +<p>The lone listener had a bitter thought, though it +was a longing, rather than a thought. For the first +time in his life he wished that he had adopted the +profession of dentistry.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"> +"<i>Geev a-mee the righ to luv va-yew ALL the wile,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My worrrlda for AIV-vorr,</span><br /> +The sunshigh NUV vyewr-ra-smile!</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>The musicians swung into dance music; old Baldy +closed the exhibition with an operatic gesture (for +which alone, if for nothing else, at least one watcher +thought the showy gentleman deserved hanging), +and this odious gesture concluded with a seizure of +Julia's hand. She sprang up eagerly; he whirled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +her away, and the whole place fluctuated in the dance +once more.</p> + +<p>"Well, now," said Noble, between his teeth—"now, +I <i>am</i> goin' to do something!"</p> + +<p>He turned his back upon that painful house, +walked out to the front gate, opened it, passed +through, and looked southward. Not quite two +blocks away there shone the lights of a corner drug +store, still open to custom though the hour was +nearing midnight. He walked straight to the door +of this place, which stood ajar, but paused before +entering, and looked long and nervously at the +middle-aged proprietor who was unconscious of his +regard, and lounged in a chair, drowsily stroking +a cat upon his lap. Noble walked in.</p> + +<p>"Good evening," said the proprietor, rising and +brushing himself languidly. "Cat hairs," he said +apologetically. "Sheddin', I reckon." Then, as +he went behind the counter, he inquired: "How's +the party goin' off?"</p> + +<p>"It's—it's——" Noble hesitated. "I stepped in +to—to——"</p> + +<p>The druggist opened a glass case. "Aw right," +he said, blinking, and tossed upon the counter a +package of Orduma cigarettes. "Old Atwater'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +have convulsions, I reckon," he remarked, "if he +had to lay awake and listen to all that noise. Price +ain't changed," he added, referring humorously to +the purchase he mistakenly supposed Noble wished +to make. "F'teen cents, same as yesterday and +the day before."</p> + +<p>Noble placed the sum upon the counter. "I—I +was thinking——" He gulped.</p> + +<p>"Huh?" said the druggist placidly, for he was +too sleepy to perceive the strangeness of his customer's +manner.</p> + +<p>Noble lighted an Orduma with an unsteady hand, +leaned upon the counter, and inquired in a voice that +he strove to make casual: "Is—is the soda fountain +still running this late?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know," said Noble. "I suppose you +have more calls for soda water than you do for—for—for +real liquor?"</p> + +<p>The druggist laughed. "Funny thing: I reckon +we don't have more'n half the calls for real liquor +than what we used to before we went dry."</p> + +<p>Noble breathed deeply. "I s'pose you probably +sell quite a good deal of it though, at that. By +the glass, I mean—such as a glass of something kind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +of strong—like—like whiskey. That is, I sort of +supposed so. I mean I thought I'd ask you about +this."</p> + +<p>"No," said the druggist, yawning. "It never +did pay well—not on this corner, anyhow. Once +there used to be a little money in it, but not much." +He roused himself somewhat. "Well, it's about +twelve. Anything you wanted 'cept them Ordumas +before I close up?"</p> + +<p>Noble gulped again. He had grown pale. "<i>I</i> +want——" he said abruptly, then his heart seemed to +fail him. "I want a glass of——" Once more he +stopped and swallowed. His shoulders drooped, and +he walked across to the soda fountain. "Well," +he said, "I'll take a chocolate sundae."</p> + +<p>The thought of going back to Julia's party was +unendurable, yet a return was necessary on account +of his new hat, the abandonment of which he did not +for a moment consider. But about half way, as he +walked slowly along, he noticed an old horse-block +at the curbstone, and sat down there. He could +hear the music at Julia's, sometimes loud and close at +hand, sometimes seeming to be almost a mile away. +"All right!" he said, so bitter had he grown. +"Dance! Go on and <i>dance</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>... When finally he reëntered Julia's gate, +he shuffled up the walk, his head drooping, and +ascended the steps and crossed the veranda and the +threshold of the front door in the same manner.</p> + +<p>Julia stood before him.</p> + +<p>"Noble <i>Dill</i>!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>As for Noble, his dry throat refused its office; he +felt that he might never be able to speak to Julia +again, even if he tried.</p> + +<p>"Where in the world have you been all evening?" +she cried.</p> + +<p>"Why, Jew-Julia!" he quavered. "Did you notice +that I was gone?"</p> + +<p>"Did I 'notice'!" she said. "You never came +near me all evening after the first dance! Not even +at supper!"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't—you didn't——" he faltered. +"You wouldn't do anything all evening except dance +with that old Clairdyce and listen to him trying +to sing."</p> + +<p>But Julia would let no one suffer if she could help +it; and she could always help Noble. She made her +eyes mysterious and used a voice of honey and roses. +"You don't think I'd <i>rather</i> have danced with him, +do you, Noble?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>Immediately sparks seemed to crackle about his +head. He started.</p> + +<p>"What?" he said.</p> + +<p>The scent of heliotrope enveloped him; she laughed +her silver harp-strings laugh, and lifted her arms +toward the dazzled young man. "It's the last dance," +she said. "Don't you want to dance it with me?"</p> + +<p>Then to the spectators it seemed that Noble +Dill went hopping upon a waxed floor and upon +Julia's little slippers; he was bumped and bumping +everywhere; but in reality he floated in Elysian +ether, immeasurably distant from earth, his hand +just touching the bodice of an angelic doll.</p> + +<p>Then, on his way home, a little later, with his new +hat on the back of his head, his stick swinging +from his hand, and a semi-fragrant Orduma between +his lips, his condition was precisely as sweet as the +condition in which he had walked to the party.</p> + +<p>No echoes of "The Sunshine of Your Smile" +cursed his memory—that lover's little memory fresh +washed in heliotrope—and when his mother came +to his door, after he got home, and asked him if he'd +had "a nice time at the party," he said:</p> + +<p>"Just glorious!" and believed it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN" id="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h3> + + +<p>It was a pretty morning, two weeks after Julia's +Dance; and blue and lavender shadows, frayed +with mid-summer sunshine, waggled gayly across +the grass beneath the trees of the tiny orchard, but +trembled with timidity as they hurried over the +abnormal surfaces of Mrs. Silver as she sat upon the +steps of the "back porch." Her right hand held in +security one end of a leather leash; the other end of +the leash was fastened to a new collar about the neck +of an odd and fascinating dog. Seated upon the +brick walk at her feet, he was regarding her with a +gravity that seemed to discomfort her. She was +unable to meet his gaze, and constantly averted her +own whenever it furtively descended to his. In fact, +her expression and manner were singular, denoting +embarrassment, personal hatred, and a subtle bedazzlement. +She could not look at him, yet could +not keep herself from looking at him. There was +something here that arose out of the depths of +natural character; it was intrinsic in the two personalities,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +that is to say; and was in addition to the +bitterness consequent upon a public experience, just +past, which had been brought upon Mrs. Silver +partly by the dog's appearance (in particular the style +and colour of his hair) and partly by his unprecedented +actions in her company upon the highway.</p> + +<p>She addressed him angrily, yet with a profound +uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"Dog!" she said. "You ain't feelin' as skittish as +whut you did, li'l while ago, is you? My glory! I +dess would like to lay my han' to you' hide once, +Mister! I take an' lam you this livin' minute if I +right sho' you wouldn't take an' bite me."</p> + +<p>She jerked the leash vindictively, upon which the +dog at once "sat up" on his haunches, put his forepaws +together above his nose, in an attitude of prayer, +and looked at her inscrutably from under the great +bang of hair that fell like a black chrysanthemum +over his forehead. Beneath this woolly lambrequin +his eyes were visible as two garnet sparks of which +the coloured woman was only too nervously aware. +She gasped.</p> + +<p>"Look-a-here, dog, who's went an' ast you to take +an' pray fer 'em?"</p> + +<p>He remained motionless and devout.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My goo'niss!" she said to him. "If you goin' +keep on thisaway whut you <i>is</i> been, I'm goin' to up +an' go way from here, ri' now!" Then she said a +remarkable thing. "Listen here, Mister! I ain' +never los' no gran' child, an' I ain' goin' 'dop' no +stranger fer one, neither!"</p> + +<p>The explanation rests upon the looks and manners +of him whom she addressed. This dog was of a kind +at the top of dog kingdoms. His size was neither +insignificant nor great; probably his weight would +have been between a fourth and a third of a St. +Bernard's. He had the finest head for adroit thinking +that is known among dogs; and he had an athletic +body, the forepart muffled and lost in a mass of +corded black fleece, but the rest of him sharply +clipped from the chest aft; and his trim, slim legs +were clipped, though tufts were left at his ankles, +and at the tip of his short tail, with two upon his hips, +like fanciful buttons of an imaginary jacket; for thus +have such dogs been clipped to a fashion proper and +comfortable for them ever since (and no doubt long +before) an Imperial Roman sculptor so chiselled one +in bas-relief. In brief, this dog, who caused Kitty +Silver so much disquietude, as she sat upon the +back steps at Mr. Atwater's, belonged to that species<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +of which no Frenchman ever sees a specimen without +smiling and murmuring: "<i>Caniche!</i>" He was +that golden-hearted little clown of all the world, a +French Poodle.</p> + +<p>To arrive at what underlay Mrs. Silver's declaration +that she had never lost a grandchild and had no +intention of adopting a stranger in the place of one, +it should be first understood that in many respects +she was a civilized person. The quality of savagery, +barbarism, or civilization in a tribe may be tested +by the relations it characteristically maintains with +domestic animals; and tribes that eat dogs are often +inferior to those inclined to ceremonial cannibalism. +Likewise, the civilization, barbarism, or savagery of +an individual may be estimated by the same test, +which sometimes gives us evidence of sporadic reversions +to mud. Such reversions are the stomach +priests: whatever does not minister to their own +bodily inwards is a "parasite." Dogs are "parasites"; +they should not live, because to fat and eat +them somehow appears uncongenial. "Kill Dogs and +Feed Pigs," they write to the papers, and, with a +Velasquez available, would burn it rather than go +chilly. "Kill dogs, feed pigs, and let <i>me</i> eat the pigs!" +they cry, even under no great stress, these stern<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +economists who have not noticed how wasteful the +Creator is proved to be if He made themselves. +They take the strictly intestinal view of life. It is +not intelligent; parasite bacilli will get them in the +end.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver was not of these. True, she sometimes +professed herself averse to all "animals," but this +meant nothing more than her unwillingness to have +her work increased by their introduction into the +Atwater household. No; the appearance of the dog +had stirred something queer and fundamental +within her. All coloured people look startled the +first time they see a French Poodle, but there is a +difference. Most coloured men do not really worry +much about being coloured, but many coloured +women do. In the expression of a coloured man, when +he looks at a black and woolly French Poodle, there is +something fonder and more indulgent than there is +in the expression of a coloured woman when she looks +at one. In fact, when some coloured women see a +French Poodle they have the air of being insulted.</p> + +<p>Now, when Kitty Silver had first set eyes on this +poodle, an hour earlier, she looked, and plainly was, +dumfounded. Never in her life had she seen a +creature so black, so incredibly black, or with hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +so kinky, so incredibly kinky. Julia had not observed +Mrs. Silver closely nor paused to wonder what +thoughts were rousing in her mind, but bade her take +the poodle forth for exercise outdoors and keep him +strictly upon the leash. Without protest, though +wearing a unique expression, Kitty obeyed; she +walked round the block with this mystifying dog; +and during the promenade had taken place the episode +that so upset her nerves.</p> + +<p>She had given a little jerk to the leash, speaking +sharply to the poodle in reproach for some lingering +near a wonderful sidewalk smell, imperceptible to +any one except himself. Instantly the creature rose +and walked beside her on his hind legs. He continued +to parade in this manner, rapidly, but nevertheless +as if casually, without any apparent inconvenience; +and Mrs. Silver, never having seen a dog +do such a thing before, for more than a yard or so, +and then only under the pressure of many inducements, +was unfavourably impressed. In fact, she had +definitely a symptom of M. Maeterlinck's awed +feeling when he found himself left alone with the +talking horses: "With <i>whom</i> was she?"</p> + +<p>"Look-a-here, dog!" she said breathlessly. "Who +you tryin' to skeer? <i>You</i> ain't no person!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>And then a blow fell. It came from an elderly +but ever undignified woman of her own race, who +paused, across the street, and stood teetering from +side to side in joyful agitation, as she watched the +approach of Mrs. Silver with her woolly little companion +beside her. When this smaller silhouette in +ink suddenly walked upright, the observer's mouth +fell open, and there was reason to hope that it might +remain so, in silence, especially as several other +pedestrians had stopped to watch the poodle's uncalled-for +exhibition. But all at once the elderly +rowdy saw fit to become uproarious.</p> + +<p>"Hoopsee!" she shouted. "Oooh, <i>Gran'ma</i>!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And so, when the poodle "sat up," unbid, to pray, +while Kitty Silver rested upon the back steps, on her +return from the excursion, she fiercely informed him +that she had never lost a grandchild and that she +would not adopt a stranger in place of one; her implication +being that he, a stranger, had been suggested +for the position and considered himself eligible +for it.</p> + +<p>He continued to pray, not relaxing a hair.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, dog," said Kitty Silver. "Is you +a dog, or isn't you a dog? Whut <i>is</i> you, anyway?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>But immediately she withdrew the question. "I +ain't astin' you!" she exclaimed superstitiously. +"If you isn't no dog, don't you take an' tell me whut +you is: you take an' keep it to you'se'f, 'cause I +don' want to listen to it!"</p> + +<p>For the garnet eyes beneath the great black +chrysanthemum indeed seemed to hint that their +owner was about to use human language in a human +voice. Instead, however, he appeared to be content +with his little exhibition, allowed his forepaws to +return to the ground, and looked at her with his head +wistfully tilted to one side. This reassured her and +even somewhat won her. There stirred within her +that curious sense of relationship evoked from the +first by his suggestive appearance; fondness was being +born, and an admiration that was in a way a form of +Narcissism. She addressed him in a mollified voice:</p> + +<p>"Whut you want now? Don' tell me you' hungry, +'cause you awready done et two dog biskit an' big +saucer milk. Whut you stick you' ole black face +crossways at <i>me</i> fer, honey?"</p> + +<p>But just then the dog rose to look pointedly +toward the corner of the house. "Somebody's coming," +he meant.</p> + +<p>"Who you spectin', li'l dog?" Mrs. Silver inquired.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence and Herbert came round the house, Herbert +trifling with a tennis ball and carrying a racket +under his arm. Florence was peeling an orange.</p> + +<p>"For Heavenses' sakes!" Florence cried. "Kitty +Silver, where on earth'd this dog come from?"</p> + +<p>"B'long you' Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>"When'd she get him?"</p> + +<p>"Dess to-day."</p> + +<p>"Who gave him to her?"</p> + +<p>"She ain't sayin'."</p> + +<p>"You mean she won't tell?"</p> + +<p>"She ain't sayin'," Kitty Silver repeated. "I +ast her. I say, I say: 'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say, +'Miss Julia, ma'am, who ever sen' you sech a unlandish-lookin' +dog?' I say. All she say when I +ast her: 'Nemmine!' she say, dess thataway. 'Nemmine!' +she say. I reckon she ain't goin' tell nobody +who give her this dog."</p> + +<p>"He's certainly a mighty queer-lookin' dog," said +Herbert. "I've seen a few like that, but I can't +remember where. What kind is he, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Julia tell me he a poogle dog."</p> + +<p>"A poodle," Florence corrected her, and then +turned to Herbert in supercilious astonishment. "A +French Poodle! My goodness! I should think you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +were old enough to know that much, anyway—goin' +on fourteen years old!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I did know it," he declared. "I kind +of knew it, anyhow; but I sort of forgot it for once. +Do you know if he bites, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>She was noncommittal. "He ain't bit nobody +yit."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe he'll bite," said Florence. "I +bet he likes me. He looks like he was taking a fancy +to me, Kitty Silver. What's his name?"</p> + +<p>"Gammire."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Gammire."</p> + +<p>"What a funny name! Are you sure, Kitty Silver?"</p> + +<p>"Gammire whut you' Aunt Julia tole <i>me</i>," Mrs. +Silver insisted. "You kin go on in the house an' +ast her; she'll tell you the same."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway, I'm not afraid of him," said +Florence; and she stepped closer to the poodle, extending +her hand to caress him. Then she shouted +as the dog, at her gesture, rose to his hind legs, +and, as far as the leash permitted, walked forward +to meet her. She flung her arms about him rapturously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, the lovely thing!" she cried. "He walks on +his hind legs! Why, he's crazy about me!"</p> + +<p>"Let him go," said Herbert. "I bet he don't +like you any more than he does anybody else. Leave +go of him, and I bet he shows he likes me better than +he does you."</p> + +<p>But when Florence released him, Gammire caressed +them both impartially. He leaped upon one, then +upon the other, and then upon Kitty Silver with a +cordiality that almost unseated her.</p> + +<p>"Let him off the leash," Florence cried. "He +won't run away, 'cause the gates are shut. Let him +loose and see what he'll do."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver snapped the catch of the leash, and +Gammire departed in the likeness of a ragged black +streak. With his large and eccentric ears flapping +back in the wind and his afterpart hunched in, he +ran round and round the little orchard like a dog +gone wild. Altogether a comedian, when he heard +children shrieking with laughter, he circled the more +wildly; then all upon an unexpected instant came to +a dead halt, facing his audience, his nose on the +ground between his two forepaws, his hindquarters +high and unstooping. And, seeing they laughed at +this, too, he gave them enough of it, then came back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +to Kitty Silver and sat by her feet, a spiral of pink +tongue hanging from a wide-open mouth roofed with +black.</p> + +<p>Florence resumed the peeling of her orange.</p> + +<p>"Who do you <i>think</i> gave Gammire to Aunt Julia?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"I ain't stedyin' about it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but who do you <i>guess</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't——"</p> + +<p>"Well, but if you had to be burned to death or +guess somebody, who would you guess?"</p> + +<p>"I haf to git burn' up," said Kitty Silver. "Ev'y +las' caller whut comes here <i>is</i> give her some doggone +animal awready. Mista Sammerses, he give her +them two Berjum cats, an' ole Mister Ridgways +whut los' his wife, he give you' Aunt Julia them two +canaries that tuck an' hopped out the cage an' then +out the window, las' week, one day, when you' grampaw +was alone in the room with 'em; an' Mista +George Plummers, he give her that Airydale dog +you' grampaw tuck an' give to the milkman; an' +Mista Ushers, he give her them two pups whut you' +grampaw tuck an' skeer off the place soon as he laid +eyes on 'em, an' thishere Mista Clairidge, he give her +that ole live allagatuh from Florida whut I foun'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +lookin' at me over the aidge o' my kitchen sink—ugly +ole thing!—an' you' grampaw tuck an' give it to +the greenhouse man. Ain't none nem ge'lmun goin' +try an' give her no <i>mo'</i> animals, I bet! So how anybody +goin' guess who sen' her thishere Gammire? +Nobody lef' whut ain't awready sen' her one an' had +the gift spile."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is," said Florence.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill."</p> + +<p>"That there li'l young Mista Dills?" Kitty Silver +cried. "Listen me! Thishere dog 'spensive dog."</p> + +<p>"I don't care; I bet Noble Dill gave him to her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver hooted. "Go way! That there young +li'l Mista Dills, he ain' nev' did show no class, no way +nor no time. He be hunderd year ole b'fo' you see +him in autamobile whut b'long to him. Look at a +way some nem fine big rich men like Mista Clairidge +an' Mista Ridgways take an' th'ow they money +aroun'! New necktie ev'y time you see 'em; new +straw hat right spang the firs' warm day. Ring do' +bell. I say, I say: 'Walk right in, Mista Ridgways.' +Slip me dollah bill dess like that! Mista Sammerses +an' Mista Plummers, an' some nem others, they +all show class. Look Mista Sammerses' spectickles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +made turtle back; fancy turtle, too. I ast Miss +Julia; she tell me they fancy turtle. Gol' rim +spectickles ain't in it; no ma'am! Mista Sammerses' +spectickles—jes' them rims on his spectickles alone—I +bet they cos' mo'n all whut thishere young li'l Mista +Dills got on him from his toes up an' his skin out. I +bet Mista Plummers th'ow mo' money aroun' dess +fer gittin' his pants press' than whut Mista Dills +afford to spen' to buy his'n in the firs' place! He lose +his struggle, 'cause you' Aunt Julia, she out fer the +big class. Thishere Gammire, he dog cos' money; +he show class same you' Aunt Julia. Ain't neither one +of 'em got to waste they time on nobody whut can't +show no mo' class than thishere li'l young dish-cumbobbery +Mista Dills!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care," Florence said stubbornly. "He +could of saved up and saved up, and if he saved up +long enough he could of got enough money to buy a +dog like Gammire, because you can get money +enough for anything if you're willing to save up long +enough. Anyway, I bet he's the one gave him to +her."</p> + +<p>Herbert joined Kitty Silver in laughter. "Florence +is always talkin' about Noble Dill," he said. "She's +sort of crazy, anyway, though."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;"> +<img src="images/illus-200.jpg" +alt=""Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He +bawled, 'She made it up! It's somep'n she made up herself! She——'"" +title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He +bawled, 'She made it up! It's somep'n she made up herself! She——'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"It runs in the family," Florence retorted, automatically. +"I caught it from my cousins. Anyhow, +I don't think there's a single one of any that +wants to marry Aunt Julia that's got the slightest +co'parison to Noble Dill. I admire him because he's +so uncouth."</p> + +<p>"He so who?" Kitty Silver inquired.</p> + +<p>"Uncouth."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said Mrs. Silver.</p> + +<p>"It's in the ditchanary," Florence explained. +"It means rare, elegant, exquisite, obs, unknown, and +a whole lot else."</p> + +<p>"It does not," Herbert interposed. "It means +kind of countrified."</p> + +<p>"You go look in the ditchanary," his cousin said +severely. "Then, maybe, you'll know what you're +talkin' about just for once. Anyhow, I <i>do</i> like +Noble Dill, and I bet so does Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>Kitty Silver shook her head. "He lose his struggle, +honey! Miss Julia, she out fer the big class. She +ain't stedyin' about him 'cept maybe dess to let him +run her erran's. She treat 'em all mighty nice, 'cause +the mo' come shovin' an' pushin' each other aroun', +class or no class, why, the mo' harder that big class +got to work to git her—an' the mo' she got after her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +the mo' keeps a-comin'. But thishere young li'l Mista +Dills, I kine o' got strong notion he liable not come +no mo' 'tall!" Her tone had become one of reminiscent +amusement, which culminated in a burst of +laughter. "Whee!" she concluded. "After las' +night, I reckon thishere Mista Dills better keep +away from the place—yes'm!"</p> + +<p>Florence looked thoughtful, and for the time said +nothing. It was Herbert who asked: "Why'd Noble +Dill better stay away from here?"</p> + +<p>"You' grampaw," Mrs. Silver said, shaking her +head. "You' grampaw!"</p> + +<p>"What about grandpa?" said Herbert. "What'd +he do last night?"</p> + +<p>"'Do'? Oh, me!" Then Mrs. Silver uttered +sounds like the lowing of kine, whereby she meant to +indicate her inability to describe Mr. Atwater's +performance. "Well, ma'am," she said, in the low +and husky voice of simulated exhaustion, "all I got to +say: you' grampaw beat hisse'f! He beat hisse'f!"</p> + +<p>"How d'you mean? How could he——"</p> + +<p>"He beat hisse'f! He dess out-talk hisse'f! No, +ma'am; I done hear him many an' many an' many's +the time, but las' night he beat hisse'f."</p> + +<p>"What about?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nothin' in the wide worl' but dess thishere young +li'l Noble Dills whut we talkin' about this livin' +minute."</p> + +<p>"What started him?"</p> + +<p>"Whut <i>start</i> him?" Mrs. Silver echoed with +sudden loudness. "My goo'niss! He <i>b'en</i> started ev' +since the very firs' time he ev' lay eyes on him prancin' +up the front walk to call on Miss Julia. You' +grampaw don' like none nem callers, but he everlas'n'ly +did up an' take a true spite on thishere li'l +Dills!"</p> + +<p>"I mean," said Herbert, "what started him last +night?"</p> + +<p>"Them cigareets," said Kitty Silver. "Them +cigareets whut thishere Noble Dills smoke whiles he +settin' out on the front po'che callin' on you' Aunt +Julia. You' grampaw mighty funny man about +smellin'! You know's well's I do he don't even +like the smell o' violet. Well, ma'am, if he can't +stan' <i>violet</i>, how in the name o' misery he goin' stan' +the smell nem cigareets thishere Dills smoke? I +can't hardly stan' 'em myse'f. When he light one +on the front po'che, she sif' all through the house, an' +come slidin' right the whole way out to my kitchen, +an' <i>bim</i>! she take me in the nose! You' grampaw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +awready tole Miss Julia time an' time again if that +li'l Dills light dess one mo' on his front po'che he +goin' to walk out there an' do some harm! Co'se she +nev' tuck an' pay no 'tention, 'cause Miss Julia, she +nev' pay no 'tention to nobody; an' she like caller +have nice time—she ain' goin' tell 'em you' grampaw +make such a fuss. 'Yes, 'deed, kine frien',' +she say, she say, when they ast her: 'Miss Julia, +ma'am,' they say, 'I like please strike a match fer to +light my cigareet if you please, ma'am.' She say: +'Light as many as you please, kine frien',' she say, +she say. She say: 'Smell o' cigareet dess deligh'ful +li'l smell,' she say. 'Go 'head an' smoke all you kin +stan',' she say, ''cause I want you injoy you'se'f +when you pay call on me,' she say. Well, so thishere +young li'l Dills settin' there puffin' an' blowin' his +ches' out and in, an' feelin' all nice 'cause it about +the firs' time this livin' summer he catch you' Aunt +Julia alone to hisse'f fer while—an' all time the +house dess fillin' up, an' draf' blowin' straight at you' +grampaw whur he settin' in his liberry. Ma'am, +he sen' me out an' tell her come in, he got message +mighty important fer to speak to her. So she tell +thishere Dills wait a minute, an' walk in the liberry. +Oh, ladies!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What'd he say?" Herbert asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"He di'n' say nothin'," Mrs. Silver replied eloquently. +"He hollered."</p> + +<p>"What did he holler?"</p> + +<p>"He want know di'n' he never tell her thishere +Dills can't smoke no mo' cigareets on his property, +an' di'n' he tell her he was'n' goin' allow him on the +place if he did? He say she got to go back on the +po'che an' run thishere li'l Dills off home. He say he +give her fair choice; she kin run him off, or else he +go on out and chase him away hisse'f. He claim li'l +Dills ain' got no biznuss roun' callin' nowhere 't all, +'cause he on'y make about eighteen dollars a week +an' ain't wuth it. He say——"</p> + +<p>She was confirmed in this report by an indignant +interruption from Florence. "That's just what he +did say, the old thing! I heard him, myself, and +if you care to ask <i>me</i>, I'll be glad to inform you +that I think grandpa's conduck was simply insulting!"</p> + +<p>"'Deed it were!" said Mrs. Silver. "An' dess +whut he claim hisse'f he mean it fer! But you tell +me, please, how you hear whut you' grampaw say? +He mighty noisy, but you nev' could a-hear him +plumb to whur you live."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wasn't home," said Florence. "I was over +here."</p> + +<p>"Then you mus' 'a' made you'se'f mighty skimpish, +'cause <i>I</i> ain't seen you!"</p> + +<p>"Nobody saw me. I wasn't in the house," said +Florence, "I was out in front."</p> + +<p>"Whurbouts 'out in front'?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was sitting on the ground, up against the +latticework of the front porch."</p> + +<p>"Whut fur?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it was dark," said Florence. "I just kind of +wanted to see what might be going on."</p> + +<p>"An' you hear all whut you' grampaw take on +about an' ev'ything?"</p> + +<p>"I should say so! You could of heard him <i>lots</i> +farther than where I was."</p> + +<p>"Lan' o' misery!" Kitty Silver cried. "If you +done hear him whur you was, thishere li'l Dills mus' +a-hear him <i>mighty</i> plain?"</p> + +<p>"He did. How could he help it? He heard +every word, and pretty soon he came down off the +porch and stood a minute; then he went on out the +gate, and I don't know whether he went home or not, +because it was too dark to see. But he didn't come +back."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yo' right he didn'!" exclaimed Mrs. Silver. "I +reckon he got fo'thought 'nough fer that, anyhow! +I bet he ain't nev' <i>goin'</i> come back neither. You' +grampaw say he goin' be fix fer him, if he do."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was while he was standing there," said +Florence ruefully. "He heard all that, too."</p> + +<p>"Miss Julia, she s'picion' he done hear somep'm +'nother, I guess," Kitty Silver went on. "She shet +the liberry do' right almos' on you' grampaw's nose, +whiles he still a-rampin', an' she slip out on the +po'che, an' take look 'roun'; then go on up to her +own room. I 'uz up there, while after that, turn' +down her bed; an' she injoyin' herse'f readin' book. +She feel kine o' put out, I reckon, but she ain't +stedyin' about no young li'l Dills. She want 'em all +to have nice time an' like her, but she goin' lose this +one, an' she got plenty to spare. She show too much +class fer to fret about no Dills."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," said Florence. "I think she ought +to whether she does or not, because I bet he was +feeling just awful. And I think grandpa behaved +like an ole hoodlum."</p> + +<p>"That'll do," Herbert admonished her sternly. +"You show some respect for your relations, if you +please."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>But his loyalty to the Atwater family had a bad +effect on Florence. "Oh, <i>will</i> I?" she returned +promptly. "Well, then, if you care to inquire <i>my</i> +opinion, I just politely think grandpa ought to be +hanged."</p> + +<p>"See here——"</p> + +<p>But Florence and Kitty Silver interrupted him +simultaneously.</p> + +<p>"Look at <i>that</i>!" Florence cried.</p> + +<p>"My name!" exclaimed Kitty Silver.</p> + +<p>It was the strange taste of Gammire that so excited +them. Florence had peeled her orange and +divided it rather fairly into three parts, but the +vehemence she exerted in speaking of her grandfather +had caused her to drop one of these upon the +ground. Gammire promptly ate it, "sat up" and +adjusted his paws in prayer for more.</p> + +<p>"Now you listen me!" said Kitty Silver. "I ain't +see no dog eat orange in all my days, an' I ain't see +nobody else whut see dog eat orange! No, ma'am, +an' I ain't nev' hear o' nobody else whut ev' see nobody +whut see dog eat orange!"</p> + +<p>Herbert decided to be less impressed. "Oh, I've +heard of dogs that'd eat apples," he said. "Yes, +and watermelon and nuts and things." As he spoke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +he played with the tennis ball upon his racket, and +concluded by striking the ball high into the air. +Its course was not true; and it descended far over +toward the orchard, where Herbert ran to catch it—but +he was not quick enough. At the moment the +ball left the racket Gammire abandoned his prayers: +his eyes, like a careful fielder's, calculating and +estimating, followed the swerve of the ball in the +breeze, and when it fell he was on the correct spot. +He caught it.</p> + +<p>Herbert shouted. "He caught it on the <i>fly</i>! It +must have been an accident. Here——" And he +struck the ball into the air again. It went high—twice +as high as the house—and again Gammire +"judged" it; continuously shifting his position, his +careful eyes never leaving the little white globe, until +just before the last instant of its descent he was motionless +beneath it. He caught it again, and Herbert +whooped.</p> + +<p>Gammire brought the ball to him and invited +him to proceed with the game. That there might +be no mistaking his desire, Gammire "sat up" +and prayed; nor did he find Herbert anything +loth. Out of nine chances Gammire "muffed" the +ball only twice, both times excusably, and Florence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +once more flung her arms about the willing performer.</p> + +<p>"<i>Who</i> do you s'pose trained this wonderful, darling +doggie?" she cried.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver shook her marvelling head. "He +mus' 'a' <i>come</i> thataway," she said. "I bet nobody +'t all ain' train him; he do whut he want to hisse'f. +That Gammire don' ast nobody to train +him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, goodness!" Florence said, with sudden +despondency. "It's awful!"</p> + +<p>"Whut is?"</p> + +<p>"To think of as lovely a dog as this having to face +grandpa!"</p> + +<p>"'Face' him!" Kitty Silver echoed forebodingly. +"I reckon you' grampaw do mo'n dess 'face' him."</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean," Florence explained. "I +expect he's just brute enough to drive him off."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said Mrs. Silver. "He git madder ev'y +time somebody sen' her new pet. You' grampaw +mighty nervous man, an' everlas'n'ly do hate +animals."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't seen Gammire, has he?"</p> + +<p>"Don't look like it, do it?" said Kitty Silver. +"Dog here yit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, then I——" Florence paused, glancing +at Herbert, for she had just been visited by a pleasant +idea and had no wish to share it with him. "Is +Aunt Julia in the house?"</p> + +<p>"She were, li'l while ago."</p> + +<p>"I want to see her about somep'n I ought to see +her about," said Florence. "I'll be out in a minute."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h3> + + +<p>She ran into the house, and found Julia seated +at a slim-legged desk, writing a note.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia, it's about Gammire."</p> + +<p>"Gamin."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"His name is Gamin."</p> + +<p>"Kitty Silver says his name's Gammire."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Julia. "She would. His name is +Gamin, though. He's a little Parisian rascal, and +his name is Gamin."</p> + +<p>"Well, Aunt Julia, I'd rather call him Gammire. +How much did he cost?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; he was brought to me only this +morning, and I haven't asked yet."</p> + +<p>"But I thought somebody gave him to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes; somebody did."</p> + +<p>"Well, I mean," said Florence, "how much did +the person that gave him to you pay for him?"</p> + +<p>Julia sighed. "I just explained, I haven't had a +chance to ask."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence looked hurt. "I don't mean you <i>would</i> +ask 'em right out. I just meant: Wouldn't you be +liable to kind of hint around an' give 'em a chance +to tell you how much it was? You know perfeckly +well it's the way most the fam'ly do when they give +each other somep'n pretty expensive, Christmas or +birthdays, and I thought proba'ly you'd——"</p> + +<p>"No. I shouldn't be surprised, Florence, if nobody +<i>ever</i> got to know how much Gamin cost."</p> + +<p>"Well——" Florence said, and decided to approach +her purpose on a new tack. "Who was it +trained him?"</p> + +<p>"I understand that the person who gave him to me +has played with him at times during the few days +he's been keeping him, but hasn't 'trained' him +particularly. French Poodles almost learn their +own tricks if you give them a chance. It's natural +to them; they love to be little clowns if you let them."</p> + +<p>"But who was this person that gave him to you?"</p> + +<p>Julia laughed. "It's a secret, Florence—like +Gamin's price."</p> + +<p>At this Florence looked piqued. "Well, I guess I +got <i>some</i> manners!" she exclaimed. "I know as well +as you do, Aunt Julia, there's no etiquette in coming +right square out and asking how much it was when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +somebody goes and makes you a present. I'm certainly +enough of a lady to keep my mouth shut when +it's more polite to! But I don't see what harm there +is in telling who it is that gives anybody a present."</p> + +<p>"No harm at all," Julia murmured as she sealed +the note she had written. Then she turned smilingly +to face her niece. "Only I'm not going to."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Aunt Julia"—and now Florence +came to her point—"what I wanted to know is +just simply the plain and simple question: Will you +give this dog Gammire to me?"</p> + +<p>Julia leaned forward, laughing, and suddenly +clapped her hands together, close to Florence's face. +"No, I won't!" she cried. "There!"</p> + +<p>The niece frowned, lines of anxiety appearing upon +her forehead. "Well, why won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I won't do it!"</p> + +<p>"But, Aunt Julia, I think you ought to!"</p> + +<p>"Why ought I to?"</p> + +<p>"Because——" said Florence. "Well, it's necessary."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because you know as well as I do what's bound +to happen to him!"</p> + +<p>"What is?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Grandpa'll chase him off," said Florence. "He'll +take after him the minute he lays eyes on him, and +scare him to death—and then he'll get lost, and he +won't be <i>anybody's</i> dog! I should think you'd just +as lief he'd be my dog as have him chased all over +town till a street car hits him or somep'n."</p> + +<p>But Julia shook her head. "That hasn't happened +yet."</p> + +<p>"It <i>did</i> happen with every other one you ever had," +Florence urged plaintively. "He chased 'em every +last one off the place, and they never came back. +You know perfectly well, Aunt Julia, grandpa's +just bound to hate this dog, and you know just exactly +how he'll act about him."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," said Julia. "Not just <i>exactly</i>."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway, you know he'll behave awful."</p> + +<p>"It's probable," the aunt admitted.</p> + +<p>"He always does," Florence continued. "He +behaves awful about everything I ever heard about. +He——"</p> + +<p>"I'll go pretty far with you, Florence," Julia interposed, +"but we'd better leave him a loophole. +You know he's a constant attendant at church and +contributes liberally to many good causes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know what I mean! I mean he always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +acts horrable about anything pleasant. Of course +I know he's a <i>good</i> man, and everything; I just mean +the way he behaves is perfeckly disgusting. So +what's the use your not givin' me this dog? You +won't have him yourself as soon as grandpa comes +home to lunch in an hour or so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I will!"</p> + +<p>"Grandpa hasn't already seen him, has he?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then what makes you say——"</p> + +<p>"He isn't coming home to lunch. He won't be +home till five o'clock this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, about six you won't have any dog, +and poor little Gammire'll get run over by an automobile +some time this very evening!" Florence's +voice became anguished in the stress of her appeal. +"Aunt Julia, <i>won't</i> you give me this dog?"</p> + +<p>Julia shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Won't you, <i>please</i>?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia, if it was Noble Dill gave you this +dog——"</p> + +<p>"Florence!" her aunt exclaimed. "What in the +world makes you imagine such absurd things? +Poor Mr. Dill!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, if it was, I think you ought to give Gammire +to me because I <i>like</i> Noble Dill, and I——"</p> + +<p>But here her aunt laughed again and looked at her +with some curiosity. "You still do?" she asked. +"What for?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Florence, swallowing, "he may be +rather smallish for a man, but he's very uncouth and +distingrished-looking, and I think he doesn't get to +enjoy himself much. Grandpa talks about him so +torrably and—and——" Here, such was the unexpected +depth of her feeling that she choked, whereupon +her aunt, overcome with laughter, but nevertheless +somewhat touched, sprang up and threw two +pretty arms about her charmingly.</p> + +<p>"You <i>funny</i> Florence!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Then will you give me Gammire?" Florence +asked instantly.</p> + +<p>"No. We'll bring him in the house now, and you +can stay for lunch."</p> + +<p>Florence was imperfectly consoled, but she had a +thought that brightened her a little.</p> + +<p>"Well, there'll be an awful time when grandpa +comes home this afternoon—but it certainly will +be inter'sting!"</p> + +<p>She proved a true prophet, at least to the extent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +that when Mr. Atwater opened his front gate that +afternoon he was already in the presence of a deeply +interested audience whose observation was unknown +to him. Through the interstices of the lace curtains +at an open window, the gaze of Julia and Florence +was concentrated upon him in a manner that might +have disquieted even so opinionated and peculiar +a man as Mr. Atwater, had he been aware of it; +and Herbert likewise watched him fixedly from an +unseen outpost. Herbert had shown some recklessness, +declaring loudly that he intended to lounge +in full view; but when the well-known form of the +ancestor was actually identified, coming up the +street out of the distance, the descendant changed +his mind. The good green earth ceased to seem secure; +and Herbert climbed a tree. He surrounded +himself with the deepest foliage; and beneath him +some outlying foothills of Kitty Silver were visible, +where she endeavoured to lurk in the concealment +of a lilac bush.</p> + +<p>Gammire was the only person in view. He sat +just in the middle of the top step of the veranda, and +his air was that of an endowed and settled institution. +What passing traffic there was interested him but +vaguely, not affecting the world to which he belonged—that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +world being this house and yard, of which +he felt himself now, beyond all question, the official +dog.</p> + +<p>It had been a rather hard-working afternoon, for +he had done everything suggested to him as well as a +great many other things that he thought of himself. +He had also made it clear that he had taken a fancy +to everybody, but recognized Julia to be the head of +the house and of his own universe; and though he was +at the disposal of all her family and friends, he was +at her disposal first. Whithersoever she went, there +would he go also, unless she otherwise commanded. +Just now she had withdrawn, closing the door, but +he understood that she intended no permanent exclusion. +Who was this newcomer at the gate?</p> + +<p>The newcomer came to a halt, staring intolerantly. +Then he advanced, slamming the gate behind +him. "Get out o' here!" he said. "You get off the +place!"</p> + +<p>Gammire regarded him seriously, not moving, +while Mr. Atwater cast an eye about the lawn, +seeming to search for something, and his gaze, thus +roving, was arrested by a slight movement of great +areas behind a lilac bush. It appeared that the +dome of some public building had covered itself with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +antique textiles and was endeavouring to hide there—a +failure.</p> + +<p>"Kitty Silver!" he said. "What are you doing?"</p> + +<p>"Suh?"</p> + +<p>Debouching sidewise she came into fuller view, +but retired a few steps. "Whut I doin' whur, Mista +Atwater?"</p> + +<p>"How'd that dog get on my front steps?"</p> + +<p>Her face became noncommittal entirely. "Thishere +dog? He just settin' there, suh."</p> + +<p>"How'd he get in the yard?"</p> + +<p>"Mus' somebody up an' brung him in."</p> + +<p>"Who did it?"</p> + +<p>"You mean: Who up an' brung him in, suh?"</p> + +<p>"I mean: Who does he belong to?"</p> + +<p>"Mus' be Miss Julia's. I reckon he is, so fur."</p> + +<p>"What! She knows I don't allow dogs on the +place."</p> + +<p>"Yessuh."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater's expression became more outraged +and determined. "You mean to say that somebody's +trying to give her another dog after all I've +been through with——"</p> + +<p>"It look that way, suh."</p> + +<p>"Who did it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Julia ain't sayin'; an' me, I don' know who +done it no mo'n the lilies of the valley whut toil not +neither do they spins."</p> + +<p>In response, Mr. Atwater was guilty of exclamations +lacking in courtesy; and turning again toward +Gammire, he waved his arm. "Didn't you hear me +tell you to get out of here?"</p> + +<p>Gammire observed the gesture, and at once "sat +up," placing his forepaws over his nose in prayer, +but Mr. Atwater was the more incensed.</p> + +<p>"Get out of here, you woolly black scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver uttered a cry of injury before she +perceived that she had mistaken her employer's +intention. Gammire also appeared to mistake it, +for he came down upon the lawn, rose to his full +height, on his "hind legs," and in that humanlike +posture "walked" in a wide circle. He did this +with an affectation of conscientiousness thoroughly +hypocritical; for he really meant to be humorous.</p> + +<p>"My heavens!" Mr. Atwater cried, lamenting. +"Somebody's given her one of those things at last! +I don't like <i>any</i> kind of dog, but if there's one dam +thing on earth I <i>won't</i> stand, it's a trick poodle!"</p> + +<p>And while the tactless Gammire went on, "walking" +a circle round him, Mr. Atwater's eye furiously<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +searched the borders of the path, the lawn, and +otherwheres, for anything that might serve as missile. +He had never kicked a dog, or struck one with +his hand, in his life; he had a theory that it was +always better to throw something. "Idiot poodle!" +he said.</p> + +<p>But Gammire's tricks were not idiocy in the eyes +of Mr. Atwater's daughter, as she watched them. +They had brought to her mind the tricks of the +Jongleur of Notre Dame, who had nothing to offer +heaven itself, to mollify heaven's rulers, except his +entertainment of juggling and nonsense; so that he +sang his thin jocosities and played his poor tricks +before the sacred figure of the Madonna; but when +the pious would have struck him down for it, she +miraculously came to life just long enough to +smile on him and show that he was right to offer +his absurd best. And thus, as Julia watched the +little Jongleur upon the lawn, she saw this was +what he was doing: offering all he knew, hoping that +someone might laugh at him, and like him. And, +not curiously, after all, if everything were known, +she found herself thinking of another foolish creature, +who had nothing in the world to offer anybody, +except what came out of the wistfulness of a foolish,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +loving heart. Then, though her lips smiled faintly +as she thought of Noble Dill, all at once a brightness +trembled along the eyelids of the Prettiest Girl in +Town, and glimmered over, a moment later, to shine +upon her cheek.</p> + +<p>"You get out!" Mr. Atwater shouted, "D'ye +hear me, you poodle?"</p> + +<p>He found the missile, a stone of fair diameter. He +hurled it violently.</p> + +<p>"<i>There</i>, darn you!"</p> + +<p>The stone missed, and Gammire fled desperately +after it.</p> + +<p>"You get over that fence!" Mr. Atwater cried. +"You wait till I find another rock and I'll——"</p> + +<p>He began to search for another stone, but, before +he could find one, Gammire returned with the first. +He deposited it upon the ground at Mr. Atwater's +feet.</p> + +<p>"There's your rock," he said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater looked down at him fiercely, and +through the black chrysanthemum two garnet sparks +glinted waggishly.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you hear me tell you what I'd do if you +didn't get out o' here, you darn poodle?"</p> + +<p>Gammire "sat up," placed his forepaws together<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +over his nose and prayed. "There's your rock," +he said. And he added, as clearly as if he used a +spoken language, "Let's get on with the game!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater turned to Kitty Silver. "Does he—does +he know how to speak, or shake hands, or +anything like that?" he asked.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The next morning, as the peculiar old man sat +at breakfast, he said to the lady across the table: +"Look here. Who did give Gamin to us?"</p> + +<p>Julia bit her lip; she even cast down her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, who was it?"</p> + +<p>Her demureness still increased. "It was—Noble +Dill."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater was silent; he looked down and caught +a clownish garnet gleam out of a blackness neighbouring +his knee. "Well, see here," he said. "Why +can't you—why can't you——"</p> + +<p>"Why can't I what?"</p> + +<p>"Why can't you sit out in the yard the next time +he calls here, instead of on the porch where it blows +all through the house? It's just as pleasant to sit +under the trees, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Pleasanter," said Julia.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h3> + + +<p>By the end of October, with the dispersal of +foliage that has served all summer long as a +screen for whatever small privacy may exist +between American neighbours, we begin to perceive +the rise of our autumn high tides of gossip. At this +season of the year, in our towns of moderate size +and ambition, where apartment houses have not +yet condensed and at the same time sequestered +the population, one may look over back yard beyond +back yard, both up and down the street; especially +if one takes the trouble to sit for an hour or so +daily, upon the top of a high fence at about the middle +of a block.</p> + +<p>Of course an adult who followed such a course +would be thought peculiar, no doubt he would be +subject to inimical comment; but boys are considered +so inexplicable that they have gathered for themselves +many privileges denied their parents and elders, +and a boy can do such a thing as this to his full content, +without anybody's thinking about it at all. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +it was that Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., sat +for a considerable time upon such a fence, after school +hours, every afternoon of the last week in October; +and only one person particularly observed him or was +stimulated to any mental activity by his procedure. +Even at that, this person was affected only because +she was Herbert's relative, of an age sympathetic to +his and of a sex antipathetic.</p> + +<p>In spite of the fact that Herbert, thus seriously +disporting himself on his father's back fence, attracted +only an audience of one (and she hostile +at a rather distant window) his behaviour might well +have been thought piquant by anybody. After +climbing to the top of the fence he would produce +from interior pockets a small memorandum-book +and a pencil. His expression was gravely alert, his +manner more than businesslike; yet nobody could +have failed to comprehend that he was enjoying +himself, especially when his attitude became tenser, +as it frequently did. Then he would rise, balancing +himself at adroit ease, his feet one before the other +on the inner rail, below the top of the boards, and +with eyes dramatically shielded beneath a scoutish +palm, he would gaze sternly in the direction of some +object or movement that had attracted his attention<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +and then, having satisfied himself of something or +other, he would sit and decisively enter a note in +his memorandum-book.</p> + +<p>He was not always alone; sometimes he was joined +by a friend, male, and, though shorter than Herbert, +about as old; and this companion was inspired, it +seemed, by motives precisely similar to those from +which sprang Herbert's own actions. Like Herbert +he would sit upon the top of the high fence; like +Herbert he would rise at intervals, for the better +study of something this side the horizon; then, also +like Herbert, he would sit again and write firmly +in a little notebook. And seldom in the history +of the world have any such sessions been invested by +the participants with so intentional an appearance +of importance.</p> + +<p>That was what most irritated their lone observer +at the somewhat distant upstairs back window. +The important importance of Herbert and his friend +was so extreme as to be all too plainly visible across +four intervening broad back yards; in fact, there was +sometimes reason to suspect that the two performers +were aware of their audience and even of her goaded +condition; and that they deliberately increased the +outrageousness of their importance on her account.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +And upon the Saturday of that week, when the notebook +writers were upon the fence the greater part of +the afternoon, Florence's fascinated indignation became +vocal.</p> + +<p>"Vile Things!" she said.</p> + +<p>Her mother, sewing beside another window of the +room, looked up inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"What are, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Cousin Herbert and that nasty little Henry +Rooter."</p> + +<p>"Are you watching them again?" her mother asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am," said Florence; and added tartly, +"Not because I care to, but merely to amuse myself +at their expense."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater murmured, "Couldn't you find +some other way to amuse yourself, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"I don't call this amusement," the inconsistent +girl responded, not without chagrin. "Think I'd +spend all my days starin' at Herbert Illingsworth +Atwater, Junior, and that nasty little Henry Rooter, +and call it <i>amusement</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Then why do you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Why do I do <i>what</i>, mamma?" Florence inquired, +as in despair of Mrs. Atwater's ever learning +to put things clearly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why do you 'spend all your days' watching +them? You don't seem able to keep away from the +window, and it appears to make you irritable. I +should think if they wouldn't let you play with them +you'd be too proud——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, good heavens, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Don't use such expressions, Florence, please."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Florence, "I got to use <i>some</i> expression +when you accuse me of wantin' to 'play' with +those two vile things! My goodness mercy, mamma, +I don't want to 'play' with 'em! I'm more than +four years old, I guess; though you don't ever seem +willing to give me credit for it. I don't haf to 'play' +all the time, mamma: and anyway, Herbert and +that nasty little Henry Rooter aren't playing, either."</p> + +<p>"Aren't they?" Mrs. Atwater inquired. "I +thought the other day you said you wanted them to +let you play with them at being a newspaper reporter +or editor or something like that, and they were +rude and told you to go away. Wasn't that it?"</p> + +<p>Florence sighed. "No, mamma, it cert'nly wasn't."</p> + +<p>"They weren't rude to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they cert'nly were!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then——"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, <i>can't</i> you understand?" Florence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +turned from the window to beseech Mrs. Atwater's +concentration upon the matter. "It isn't '<i>playing</i>'! +I didn't want to 'play' being a reporter; <i>they</i> ain't +'playing'——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Aren't</i> playing, Florence."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm. They're not. Herbert's got a real +printing-press; Uncle Joseph gave it to him. It's a +<i>real</i> one, mamma, can't you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said Mrs. Atwater. "You mustn't +get so excited about it, Florence."</p> + +<p>"I'm not!" Florence returned vehemently. "I +guess it'd take more than those two vile things and +their old printing-press to get <i>me</i> excited! <i>I</i> don't +care what they do; it's far less than nothing to me! +All <i>I</i> wish is they'd fall off the fence and break their +vile ole necks!"</p> + +<p>With this manifestation of impersonal calmness, +she turned again to the window; but her mother +protested. "Do quit watching those foolish boys; +you mustn't let them upset you so by their playing."</p> + +<p>Florence moaned. "They don't 'upset' me, mamma! +They have no effects on me by the slightest +degree! And I <i>told</i> you, mamma, they're not +'playing'."</p> + +<p>"Then what are they doing?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, they're having a newspaper. They got +the printing-press and an office in Herbert's stable, +and everything. They got somebody to give 'em +some ole banisters and a railing from a house that +was torn down somewheres, and then they got it +stuck up in the stable loft, so it runs across with a +kind of a gate in the middle of these banisters, and +on one side is the printing-press and a desk from +that nasty little Henry Rooter's mother's attic; and +a table and some chairs, and a map on the wall; +and that's their newspaper office. They go out and +look for what's the news, and write it down in lead +pencil; and then they go up to their office and write +it in ink; and then they print it for their newspaper."</p> + +<p>"But what do they do on the fence?"</p> + +<p>"That's where they go to watch what the news is," +Florence explained morosely. "They think they're +so grand, sittin' up there, pokin' around! They go +other places, too; and they ask people. That's +all they said <i>I</i> could be!" Here the lady's bitterness +became strongly intensified. "They said maybe +I could be one o' the ones they asked if I knew anything, +sometimes, if they happened to think of it! +I just respectf'ly told 'em I'd decline to wipe my +oldest shoes on 'em to save their lives!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater sighed. "You mustn't use such expressions, +Florence."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why not," the daughter promptly +objected. "They're a lot more refined than the +expressions they used on me!"</p> + +<p>"Then I'm very glad you didn't play with them."</p> + +<p>But at this, Florence once more gave way to filial +despair. "Mamma, you just <i>can't</i> see through anything! +I've said anyhow fifty times they ain't—aren't—playing! +They're getting up a <i>real</i> newspaper, +and have people <i>buy</i> it and everything. They +been all over this part of town and got every aunt +and uncle they have besides their own fathers and +mothers, and some people in the neighbourhood, +and Kitty Silver and two or three other coloured +people besides. They're going to charge twenty-five +cents a year, collect-in-advance because they +want the money first; and even papa gave 'em a +quarter last night; he told me so."</p> + +<p>"How often do they intend to publish their paper, +Florence?" Mrs. Atwater inquired absently, having +resumed her sewing.</p> + +<p>"Every week; and they're goin' to have the first +one a week from to-day."</p> + +<p>"What do they call it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The North End Daily Oriole. It's the silliest +name I ever heard for a newspaper; and I told 'em +so. I told 'em what <i>I</i> thought of it, I guess!"</p> + +<p>"Was that the reason?" Mrs. Atwater asked.</p> + +<p>"Was it what reason, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Was it the reason they wouldn't let you be a +reporter with them?"</p> + +<p>"Poot!" Florence exclaimed airily. "<i>I</i> didn't +want anything to do with their ole paper. But anyway +I didn't make fun o' their callin' it 'The North +End Daily Oriole' till after they said I couldn't be +in it. <i>Then</i> I did, you bet!"</p> + +<p>"Florence, don't say——"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I got to say somep'n! Well, I told +'em I wouldn't be in their ole paper if they begged me +on their bented knees; and I said if they begged me +a thousand years I wouldn't be in any paper with +such a crazy name and I wouldn't tell 'em any news +if I knew the President of the United States had the +scarlet fever! I just politely informed 'em they +could say what they liked, if they was dying <i>I</i> declined +so much as wipe the oldest shoes I got on 'em!"</p> + +<p>"But why <i>wouldn't</i> they let you be on the paper?" +her mother insisted.</p> + +<p>Upon this Florence became analytical. "Just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +so's they could act so important." And she added, +as a consequence, "They ought to be arrested!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater murmured absently, but forbore to +press her inquiry; and Florence was silent, in a +brooding mood. The journalists upon the fence +had disappeared from view, during her conversation +with her mother; and presently she sighed, and +quietly left the room. She went to her own apartment, +where, at a small and rather battered little +white desk, after a period of earnest reverie, she +took up a pen, wet the point in purple ink, and without +great effort or any critical delayings, produced +a poem.</p> + +<p>It was in a sense an original poem, though like the +greater number of all literary projections, it was so +strongly inspirational that the source of its inspiration +might easily become manifest to a cold-blooded +reader. Nevertheless, to the poetess herself, as she +explained later in good faith, the words just seemed +to <i>come to</i> her;—doubtless with either genius or +some form of miracle implied; for sources of inspiration +are seldom recognized by inspired writers themselves. +She had not long ago been party to a musical +Sunday afternoon at her Great-Uncle Joseph's house, +where Mr. Clairdyce sang some of his songs again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +and again, and her poem may have begun to coagulate +within her then.</p> + +<div style="margin-left: 10%"> +<p class="center">THE ORGANEST</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> FLORENCE ATWATER</p> + +<p> +The organest was seated at his organ in a church,<br /> +In some beautiful woods of maple and birch,<br /> +He was very weary while he played upon the keys,<br /> +But he was a great organest and always played with ease,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">When the soul is weary,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And the wind is dreary,</span><br /> +I would like to be an organest seated all day at the organ,<br /> +Whether my name might be Fairchild or Morgan,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">I would play music like a vast amen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The way it sounds in a church of men.</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Florence read her poem seven or eight times, +the deepening pleasure of her expression being evidence +that repetition failed to denature this work, +but on the contrary, enhanced an appreciative surprise +at its singular merit. Finally she folded the +sheet of paper with a delicate carefulness unusual to +her, and placed it in her skirt pocket; then she went +downstairs and out into the back yard. Her next action +was straightforward and anything but prudish; +she climbed the high wooden fences, one after the +other, until she came to a pause at the top of that +whereon the two journalists had lately made themselves +so odiously impressive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>Before her, if she had but taken note of them, were +a lesson in history and the markings of a profound +transition in human evolution. Beside the old frame +stable was a little brick garage, obviously put to the +daily use intended by its designer. Quite as obviously +the stable was obsolete; anybody would have +known from its outside that there was no horse +within it. There, visible, was the end of the pastoral +age.</p> + +<p>All this was lost upon Florence. She sat upon the +fence, her gaze unfavourably though wistfully fixed +upon a sign of no special aesthetic merit above the +stable door.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 10%"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">ATWATER & ROOTER OWNERS &</span><br /> +PROPREITORS SUBSCRIBE NOW 25 CENTS<br /> +</p> + +<p>The inconsistency of the word "daily" did not +trouble Florence; moreover, she had found no fault +with "Oriole" until the Owners & Propreitors had +explained to her in the plainest terms known to their +vocabularies that she was excluded from the enterprise. +Then, indeed, she had been reciprocally explicit +in regard not only to them and certain personal +characteristics of theirs, which she pointed out as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +fundamental, but in regard to any newspaper which +should deliberately call itself an "Oriole." The +partners remained superior in manner, though unable +to conceal a natural resentment; they had adopted +"Oriole" not out of a sentiment for the city of +Baltimore, nor, indeed, on account of any ornithologic +interest of theirs, but as a relic left over from an +abandoned club or secret society, which they had +previously contemplated forming, its members to be +called "The Orioles" for no reason whatever. The +two friends had talked of this plan at many meetings +throughout the summer, and when Mr. Joseph Atwater +made his great-nephew the unexpected present +of a printing-press, and a newspaper consequently +took the place of the club, Herbert and Henry still +entertained an affection for their former scheme and +decided to perpetuate the name. They were the +more sensitive to attack upon it by an ignorant +outsider and girl like Florence, and her chance of +ingratiating herself with them, if that could be now +her intention, was not a promising one.</p> + +<p>She descended from the fence with pronounced +inelegance, and, approaching the old double doors of +the "carriage-house," which were open, paused to +listen. Sounds from above assured her that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +editors were editing—or at least that they could +be found at their place of business. Therefore, she +ascended the cobwebby stairway, emerged from it +into the former hay loft, and thus made her appearance +in the printing-room of <i>The North End Daily +Oriole</i>.</p> + +<p>Herbert, frowning with the burden of composition, +sat at a table beyond the official railing, and his +partner was engaged at the press, earnestly setting +type. This latter person (whom Florence so +seldom named otherwise than as "that nasty +little Henry Rooter") was of a pure, smooth, +fair-haired appearance, and strangely clean for +his age and occupation. His profile was of a symmetry +he had not yet himself begun to appreciate; +his dress was scrupulous and modish; and though he +was short, nothing outward about him confirmed the +more sinister of Florence's two adjectives. Nevertheless, +her poor opinion of him was plain in her +expression as she made her present intrusion upon +his working hours. He seemed to reciprocate.</p> + +<p>"Listen! Didn't I and Herbert tell you to keep +out o' here?" he said. "Look at her, Herbert! +She's back again!"</p> + +<p>"You get out o' here, Florence," said Herbert,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +abandoning his task with a look of pain. "How +often we got to tell you we don't want you around +here when we're in our office like this?"</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake!" Henry Rooter thought fit +to add. "Can't you quit runnin' up and down our +office stairs once in a while, long enough for us to get +our newspaper work done? Can't you give us a little +<i>peace</i>?"</p> + +<p>The pinkiness of Florence's altering complexion +was justified; she had not been within a thousand +miles of their old office for four days. With some +heat she stated this to be the fact, adding, "And I +only came then because I knew somebody ought to +see that this stable isn't ruined. It's my own uncle +and aunt's stable, I guess, isn't it? Answer me that, +if you'll kindly please to do so!"</p> + +<p>"It's my father and mother's stable," Herbert +asserted. "Haven't I got a right to say who's +allowed in my own father and mother's stable?"</p> + +<p>"You have not," the prompt Florence replied. +"It's my own uncle and aunt's stable, and I got as +much right here as anybody."</p> + +<p>"You have not!" Henry Rooter protested hotly. +"This isn't either your ole aunt and uncle's stable."</p> + +<p>"<i>It isn't</i>?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, it is not! This isn't anybody's stable. It's +my and Herbert's Newspaper Building, and I guess +you haven't got the face to stand there and claim +you got a right to go in a Newspaper Building and +say you got a right there when everybody tells you +to stay outside of it, I guess!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, haven't I?"</p> + +<p>"No, you 'haven't—I'!" Mr. Rooter maintained +bitterly. "You just walk down town and go in any +Newspaper Buildings down there and tell 'em you +got a right to stay there all day long when they tell +you to get out o' there! Just try it! That's all I +ask!"</p> + +<p>Florence uttered a cry of derision. "And pray, +whoever told you I was bound to do everything you +ask me to, Mister Henry Rooter?" And she concluded +by reverting to that hostile impulse, so ancient, +which, in despair of touching an antagonist +effectively, reflects upon his ancestors. "If you got +anything you want to ask, you go ask your grandmother!"</p> + +<p>"Here!" Herbert sprang to his feet. "You try +and behave like a lady!"</p> + +<p>"Who'll make me?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"You got to behave like a lady as long as you're in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +our Newspaper Building, anyway," Herbert said +ominously. "If you expect to come up here after +you been told five dozen times to keep out——"</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sakes!" his partner interposed. +"When we goin' to get our newspaper <i>work</i> done? +She's <i>your</i> cousin; I should think you could get her +out!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm goin' to, ain't I?" Herbert protested +plaintively. "I expect to get her out, don't I?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you?" Miss Atwater inquired, with severe +mockery. "Pray, how would you expect to +accomplish it, pray?"</p> + +<p>Herbert looked desperate, but was unable to form +a reply consistent with a few new rules of etiquette +and gallantry that he had begun to observe during +the past year or so. "Now, see here, Florence," he +said. "You're old enough to know when people tell +you to keep out of a place, why, it means they want +you to stay away from there."</p> + +<p>Florence remained cold to this reasoning. "Oh, +Poot!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here!" her cousin remonstrated, and +went on with his argument. "We got our newspaper +work to do, and you ought to have sense enough to +know newspaper work like this newspaper work we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +got on <i>our</i> hands here isn't—well, it ain't any child's +play."</p> + +<p>His partner appeared to approve of the expression, +for he nodded severely and then used it himself. +"No, you <i>bet</i> it isn't any child's play!" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Herbert continued. "This newspaper +work we got on our hands here isn't any child's +play."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Henry Rooter again agreed. "Newspaper +work like this isn't any child's play at <i>all</i>!"</p> + +<p>"It isn't any child's play, Florence," said Herbert. +"It ain't any child's play at all, Florence. If it was +just child's play or something like that, why, it +wouldn't matter so much your always pokin' up here, +and——"</p> + +<p>"Well," his partner interrupted judicially;—"we +wouldn't want her around, even if it <i>was</i> child's +play."</p> + +<p>"No, we wouldn't; that's so," Herbert agreed. +"We wouldn't want you around, anyhow, Florence." +Here his tone became more plaintive. "So, for +mercy's sakes can't you go on home and give us a +little rest? What you want, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess it's about time you was askin' me +that," she said, not unreasonably. "If you'd asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +me that in the first place, instead of actin' like you'd +never been taught anything, and was only fit to +associate with hoodlums, perhaps my time is of <i>some</i> +value, myself!"</p> + +<p>Here the lack of rhetorical cohesion was largely +counteracted by the strong expressiveness of her tone +and manner, which made clear her position as a person +of worth, dealing with the lowest of her inferiors. +She went on, not pausing:</p> + +<p>"I thought being as I was related to you, and all +the family and everybody else is goin' to haf to read +your ole newspaper, anyway it'd be a good thing if +what was printed in it wasn't <i>all</i> a disgrace to the +family, because the name of our family's got mixed up +with this newspaper;—so here!"</p> + +<p>Thus speaking, she took the poem from her pocket +and with dignity held it forth to her cousin.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" Herbert inquired, not moving a +hand. He was but an amateur, yet already enough +of an editor to be suspicious.</p> + +<p>"It's a poem," Florence said. "I don't know +whether I exackly ought to have it in your ole newspaper +or not, but on account of the family's sake I +guess I better. Here, take it."</p> + +<p>Herbert at once withdrew a few steps, placing his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +hands behind him. "Listen here," he said;—"you +think we got time to read a lot o' nothin' in your ole +hand-writin' that nobody can read anyhow, and then +go and toil and moil to print it on our printin'-press? +I guess we got work enough printin' what we +write for our newspaper our own selves! My goodness, +Florence, I <i>told</i> you this isn't any child's play!"</p> + +<p>For the moment, Florence appeared to be somewhat +baffled. "Well," she said. "Well, you better +put this poem in your ole newspaper if you want +to have anyhow one thing in it that won't make +everybody sick that reads it."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> won't do it!" Herbert said decisively.</p> + +<p>"What you take us for?" his partner added.</p> + +<p>"All right, then," Florence responded. "I'll go +and tell Uncle Joseph and he'll take this printing-press +back."</p> + +<p>"He will not take it back. I already did tell him +how you kept pokin' around, tryin' to <i>run</i> everything, +and how we just worried our lives out tryin' to keep +you away. He said he bet it was a hard job; that's +what Uncle Joseph said! So go on, tell him anything +you want to. You don't get your ole poem in <i>our</i> +newspaper!"</p> + +<p>"Not if she lived to be two hunderd years old!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +Henry Rooter added. Then he had an afterthought. +"Not unless she pays for it."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?" Herbert asked, puzzled by +this codicil.</p> + +<p>Now Henry's brow had become corrugated with +no little professional impressiveness. "You know +what we were talkin' about this morning?" he said. +"How the right way to run our newspaper, we ought +to have some advertisements in it and everything? +Well, we want money, don't we? We could put this +poem in our newspaper like an advertisement;—that +is, if Florence has got any money, we could."</p> + +<p>Herbert frowned. "If her ole poem isn't too long +I guess we could. Here, let's see it, Florence." +And, taking the sheet of paper in his hand, he +studied the dimensions of the poem, without paining +himself to read it. "Well, I guess, maybe we can +do it," he said. "How much ought we to charge +her?"</p> + +<p>This question sent Henry Rooter into a state +of calculation, while Florence observed him with +veiled anxiety; but after a time he looked up, his +brow showing continued strain. "Do you keep a +bank, Florence—for nickels and dimes and maybe +quarters, you know?" he inquired.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was her cousin who impulsively replied for her. +"No, she don't," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not since I was about seven years old!" And +Florence added sharply, though with dignity: "Do +you still make mud pies in your back yard, pray?"</p> + +<p>"Now, see here!" Henry objected. "Try and be +a lady anyway for a few minutes, can't you? I got to +figure out how much we got to charge you for your ole +poem, don't I?"</p> + +<p>"Well, then," Florence returned, "you better ask +<i>me</i> somep'n about that, hadn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Henry Rooter, "have you got any +money at home?"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't."</p> + +<p>"Have you got any money with you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have."</p> + +<p>"How much is it?"</p> + +<p>"I won't tell you."</p> + +<p>Henry frowned. "I guess we ought to make +her pay about two dollars and a half," he said, +turning to his partner.</p> + +<p>Herbert became deferential; it seemed to him that +he had formed a business association with a genius, +and for a moment he was dazzled; then he remembered +Florence's financial capacities, always well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +known to him, and he looked depressed. Florence, +herself, looked indignant.</p> + +<p>"Two dollars and a half!" she cried. "Why, I +could buy this whole place for two dollars and a half, +printing-press, railing, and all—yes, and you thrown +in, Mister Henry Rooter!"</p> + +<p>"See here, Florence," Henry said earnestly. +"Haven't you got two dollars and a half?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she hasn't!" his partner assured him. +"She never had two dollars and a half in her life!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Henry gloomily, "what we +goin' to do about it? How much <i>you</i> think we ought +to charge her?"</p> + +<p>Herbert's expression became noncommittal. "Just +let me think a minute," he said, and with his hand +to his brow he stepped behind the unsuspicious Florence.</p> + +<p>"I got to think," he murmured; then with the +straightforwardness of his age, he suddenly seized his +damsel cousin from the rear and held her in a tight +but far from affectionate embrace, pinioning her +arms. She shrieked, "Murder!" and "Let me go!" +and "Help! Hay-yulp!"</p> + +<p>"Look in her pocket," Herbert shouted. "She +keeps her money in her skirt pocket when she's got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +any. It's on the left side of her. Don't let her kick +you! Look out!"</p> + +<p>"I got it!" said the dexterous Henry, retreating +and exhibiting coins. "It's one dime and two +nickels—twenty cents. Has she got any more +pockets?"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't!" Florence fiercely informed him, +as Herbert released her. "And I guess you better +hand that money back if you don't want to be +arrested for stealing!"</p> + +<p>But Henry was unmoved. "Twenty cents," he +said calculatingly. "Well, all right; it isn't much, +but you can have your poem in our newspaper for +twenty cents, Florence. If you don't want to pay +that much, why, take your ole twenty cents and go +on away."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Herbert. "That's as cheap as we'll +do it, Florence. Take it or leave it."</p> + +<p>"Take it or leave it," Henry Rooter agreed. +"That's the way to talk to her; take it or leave it, +Florence. If you don't take it you got to leave it."</p> + +<p>Florence was indignant, but she decided to take it. +"All right," she said coldly. "I wouldn't pay another +cent if I died for it."</p> + +<p>"Well, you haven't got another cent, so that's all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +right," Mr. Rooter remarked; and he honourably +extended an open palm toward his partner. "Here, +Herbert; you can have the dime, or the two nickels, +whichever you rather. It makes no difference to +me; I'd as soon have one as the other."</p> + +<p>Herbert took the two nickels, and turned to +Florence. "See here, Florence," he said, in a tone +of strong complaint. "This business is all done +and paid for now. What you want to hang around +here any <i>more</i> for?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Florence," his partner faithfully seconded +him, at once. "We haven't got any more time to +waste around here to-day, and so what you want to +stand around in the way and everything for? You +ought to know yourself we don't want you."</p> + +<p>"I'm not in the way," said Florence hotly. "Whose +way am I in?"</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, if you don't go," Herbert informed +her, "we'll carry you downstairs and lock you out."</p> + +<p>"I'd just like to see you!" she returned, her eyes +flashing. "Just you dare to lay a finger on me +again!" And she added, "Anyway, if you did, those +ole doors haven't got any lock on 'em: I'll come +right back in and walk right straight up the stairs +again!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>Herbert advanced toward her. "Now you pay +attention, to me," he said. "You've paid for your +ole poem, and we got to have some peace around +here. I'm goin' straight over to your mother and +ask her to come and get you."</p> + +<p>Florence gave up. "What difference would <i>that</i> +make, Mister Taddletale?" she inquired mockingly. +"<i>I</i> wouldn't be here when she came, would I? I'll +thank you to notice there's some value to my +time, myself; and I'll just politely ask you to excuse +me, pray!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h3> + + +<p>With a proud air she crushingly departed, +returning to her own home far from dissatisfied +with what she had accomplished. +Moreover, she began to expand with the realization of +a new importance; and she was gratified with the +effect upon her parents, at dinner that evening, +when she informed them that she had written a +poem, which was to be published in the prospective +first number of <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>.</p> + +<p>"Written a <i>poem</i>?" said her father. "Well, I +declare! Why, that's remarkable, Florence!"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad the boys were nice about it," said her +mother. "I should have feared they couldn't appreciate +it, after being so cross to you about letting +you have anything to do with the printing-press. +They must have thought it was a very good poem."</p> + +<p>"Where is the poem, Florence?" Mr. Atwater +asked. "Let's read it and see what our little girl +can do when she really tries."</p> + +<p>Unfortunately Florence had not a copy, and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +she informed her father of this fact, he professed +himself greatly disappointed as well as eager for the +first appearance of <i>The Oriole</i>, that he might +felicitate himself upon the evidence of his daughter's +heretofore unsuspected talent. Florence was herself +anxious for the newspaper's début, and she made her +anxiety so clear to Atwater & Rooter, Owners & +Propreitors, every afternoon after school, during the +following week, that by Thursday further argument +and repartee on their part were felt to be indeed +futile; and in order to have a little peace around there, +they carried her downstairs. At least, they defined +their action as "carrying," and, having deposited +her in the yard, they were obliged to stand guard at +the doors, which they closed and contrived to hold +against her until her strength was worn out for that +day.</p> + +<p>Florence consoled herself. During the week she +dropped in on all the members of "the family"—her +grandfather, uncles and aunts and cousins, her great-aunts +and great-uncles—and in each instance, after +no protracted formal preliminaries, lightly remarked +that she wrote poetry now; her first to appear in the +forthcoming <i>Oriole</i>. And when Great-Aunt Carrie +said, "Why, Florence, you're wonderful! I couldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +write a poem to save my life. I never <i>could</i> see how +they do it," Florence laughed, made a deprecatory +little side motion with her head, and responded, +"Why, Aunt Carrie, that's nothing! It just kind +of comes to you."</p> + +<p>This also served as her explanation when some +of her school friends expressed their admiration, +after being told the news in confidence; though to one +of the teachers she said, smiling ruefully, as in +remembrance of midnight oil, "It <i>does</i> take work, of +course!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When opportunity offered, upon the street, she +joined people she knew (or even rather distant acquaintances) +to walk with them a little way and +lead the conversation to the subject of poetry, including +her own contribution to that art. Altogether, +if Florence was not in a fair way to become a poetic +celebrity it was not her own fault but entirely that of +<i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>, which was to make +its appearance on Saturday, but failed to do so on +account of too much enthusiasm on the part of Atwater +& Rooter in manipulating the printing-press. +It broke, had to be repaired; and Florence, her nerves +upset by the accident, demanded her money back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +This was impossible, and the postponement proved +to be but an episode; moreover, it gave her time to let +more people know of the treat that was coming.</p> + +<p>Among these was Noble Dill. Until the Friday +following her disappointment she had found no opportunity +to acquaint her Very Ideal with the news; +and but for an encounter partly due to chance, he +might not have heard of it. A sentimental enrichment +of colour in her cheeks was the result of her +catching sight of him, as she was on the point of +opening and entering her own front door, that afternoon, +on her return from school. He was passing +the house, walking somewhat dreamily.</p> + +<p>Florence stepped into the sheltering vestibule, +peeping round it with earnest eyes to watch him as +he went by; obviously he had taken no note of her. +Satisfied of this, she waited until he was at a little +distance, then ran lightly down to the gate, hurried +after him and joined him.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Dill!" she exclaimed, in her mother's +most polished manner. "How supprising to see +<i>you</i>! I presume as we both happen to be walking +the same direction we might just's well keep together."</p> + +<p>"Surprising to see me?" Noble said vaguely. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +haven't been away anywhere in particular, Florence." +Then, at a thought, he brightened. "I'm glad to see +you, Florence. Do you know if any of your family +or relatives have heard when your Aunt Julia is +coming home?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia? She's out of town," said Florence. +"She's visiting different people she used to know +when she was away at school."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," Mr. Dill returned. "But she's +been gone six weeks."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't believe it's that long," Florence said +casually; then with more earnestness: "Mr. Dill, +I was goin' to ask you somep'n—it's kind of a funny +question for <i>me</i> to ask, but——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she has," Noble interrupted, not aware that +his remark was an interruption. "Oh, yes, she has!" +he said. "It was six weeks day-before-yesterday +afternoon. I saw your father downtown this +morning, and he said he didn't know that any of the +family had heard just when she was coming home. +I thought maybe some of your relatives had a letter +from her by this afternoon's mail, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"I guess not," said Florence. "Mr. Dill, there was +a question I thought I'd ask you. It's kind of a +funny question for <i>me</i>——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you <i>sure</i> nobody's heard from your Aunt +Julia to-day?" Noble insisted.</p> + +<p>"I guess they haven't. Mr. Dill, I was goin' to +ask you——"</p> + +<p>"It's strange," he murmured, "I don't see how +people can enjoy visits that long. I should think +they'd get anxious about what might happen at +home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, grandpa's all right; he says he kind of likes +to have the house nice and quiet to himself; and +anyway Aunt Julia enjoys visiting," Florence assured +him. "Aunt Fanny saw a newspaper from +one the places where Aunt Julia's visiting her school +room-mate. It had her picture in it and called her +'the famous Northern Beauty'; it was down South +somewhere. Well, Mr. Dill, I was just sayin' I believe +I'd ask you——"</p> + +<p>But a sectional rancour seemed all at once to affect +the young man. "Oh, yes. I heard about that," +he said. "Your Aunt Fanny lent my mother the +newspaper. Those people in <i>that</i> part of the country—well——" +He paused, remembering that it +was only Florence he addressed; and he withheld +from utterance his opinion that the Civil War ought +to be fought all over again. "Your father said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +your grandfather hadn't heard from her for several +days, and even then she hadn't said when she was +coming home."</p> + +<p>"No, I expect she didn't," said Florence. "Mr. +Dill, I was goin' to ask you somep'n—it's kind of a +queer kind of question for <i>me</i> to ask, I guess——" +She paused. However, he did not interrupt her, +seeming preoccupied with gloom; whereupon Florence +permitted herself a deprecatory laugh, and continued, +"It might be you'd answer yes, or it might +be you'd answer no; but anyway I was goin' to ask +you—it's kind of a funny question for <i>me</i> to ask, I +expect—but do you like poetry?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as things have turned out lately I guess it's +kind of a funny question, Mr. Dill, but do you like +poetry?"</p> + +<p>Noble's expression took on a coldness; for the word +brought to his mind a thought of Newland Sanders. +"Do I like poetry?" said Noble. "No, I don't."</p> + +<p>Florence was momentarily discouraged; but at her +age people usually possess an invaluable faculty, +which they lose later in life; and it is a pity that they +do lose it. At thirteen—especially the earlier months +of thirteen—they are still able to set aside and dismiss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +from their minds almost any facts, no matter +how audibly those facts have asked for recognition. +Children superbly allow themselves to become deaf, +so to speak, to undesirable circumstances; most +frequently, of course, to undesirable circumstances +in the way of parental direction; so that fathers, +mothers, nurses, or governesses, not comprehending +that this mental deafness is for the time being entirely +genuine, are liable to hoarseness both of throat +and temper. Thirteen is an age when the fading of +this gift or talent, one of the most beautiful of childhood, +begins to impair its helpfulness under the mistaken +stress of discipline; but Florence retained something +of it. In a moment or two Noble Dill's disaffection +toward poetry was altogether as if it did +not exist.</p> + +<p>She coughed, inclined her head a little to one side, +in her mother's manner of politeness to callers, and, +repeating her deprecatory laugh, remarked: "Well, +of course it's kind of a funny question for <i>me</i> to ask, +of course."</p> + +<p>"What is, Florence?" Noble inquired absently.</p> + +<p>"Well—what I was saying was that 'course it's +sort of queer <i>me</i> askin' if you liked poetry, of course, +on account of my <i>writing</i> poetry the way I do now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<p>She looked up at him with a bright readiness to +respond modestly to whatever exclamation his wonder +should dictate; but Noble's attention had straggled +again.</p> + +<p>"Has she written your mother lately?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Florence's expression denoted a mental condition +slightly disturbed. "No," she said. "It's goin' +to be printed in <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"My poem. It's about a vast amen—anyhow, +that's proba'ly the best thing in it, I guess—and +they're goin' to have it out to-morrow, or else they'll +have to settle with <i>me</i>; that's one thing certain! +I'll bring one over to your house and leave it at the +door for you, Mr. Dill."</p> + +<p>Noble had but a confused notion of what she thus +generously promised. However, he said, "Thank +you," and nodded vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I don't know as it's so awful good," +Florence admitted insincerely. "The family all +seem to think it's something pretty much; but I don't +know if it is or not. <i>Really</i>, I don't!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Noble, still confused. "I suppose +not."</p> + +<p>"I'm half way through another one I think myself'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +be a good deal better. I'm not goin' as fast +with it as I did with the other one, and I expect it'll +be quite a ways ahead of this one." She again employed +the deprecatory little laugh. "I don't know +how I do it, myself. The family all think it's sort +of funny I don't know how I do it, myself; but that's +the way it is. They all say if they could do it +they're sure they'd know how they did it; but I guess +they're wrong. I presume if you can do it, why, it +just <i>comes</i> to you. Don't you presume that's the +way it is, Mr. Dill?"</p> + +<p>"I—guess so." They had reached his gate, and +he stopped. "You're sure none of your family +have heard anything to-day?" he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"From Aunt Julia? I don't think they have."</p> + +<p>He sighed, and opened the gate. "Well, good +evening, Florence."</p> + +<p>"Good evening." Her eyes followed him wistfully +as he passed within the enclosure; then she +turned and walked quickly toward her own home; +but at the corner of the next fence she called back +over her shoulder, "I'll leave it with your mother for +you, if you're not home when I bring it."</p> + +<p>"What?" he shouted, from his front door.</p> + +<p>"I'll leave it with your <i>mother</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Leave what?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>poem</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Noble. "Thanks!"</p> + +<p>But when his mother handed him a copy of the +first issue of <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>, the +next day, when he came home to lunch, he read it +without edification; there was nothing about Julia +in it.</p> + +<div style="font-size: 80%"> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Atwater & Rooter Owners & Propreitors</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">SUBSCRIBE NOW 25 Cents Per Year</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Subscriptions shloud be brought to the East etrance of Atwater</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">& Rooter Newspaper Building every afternoon 4.30 to 6. 25 cents.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">========================================</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">NEWS OF THE CITY</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">_______</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">The Candidates for mayor at the election are Mr P. N. Gordon</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">and John T Milo. The contest is very great between these candi-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">dates.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Holcombs chickens get in MR. Joseph Atwater's yard a god deal</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">lately. He says chickens are out of place in a city of this size.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Minnie the cook of Mr. F. L. Smith's residisence goes downtown</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">every Thrusday afts about three her regular day for it.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">A new ditch is being dug accross the MR. Henry D. Vance backyrad.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">;Tis about dug but nobody is working there now. Patty</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Fairchild received the highest mark in declamation of the 7A at</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Sumner School last Friday.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Balf's grorcey wagon ran over a cat of the Mr. Rayfort family.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Geo. the driver of the wagom stated he had not but was willing to</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">take it away and burg it somewheres Geo. stated regret and claimed</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">nothing but an accident which could not be helped and not his team</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">that did the damage.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">MissColfield teacher of the 7A atSumner School was reproted on</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">the sink list. We hope she will soon be well.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">There were several deaths in the city this week.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Mr. Fairchild father of Patty Fairchild was on the sick list several</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">days and did not go to his office but is out now.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Been Kriso the cHauffeur of the Mr. R. G. Atwater family washes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">their car on Monday. In using the hose he turned water over the</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">fence accidently and hit Lonnie the washWOman in back of MRS.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Bruffs who called him some low names. Ben told her if he had have</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">been a man he wrould strike her but soon the distrubance was at an</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">end. There is a good deal more of other news which will be printed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">in our next NO.</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">Advertisements & Poems</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">20 Cents Each Up.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">_______</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">JOSEPH K. ATWATER & CO.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;"> 127 South Iowa St,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;"> Steam Pumps.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">_______</span> +</p> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">THE Organstep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">BY Florence Atwater</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">The Organstep was seated at his organ in a</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">In some beautifil words of vagle and brir</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">But he was a gReat organstep and always</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;">When the soil is weary</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;">And the mind is drearq</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">I would play music like a vast amen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">The way it sounds in a church of new</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Subscribe NOW 25 cents Adv & Poetry</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">20 cents up. Atwater & Rooter News</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Paper Building 25 cents per YEAR</span> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Such was the first issue, complete, of <i>The North +End Daily Oriole</i>. What had happened to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +poem was due partly to Atwater & Rooter's natural +lack of experience in a new and exacting trade; +partly to their enviable unconsciousness of any +necessity for proof-reading; and somewhat to their +haste in getting through the final and least interesting +stage of their undertaking; for of course so far as +the printers were concerned, the poem was mere hack +work anti-climax.</p> + +<p>And as they later declared, under fire, anybody +that could make out more than three words in five +of Florence's ole handwriting was welcome to do it. +Besides, what did it matter if a little bit was left out +at the end of one or two of the lines? They couldn't +be expected to run the lines out over their margin, +could they? And they never knew anything crazier +than makin' all this fuss, because: Well, what if +some of it wasn't printed just exactly right, who in +the world was goin' to notice it, and what was the +difference of just a few words different in that ole +poem, anyhow?</p> + +<p>For by the time these explanations (so to call +them) took place, Florence was indeed makin' a fuss. +Her emotion, at first, had been happily stimulated +at sight of "BY Florence Atwater." A singular +tenderness had risen in her—a tremulous sense as of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +something almost sacred coming at last into its own; +and she hurried to distribute, gratis, among relatives +and friends, several copies of the <i>Oriole</i>, paying +for them, too (though not without injurious argument), +at the rate of two cents a copy. But upon returning +to her own home, she became calm enough (for a +moment or so) to look over the poem with attention +to details. She returned hastily to the Newspaper +Building, but would have been wiser to remain away, +since all subscribers had received their copies by +the time she got there; and under the circumstances +little reparation was practicable.</p> + +<p>She ended her oration—or professed to end it—by +declaring that she would never have another +poem in their ole vile newspaper as long as she +lived.</p> + +<p>"You're right about that!" Henry Rooter agreed +heartily. "We wouldn't <i>let</i> another one in it. Not +for fifty dollars! Just look at all the trouble we +took, moiling and toiling, to get your ole poem printed +as nice as we could, so it wouldn't ruin our newspaper, +and then you come over here and go on like this, +and all this and that, why, I wouldn't go through it +again for a <i>hunderd</i> dollars! We're makin' good +money anyhow, with our newspaper, Florence Atwater.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +You needn't think we depend on <i>you</i> for +our living!"</p> + +<p>"That's so," his partner declared. "We knew +you wouldn't be satisfied, anyway, Florence. Didn't +we, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"I should say we did!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" said Herbert. "Right when we were +havin' the worst time tryin' to print it and make out +some o' the words, I said right then we were just +throwing away our time. I said, 'What's the use? +That ole girl's bound to raise Cain anyhow, so what's +the use wastin' a whole lot of our good time and brains +like this, just to suit <i>her</i>? Whatever we do, she's +certain to come over and insult us.' Isn't that what +I said, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is; and I said then you were right, and you +<i>are</i> right!"</p> + +<p>"Cert'nly I am," said Herbert. "Didn't I tell +you she'd be just the way some the family say she +is? A good many of 'em say she'd find fault with +the undertaker at her own funeral. That's just +exactly what I said!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you did?" Florence burlesqued a polite +interest. "How <i>vir</i>ry considerate of you! Then, +perhaps you'll try to be a gentleman enough for one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +simple moment to allow me to tell you my last +remarks on this subject. I've said enough——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>have</i> you?" Herbert interrupted with violent +sarcasm. "Oh, no! Say not so! Florence, +say not so!"</p> + +<p>At this, Henry Rooter loudly shouted with applausive +hilarity; whereupon Herbert, rather surprised +at his own effectiveness, naturally repeated +his waggery.</p> + +<p>"Say not so, Florence! Say not so! Say not +so!"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you one thing!" his lady cousin cried, +thoroughly infuriated. "I wish to make just one +last simple remark that I would care to soil myself +with in <i>your</i> respects, Mister Herbert Illingsworth +Atwater and Mister Henry Rooter!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, say not so, Florence!" they both entreated. +"Say not so! Say not so!"</p> + +<p>"I'll just simply state the simple truth," Florence +announced. "In the first place, you're goin' to live +to see the day when you'll come and beg me on your +bented knees to have me put poems or anything I +want to in your ole newspaper, but I'll just <i>laugh</i> +at you! '<i>Indeed</i>?' I'll say! 'So you come beggin' +around <i>me</i>, do you? Ha, ha!' I'll say! 'I guess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +it's a little too late for that! Why, I wouldn't——'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, say not so, Florence! Say not so!"</p> + +<p>"'<i>Me</i> to allow you to have one of my poems?' +I'll say, 'Much less than <i>that</i>!' I'll say, 'because +even if I was wearing the oldest shoes I got in the +world I wouldn't take the trouble to——'"</p> + +<p>Her conclusion was drowned out. "Oh, <i>Florence</i>, +say not so! Say not so, Florence! Say not so!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h3> + + +<p>The hateful entreaty still murmured in her +resentful ears, that night, as she fell asleep; +and she passed into the beginnings of a dream +with her lips slightly dimpling the surface of her +pillow in belated repartee. And upon waking, +though it was Sunday, her first words, half slumbrous +in the silence of the morning, were, "Vile +Things!" Her faculties became more alert during +the preparation of a toilet that was to serve not only +for breakfast, but with the addition of gloves, a hat, +and a blue-velvet coat, for Church and Sunday-school +as well; and she planned a hundred vengeances. +That is to say, her mind did not occupy itself with +plots possible to make real; but rather it dabbled +among those fragmentary visions that love to overlap +and displace one another upon the changeful +retina of the mind's eye.</p> + +<p>In all of these pictures, wherein prevailingly she +seemed to be some sort of deathly powerful Queen +of Poetry, the postures assumed by the figures of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +Messrs. Atwater and Rooter (both in an extremity +of rags) were miserably suppliant. So she soothed +herself a little—but not long. Herbert, in the next +pew, in church, and Henry in the next beyond that, +were perfect compositions in smugness. They were +cold, contented, aristocratic; and had an imperturbable +understanding between themselves (even then +perceptible to the sensitive Florence) that she was a +nuisance now capably disposed of by their beautiful +discovery of "Say not so!" Florence's feelings were +unbecoming to the place and occasion.</p> + +<p>But at four o'clock, that afternoon, she was assuaged +into a milder condition by the arrival, according +to an agreement made in Sunday-school, of +the popular Miss Patty Fairchild.</p> + +<p>Patty was thirteen and a half; an exquisite person +with gold-dusted hair, eyes of singing blue, and an +alluring air of sweet self-consciousness. Henry +Rooter and Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., out +gathering news, saw her entering Florence's gate, +and immediately forgot that they were reporters. +They became silent, gradually moving toward the +house of their newspaper's sole poetess.</p> + +<p>Florence and Patty occupied themselves indoors +for half an hour; then went out in the yard to study a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +mole's tunnel that had interested Florence recently. +They followed it across the lawn at the south side +of the house, discussing the habits of moles and other +matters of zoölogy; and finally lost the track near the +fence, which was here the "side fence" and higher +than their heads. Patty looked through a knot-hole +to see if the tunnel was visible in the next yard, but, +without reporting upon her observations, she turned, +as if carelessly, and leaned back against the fence, +covering the knot-hole.</p> + +<p>"Florence," she said, in a tone softer than she +had been using heretofore;—"Florence, do you know +what I think?"</p> + +<p>"No. Could you see any more tracks over there?"</p> + +<p>"Florence," said Patty;—"I was just going to +tell you something, only maybe I better not."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Florence inquired. "Go on and +tell me."</p> + +<p>"No," said Patty gently. "You might think it +was silly."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you <i>might</i>."</p> + +<p>"I promise I won't."</p> + +<p>"Well, then—oh, Florence I'm <i>sure</i> you'll think +it's silly!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I <i>promised</i> I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Well—I don't think I better say it."</p> + +<p>"Go on," Florence urged. "Patty, you <i>got</i> to."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, if I got to," said Patty. "What I +was going to say, Florence: Don't you think your +cousin Herbert and Henry Rooter have got the nicest +eyes of any boy in town?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Who</i>?" Florence was astounded.</p> + +<p>"I do," Patty said in her charming voice. "I +think Herbert and Henry've got the nicest eyes of +any boy in town."</p> + +<p>"You do?" Florence cried incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I really do, Florence. I think Herbert +Atwater and Henry Rooter have got the nicest +eyes of any boy in town."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never heard anything like <i>this</i> before!" +Florence declared.</p> + +<p>"But <i>don't</i> you think they've got the nicest eyes +of any boy in town?" Patty insisted, appealingly.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Florence, "their eyes are just +horrable!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Herbert's</i> eyes," continued Florence, ardently, +"are the very worst lookin' ole squinty eyes I ever +saw, and that nasty little Henry <i>Rooter's</i> eyes——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Patty had suddenly become fidgety; she hurried +away from the fence. "Come over here, Florence," +she said. "Let's go over to the other side of the +yard and talk."</p> + +<p>It was time for her to take some such action. +Messrs. Atwater and Rooter, seated quietly together +upon a box on the other side of the fence (though +with their backs to the knot-hole), were beginning +to show signs of inward disturbance. Already +flushed with the unexpected ineffabilities overheard, +their complexions had grown even pinker upon +Florence's open-hearted expressions of opinion. +Slowly they turned their heads to look at the fence, +upon the other side of which stood the maligner of +their eyes. Not that they cared what <i>that</i> ole +girl thought—but she oughtn't to be allowed to +go around talking like this and perhaps prejudicing +everybody that had a kind word to say for +them.</p> + +<p>"Come on over here, Florence," called Patty +huskily, from the other side of the yard. "Let's +talk over here."</p> + +<p>Florence was puzzled, but consented. "What you +want to talk over here for?" she asked as she came +near her friend.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Patty. "Let's go out +in the front yard."</p> + +<p>She led the way round the house, and a moment +later uttered a cry of surprise as the firm of Atwater +& Rooter, passing along the pavement, hesitated +at the gate. Their celebrated eyes showed doubt for +a moment, then a brazenness: Herbert and Henry +decided to come in.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this the funniest thing?" cried Patty. +"After what I just said awhile ago—<i>you</i> know, +Florence. Don't you dare to tell 'em!"</p> + +<p>"I cert'nly won't!" her hostess promised, and, +turning inhospitably to the two callers, "What on +earth you want around here?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>Herbert chivalrously took upon himself the duty +of response. "Look here; this is my own aunt and +uncle's yard, isn't it? I guess if I want to come in +it I got a perfect right to."</p> + +<p>"I should say so," his partner said warmly.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course!" the cordial Patty agreed. +"We can play some nice Sunday games, or something. +Let's sit on the porch steps and think what +to do."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> just as soon," said Henry Rooter. "<i>I</i> got +nothin' p'ticular to do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I haven't either," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, Patty sat between them on the +steps.</p> + +<p>"This is <i>per-feckly</i> grand!" she cried. "Come on, +Florence, aren't you going to sit down with all the +rest of us?"</p> + +<p>"Well, pray kindly excuse <i>me</i>!" said Miss Atwater; +and she added that she would neither sit +on the same steps with Herbert Atwater and Henry +Rooter, nor, even if they entreated her with accompanying +genuflections, would she have anything +else whatever to do with them. She concluded with +a reference to the oldest pair of shoes she might ever +come to possess; and withdrew to the railing of the +veranda at a point farthest from the steps; and, +seated there, swinging one foot rhythmically, she +sang hymns in a tone at once plaintive and inimical.</p> + +<p>It was not lost upon her, however, that her withdrawal +had little effect upon her guests. They +chattered gaily, and Patty devised, or remembered, +harmless little games that could be played by a few +people as well as by many; and the three participants +were so congenial and noisy and made so merry, that +before long Florence was unable to avoid the impression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +that whether she liked it or not she was +giving quite a party.</p> + +<p>At times the noted eyes of Atwater & Rooter +were gentled o'er with the soft cast of enchantment, +especially when Patty felt called upon to reprove +the two with little coquetries of slaps and pushes. +Noted for her sprightliness, she was never sprightlier; +her pretty laughter tooted continuously, and the gentlemen +accompanied it with doting sounds so repulsive +to Florence that without being actively conscious of +what she did, she embodied the phrase, "perfeckly +sickening," in the hymn she was crooning, and repeated +it over and over to the air of "Rock of Ages."</p> + +<p>"Now I tell you what let's play," the versatile +Patty proposed, after exhausting the pleasures of +"Geography," "Ghosts" and other tests of intellect. +"Let's play 'Truth.' We'll each take a +piece o' paper and a pencil, and then each of us +asks the other one some question, and we haf to +write down the answer and sign your name and fold +it up so nobody can see it except the one that asked +the question, and we haf to keep it a secret and never +tell as long as we live."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Henry Rooter. "I'll be the one +to ask you a question, Patty."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," Herbert said promptly. "I ought to be +the one to ask Patty."</p> + +<p>"Why ought you?" Henry demanded. "Why +ought you?"</p> + +<p>"Listen!" Patty cried, "<i>I</i> know the way we'll do. +I'll ask each of you a question—we haf to whisper it—and +each one of you'll ask me one, and then we'll +write it. That'll be simply grand!" She clapped +her hands; then checked herself. "Oh, I guess we +can't either. We haven't got any paper and pencils +unless——" Here she seemed to recall her hostess. +"Oh, Florrie, dear! Run in the house and get us +some paper and pencils."</p> + +<p>Florence gave no sign other than to increase the +volume of her voice as she sang: "Perf'ly sick'ning, +clef' for me, let me <i>perf'</i>ly sick-kin-<i>ning</i>!"</p> + +<p>"We got plenty," said Herbert; whereupon he +and Henry produced pencils and their professional +note-books, and supplied their fair friend and themselves +with material for "Truth." "Come on, +Patty, whisper me whatever you want to."</p> + +<p>"No; I ought to have her whisper <i>me</i>, first," +Henry Rooter objected. "I'll write the answer to +<i>any</i> question; I don't care what it's about."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's got to be the <i>truth</i>, you know," Patty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +warned them. "We all haf to write down just +exackly the truth on our word of honour and sign +our name. Promise?"</p> + +<p>They promised earnestly.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Patty. "Now I'll whisper Henry +a question first, and then you can whisper yours to +me first, Herbert."</p> + +<p>This seemed to fill all needs happily, and the +whispering and writing began, and continued with +a coziness little to the taste of the piously singing +Florence. She altered all previous opinions of her +friend Patty, and when the latter finally closed the +session on the steps, and announced that she must +go home, the hostess declined to accompany her into +the house to help her find where she had left her hat +and wrap.</p> + +<p>"I haven't the <i>least</i> idea where I took 'em off!" +Patty declared in the airiest manner. "If you won't +come with me, Florrie, s'pose you just call in the +front door and tell your mother to get 'em for me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're <i>somewhere</i> in there," Florence said +coldly, not ceasing to swing her foot, and not turning +her head. "You can find 'em by yourself, I presume, +or if you can't I'll have our maid throw 'em +out in the yard or somep'n to-morrow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, <i>thank</i> you!" Miss Fairchild rejoined, as +she entered the house.</p> + +<p>The two boys stood waiting, having in mind to +go with Patty as far as her own gate. "That's a +<i>pretty</i> way to speak to company!" Herbert addressed +his cousin with heavily marked severity. +"Next time you do anything like that I'll march +straight in the house and inform your mother of the +fact."</p> + +<p>Florence still swung her foot and looked dreamily +away. She sang, to the air of "Rock of Ages":</p> + +<p>"Henry Rooter, Herbert, too—they make me sick, +they make me sick, that's what they do."</p> + +<p>However, they were only too well prepared with +their annihilating response.</p> + +<p>"Oh, say not so! Florence, say not so! <i>Florence!</i> +Say not so!"</p> + +<p>They even sent this same odious refrain back to +her from the street, as they departed with their +lovely companion; and, so tenuous is feminine +loyalty sometimes, under these stresses, Miss Fairchild +mingled her sweet, tantalizing young soprano +with their changing and cackling falsetto.</p> + +<p>"Say not so, Florence! Oh, say not so! Say not +so!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN"></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</h3> + + +<p>They went satirically down the street, their +chumminess with one another bountifully +increased by their common derision of the +outsider on the porch; and even at a distance they +still contrived to make themselves intolerable; looking +back over their shoulders, at intervals, with +say-not-so expressions on their faces. Even when +these faces were far enough away to be but yellowish +oval planes, their say-not-so expressions were still +bitingly eloquent.</p> + +<p>Now a northern breeze chilled the air, as the hateful +three became indistinguishable in the haze of +autumn dusk, whereupon Florence stopped swinging +her foot, left the railing, and went morosely into +the house. And here it was her fortune to make +two discoveries vital to her present career; the first +arising out of a conversation between her father and +mother in the library, where a gossipy fire of soft +coal encouraged this proper Sunday afternoon entertainment +for man and wife.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sit down and rest, Florence," said her mother. +"I'm afraid you play too hard when Patty and the +boys are here. Do sit down quietly and rest yourself +a little while." And as Florence obeyed, Mrs. Atwater +turned to her husband, resuming: "Well, +that's what <i>I</i> said. I told Aunt Carrie I thought +the same way about it that <i>you</i> did. Of course nobody +<i>ever</i> knows what Julia's going to do next, and +nobody needs to be surprised at anything she does +do. Ever since she came home from school, about +four-fifths of all the young men in town have been +wild about her—and so's every old bachelor, for the +matter of that!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mr. Atwater added. "And every old +widower, too."</p> + +<p>His wife warmly accepted the amendment. "And +every old widower, too," she said, nodding. "Rather! +And of course Julia's just done exactly as she pleased +about everything, and naturally she's going to do as +she pleases about <i>this</i>."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course it's her own affair, Mollie," Mr. +Atwater said mildly. "She couldn't be expected to +consult the whole Atwater family connection before +she——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she agreed. "I don't say she could.Still, it <i>is</i> rather upsetting, coming so suddenly like +this, when not one of the family has ever seen him—never +even heard his very name before."</p> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 465px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;"> +<img src="images/illus-280.jpg" +alt=""'Well, men ... I don't want to see any loafin' around +here, men. I expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week.'"" +title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'Well, men ... I don't want to see any loafin' around +here, men. I expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week.'"</span> +</div> + + +<p>"Well, that part of it isn't especially strange, +Mollie. He was born and brought up in a town +three hundred miles from here. I don't see just how +we <i>could</i> have heard his name unless he visited here +or got into the papers in some way."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater seemed unwilling to yield a mysterious +point. She rocked decorously in her rocking-chair, +shook her head, and after setting her lips +rigidly, opened them to insist that she could never +change her mind: Julia had acted very abruptly. +"Why couldn't she have let her poor father know +at least a <i>few</i> days before she did?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater sighed. "Why, she explains in her +letter that she only knew it, herself, an hour before +she wrote."</p> + +<p>"Her poor father!" his wife repeated commiseratingly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mollie, I don't see how father's especially +to be pitied."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" said Mrs. Atwater. "That old +man, to have to live in that big house all alone, except +a few negro servants?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, no! About half the houses in the neighbourhood, +up and down the street, are fully occupied by +close relatives of his: I doubt if he'll be really as +lonely as he'd like to be. And he's often said he'd +give a great deal if Julia had been a plain, unpopular +girl. I'm strongly of the opinion, myself, that he'll +be pleased about this. Of course it may upset him a +little at first."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I think it will!" Mrs. Atwater shook her +head forebodingly. "And he isn't the only one it's +going to upset."</p> + +<p>"No, he isn't," her husband admitted seriously. +"That's always been the trouble with Julia; she +never could bear to seem disappointing; and so, of +course, I suppose every one of 'em has a special idea +that he's really about the top of the list with her."</p> + +<p>"Every last one of 'em is positive of it," said Mrs. +Atwater. "That was Julia's way with 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Julia's always been much too kind-hearted +for other people's good." Thus Mr. Atwater summed +up Julia; and he was her brother. Additionally, +since he was the older, he had known her since +her birth.</p> + +<p>"If you ask <i>me</i>," said his wife, "I'll really be surprised +if it all goes through without a suicide."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, not quite suicide, perhaps," Mr. Atwater +protested. "I'm glad it's a fairly dry town though."</p> + +<p>She failed to fathom his simple meaning. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, some of 'em might feel <i>that</i> desperate at +least," he explained. "Prohibition's a safeguard for +the disappointed in love."</p> + +<p>This phrase and a previous one stirred Florence, +who had been sitting quietly, according to request, +and "resting", but not resting her curiosity. "<i>Who's</i> +disappointed in love, papa?" she inquired with an +explosive eagerness that slightly startled her preoccupied +parents. "What <i>is</i> all this about Aunt +Julia, and grandpa goin' to live alone, and people +committing suicide and prohibition and everything? +What <i>is</i> all this, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Florence."</p> + +<p>"Nothing! That's what you always say about the +very most inter'sting things that happen in the whole +family! What <i>is</i> all this, papa?"</p> + +<p>"It's nothing that would be interesting to little +girls, Florence. Merely some family matters."</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" Florence exclaimed. "I'm not a +'little girl' any more, papa! You're <i>always</i> forgetting +my age! And if it's a family matter I belong to the +family, I guess, about as much as anybody else, don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +I? Grandpa himself isn't any <i>more</i> one of the family +than I am, I don't care <i>how</i> old he is!"</p> + +<p>This was undeniable, and her father laughed. +"It's really nothing you'd care about one way or the +other," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd care about it if it's a secret," Florence +insisted. "If it's a secret I'd want to know it, whatever +it's about."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't a secret, particularly, I suppose. At +least, it's not to be made public for a time; it's only +to be known in the family."</p> + +<p>"Well, didn't I just <i>prove</i> I'm as much one o' the +family as——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," her father said soothingly. "I +don't suppose there's any harm in your knowing it—if +you won't go telling everybody. Your Aunt Julia +has just written us that she's engaged."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atwater uttered an exclamation, but she was +too late to check him.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you oughtn't to have told Florence. +She <i>isn't</i> just the most discreet——"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" he laughed. "She certainly is 'one of +the family', however, and Julia wrote that all of the +family might be told. You'll not speak of it outside +the family, will you, Florence?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Florence was not yet able to speak of it, even +inside the family; so surprising, sometimes, are +parents' theories of what will not interest their +children. She sat staring, her mouth open, and +in the uncertain illumination of the room these +symptoms of her emotional condition went unobserved.</p> + +<p>"I say, you won't speak of Julia's engagement +outside the family, will you, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Papa!" she gasped. "Did Aunt Julia write +she was <i>engaged</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"To get <i>married</i>?"</p> + +<p>"It would seem so."</p> + +<p>"To <i>who</i>?"</p> + +<p>"'To whom,' Florence," her mother suggested +primly.</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" the daughter cried. "Who's Aunt +Julia engaged to get married to? Noble Dill?"</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, <i>no</i>!" Mrs. Atwater exclaimed. +"What an absurd idea! It's to a young man in the +place she's visiting—a stranger to all of us. Julia +only met him a few weeks ago." Here she forgot +Florence, and turned again to her husband, wearing +her former expression of experienced foreboding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's just as I said. It's exactly like Julia to do such +a reckless thing!"</p> + +<p>"But as we don't know anything at all about the +young man," he remonstrated, "how do you know +it's reckless?"</p> + +<p>"How do you know he's young?" Mrs. Atwater +retorted crisply. "All in the world she said about +him was that he's a lawyer. He may be a widower, +for all we know, or divorced, with seven or eight +children."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Mollie!"</p> + +<p>"Why, he <i>might</i>!" she insisted. "For all we know, +he may be a widower for the third or fourth <i>time</i>, or +divorced, with any <i>number</i> of children! If such a +person proposed to Julia, you know yourself she'd +hate to be disappointing!"</p> + +<p>Her husband laughed. "I don't think she'd go +so far as to actually accept 'such a person' and write +home to announce her engagement to the family. I +suppose most of her swains here have been in the +habit of proposing to her just as frequently as she was +unable to prevent them from going that far; and while +I don't think she's been as discouraging with them +as she might have been, she's never really accepted +any of 'em. She's never been engaged before."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," Mrs. Atwater admitted. "Not to this +extent! She's never quite announced it to the family +before, that is."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'd hate to have Julia's job when she comes +back!" Julia's brother admitted ruefully.</p> + +<p>"What job?"</p> + +<p>"Breaking it to her admirers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>she</i> isn't going to do that!"</p> + +<p>"She'll have to, now," he said. "She'll either +have to write the news to 'em, or else tell 'em, face +to face, when she comes home."</p> + +<p>"She won't do either."</p> + +<p>"Why, how could she get out of it?"</p> + +<p>His wife smiled pityingly. "She hasn't set a time +for coming home, has she? Don't you know enough +of Julia's ways to see she'll never in the world stand +up to the music? She writes that all the family +can be told, because she knows the news will leak +out, here and there, in confidence, little by little, +so by the time she gets home they'll all have been +through their first spasms, and after that she hopes +they'll just send her some forgiving flowers and greet +her with manly hand-clasps—and get ready to usher +at the wedding!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Atwater, "I'm afraid you're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +right. It does seem rather like Julia to stay away till +the first of the worst is over. I'm really sorry for +some of 'em. I suppose it <i>will</i> get whispered about, +and they'll hear it; and there are some of the poor +things that might take it pretty hard."</p> + +<p>"'Take it pretty hard!'" his wife echoed loudly. +"There's <i>one</i> of 'em, at least, who'll just merely lose +his reason!"</p> + +<p>"Which one?"</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill."</p> + +<p>At this, the slender form of Florence underwent a +spasmodic seizure in her chair, but as the fit was +short and also noiseless, it passed without being +noticed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Atwater thoughtfully. "I suppose +he will."</p> + +<p>"He certainly will!" Mrs. Atwater declared. +"Noble's mother told me last week that he'd got +so he was just as liable to drop a fountain-pen in his +coffee as a lump of sugar; and when any one speaks +to him he either doesn't know it, or else jumps. +When he says anything, himself, she says they can +scarcely ever make out what he's talking about. He +was trying enough before Julia went away; but +since she's been gone Mrs. Dill says he's like nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +in her experience. She says he doesn't inherit it; Mr. +Dill wasn't anything like this about her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atwater smiled faintly. "Mrs. Dill wasn't +anything like Julia."</p> + +<p>"No," said his wife. "She was quite a sensible +girl. I'd hate to be in her place now, though, when +she tells Noble about <i>this</i>."</p> + +<p>"How can Mrs. Dill tell him, since she doesn't +know it herself?"</p> + +<p>"Well—perhaps she ought to know it, so that she +<i>could</i> tell him. <i>Somebody</i> ought to tell him, and it +ought to be done with the greatest tact. It ought to +be broken to him with the most delicate care and +sympathy, or the consequences——"</p> + +<p>"Nobody could foretell the consequences," her +husband interrupted:—"no matter how tactfully +it's broken to Noble."</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "I suppose that's true. I think +the poor thing's likely to lose his reason unless it <i>is</i> +done tactfully, though."</p> + +<p>"Do you think we really ought to tell Mrs. Dill, +Mollie? I mean, seriously: Do you?"</p> + +<p>For some moments she considered his question, +then replied, "No. It's possible we'd be following a +Christian course in doing it; but still we're rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +bound not to speak of it outside the family, and when +it does get outside the family I think we'd better not +be the ones responsible—especially since it might +easily be traced to us. I think it's usually better to +keep out of things when there's any doubt."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, meditating. "I never knew any +harm to come of people's sticking to their own +affairs."</p> + +<p>But as he and his wife became silent for a time, +musing in the firelight, their daughter's special convictions +were far from coinciding with theirs, although +she, likewise, was silent—a singularity they +should have observed. So far were they from a true +comprehension of her, they were unaware that she +had more than a casual, young-cousinly interest in +Julia Atwater's engagement and in those possible +consequences to Noble Dill just sketched with +some intentional exaggeration. They did not even +notice her expression when Mr. Atwater snapped +on the light, in order to read; and she went quietly +out of the library and up the stairs to her own room.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On the floor, near her bed, where Patty Fairchild +had left her coat and hat, Florence made another +discovery. Two small, folded slips of paper lay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +there, dropped by Miss Fairchild when she put on +her coat in the darkening room. They were the +replies to Patty's whispered questions in the game +on the steps—the pledged Truth, written by Henry +Rooter and Herbert Atwater on their sacred words +and honours. The infatuated pair had either overestimated +Patty's caution, or else each had thought +she would so prize his little missive that she would +treasure it in a tender safety, perhaps pinned upon +her blouse (at the first opportunity) over her heart. +It is positively safe to say that neither of the two +veracities would ever have been set upon paper had +Herbert and Henry any foreshadowing that Patty +might be careless; and the partners would have been +seized with the utmost horror could they have conceived +the possibility of their trustful messages ever +falling into the hands of the relentless creature who +now, without an instant's honourable hesitation, unfolded +and read them.</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes if I got to tell the truth I know I have got pretty +eyes</i>," Herbert had unfortunately written. "I <i>am +glad you think so too Patty because your eyes are +too Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr.</i>"</p> + +<p>And Mr. Henry Rooter had likewise ruined himself +in a coincidental manner:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Well Patty my eyes are pretty but suppose I would +like to trade with yours because you have beautiful eyes +also, sure as my name is Henry Rooter.</i>"</p> + +<p>Florence stood close to the pink-shaded electric +drop-light over her small white dressing-table, reading +again and again these pathetically honest little +confidences. Her eyelids were withdrawn to an unprecedented +retirement, so remarkably she stared; +while her mouth seemed to prepare itself for the +attempted reception of a bulk beyond its capacity. +And these plastic tokens, so immoderate as to be +ordinarily the consequence of nothing short of +horror, were overlaid by others, subtler and more +gleaming, which wrought the true significance of +the contortion—a joy that was dumfounding.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts were first of Fortune's kindness in +selecting her for a favour so miraculously dovetailing +into the precise need of her life; then she considered +Henry and Herbert, each at this hour probably +brushing his hair in preparation for the Sunday +evening meal, and both touchingly unconscious of +the calamity now befalling them; but what eventually +engrossed her mind was a thought about +Wallie Torbin.</p> + +<p>This Master Torbin, fourteen years of age, was in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +all the town the boy most dreaded by his fellow-boys, +and also by girls, including many of both sexes who +knew him only by sight—and hearing. He had no +physical endowment or attainment worth mention; +but boys who could "whip him with one hand" +became sycophants in his presence; the terror he +inspired was moral. He had a special over-development +of a faculty exercised clumsily enough by most +human beings, especially in their youth; in other +words, he had a genius—not, however, a genius +having to do with anything generally recognized as +art or science. True, if he had been a violinist +prodigy or mathematical prodigy, he would have had +some respect from his fellows—about equal to that +he might have received if he were gifted with some +pleasant deformity, such as six toes on a foot—but +he would never have enjoyed such deadly prestige +as had actually come to be his. In brief, then, +Wallie Torbin had a genius for mockery.</p> + +<p>Almost from his babyhood he had been a child of +one purpose: to increase by burlesques the sufferings +of unfortunate friends. If one of them wept, Wallie +incessantly pursued him, yelping in horrid mimicry; +if one were chastised he could not appear out-of-doors +for days except to encounter Wallie and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +complete rehearsal of the recent agony. "Quit, +Papa! <i>Pah</i>-puh, quee-yet! I'll <i>never</i> do it again, +Pah-puh! Oh, <i>lemme</i> alone, Pah-<i>puh</i>!"</p> + +<p>As he grew older, his insatiate curiosity enabled +him to expose unnumbered weaknesses, indiscretions, +and social misfortunes on the part of acquaintances +and schoolmates; and to every exposure his noise +and energy gave a hideous publicity: the more his +victim sought privacy the more persistently he was +followed by Wallie, vociferous and attended by +hilarious spectators. But above all other things, +what most stimulated the demoniac boy to prodigies +of satire was a tender episode or any symptom connected +with the dawn of love. Florence herself had +suffered at intervals throughout her eleventh summer +because Wallie discovered that Georgie Beck +had sent her a valentine; and the humorist's many, +many squealings of that valentine's affectionate +quatrain finally left her unable to decide which she +hated the more, Wallie or Georgie. That was the +worst of Wallie: he never "let up"; and in Florence's +circle there was no more sobering threat than, "I'll +tell Wallie Torbin!" As for Henry Rooter and Herbert +Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., they would as soon +have had a Head-hunter on their trail as Wallie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +Torbin in the possession of anything that could incriminate +them in an implication of love—or an +acknowledgment (in their own handwriting!) of their +own beauty.</p> + +<p>The fabric of civilized life is interwoven with +blackmail: even some of the noblest people do favours +for other people who are depended upon not to tell +somebody something that the noblest people have +done. Blackmail is born into us all, and our nurses +teach us more blackmail by threatening to tell our +parents if we won't do this and that—and our parents +threaten to tell the doctor—and so we learn! Blackmail +is part of the daily life of a child. Displeased, his +first resort to get his way with other children is a threat +to "tell," but by-and-by his experience discovers +the mutual benefit of honour among blackmailers. +Therefore, at eight it is no longer the ticket to +threaten to tell the teacher; and, a little later, threatening +to tell any adult at all is considered something +of a breakdown in morals. Notoriously, the code is +more liable to infraction by people of the physically +weaker sex, for the very reason, of course, that their +inferiority of muscle so frequently compels such +a sin, if they are to have their way. But for Florence +there was now no such temptation. Looking to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +demolition of Atwater & Rooter, an exposure before +adults of the results of "Truth" would have been an +effect of the sickliest pallor compared to what might +be accomplished by a careful use of the catastrophic +Wallie Torbin.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On Sunday evening it was her privileged custom to +go to the house of fat old Great-Uncle Joseph and +remain until nine o'clock, in chatty companionship +with Uncle Joseph and Aunt Carrie, his wife, and a +few other relatives (including Herbert) who were in +the habit of dropping in there, on Sunday evenings. +In summer, lemonade and cake were frequently +provided; in the autumn, one still found cake, and +perhaps a pitcher of clear new cider: apples were a +certainty.</p> + +<p>This evening was glorious: there were apples and +cider and cake, with walnuts, perfectly cracked, and +a large open-hearted box of candy; for Uncle Joseph +and Aunt Carrie had foreseen the coming of several +more Atwaters than usual, to talk over the new +affairs of their beautiful relative, Julia. Seldom +have any relative's new affairs been more thoroughly +talked over than were Julia's that evening; though +all the time by means of symbols, since it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +thought wiser that Herbert and Florence should not +yet be told of Julia's engagement; and Florence's +parents were not present to confess their indiscretion. +Julia was referred to as "the traveller"; other makeshifts +were employed with the most knowing caution, +and all the while Florence merely ate inscrutably. +The more sincere Herbert was placid; the foods absorbing +his attention.</p> + +<p>"Well, all I say is, the traveller better enjoy herself +on her travels," said Aunt Fanny, finally, as the +subject appeared to be wearing toward exhaustion. +"She certainly is in for it when the voyaging is over +and she arrives in the port she sailed from, and has to +show her papers. I agree with the rest of you: +she'll have a great deal to answer for, and most of all +about the shortest one. My own opinion is that the +shortest one is going to burst like a balloon."</p> + +<p>"The shortest one," as the demure Florence had +understood from the first, was none other than her +Very Ideal. Now she looked up from the stool +where she sat with her back against a pilaster of the +mantelpiece. "Uncle Joseph," she said;—"I was +just thinking. What is a person's reason?"</p> + +<p>The fat gentleman, rosy with firelight and cider, +finished his fifth glass before responding. "Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +there <i>are</i> persons I never could find any reason for at +all. 'A person's reason'? What do you mean, 'a +person's reason,' Florence?"</p> + +<p>"I mean: like when somebody says, 'They'll lose +their reason,'" she explained. "Has everybody +got a reason, and if they have, what is it, and how do +they lose it, and what would they do then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I see!" he said. "You needn't worry. I +suppose since you heard it you've been hunting all +over yourself for your reason and looking to see if +there was one hanging out of anybody else, somewhere. +No; it's something you can't see, ordinarily, +Florence. Losing your reason is just another way +of saying, 'going crazy'!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she murmured, and appeared to be disturbed.</p> + +<p>At this, Herbert thought proper to offer a witticism +for the pleasure of the company.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> know, Florence," he said, "it only means acting +like <i>you</i> most always do." He applauded himself +with a burst of changing laughter ranging from a bullfrog +croak to a collapsing soprano; then he added: +"Espeshually when you come around my and Henry's +Newspaper Building! You cert'nly 'lose your +reason' every time you come around <i>that</i> ole place!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, course I haf to act like the people that's +already there," Florence retorted, not sharply, but +in a musing tone that should have warned him. It +was not her wont to use a quiet voice for repartee. +Thinking her humble, he laughed the more raucously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Florence!" he besought her. "Say not so! +Say not so!"</p> + +<p>"Children, children!" Uncle Joseph remonstrated.</p> + +<p>Herbert changed his tone; he became seriously +plaintive. "Well, she does act that way, Uncle +Joseph! When she comes around there you'd think +we were runnin' a lunatic asylum, the way she takes +on. She hollers and bellers and squalls and squawks. +The least little teeny thing she don't like about +the way we run our paper, she comes flappin' over +there and goes to screechin' around you could hear +her out at the Poor House Farm!"</p> + +<p>"Now, now, Herbert," his Aunt Fanny interposed. +"Poor little Florence isn't saying anything impolite +to you—not right now, at any rate. Why don't +you be a little sweet to her just for once?"</p> + +<p>Her unfortunate expression revolted all the manliness +in Herbert's bosom. "Be a little <i>sweet</i> to her?" +he echoed with poignant incredulity, and then in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +candour made plain how poorly Aunt Fanny inspired +him. "I just exackly as soon be a little sweet to an +alligator," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" said Aunt Carrie.</p> + +<p>"I would!" Herbert insisted. "Or a mosquito. +I'd rather, to <i>either</i> of 'em, 'cause anyway they don't +make so much noise. Why, you just ought to <i>hear</i> +her," he went on, growing more and more severe. +"You ought to just come around our Newspaper +Building any afternoon you please, after school, when +Henry and I are tryin' to do our work in anyway +<i>some</i> peace. Why, she just squawks and squalls +and squ——"</p> + +<p>"It must be terrible," Uncle Joseph interrupted. +"What do you do all that for, Florence, every afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Just for exercise," she answered dreamily; and her +placidity the more exasperated her journalist cousin.</p> + +<p>"She does it because she thinks <i>she</i> ought to be +runnin' our own newspaper, my and Henry's; that's +why she does it! She thinks she knows more about +how to run newspapers than anybody alive; but +there's one thing she's goin' to find out; and that is, +she don't get anything <i>more</i> to do with my and +Henry's newspaper. We wouldn't have another single<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +one of her ole poems in it, no matter how much she +offered to pay us! Uncle Joseph, I think you ought +to <i>tell</i> her she's got no business around my and +Henry's Newspaper Building."</p> + +<p>"But, Herbert," Aunt Fanny suggested;—"you +might let Florence have a little share in it of some +sort. Then everything would be all right."</p> + +<p>"It would?" he said. "It <i>woo</i>-wud? Oh, my +goodness, Aunt Fanny, I guess you'd like to see our +newspaper just utterably ruined! Why, we wouldn't +let that girl have any more to do with it than we +would some horse!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" both Aunt Fanny and Aunt Carrie +exclaimed, shocked.</p> + +<p>"We wouldn't," Herbert insisted. "A horse +would know any amount more how to run a newspaper +than she does. Soon as we got our printing-press, +we said right then that we made up our minds +Florence Atwater wasn't ever goin' to have a single +thing to do with our newspaper. If you let her have +anything to do with anything she wants to run the +whole thing. But she might just as well learn to +stay away from our Newspaper Building, because +after we got her out yesterday we fixed a way so's +she'll never get in <i>there</i> again!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<p>Florence looked at him demurely. "Are you sure, +Herbert?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Just you try it!" he advised her, and he laughed +tauntingly. "Just come around to-morrow and +try it; that's all I ask!"</p> + +<p>"I cert'nly intend to," she responded with dignity. +"I may have a slight supprise for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>Florence</i>, say not so! Say not so, Florence! +Say not so!"</p> + +<p>At this, she looked full upon him, and already she +had something in the nature of a surprise for him; +for so powerful was the still balefulness of her glance +that he was slightly startled. "I might say not +so," she said. "I might, if I was speaking of what +pretty eyes you say yourself you know you have, +Herbert."</p> + +<p>It staggered him. "What—what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin'," she replied airily.</p> + +<p>Herbert began to be mistrustful of the solid earth: +somewhere there was a fearful threat to his equipoise. +"What you talkin' about?" he said with an effort +to speak scornfully; but his sensitive voice almost +failed him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin'," said Florence. "Just about what +pretty eyes you know you have, and Patty's being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +pretty, too, and so you're glad she thinks yours are +pretty, the way <i>you</i> do—and everything!"</p> + +<p>Herbert visibly gulped. He believed that Patty +had betrayed him; had betrayed the sworn confidence +of "Truth!"</p> + +<p>"That's all I was talkin' about," Florence added. +"Just about how you knew you had such pretty eyes. +Say not so, Herbert! Say not so!"</p> + +<p>"Look here!" he said. "When'd you see Patty +again between this afternoon and when you came +over here?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you think I saw her?"</p> + +<p>"Did you telephone her?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so?"</p> + +<p>Once more Herbert gulped. "Well, I guess you're +ready to believe anything anybody tells you," he +said, with palsied bravado. "You don't believe +everything Patty Fairchild says, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Herbert! Doesn't she always tell the +<i>truth</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Her? Why, half the time," poor Herbert +babbled, "you can't tell whether she's just makin' +up what she says or not. If you've gone and believed +everything that ole girl told you, you haven't +got even what little sense I used to think you had!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +So base we are under strain, sometimes—so base +when our good name is threatened with the truth +of us! "I wouldn't believe anything she said," he +added, in a sickish voice, "if she told me fifty times +and crossed her heart!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you if she said you <i>wrote down</i> how +pretty you knew your eyes were, Herbert? Wouldn't +you if it was on paper in your own handwriting?"</p> + +<p>"What's this about Herbert having 'pretty eyes'?" +Uncle Joe inquired, again bringing general attention +to the young cousins; and Herbert shuddered. +This fat uncle had an unpleasant reputation as a +joker.</p> + +<p>The nephew desperately fell back upon the hopeless +device of attempting to drown out his opponent's +voice as she began to reply. He became +vociferous with scornful laughter, badly cracked. +"Florence got mad!" he shouted, mingling the purported +information with hoots and cacklings. "She +got mad because I and Henry played some games +with Patty and wouldn't let her play! She's tryin' +to make up stories on us to get even. She made it +up! It's all made up! She——"</p> + +<p>"No, no," Mr. Atwater interrupted. "Let Florence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +tell us. Florence, what was it about Herbert's +knowing he had 'pretty eyes'?"</p> + +<p>Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. +He bawled. "She made it <i>up</i>! It's somep'n she +made up her<i>self</i>! She——"</p> + +<p>"Herbert," said Uncle Joseph;—"if you don't +keep quiet, I'll take back the printing-press."</p> + +<p>Herbert substituted a gulp for the continuation +of his noise.</p> + +<p>"Now, Florence," said Uncle Joseph, "tell us what +you were saying about how Herbert knows he has +such 'pretty eyes'."</p> + +<p>Then it seemed to Herbert that a miracle befell. +Florence looked up, smiling modestly. "Oh, it +wasn't anything, Uncle Joseph," she said. "I was +Just trying to tease Herbert any way I could think +of."</p> + +<p>"Oh, was that all?" A hopeful light faded out of +Uncle Joseph's large and inexpressive face. "I +thought perhaps you'd detected him in some indiscretion."</p> + +<p>Florence laughed, "I was just teasin' him. It +wasn't anything, Uncle Joseph."</p> + +<p>Hereupon, Herbert resumed a confused breathing. +Dazed, he remained uneasy, profoundly so: and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +gratitude was no part of his emotion. He well +understood that in conflicts such as these Florence +was never susceptible to impulses of compassion; +in fact, if there was warfare between them, experience +had taught him to be wariest when she seemed +kindest. He moved away from her, and went into +another room where his condition was one of increasing +mental discomfort, though he looked over the +pictures in his great-uncle's copy of "Paradise Lost." +These illustrations, by M. Gustave Doré, failed to +aid in reassuring his troubled mind.</p> + +<p>When Florence left the house, he impulsively accompanied +her, maintaining a nervous silence as +they walked the short distance between Uncle +Joseph's front gate and her own. There, however, he +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Look here! You don't haf to go and believe +everything that ole girl told you, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Florence heartily. "I don't haf to."</p> + +<p>"Well, look here," he urged, helpless but to repeat. +"You don't haf to believe whatever it was she went +and told you, do you?"</p> + +<p>"What was it you think she told me, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"All that guff—you know. Well, whatever it was +you <i>said</i> she told you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I didn't," said Florence. "I didn't say she told +me anything at all."</p> + +<p>"Well, she did, didn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," Florence replied, lightly. "She didn't +say anything to <i>me</i>. Only I'm glad to have your +<i>opinion</i> of her, how she's such a story-teller and all—if +I ever want to tell her, and everything!"</p> + +<p>But Herbert had greater alarms than this, and the +greater obscured the lesser. "Look here," he said, +"if she didn't tell you, how'd you know it then?"</p> + +<p>"How'd I know what?"</p> + +<p>"That—that big story about my ever writin' I +knew I had"—he gulped again—"pretty eyes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, about <i>that</i>!" Florence said, and swung the +gate shut between them. "Well, I guess it's too +late to tell you to-night, Herbert; but maybe if you +and that nasty little Henry Rooter do every single +thing I tell you to, and do it just <i>exackly</i> like I tell +you from this time on, why maybe—I only say 'maybe'—well, +maybe I'll tell you some day when I feel +like it."</p> + +<p>She ran up the path and up the veranda steps, +but paused before opening the front door, and called +back to the waiting Herbert:</p> + +<p>"The only person I'd ever <i>think</i> of tellin' about it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +before I tell you would be a boy I know." She +coughed, and added as by an afterthought, "He'd +just love to know all about it; I know he would. So, +when I tell anybody about it I'll only tell just you +and this other boy."</p> + +<p>"What other boy?" Herbert demanded.</p> + +<p>And her reply, thrilling through the darkness, left +him demoralized with horror.</p> + +<p>"Wallie Torbin!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_NINETEEN" id="CHAPTER_NINETEEN"></a>CHAPTER NINETEEN</h3> + + +<p>The next afternoon, about four o'clock, Herbert +stood gloomily at the main entrance +of Atwater & Rooter's Newspaper Building +awaiting his partner. The other entrances were not +only nailed fast but massively barricaded; and this +one (consisting of the ancient carriage-house doors, +opening upon a driveway through the yard) had recently +been made effective for exclusion. A long +and heavy plank leaned against the wall, near by, +ready to be set in hook-shaped iron supports fastened +to the inner sides of the doors; and when the doors +were closed, with this great plank in place, a person +inside the building might seem entitled to count +upon the enjoyment of privacy, except in case of +earthquake, tornado, or fire. In fact, the size of +the plank and the substantial quality of the iron +fastenings could be looked upon, from a certain +viewpoint, as a real compliment to the energy and +persistence of Florence Atwater.</p> + +<p>Herbert had been in no complimentary frame of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +mind, however, when he devised the obstructions, +nor was he now in such a frame of mind. He was +pessimistic in regard to his future, and also embarrassed +in anticipation of some explanations it would +be necessary to make to his partner. He strongly +hoped that Henry's regular after-school appearance +at the Newspaper Building would precede Florence's, +because these explanations required both deliberation +and tact, and he was convinced that it would be +almost impossible to make them at all if Florence +got there first.</p> + +<p>He understood that he was unfortunately within +her power; and he saw that it would be dangerous +to place in operation for her exclusion from the Building +this new mechanism contrived with such hopeful +care, and at a cost of two dollars and twenty-five cents +taken from the <i>Oriole's</i> treasury. What he wished +Henry to believe was that for some good reason, +which Herbert had not yet been able to invent, it +would be better to show Florence a little politeness. +He had a desperate hope that he might find some +diplomatic way to prevail on Henry to be as subservient +to Florence as she had seemed to demand, +and he was determined to touch any extremity of +unveracity, rather than permit the details of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +answer in "Truth" to come to his partner's knowledge. +Henry Rooter was not Wallie Torbin; but +in possession of material such as this he could easily +make himself intolerable.</p> + +<p>Therefore, it was in a flurried state of mind that +Herbert waited; and when his friend appeared, over the +fence, his perturbation was not decreased. He even +failed to notice the unusual gravity of Henry's manner.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Henry! I thought I wouldn't start in +working till you got here. I didn't want to haf to +come all the way downstairs again to open the door +and hi'st our good ole plank up again."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Henry, glancing nervously at their +good ole plank. "Well, I guess Florence'll never get +in <i>this</i> good ole door—that is, she won't if we don't +let her, or something."</p> + +<p>This final clause would have astonished Herbert +if he had been less preoccupied with his troubles. +"You bet she won't!" he said mechanically. "She +couldn't ever get in here again—if the <i>family</i> didn't +go intafering around and give me the dickens and +everything, because they think—they <i>say</i> they do, +anyhow—they say they think—they think——"</p> + +<p>He paused, disguising a little choke as a cough of +scorn for the family's thinking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What did you say your family think?" Henry +asked absently.</p> + +<p>"Well, they say we ought to let her have a share +in our newspaper." Again he paused, afraid to +continue lest his hypocrisy appear so bare-faced as +to invite suspicion. "Well, maybe we <i>ought</i>," +he said finally, his eyes guiltily upon his toe, which +slowly scuffed the ground. "I don't say we ought, +and I don't say we oughtn't."</p> + +<p>He expected at the least a sharp protest from his +partner, who, on the contrary, surprised him. +"Well, that's the way <i>I</i> look at it," Henry said. +"I don't say we ought and I don't say we oughtn't."</p> + +<p>And he, likewise, stared at the toe of a shoe that +scuffed the ground. Herbert felt a little better; this +particular subdivision of his difficulties seemed to be +working out with unexpected ease.</p> + +<p>"I don't say we will and I don't say we won't," +Henry added. "That's the way I look at it. My +father and mother are always talkin' to me: how +I got to be polite and everything, and I guess maybe +it's time I began to pay some 'tention to what they +say. You don't have your father and mother for +always, you know, Herbert."</p> + +<p>Herbert's mood at once chimed with this unprecedented<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +filial melancholy. "No, you don't, Henry. +That's what I often think about, myself. No, sir, +a fellow doesn't have his father and mother to advise +him our whole life, and you ought to do a good deal +what they say while they're still alive."</p> + +<p>"That's what I say," Henry agreed gloomily; +and then, without any alteration of his tone, or of +the dejected thoughtfulness of his attitude, he +changed the subject in a way that painfully startled +his companion. "Have you seen Wallie Torbin to-day, +Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Wallie Torbin to-day?"</p> + +<p>Herbert swallowed. "Why, what makes—what +makes you ask me that, Henry?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin'." Henry still kept his eyes upon +his gloomily scuffing toe. "I just wondered, because +I didn't happen to see him in school this afternoon +when I happened to look in the door of the +Eight-A when it was open. I didn't want to know +on account of anything particular. I just happened +to say that about him because I didn't have anything +else to think about just then, so I just happened +to think about him, the way you do when you haven't +got anything much on your mind and might get to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +thinkin' about you can't tell what. That's all the +way it was; I just happened to kind of wonder if he +was around anywhere maybe."</p> + +<p>Henry's tone was obviously, even elaborately, +sincere; and Herbert was reassured. "Well, I +didn't see him," he responded. "Maybe he's +sick."</p> + +<p>"No, he isn't," his friend said. "Florence said +she saw him chasin' his dog down the street about +noon."</p> + +<p>At this Herbert's uneasiness was uncomfortably +renewed. "<i>Florence</i> did? Where'd you see Florence?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Rooter swallowed. "A little while ago," +he said, and again swallowed. "On the way home +from school."</p> + +<p>"Look—look here!" Herbert was flurried to the +point of panic. "Henry—did Florence—did she +go and tell you—did she tell you——?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> didn't hardly notice what she was talkin' +about," Henry said doggedly. "She didn't have +anything to say that <i>I'd</i> ever care two cents about. +She came up behind me and walked along with me a +ways, but I got too many things on my mind to +hardly pay the least attention to anything <i>she</i> ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +talks about. She's a girl what I think about her +the less people pay any 'tention to what she says the +better off they are."</p> + +<p>"That's the way with me, Henry," his partner +assured him earnestly. "I never pay any notice +to what <i>she</i> says. The way I figure it out about +<i>her</i>, Henry, everybody'd be a good deal better off +if nobody ever paid the least notice to anything she +says. I never even notice what she says, myself."</p> + +<p>"I don't either," said Henry. "All <i>I</i> think about +is what my father and mother say, because I'm not +goin' to have their advice all the rest o' my life, +after they're dead. If they want me to be polite, +why, I'll do it and that's all there is about it."</p> + +<p>"It's the same way with me, Henry. If she comes +flappin' around here blattin' and blubbin' how she's +goin' to have somep'n to do with our newspaper, +why, the only reason <i>I'd</i> ever let her would be because +my <i>family</i> say I ought to show more politeness +to her than up to now. I wouldn't do it on any +other account, Henry."</p> + +<p>"Neither would I. That's just the same way +<i>I</i> look at it, Herbert. If I ever begin to treat her +any better, she's got my father and mother to thank, +not me. That's the only reason <i>I'd</i> be willing to say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +we better leave the plank down and let her in, if +she comes around here like she's liable to."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Herbert. "<i>I'm</i> willing. I don't +want to get in trouble with the family."</p> + +<p>And they mounted the stairs to their editorial, +reportorial, and printing rooms; and began to work +in a manner not only preoccupied but apprehensive. +At intervals they would give each other a furtive +glance, and then seem to reflect upon their fathers' +and mothers' wishes and the troublous state of the +times. Florence did not keep them waiting long, +however.</p> + +<p>She might have been easier to bear had her manner +of arrival been less assured. She romped up the +stairs, came skipping across the old floor, swinging +her hat by a ribbon, flung open the gate in the sacred +railing, and, flouncing into the principal chair, immodestly +placed her feet on the table in front of +that chair. Additionally, such was her lively humour, +she affected to light and smoke the stub of +a lead pencil. "Well, men," she said heartily, "I +don't want to see any loafin' around here, men. I +expect I'll have a pretty good newspaper this week; +yes, sir, a pretty good newspaper, and I guess you +men got to jump around a good deal to do everything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +I think of, or else maybe I guess I'll have to +turn you off. I don't want to haf to do that, men."</p> + +<p>The blackmailed partners made no reply, on account +of an inability that was perfect for the moment. +They stared at her helplessly, though not +kindly; for in their expressions the conflict between +desire and policy was almost staringly vivid. And +such was their preoccupation, each with the bitterness +of his own case, that neither wondered at the +other's strange complaisance.</p> + +<p>Florence made it clear to them that henceforth +she was the editor of <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>. +(She said she had decided not to change the name.) +She informed them that they were to be her printers; +she did not care to get all inky and nasty herself, +she said. She would, however, do all the writing for +her newspaper, and had with her a new poem. Also, +she would furnish all the news and it would be +printed just as she wrote it, and printed <i>nicely</i>, too, +or else——She left the sentence unfinished.</p> + +<p>Thus did this cool hand take possession of an +established industry, and in much the same fashion +did she continue to manage it. There were unsuppressible +protests; there was covert anguish; +there was even a strike—but it was a short one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +When the printers remained away from their late +Newspaper Building, on Wednesday afternoon, +Florence had an interview with Herbert after dinner +at his own door. He explained coldly that Henry +and he had grown tired of the printing-press and +had decided to put in all their spare time building +a theatre in Henry's attic; but Florence gave him to +understand that the theatre could not be; she preferred +the <i>Oriole</i>.</p> + +<p>Henry and Herbert had both stopped "speaking" +to Patty Fairchild, for each believed her treacherous +to himself; but Florence now informed Herbert that +far from depending on mere hearsay, she had in her +own possession the confession of his knowledge that +he had ocular beauty; that she had discovered the +paper where Patty had lost it; and that it was now +in a secure place, and in an envelope, upon the +outside of which was already written, "For Wallie +Torbin. Kindness of Florence A."</p> + +<p>Herbert surrendered.</p> + +<p>So did Henry Rooter, a little later that evening, +after a telephoned conversation with the slave-driver.</p> + +<p>Therefore, the two miserable printers were back +in their places the next afternoon. They told each +other that the theatre they had planned wasn't so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> +much after all; and anyhow your father and mother +didn't last all your life, and it was better to do what +they wanted, and be polite while they were alive.</p> + +<p>And on Saturday the new <i>Oriole</i>, now in every +jot and item the inspired organ of feminism, made +its undeniably sensational appearance.</p> + +<p>A copy, neatly folded, was placed in the hand of +Noble Dill, as he set forth for his place of business, +after lunching at home with his mother. Florence +was the person who placed it there; she came hurriedly +from somewhere in the neighbourhood, out +of what yard or alley he did not notice, and slipped +the little oblong sheet into his lax fingers.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said breathlessly. "There's a +good deal about you in it this week, Mr. Dill, and +I guess—I guess——"</p> + +<p>"What, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"I guess maybe you'll——" She looked up at +him shyly; then, with no more to say, turned and ran +back in the direction whence she had come. Noble +walked on, not at once examining her little gift, but +carrying it absently in fingers still lax at the end of +a dangling arm. There was no life in him for anything. +Julia was away.</p> + +<p>Away! And yet the dazzling creature looked at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +him from sky, from earth, from air; looked at him +with the most poignant kindness, yet always shook +her head! She had answered his first letter by a +kind little note, his second by a kinder and littler +one, and his third, fourth, fifth, and sixth by no +note at all; but by the kindest message (through one +of her aunts) that she was thinking about him a great +deal. And even this was three weeks ago. Since then +from Julia—nothing at all!</p> + +<p>But yesterday something a little stimulating had +happened. On the street, downtown, he had come +face to face, momentarily, with Julia's father; and for +the first time in Noble's life Mr. Atwater nodded to +him pleasantly. Noble went on his way, elated. Was +there not something almost fatherly in this strange +greeting?</p> + +<p>An event so singular might be interpreted in the +happiest way: What had Julia written her father, +to change him so toward Noble? And Noble was +still dreamily interpreting as he walked down the +street with <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i> idle in +an idle hand.</p> + +<p>He found a use for that hand presently, and, having +sighed, lifted it to press it upon his brow, but did +not complete the gesture. As his hand came within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +the scope of his gaze, levelled on the unfathomable +distance, he observed that the fingers held a sheet +of printed paper; and he remembered Florence. +Instead of pressing his brow he unfolded the journal +she had thrust upon him. As he began to read, +his eye was lustreless, his gait slack and dreary; but +soon his whole demeanour changed, it cannot be +said for the better.</p> + +<div style="font-size: 80%"> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Atwater & Co., Owners & Propietors</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Subscribe NOW 25 cents Per. Year. Sub-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">scriptions should be brought to the East</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Main Entrance of Atwater & Co., News-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">paper Building every afternoon</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">430 to VI 25 Cents</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">POEMS</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">My Soul by Florence Atwater</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">When my heart is dreary</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">Then my soul is weary</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">As a bird with a broken wing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Who never again will sing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Like the sound of a vast amen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">That comes from a church of men.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">When my soul is dreary</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">It could never be cheery</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">But I think of my ideal</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">And everything seems real</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">Like the sound of the bright church bells peal.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Poems by Florence Atwater will be in</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">the paper each and every Sat.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Advertisements 45c. each Up</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Joseph K. Atwater Co.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">127 South Iowa St.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Steam Pumps</span><br /> +<br /></p> +<p style="margin-left: 14em;">The News of the City<br /> + __________</p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Florence Atwater of tHis City</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">received a mark of 94 in History Examination</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">at the concusion of the school Term last June.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Blue hair ribbons are in style again.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Patty Fairchild of this City has not</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">been doing as well in Declamation lately</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">as formerly.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">MR. Noble Dill of this City is seldom</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">seen on the streets of the City without</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">smoking a cigarette.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Julia Atwater of this City is out</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">of the City.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">The MR. Rayfort family of this City</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">have been presentde with the present</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">of a new Cat by Geo. the man employeD by</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Balf & CO. This cat is perfectly</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">baeutiful and still quit young.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Julia Atwater of this City is visiting</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">friends in the Soth. The family have had</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">many letters from her that are read by each</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">and all of the famild.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Mr. Noble Dill of this City is in business</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">with his Father.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">There was quite a wind storm Thursday doing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">damage to shade trees in many parts of our</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">beautiful City.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">From Letters to the family Miss Julia</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Atwater of this City is enjoying her visit</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">in the south a greadeal.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Patty Fairchild of the 7 A of this</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">City, will probably not pass in ARithmetiC—unless</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">great improvement takes place before</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Examination.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Miss Julia Atwater of this City wrote a</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">letter to the family stating while visiting</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">in the SOuth she has made an engagement</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">to be married to MR. Crum of that City.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">The family do not know who this MR. Crum</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">is but It is said he is a widower though</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">he has been diVorced with a great many</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">children.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">The new ditch of the MR. Henry D. Vance,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">backyard of this City is about through</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">now as little remain to be done and it is</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">thought the beighborhood will son look</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">better. Subscribe NOW 25c. Per Year Adv.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">45c. up. Atwater & Co. Newspaper Building</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">25 Cents Per Years.</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>It may be assumed that the last of the news items +was wasted upon Noble Dill and that he never knew +of the neighbourhood improvement believed to be +imminent as a result of the final touches to the +ditch of the Mr. Henry D. Vance backyard.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY</h3> + + +<p>Throughout that afternoon adult members +of the Atwater family connection made +futile efforts to secure all the copies of the +week's edition of <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>. +It could not be done.</p> + +<p>It was a trying time for "the family." Great +Aunt Carrie said that she had the "worst afternoon of +any of 'em," because young Newland Sanders came +to her house at two and did not leave until five; all +the time counting over, one by one, the hours he'd +spent with Julia since she was seventeen and turned +out, unfortunately, to be a Beauty. Newland had +not restrained himself, Aunt Carrie said, and long +before he left she wished Julia had never been born—and +as for Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Junior, +the only thing to do with him was to send him to some +strict Military School.</p> + +<p>Florence's father telephoned to her mother from +downtown at three, and said that Mr. George Plum +and the ardent vocalist, Clairdyce, had just left his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +office. They had not called in company, however, +but coincidentally; and each had a copy of <i>The +North End Daily Oriole</i>, already somewhat worn +with folding and unfolding. Mr. Clairdyce's condition +was one of desperate calm, Florence's father +said, but Mr. Plum's agitation left him rather unpresentable +for the street, though he had finally +gone forth with his hair just as he had rumpled it, +and with his hat in his hand. They wished the +truth, they said: Was it true or was it not true? +Mr. Atwater had told them that he feared Julia was +indeed engaged, though he knew nothing of her +fiancé's previous marriage or marriages, or of the +number of his children. They had responded that +they cared nothing about that. This man Crum's +record was a matter of indifference to them, they +said. All they wanted to know was whether Julia +was engaged or not—and she was!</p> + +<p>"The odd thing to <i>me</i>," Mr. Atwater continued +to his wife, "is where on earth Herbert could have +got his story about this Crum's being a widower, and +divorced, and with all those children. Do you know +if Julia's written any of the family about these +things and they haven't told the rest of us?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Atwater. "I'm sure she hasn't.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +Every letter she's written to any of us has passed all +through the family, and I know I've seen every one +of 'em. She's never said anything about him at all, +except that he was a lawyer. I'm sure <i>I</i> can't +imagine where Herbert got his awful information; +I never thought he was the kind of boy to just make +up such things out of whole cloth."</p> + +<p>Florence, sitting quietly in a chair near by, with +a copy of "Sesame and Lilies" in her lap, listened to +her mother's side of this conversation with an expression +of impersonal interest; and if she could have +realized how completely her parents had forgotten +(naturally enough) the details of their first rambling +discussion of Julia's engagement, she might really +have felt as little alarm as she showed.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Atwater, "I'm glad <i>our</i> branch +of the family isn't responsible. That's a comfort, +anyhow, especially as people are reading copies of +Herbert's dreadful paper all up and down the town, +my clerk says. He tells me that over at the Unity +Trust Company, where young Murdock Hawes is +cashier, they only got hold of one copy, but typewrote +it and multigraphed it, and some of 'em have +already learned it by heart to recite to poor young +Hawes. He's the one who sent Julia the three fivepound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +boxes of chocolates from New York all at the +same time, you remember."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Atwater sighed. "Poor thing!"</p> + +<p>"Florence is out among the family, I suppose?" +he inquired.</p> + +<p>"No; she's right here. She's just started to read +Ruskin this afternoon. She says she's going to begin +and read all of him straight through. That's very +nice, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>He seemed to muse before replying.</p> + +<p>"I think that's very nice, at her age especially," +Mrs. Atwater urged. "Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es! Oh, yes! At least I suppose so. Ah—you +don't think—of course she hasn't had anything +at all to do with this?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't <i>see</i> how she could. You know +Aunt Fanny told us how Herbert declared before +them all, only last Sunday night, that Florence should +never have one thing to do with his printing-press, +and said they wouldn't even let her come near it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's a fact. I'm glad Herbert made it +so clear that she can't be implicated. I suppose +the family are all pretty well down on Uncle Joseph?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Joseph is being greatly blamed," said +Mrs. Atwater primly. "He really ought to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +known better than to put such an instrument as +a printing-press into the hands of an irresponsible +boy of that age. Of course it simply encouraged him +to print all kinds of things. We none of us think +Uncle Joseph ever dreamed that Herbert would +publish, anything exactly like <i>this</i>, and of course +Uncle Joseph says himself he never dreamed such a +thing; he's said so time and time and time again, all +afternoon. But of course he's greatly blamed."</p> + +<p>"I suppose there've been quite a good many of +'em over there blaming him?" her husband inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes—until he telephoned to a garage and hired +a car and went for a drive. He said he had plenty of +money with him and didn't know when he'd be +back."</p> + +<p>"Serves him right," said Mr. Atwater. "Does +anybody know where Herbert is?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet!"</p> + +<p>"Well——" and he returned to a former theme. +"I <i>am</i> glad we aren't implicated. Florence is right +there with you, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Atwater replied. "She's right here, +reading. You aren't worried about her, are you?" +she added.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, no; I'm sure it's all right. I only +thought——"</p> + +<p>"Only thought what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it <i>did</i> strike me as curious," said Mr. +Atwater; "especially after Aunt Fanny's telling us +how Herbert declared Florence could never have a +single thing to do with his paper again——"</p> + +<p>"Well, what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, here's her poem right at the top of it, and +a <i>very</i> friendly item about her history mark of last +June. It doesn't seem like Herbert to be so complimentary +to Florence, all of a sudden. Just +struck me as rather curious; that's all."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," said Mrs. Atwater, "it does seem a +little odd, when you think of it."</p> + +<p>"Have you <i>asked</i> Florence if she had anything to +do with getting out this week's <i>Oriole</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no; it never occurred to me, especially +after what Aunt Fanny told us," said Mrs. Atwater. +"I'll ask her now."</p> + +<p>But she was obliged to postpone putting the intended +question. "Sesame and Lilies" lay sweetly +upon the seat of the chair that Florence had occupied; +but Florence herself had gone somewhere else.</p> + +<p>She had gone for a long, long ramble; and pedestrians<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +who encountered her, and happened to notice +her expression, were interested; and as they went +on their way several of them interrupted the course +of their meditations to say to themselves that she +was the most thoughtful looking young girl they +had ever seen. There was a touch of wistfulness +about her, too; as of one whose benevolence must +renounce all hope of comprehension and reward.</p> + +<p>Now, among those who observed her unusual +expression was a gentleman of great dimensions disposed +in a closed automobile that went labouring +among mudholes in an unpaved outskirt of the town. +He rapped upon the glass before him, to get the +driver's attention, and a moment later the car drew +up beside Florence, as she stood in a deep reverie +at the intersection of two roads.</p> + +<p>Uncle Joseph opened the door and took his cigar +from his mouth. "Get in, Florence," he said. "I'll +take you for a ride." She started violently; whereupon +he restored the cigar to his mouth, puffed upon +it, breathing heavily the while as was his wont, +and added, "I'm not going home. I'm out for a +nice long ride. Get in."</p> + +<p>"I was takin' a walk," she said dubiously. "I haf +to take a whole lot of exercise, and I ought to walk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +and walk and walk. I guess I ought to keep on +walkin'."</p> + +<p>"Get in," he said. "I'm out riding. I don't +know <i>when</i> I'll get home!"</p> + +<p>Florence stepped in, Uncle Joseph closed the door, +and the car slowly bumped onward.</p> + +<p>"You know where Herbert is?" Uncle Joseph +inquired.</p> + +<p>"No," said Florence, in a gentle voice.</p> + +<p>"I do," he said. "Herbert and your friend +Henry Rooter came to our house with one of the last +copies of the <i>Oriole</i> they were distributing to subscribers; +and after I read it I kind of foresaw that +the feller responsible for their owning a printing-press +was going to be in some sort of family trouble +or other. I had quite a talk with 'em and they +hinted they hadn't had much to do with this number +of the paper, except the mechanical end of it; but they +wouldn't come out right full with what they meant. +They seemed to have some good reason for protecting +a third party, and said quite a good deal +about their fathers and mothers being but mortal +and so on; so Henry and Herbert thought they +oughtn't to expose this third party—whoever she may +happen to be. Well, I thought they better not stay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +too long, because I was compromised enough already, +without being seen in their company; and I gave +'em something to help 'em out with at the movies. +You can stay at movies an awful long time, and if +you've got money enough to go to several of 'em, +why, you're fixed for pretty near as long as you please. +A body ought to be able to live a couple o' months +at the movies for nine or ten dollars, I should think."</p> + +<p>He was silent for a time, then asked, "I don't +suppose your papa and mamma will be worrying +about you, will they, Florence?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she said quickly. "Not in the least! +There was nothin' at all for me to do at our house +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"That's good," he said, "because before we go +back I was thinking some of driving around by way +of Texas."</p> + +<p>Florence looked at him trustfully and said nothing. +It seemed to her that he suspected something; she +was not sure; but his conversation was a little peculiar, +though not in the least sinister. Indeed she was +able to make out that he had more the air of an accomplice +than of a prosecutor or a detective. Nevertheless, +she was convinced that far, far the best course +for her to pursue, during the next few days, would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +be one of steadfast reserve. And such a course +was congenial to her mood, which was subdued, not +to say apprehensive; though she was sure her recent +conduct, if viewed sympathetically, would be found +at least Christian. The trouble was that probably it +would not be viewed sympathetically. No one would +understand how carefully and tactfully she had +prepared the items of the <i>Oriole</i> to lead suavely +up to the news of Aunt Julia's engagement and +break it to Noble Dill in a manner that would save +his reason.</p> + +<p>Therefore, on account of this probable lack of +comprehension on the part of the family and public, +it seemed to her that the only wise and good course +to follow would be to claim nothing for herself, but to +allow Herbert and Henry to remain undisturbed +in full credit for publishing the <i>Oriole</i>. This involved +a disappointment, it is true; nevertheless, she +decided to bear it.</p> + +<p>She had looked forward to surprising "the family" +delightfully. As they fluttered in exclamation about +her, she had expected to say, "Oh, the <i>poem</i> isn't so +much, I guess—I wrote it quite a few days ago and +I'm writing a couple new ones now—but I did +take quite a lot o' time and trouble with the rest of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> +the paper, because I had to write every single word +of it, or else let Henry and Herbert try to, and 'course +they'd just of ruined it. Oh, it isn't so much to +talk about, I guess; it just sort of <i>comes</i> to me to do +things that way."</p> + +<p>Thirteen attempts to exercise a great philanthropy, +and every grown person in sight, with the possible +exception of Great-Uncle Joseph, goes into wholly +unanticipated fits of horror. Cause and effect +have no honest relation: Fate operates without justice +or even rational sequence; life and the universe +appear to be governed, not in order and with system, +but by Chance, becoming sinister at any moment +without reason.</p> + +<p>And while Florence, thus a pessimist, sat beside +fat Uncle Joseph during their long, long drive, relatives +of hers were indeed going into fits; at least, so +Florence would have described their gestures and incoherences +of comment. Moreover, after the movies, +straight into such a fitful scene did the luckless Herbert +walk when urged homeward by thoughts of +food, at about six that evening. Henry Rooter had +strongly advised him against entering the house.</p> + +<p>"You better not," he said earnestly. "<i>Honest</i>, +you better not, Herbert!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, we got apple dumplings for dinner," Herbert +said, his tone showing the strain of mental +uncertainty. "Eliza told me this morning we were +goin' to have 'em. I kind of hate to go in, but I +guess I better, Henry."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> won't see any apple dumplings," Henry +predicted.</p> + +<p>"Well, I believe I better try it, Henry."</p> + +<p>"You better come home with me. My father and +mother'll be perfectly willing to have you."</p> + +<p>"I know that," said Herbert. "But I guess I +better go in and try it, anyhow, Henry. I didn't +have anything to do with what's in the <i>Oriole</i>. +It's every last word ole Florence's doing. I haven't +got any more right to be picked on for that than a +child."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Henry admitted. "But if you go and tell +'em so, I bet she'd get even with you some way that +would probably get <i>me</i> in trouble, too, before we get +through with the job. <i>I</i> wouldn't tell 'em if I was +you, Herbert!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I wasn't intending to," Herbert responded +gloomily; and the thought of each, unknown to the +other, was the same, consisting of a symbolic likeness +of Wallie Torbin at his worst. "I <i>ought</i> to tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +on Florence; by rights I ought," said Herbert; "but +I've decided I won't. There's no tellin' what she +wouldn't do. Not that she could do anything to +<i>me</i>, particyourly——"</p> + +<p>"Nor me, either," his friend interposed hurriedly. +"I don't worry about anything like that! Still, if I +was you I wouldn't tell. She's only a girl, we got to +remember."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Herbert. "That's the way <i>I</i> look at +it, Henry; and the way I look at it is just simply this: +long as she <i>is</i> a girl, why, simply let her go. You +can't tell what she'd do, and so what's the use to go +and tell on a girl?"</p> + +<p>"That's the way <i>I</i> look at it," Henry agreed. +"What's the use? If I was in your place, I'd act just +the same way you do."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Herbert, "I guess I better go on in +the house, Henry. It's a good while after dark."</p> + +<p>"You're makin' a big mistake!" Henry Rooter +called after him. "<i>You</i> won't see any apple dumplings, +I bet a hunderd dollars! You better come on +home with me."</p> + +<p>Herbert no more than half opened his front +door before he perceived that his friend's advice had +been excellent. So clearly Herbert perceived this,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +that he impulsively decided not to open the door any +farther, but on the contrary to close it and retire; +and he would have done so, had his mother not +reached forth and detained him. She was, in fact, +just inside that door, standing in the hall with one +of his great-aunts, one of his aunts, two aunts-by-marriage, +and an elderly unmarried cousin, who were +all just on the point of leaving. However, they +changed their minds and decided to remain, now +that Herbert was among them.</p> + +<p>The captive's father joined them, a few minutes +later, but it had already become clear to Herbert +that <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i> was in one sense a +thing of the past, though in another sense this former +owner and proprietor was certain that he would +never hear the last of it. However, on account of +the life of blackmail and slavery now led by the +members of the old régime, the <i>Oriole's</i> extinction +was far less painful to Herbert than his father supposed; +and the latter wasted a great deal of severity, +insisting that the printing-press should be returned +that very night to Uncle Joseph. Herbert's heartiest +retrospective wish was that the ole printing-press had +been returned to Uncle Joseph long ago.</p> + +<p>"If you can find him to give it to!" Aunt Harriet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +suggested. "Nobody <i>knows</i> where he goes when he +gets the way he did this afternoon when we were discussing +it with him! I only hope he'll be back to-night!"</p> + +<p>"He can't stay away forever," Aunt Fanny remarked. +"That garage is charging him five dollars +an hour for the automobile he's in, and surely even +Joseph will decide there's a limit to wildness <i>some</i> +time!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care when he comes back," Herbert's +father declared grimly. "Whenever he does he's got +to take that printing-press back—and Herbert will +be let out of the house long enough to carry it over. +His mother or I will go with him."</p> + +<p>Herbert bore much more than this. He had +seated himself on the third step of the stairway, and +maintained as much dogged silence as he could. +Once, however, they got a yelp of anguish out of him. +It was when Cousin Virginia said: "Oh, Herbert, +Herbert! How could you make up that terrible +falsehood about Mr. Crum? And, <i>think</i> of it; right +on the same page with your cousin Florence's pure +little poem!"</p> + +<p>Herbert uttered sounds incoherent but loud, and +expressive of a supreme physical revulsion. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> +shocked audience readily understood that he liked +neither Cousin Virginia's chiding nor Cousin Florence's +pure little poem.</p> + +<p>"Shame!" said his father.</p> + +<p>Herbert controlled himself. It could be seen that +his spirit was broken, when Aunt Fanny mourned, +shaking her head at him, smiling ruefully:</p> + +<p>"Oh, if boys could only be girls!"</p> + +<p>Herbert just looked at her.</p> + +<p>"The worst thing," said his father;—"that is, if +there's any part of it that's worse than another—the +worst thing about it all is this rumour about Noble +Dill."</p> + +<p>"What about that poor thing?" Aunt Harriet +asked. "We haven't heard."</p> + +<p>"Why, I walked up from downtown with old man +Dill," said Mr. Atwater, "and the Dill family are all +very much worried. It seems that Noble started +downtown after lunch, as usual, and pretty soon +he came back to the house and he had a copy of this +awful paper that little Florence had given him, +and——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Who</i> gave it to him?" Aunt Fanny asked. +"<i>Who</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Little Florence."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, that's curious," Cousin Virginia murmured. +"I must telephone and ask her mother +about that."</p> + +<p>The brooding Herbert looked up, and there was a +gleam in his dogged eye; but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Go on," Aunt Harriet urged. "What did Noble +do?"</p> + +<p>"Why, his mother said he just went up to his room +and changed his shoes and necktie——"</p> + +<p>"I thought so," Aunt Fanny whispered. "Crazy!"</p> + +<p>"And then," Mr. Atwater continued, "he left +the house and she supposed he'd gone down to the +office; but she was uneasy, and telephoned his father. +Noble hadn't come. He didn't come all afternoon, +and he didn't go back to the house; and they telephoned +around to every place he <i>could</i> go that they +know of, and they couldn't find him or hear anything +about him at all—not anywhere." Mr. Atwater +coughed, and paused.</p> + +<p>"But what," Aunt Harriet cried;—"<i>what</i> do they +think's become of him?"</p> + +<p>"Old man Dill said they were all pretty anxious," +said Mr. Atwater. "They're afraid Noble has—they're +afraid he's disappeared."</p> + +<p>Aunt Fanny screamed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, in perfect accord, they all turned to look at +Herbert, who rose and would have retired upstairs +had he been permitted.</p> + +<p>As that perturbing evening wore on, word gradually +reached the most outlying members of the +Atwater family connection that Noble Dill was missing. +Ordinarily, this bit of news would have caused +them no severe anxiety. Noble's person and intellect +were so commonplace—"insignificant" was +the term usually preferred in his own circle—that +he was considered to be as nearly negligible as it is +charitable to consider a fellow-being. True, there +was one thing that set him apart; he was found +worthy of a superlative when he fell in love with +Julia; and of course this distinction caused him to +become better known and more talked about than +he had been in his earlier youth.</p> + +<p>However, the eccentricities of a person in such an +extremity of love are seldom valued except as comedy, +and even then with no warmth of heart for the +comedian, but rather with an incredulous disdain; +so it is safe to say that under other circumstances, +Noble might have been missing, indeed, and few +of the Atwaters would have missed him. But as +matters stood they worried a great deal about him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +fearing that a rash act on his part might reflect +notoriety upon themselves on account of their beautiful +relative—and <i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>. +And when nine o'clock came and Mrs. Dill reported +to Herbert's father, over the telephone, that nothing +had yet been heard of her son, the pressure of those +who were blaming the <i>Oriole</i> more than they +blamed Julia became so wearing that Herbert decided +he would rather spend the remaining days of his life +running away from Wallie Torbin than put in any +more of such a dog's evening as he <i>was</i> putting in. +Thus he defined it.</p> + +<p>He made a confession; that is to say, it was a +proclamation. He proclaimed his innocence. He +began history with a description of events distinctly +subsequent to Sunday pastimes with Patty Fairchild, +and explained how he and Henry had felt that +their parents would not always be with them, and as +their parents wished them to be polite, they had +resolved to be polite to Florence. Proceeding, he +related in detail her whole journalistic exploit.</p> + +<p>Of the matter in hand he told the perfect and absolute +truth—and was immediately refuted, confuted, +and demonstrated to be a false witness by Aunt +Fanny, Aunt Carrie, and Cousin Virginia, who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +all heard him vehemently declare, no longer ago +than the preceding Sunday evening, that he and his +partner had taken secure measures to prevent +Florence from ever again setting foot within the +Newspaper Building. In addition, he was quite +showered with definitions; and these, though so +various, all sought to phrase but the one subject: +his conduct in seeking to drag Florence into the mire, +when she was absent and could not defend herself. +Poor Florence would answer later in the evening, he +was told severely; and though her cause was thus +championed against the slander, it is true that some +of her defenders felt stirrings of curiosity in regard +to Florence. In fact, there was getting to be something +almost like a cloud upon her reputation. +There were several things for her to explain;—among +them, her taking it upon herself to see that +Noble received a copy of the <i>Oriole</i>, and also her +sudden departure from home and rather odd protraction +of absence therefrom. It was not thought +she was in good company. Uncle Joseph had telephoned +from a suburb that they were dining at a +farmhouse and would thence descend to the general +region of the movies.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nobody</i> knows what that man'll do, when he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +decides to!" Aunt Carrie said nervously. "Letting +the poor child stay up so late! She ought to be in +bed this minute, even if it is Saturday night! Or +else she ought to be here to listen to her own bad +little cousin trying to put his terrible responsibility +on her shoulders."</p> + +<p>One item of this description of himself the badgered +Herbert could not bear in silence, although he had +just declared that since the truth was so ill-respected +among his persecutors he would open his mouth no +more until the day of his death. He passed over +"bad," but furiously stated his height in feet, inches, +and fractions of inches.</p> + +<p>Aunt Fanny shook her head in mourning. "That +may be, Herbert," she said gently. "But you must +try to realize it can't bring poor young Mr. Dill back +to his family."</p> + +<p>Again Herbert just looked at her. He had no +indifference more profound than that upon which +her strained conception of the relation between +cause and effect seemed to touch;—from his point of +view, to be missing should be the lightest of calamities. +It is true that he was concerned with the restoration +of Noble Dill to the rest of the Dills so +far as such an event might affect his own incomparable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +misfortunes, but not otherwise. He regarded +Noble and Noble's disappearance merely as unfair +damage to himself, and he continued to look at +this sorrowing great-aunt of his until his thoughts +made his strange gaze appear to her so hardened +that she shook her head and looked away.</p> + +<p>"Poor young Mr. Dill!" she said. "If someone +could only have been with him and kept talking to +him until he got used to the idea a little!"</p> + +<p>Cousin Virginia nodded comprehendingly. "Yes, +it might have tided him over," she said. "He +wasn't handsome, nor impressive, of course, nor +anything like that, but he always spoke so nicely +to people on the street. I'm sure he never harmed +even a kitten, poor soul!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he never did," Herbert's mother agreed +gently. "Not even a kitten. I do wonder where he +is now."</p> + +<p>But Aunt Fanny uttered a little cry of protest. +"I'm afraid we may hear!" she said. "Any moment!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</h3> + + +<p>These sympathetic women had unanimously +set their expectation in so romantically pessimistic +a groove that the most tragic news of +Noble would have surprised them little. But if +the truth of his whereabouts could have been made +known to them, as they sat thus together at what +was developing virtually into his wake, with Herbert +as a compulsory participant, they would have turned +the session into a riot of amazement. Noble was +in the very last place (they would have said, when +calmer) where anybody in the world could have +even madly dreamed of looking for him! They +would have been right about it. No one could have +expected to find Noble to-night inside the old, +four-square brick house of H. I. Atwater, Senior, +chief of the Atwaters and father of too gentle Julia. +Moreover, Mr. Atwater himself was not at present +in the house; he had closed and locked it the day before, +giving the servants a week's vacation and telling +them not to return till he sent for them; and he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> +then gone out of town to look over a hominy-mill +he thought of buying. And yet, as the wake went +on, there was a light in the house, and under that +light sat Noble Dill.</p> + +<p>Returning home, after Florence had placed the shattering +paper within his hand, Noble had changed +his shoes and his tie. He was but a mechanism; +he had no motive. The shoes he put on were no +better than those he took off; the fresh tie was no +lovelier than the one he had worn; nor had it even +the lucidity to be a purple one, as the banner of +grief. No; his action was, if so viewed, "crazy," +as Aunt Fanny had called it. Agitation first took +this form; that was all. Love and change of dress +are so closely allied; and in happier days, when Noble +had come home from work and would see Julia in +the evening, he usually changed his clothes. No +doubt there is some faint tracery here, probably too +indistinct to repay contemplation.</p> + +<p>When he left the house he walked rapidly downtown, +and toward the end of this one-mile journey +he ran; but as he was then approaching the railway +station, no one thought him eccentric. He was, +however, for when he entered the station he went +to a bench and sat looking upward for more than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +ten minutes before he rose, went to a ticket window +and asked for a time-table.</p> + +<p>"What road?" the clerk inquired.</p> + +<p>"All points South," said Noble.</p> + +<p>He placed the time-table, still folded, in his pocket, +rested an elbow on the brass apron of the window, +and would have given himself up to reflections, +though urged to move away. Several people, wishing +to buy tickets, had formed a line behind him; +they perceived that Noble had nothing more to say +to the clerk, and the latter encouraged their protests, +even going so far as to inquire: "For heaven's +sakes, can't you let these folk buy their tickets?" +And since Noble still did not move: "My gosh, +haven't you got no <i>feet</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Feet? Oh, yes," said Noble gently. "I'm going +away." And went back to his seat.</p> + +<p>Afterwhile, he sought to study his time-table. +Ordinarily, his mind was one of those able to decipher +and comprehend railway time-tables; he had few +gifts, but this was one of them. It failed him now; +so he wandered back to the ticket-window, and, after +urgent coaching, eventually took his place at the end +instead of at the head of the line that waited there. +In his turn he came again to the window, and departed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> +from it after a conversation with the clerk +that left the latter in accord with Aunt Fanny Atwater's +commiserating adjective, though the clerk's +own pity was expressed in argot. "The poor nut!" +he explained to his next client. "Wants to buy +a ticket on a train that don't pull out until ten thirty-five +to-night; and me fillin' it all out, stampin' it +and everything, what for? Turned out all his pockets +and couldn't come within eight dollars o' the +price! Where you want to go?"</p> + +<p>Noble went back to his bench and sat there for +a long time, though there was no time, long or short, +for him. He was not yet consciously suffering; +nor was he thinking at all. True, he had a dim, +persistent impulse to action—or why should he be +at the station?—but for the clearest expression of +his condition it is necessary to borrow a culinary +symbol; he was jelling. But the state of shock was +slowly dispersing, while a perception of approaching +anguish as slowly increased. He was beginning to +swallow nothing at intervals and the intervals were +growing shorter.</p> + +<p>Dusk was misting down, outdoors, when with +dragging steps he came out of the station. He +looked hazily up and down the street, where the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> +corner-lamps and shop-windows now were lighted; +and, after dreary hesitation, he went in search of a +pawn-shop, and found one. The old man who operated +it must have been a philanthropist, for Noble +was so fortunate as to secure a loan of nine dollars +upon his watch. Surprised at this, he returned to +the station, and went back to the same old bench.</p> + +<p>It was fully occupied, and he stood for some time +looking with vague reproach at the large family of +coloured people who had taken it. He had a feeling +that he lived there and that these coloured people +were trespassers; but upon becoming aware that part +of an orange was being rubbed over his left shoe +by the youngest of the children, he groaned abruptly +and found another bench.</p> + +<p>A little after six o'clock a clanging and commotion +in the train-shed outside, attending the arrival of a +"through express," stirred him from his torpor, +and he walked heavily across the room to the same +ticket-window he had twice blocked; but there was +no queue attached to it now. He rested his elbow +upon the apron and his chin upon his hand, while +the clerk waited until he should state his wishes. +This was a new clerk, who had just relieved the +other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well! Well!" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"I'll take it now," Noble responded.</p> + +<p>"What'll you take now?"</p> + +<p>"That ticket."</p> + +<p>"What ticket?"</p> + +<p>"The same one I wanted before," Noble sighed.</p> + +<p>The clerk gave him a piercing look, glanced out +of the window and saw that there were no other +clients, then went to a desk at the farther end of his +compartment, and took up some clerical work he had +in hand.</p> + +<p>Noble leaned upon the apron of the window, waiting; +and if he thought anything, he thought the man +was serving him.</p> + +<p>The high, vaulted room became resonant with +voices and the blurred echoes of mingling footsteps +on the marble floor, as passengers from the express +hurried anxiously to the street, or more gaily straggled +through, shouting with friends who came to +greet them; and among these moving groups there +walked a youthful fine lady noticeably enlivening to +the dullest eye. She was preceded by a brisk porter +who carried two travelling-bags of a rich sort, as well +as a sack of implements for the game of golf; and she +was warm in dark furs, against which the vasty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> +clump of violets she wore showed dewy gleamings +of blue.</p> + +<p>At sight of Noble Dill, more than pensive at the +ticket-window, she hesitated, then stopped and observed +him. That she should observe anybody was +in a way a coincidence, for, as it happened, she was +herself the most observed person in all the place. +She was veiled in two veils, but she had been seen +in the train without these, and some of her fellow-travellers, +though strangers to her, were walking near +her in a hypocritical way, hoping still not to lose +sight of her, even veiled. And although the shroudings +permitted the most meagre information of her +features, what they did reveal was harmfully piquant; +moreover, there was a sweetness of figure, a +disturbing grace; while nothing could disguise her +air of wearing that many violets casually as a daily +perquisite and matter of course.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 473px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;"> +<img src="images/illus-352.jpg" +alt="He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from the +window; the whole person of Noble Dill seemed near collapse." +title="" /> +<span class="caption">"He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from the +window; the whole person of Noble Dill seemed near collapse."</span> +</div> + +<p>So this observed lady stopped and observed Noble, +who in return observed her not at all, being but +semi-conscious. Looked upon thoughtfully, it is a +coincidence that we breathe; certainly it is a mighty +coincidence that we speak to one another and comprehend; +for these are true marvels. But what petty +interlacings of human action so pique our sense of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>the theatrical that we call them coincidences and +are astonished! That Julia should arrive during +Noble's long process of buying a ticket to go to her +was stranger than that she stopped to look at him, +though still not comparable in strangeness to the +fact that either of them, or any living creature, +stood upon the whirling earth;—yet when Noble +Dill comprehended what was happening he was +amazed.</p> + +<p>She spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"Noble!" she said.</p> + +<p>He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from +the window; the whole person of Noble Dill seemed +near collapse. He shook; he had no voice.</p> + +<p>"I just this minute got off the train," she said. +"Are you going away somewhere?"</p> + +<p>"No," he whispered; then obtained command of +a huskiness somewhat greater in volume. "I'm +just standing here."</p> + +<p>"I told the porter to get me a taxicab," she said. +"If you're going home for dinner I'll drop you at your +house."</p> + +<p>"I—I'm—I——" His articulation encountered +unsurmountable difficulties, but Julia had been with +him through many such trials aforetime. She said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> +briskly, "I'm awfully hungry and I want to get +home. Come on—if you like?"</p> + +<p>He walked waveringly at her side through the +station, and followed her into the dim interior of the +cab, which became fragrant of violets—an emanation +at once ineffable and poisonous.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad I happened to run across you," +she said, as they began to vibrate tremulously in +unison with the fierce little engine that drew them. +"I want to hear all the news. Nobody knows I'm +home. I didn't write or telegraph to a soul; and +I'll be a complete surprise to father and everybody—I +don't know how pleasant a one! <i>You</i> +didn't seem so frightfully glad to see me, Noble!"</p> + +<p>"Am I?" he whispered. "I mean—I mean—I +mean: Didn't I?"</p> + +<p>"No!" she laughed. "You looked—you looked +shocked! It couldn't have been because I'm ill +or anything, because I'm not; and if I were you +couldn't have told it through these two veils. +Possibly I'd better take your expression as a compliment." +She paused, then asked hesitatingly, +"Shall I?"</p> + +<p>This was the style for which the Atwaters held +Julia responsible; but they were mistaken: she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> +never able to control it. Now she went cheerily +on: "Perhaps not, as you don't answer. I +shouldn't be so bold! Do you suppose anybody +at all will be glad to see me?"</p> + +<p>"I—I——" He seemed to hope that words would +come in their own good time.</p> + +<p>"Noble!" she cried. "Don't be so glum!" And +she touched his arm with her muff, a fluffy contact +causing within him a short convulsion, naturally +invisible. "Noble, aren't you going to tell me what's +all the news?"</p> + +<p>"There's—some," he managed to inform her. +"Some—some news."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's—it's——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," she said soothingly. "Get your +breath; I can wait. I hope nothing's wrong in your +family, Noble."</p> + +<p>"No. Oh, no."</p> + +<p>"It isn't just my turning up unexpectedly that's +upset you so, of course," she dared to say. "Naturally, +I know better than to think such a thing as +that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Julia!" he said. "Oh, Julia!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Noble?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Noth-ing," he murmured, disjointing the word.</p> + +<p>"How odd you happened to be there at the station," +she said, "just when my train came in! You're +sure you weren't going away anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"No; oh, no."</p> + +<p>She was thoughtful, then laughed confidentially. +"You're the only person in town that knows I'm +home, Noble."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad," he said humbly.</p> + +<p>She laughed again. "I came all of a sudden—on +an impulse. It's a little idiotic. I'll tell you all +about it, Noble. You see, ten or twelve days ago +I wrote the family a more or less indiscreet letter. +That is, I told them something I wanted them to be +discreet about, and, of course, when I got to thinking +it over, I knew they wouldn't. You see, I wrote +them something I wanted them to keep a secret, but +the more I thought about it, the more I saw I'd +better hurry back. Yesterday it got into my head +that I'd better jump on the next train for home!"</p> + +<p>She paused, then added, "So I did! About ten +or twelve days is as long as anybody has a right to +expect the Atwater family connection to keep the +deadliest kind of a secret, isn't it?" And as he did +not respond, she explained, modestly, "Of course, it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> +wasn't a very deadly secret; it was really about +something of only the least importance."</p> + +<p>The jar of this understatement restored Noble's +voice to a sudden and startling loudness. "'Only +the least importance'!" he shouted. "With a man +named Crum!"</p> + +<p>"What!" she cried</p> + +<p>"Crum!" Noble insisted. "That's exactly what +it said his name was!"</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> said his name was?"</p> + +<p>"<i>The North End Daily Oriole!</i>"</p> + +<p>"What in heaven's name is that?"</p> + +<p>"It's the children's paper, Herbert's and Florence's: +your own niece and nephew, Julia! You don't +mean you deny it, do you, Julia?"</p> + +<p>She was in great confusion: "Do I deny what?"</p> + +<p>"That his name's Crum!" Noble said passionately. +"That his name's Crum and that he's a +widower and he's been divorced and's got nobody +knows how many children!"</p> + +<p>Julia sought to collect herself. "I don't know +what you're talking about," she said. "If you mean +that I happened to meet a very charming man while +I was away, and that his name happened to be Crum, +I don't know why I should go to the trouble of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> +denying it. But if Mr. Crum has had the experiences +you say he has, it is certainly news to me! +I think someone told me he was only twenty-six +years old. He looked rather younger."</p> + +<p>"You 'think someone told' you!" Noble groaned. +"Oh, Julia! And here it is, all down in black and +white, in my pocket!"</p> + +<p>"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking +about." Julia's tone was cold, and she drew herself +up haughtily, though the gesture was ineffective +in the darkness of that quivering interior. The +quivering stopped just then, however, as the taxicab +came to a rather abrupt halt before her house.</p> + +<p>"Will you come in with me a moment, please?" +Julia said as she got out. "There are some things +I want to ask you—and I'm sure my father hasn't +come home from downtown yet. There's no light +in the front part of the house."</p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</h3> + + +<p>There was no light in any other part of the +house, they discovered, after abandoning +the front door bell for an excursion to the +rear. "That's disheartening to a hungry person," +Julia remarked: and then remembered that she had +a key to the front door in her purse. She opened +the door, and lighted the hall chandelier while Noble +brought in her bags from the steps where the taxicab +driver had left them.</p> + +<p>"There's nobody home at all," Julia said thoughtfully. +"Not even Gamin."</p> + +<p>"No. Nobody," her sad companion agreed, +shaking his head. "Nobody at all, Julia. Nobody +at all." Rousing himself, he went back for the golf +tools, and with a lingering gentleness set them in a +corner. Then, dumbly, he turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Wait, please," said Julia. "I want to ask you +a few things—especially about what you've got 'all +down in black and white' in your pocket. Will +you shut the front door, if you please, and go into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +the library and turn on the lights and wait there while +I look over the house and see if I can find why it's +all closed up like this?"</p> + +<p>Noble went into the library and found the control +of the lights. She came hurrying in after him.</p> + +<p>"It's chilly. The furnace seems to be off," she +said. "I'll——" But instead of declaring her +intentions, she enacted them; taking a match from +a little white porcelain trough on the mantelpiece +and striking it on the heel of her glittering shoe. +Then she knelt before the grate and set the flame to +paper beneath the kindling-wood and coal. "You +mustn't freeze," she said, with a thoughtful kindness +that killed him; and as she went out of the room +he died again;—for she looked back over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>She had pushed up her veils and this was his first +sight of that disastrous face in long empty weeks +and weeks. Now he realized that all his aching +reveries upon its contours had shown but pallid +likenesses; for here was the worst thing about Julia's +looks;—even her most extravagant suitor, in absence, +could not dream an image of her so charming +as he found herself when he saw her again. Thus, +seeing Julia again was always a discovery. And +this glance over her shoulder as she left a room—not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> +a honeyed glance but rather inscrutable, yet +implying that she thought of the occupant, and might +continue to think of him while gone from him—this +was one of those ways of hers that experience +could never drill out of her.</p> + +<p>"I'm Robinson Crusoe, Noble," she said, when +she came back. "I suppose I might as well take +off my furs, though." But first she unfastened +the great bouquet she wore and tossed it upon a +table. Noble was standing close to the table, and +he moved away from it hurriedly—a revulsion that +she failed to notice. She went on to explain, as she +dropped her cloak and stole upon a chair: "Papa's +gone away for at least a week. He's taken his ulster. +It doesn't make any difference what the weather is, +but when he's going away for a week or longer, he +always takes it with him, except in summer. If he's +only going to be gone two or three days he takes +his short overcoat. And unless I'm here when he +leaves town he always gives the servants a holiday +till he gets back; so they've gone and even taken +Gamin with 'em, and I'm all alone in the house. +I can't get even Kitty Silver back until to-morrow, +and then I'll probably have to hunt from house to +house among her relatives. Papa left yesterday,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> +because the numbers on his desk calender are pulled +off up to to-day, and that's the first thing he does +when he comes down for breakfast. So here I am, +Robinson Crusoe for to-night at least."</p> + +<p>"I suppose," said Noble huskily, "I suppose you'll +go to some of your aunts or brothers or cousins or +something."</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "My trunk may come up from +the station almost any time, and if I close the house +they'll take it back."</p> + +<p>"You needn't bother about that, Julia. I'll +look after it."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"I could sit on the porch till it comes," he said. +"I'd tell 'em you wanted 'em to leave it." He +hesitated, painfully. "I—if you want to lock up +the house I—I could wait out on the porch with your +trunk, to see that it was safe, until you come back +to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>She looked full at him, and he plaintively endured +the examination.</p> + +<p>"<i>Noble!</i>" Undoubtedly she had a moment's +shame that any creature should come to such a pass +for her sake. "What crazy nonsense!" she said; +and sat upon a stool before the crackling fire. "Do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> +sit down, Noble—unless your dinner will be waiting +for you at home?"</p> + +<p>"No," he murmured. "They never wait for me. +Don't you want me to look after your trunk?"</p> + +<p>"Not by sitting all night with it on the porch!" +she said. "I'm going to stay here myself. I'm +not going out; I don't want to see any of the family +to-night."</p> + +<p>"I thought you said you were hungry?"</p> + +<p>"I am; but there's enough in the pantry. I +looked."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you don't want to see any of 'em," +he suggested, "and they know your father's away +and think the house is empty, they're liable to notice +the lights and come in, and then you'd have to see +'em."</p> + +<p>"No, you can't see the lights of this room from the +street, and I lit the lamp at the other end of the hall. +The light near the front door," Julia added, "I put +out."</p> + +<p>"You did?"</p> + +<p>"I can't see any of 'em to-night," she said resolutely. +"Besides, I want to find out what you meant +by what you said in the taxicab before I do anything +else."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What I meant in the taxicab?" he echoed. "Oh, +Julia! Julia!"</p> + +<p>She frowned, first at the fire, then, turning her +head, at Noble. "You seem to feel reproachful +about something," she observed.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. I don't feel reproachful, Julia. I +don't know what I feel, but I don't feel reproachful."</p> + +<p>She smiled faintly. "Don't you? Well, there's +something perhaps you do feel, and that's hungry. +Will you stay to dinner with me—if I go and get it?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"You can have dinner with me—if you want to? +You can stay till ten o'clock—if you want to? +Wait!" she said, and jumped up and ran out of the +room.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later she came back and called softly +to him from the doorway; and he followed her to the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>"It isn't much of a dinner, Noble," she said, a +little tremulously, being for once (though strictly +as a cook) genuinely apologetic;—but the scrambled +eggs, cold lamb, salad, and coffee were quite as "much +of a dinner" as Noble wanted. To him everything +on that table was hallowed, yet excruciating.</p> + +<p>"Let's eat first and talk afterward," Julia proposed;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> +but what she meant by "talk" evidently did +not exclude interchange of information regarding +weather and the health of acquaintances, for she +spoke freely upon these subjects, while Noble murmured +in response and swallowed a little of the +sacred food, but more often swallowed nothing. +Bitterest of all was his thought of what this unexampled +seclusion with Julia could have meant to +him, were those poisonous violets not at her waist—for +she had put them on again—and were there no +Crum in the South. Without these fatal obstructions, +the present moment would have been to him +a bit of what he often thought of as "dream life"; +but all its sweetness was a hurt.</p> + +<p>"<i>Now</i> we'll talk!" said Julia, when she had brought +him back to the library fire again, and they were +seated before it. "Don't you want to smoke?" +He shook his head dismally, having no heart for +what she proposed. "Well, then," she said briskly, +but a little ruefully, "let's get to the bottom of things. +Just what did you mean you had 'in black and white' +in your pocket?"</p> + +<p>Slowly Noble drew forth the historic copy of +<i>The North End Daily Oriole</i>; and with face +averted, placed it in her extended hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What in the world!" she exclaimed, unfolding +it; and then as its title and statement of ownership +came into view, "Oh, yes! I see. Aunt +Carrie wrote me that Uncle Joseph had given +Herbert a printing-press. I suppose Herbert's the +editor?"</p> + +<p>"And that Rooter boy," Noble said sadly. "I +think maybe your little niece Florence has something +to do with it, too."</p> + +<p>"'Something' to do with it? She usually has +<i>all</i> to do with anything she gets hold of! But what's +it got to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"You'll see!" he prophesied accurately.</p> + +<p>She began to read, laughing at some of the items +as she went along; then suddenly she became rigid, +holding the small journal before her in a transfixed +hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cried. "<i>Oh!</i>"</p> + +<p>"That's—that's what—I meant," Noble explained.</p> + +<p>Julia's eyes grew dangerous. "The little fiends!" +she cried. "Oh, really, this is a long-suffering +family, but it's time these outrages were stopped!"</p> + +<p>She jumped up. "Isn't it frightful?" she demanded +of Noble.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," he said, with a dismal fervour. "Nobody +knows that better than I do, Julia!"</p> + +<p>"I mean <i>this</i>!" she cried, extending the <i>Oriole</i> +toward him with a vigorous gesture. "I mean +this dreadful story about poor Mr. Crum!"</p> + +<p>"But it's true," he said.</p> + +<p>"Noble Dill!"</p> + +<p>"Julia?"</p> + +<p>"Do you dare to say you believed it?"</p> + +<p>He sprang up. "It isn't true?"</p> + +<p>"Not one word of it! I told you Mr. Crum is +only twenty-six. He hasn't been out of college +more than three or four years, and it's the most +terrible slander to say he's ever been married at +all!"</p> + +<p>Noble dropped back into his chair of misery. +"I thought you meant it wasn't true."</p> + +<p>"I've just told you there isn't one <i>word</i> of tr——"</p> + +<p>"But you're—engaged," Noble gulped. "You're +engaged to him, Julia!"</p> + +<p>She appeared not to hear this. "I suppose it <i>can</i> +be lived down," she said. "To think of Uncle +Joseph putting such a thing into the hands of those +awful children!"</p> + +<p>"But, Julia, you're eng——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Noble!" she said sharply.</p> + +<p>"Well, you <i>are</i> eng——"</p> + +<p>Julia drew herself up. "Different people mean +different things by that word," she said with severity, +like an annoyed school-teacher. "There are +any number of shades of meaning to words; and if +I used the word you mention, in writing home to the +family, I may have used a certain shade and they may +have thought I intended another."</p> + +<p>"But, Julia——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Crum is a charming young man," she continued +with the same primness. "I liked him very +much indeed. I liked him very, very much. I +liked him very, <i>very</i>——"</p> + +<p>"I understand," he interrupted. "Don't say it +any more, Julia."</p> + +<p>"No; you don't understand! At <i>first</i> I liked him +very much—in fact, I still do, of course—I'm sure +he's one of the best and most attractive young men +in the world. I think he's a man any girl ought to +be happy with, if he were only to be considered by +himself. I don't deny that. I liked him very much +indeed, and I don't deny that for several days after +he—after he proposed to me—I don't deny I thought +something serious <i>might</i> come of it. But at that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> +time, Noble, I hadn't—hadn't really thought of +what it meant to give up living here at home, with +all the family and everything—and friends—friends +like you, Noble. I hadn't thought what it would +mean to me to give all this up. And besides, there +was something very important. At the time I +wrote that letter mentioning poor Mr. Crum to +the family, Noble, I hadn't—I hadn't——" She +paused, visibly in some distress. "I hadn't——"</p> + +<p>"You hadn't what?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't met his mother!"</p> + +<p>Noble leaped to his feet. "Julia! You aren't—you +aren't engaged?"</p> + +<p>"I am not," she answered decisively. "If I +ever was—in the slightest—I certainly am not +now."</p> + +<p>Poor Noble was transfigured. He struggled; making +half-formed gestures, speaking half-made words. +A rapture glowed upon him.</p> + +<p>"Julia—Julia——" He choked. "Julia, promise +me something. Will you promise me something? +Julia, promise to promise me something."</p> + +<p>"I will," she said quickly. "What do you want +me to do?"</p> + +<p>Then he saw that it was his time to speak; that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> +this was the moment for him to dare everything +and ask for the utmost he could hope from her.</p> + +<p>"Give me your word!" he said, still radiantly +struggling. "Give me your word—your word—your +word and your sacred promise, Julia—that +you'll never be engaged to anybody at all!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="minor" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</h3> + + +<p>At six minutes after four o'clock on the second +afternoon following Julia's return, Noble +Dill closed his own gate behind him and +set forth upon the four-minute walk that would +bring him to Julia's. He wore a bit of scarlet +geranium in the buttonhole of his new light overcoat; +he flourished a new walking-stick and new grey gloves. +As for his expression, he might have been a bridegroom.</p> + +<p>Passing the mouth of an alley, as he swung along +the street, he was aware of a commotion, of missiles +hurled and voices clashed. In this alley there was a +discord: passion and mockery were here inimically +intermingled.</p> + +<p>Casting <i>a</i> glance that way, Noble could see but +one person; a boy of fourteen who looked through a +crack in a board fence, steadfastly keeping an eye +to this aperture and as continuously calling through +it, holding his head to a level for this purpose, but +at the same time dancing—and dancing tauntingly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> +it was conveyed—with the other parts of his body. +His voice was now sweet, now piercing, and again +far too dulcet with the overkindness of burlesque; +and if, as it seemed, he was unburdening his spleen, +his spleen was a powerful one and gorged. He appeared +to be in a torment of tormenting; and his +success was proved by the pounding of bricks, parts +of bricks and rocks of size upon the other side of the +fence, as close to the crack as might be.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dolling!" he wailed, his tone poisonously +amorous. "Oh, dolling Henery! Oo's dot de mos' +booful eyes in a dray bid nasty world. Henery! +Oh, <i>has</i> I dot booful eyes, dolling Pattywatty? +Yes, I <i>has</i>! I <i>has</i> dot pretty eyes!" His voice +rose unbearably. "<i>Oh</i>, what prettiest eyes I dot! +Me and Herbie Atwater! <i>Oh</i>, my booful eyes! +Oh, my <i>booful</i>——"</p> + +<p>But even as he reached this apex, the head, shoulders, +and arms of Herbert Atwater rose momentarily +above the fence across the alley, behind the tormentor. +Herbert's expression was implacably resentful, +and so was the gesture with which he hurled +an object at the comedian preoccupied with the +opposite fence. This object, upon reaching its +goal, as it did more with a splash than a thud,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> +was revealed as a tomato, presumably in a useless +state. The taunter screamed in astonishment, and +after looking vainly for an assailant, began necessarily +to remove his coat.</p> + +<p>Noble, passing on, thought he recognized the boy +as one of the Torbin family, but he was not sure, +and he had no idea that the episode was in any +possible manner to be connected with his own recent +history. How blindly we walk our ways! As +Noble flourished down the street, there appeared a +wan face at a prison window; and the large eyes +looked out upon him wistfully. But Noble went +on, as unwitting that he had to do with this prison +as that he had to do with Master Torbin's tomato.</p> + +<p>The face at the window was not like Charlotte +Corday's, nor was the window barred, though the +prisoner knew a little solace in wondering if she did +not suggest that famous picture. For all purposes, +except during school hours, the room was certainly a +cell; and the term of imprisonment was set at three +days. Uncle Joseph had been unable to remain at +the movies forever: people do have to go home +eventually, especially when accompanied by thirteen-year-old +great-nieces. Florence had finally to +face the question awaiting her; and it would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> +been better for her had she used less imagination in +her replies.</p> + +<p>Yet she was not wholly despondent as her eyes +followed the disappearing figure of Noble Dill. +His wholesome sprightliness was visible at any distance; +and who would not take a little pride in having +been even the mistaken instrument of saving so gay +a young man from the loss of his reason? No; +Florence was not cast down. Day-after-to-morrow +she would taste Freedom again, and her profoundest +regret was that after all her Aunt Julia was not to +be married. Florence had made definite plans for +the wedding, especially for the principal figure at +the ceremony. This figure, as Florence saw things, +would have been that of the "Flower Girl," naturally +a niece of the bride; but she was able to +dismiss the bright dream with some philosophy. +And to console her for everything, had she not a +star in her soul? Had she not discovered that she +could write poetry whenever she felt like it?</p> + +<p>Noble passed from her sight, but nevertheless +continued his radiant progress down Julia's Street. +Life stretched before him, serene, ineffably fragrant, +unending. He saw it as a flower-strewn sequence +of calls upon Julia, walks with Julia, talks with Julia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> +by the library fire. Old Mr. Atwater was to be +away four days longer, and Julia, that great-hearted +bride-not-to-be, had given him her promise.</p> + +<p>Blushing, indeed divinely, she had promised him +upon her sacred word, never so long as she lived, to +be engaged to anybody at all.</p> + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<table width="450" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Title Page" border="1"> + <col style="width:80%;" /> + <tr><td><h3>BOOKS BY BOOTH TARKINGTON</h3></td></tr> + <tr><td> +<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 90%"> +ALICE ADAMS<br /> +BEASLEY'S CHRISTMAS PARTY<br /> +BEAUTY AND THE JACOBIN<br /> +CHERRY<br /> +CONQUEST OF CANAAN<br /> +GENTLE JULIA<br /> +HARLEQUIN AND COLUMBINE<br /> +HIS OWN PEOPLE<br /> +IN THE ARENA<br /> +MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE<br /> +PENROD<br /> +PENROD AND SAM<br /> +RAMSEY MILHOLLAND<br /> +SEVENTEEN<br /> +THE BEAUTIFUL LADY<br /> +THE FLIRT<br /> +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA<br /> +THE GIBSON UPRIGHT<br /> +THE GUEST OF QUESNAY<br /> +THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS<br /> +THE MAN FROM HOME<br /> +THE TURMOIL<br /> +THE TWO VANREVELS</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>Transcriber’s Notes</h3> +<p>1. Punctuation has been made regular and consistent with contemporary standards.</p> +<p>2. Advertisement "Books by Booth Tarkington" moved to end of text.</p> +<p>3. Corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. +Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text +will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gentle Julia, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GENTLE JULIA *** + +***** This file should be named 18259-h.htm or 18259-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/5/18259/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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