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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/18426-8.txt b/18426-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cacfde9 --- /dev/null +++ b/18426-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7366 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sunny Slopes, by Ethel Hueston, Illustrated +by Arthur William Brown + + +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: Sunny Slopes + + +Author: Ethel Hueston + + + +Release Date: May 20, 2006 [eBook #18426] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNNY SLOPES*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 18426-h.htm or 18426-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/4/2/18426/18426-h/18426-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/4/2/18426/18426-h.zip) + + + + + +SUNNY SLOPES + +by + +ETHEL HUESTON + +Author of +Prudence of the Parsonage, Prudence Says So, Etc. + +Illustrated by Arthur William Brown + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: "A minister's wife! You look more like a little girl's +baby doll."] + + + + +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers -------- New York +Copyright 1917 +The Bobbs-Merrill Company + + + + + This Book + Is Written in Memory of My Husband + Eager in Service, Patient in Illness + Unfaltering in Death, and + Is Dedicated to + The St. Louis Presbytery + To Which I Owe a Debt of Interest + Of Sympathy and of Unfailing Friendship + I Can Ever Hope to Pay + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I THE BEGINNING + II MANSERS + III A BABY IN BUSINESS + IV A WOMAN IN THE CHURCH + V A MINISTER'S SON + VI THE HEAVY YOKE + VII THE FIRST STEP + VIII REACTION + IX UPHEAVAL + X WHERE HEALTH BEGINS + XI THE OLD TEACHER + XII THE LAND O' LUNGERS + XIII OLD HOPES AND NEW + XIV NEPTUNE'S SECOND DAUGHTER + XV THE SECOND STEP + XVI DEPARTED SPIRITS + XVII RUBBING ELBOWS + XVIII QUIESCENT + XIX RE-CREATION + XX LITERARY MATERIAL + XXI ADVENTURING + XXII HARBORAGE + XXIII THE SUNNY SLOPE + XXIV THE END + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + "A minister's wife! You look more + like a little girl's baby doll." . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + + "Silly old goose," she murmured. + + Carol, with an inarticulate sob, + gathered her baby in her arms. + + "I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, + unsmilingly, "I did not mean to be rude." + + + + +SUNNY SLOPES + + +CHAPTER I + +THE BEGINNING + +Back and forth, back and forth, over the net, spun the little white +ball, driven by the quick, sure strokes of the players. There was no +sound save the bounding of the ball against the racquets, and the thud +of rubber soles on the hard ground. Then--a sudden twirl of a supple +wrist, and-- + +"Deuce!" cried the girl, triumphantly brandishing her racquet in the +air. + +The man on the other side of the net laughed as he gathered up the +balls for a new serve. + +Back and forth, back and forth, once more,--close to the net, away back +to the line, now to the right, now to the left,--and then-- + +"Ad out, I am beating you, David," warned the girl, leaping lightly +into the air to catch the ball he tossed her. + +"Here is a beauty," she said, as the ball spun away from her racquet. + +The two, white-clad, nimble figures flashed from side to side of the +court. He sprang into the air to meet her ball, and drove it into the +farthest corner, but she caught it with a backward gesture. Still he +was ready for it, cutting it low across the net,--yes, she was there, +she got it,--but the stroke was hard,--and the ball was light. + +"Was it good?" she gasped, clasping the racquet in both hands and +tilting dangerously forward on tiptoe to look. + +"Good enough,--and your game." + +With one accord they ran forward to the net, pausing a second to glance +about enquiringly, and then, one impulse guiding, kissed each other +ecstatically. + +"The very first time I have beaten you, David," exulted the girl. +"Isn't everything glorious?" she demanded, with all of youth's +enthusiasm. + +"Just glorious," came the ready answer, with all of mature manhood's +response to girlish youth. Clasping the slender hands more tightly, he +added, laughing, "And I kiss the fingers that defeated me." + +"Oh, David," the buoyant voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "I love +you,--I love you,--I--I am just crazy about you." + +"Careful, Carol, remember the manse," he cautioned gaily. + +"But this is honeymooning, and the manse hasn't gloomed on my horizon +yet. I'll be careful when I get installed. I am really a Methodist +yet, and Methodists are expected to shout and be enthusiastic. When we +move into our manse, and the honeymoon is ended, I'll just say, 'I am +very fond of you, Mr. Duke.'" The voice lengthened into prim and prosy +solemnity. + +"But our honeymoon isn't to end. Didn't we promise that it should last +forever?" + +"Of course it will." She dimpled up at him, snuggling herself in the +arm that still encircled her shoulders. "Of course it will." She +balanced her racquet on the top of his head as he bent adoringly over +her. "Of course it will,--unless your grim old Presbyterians manse all +the life out of me." + +"If it ever begins, tell me," he begged, "and we'll join the Salvation +Army. There's life enough even for you." + +"I beat you," she teased, irrelevantly. "I am surprised,--a great big +man like you." + +"And to-morrow we'll be in St. Louis." + +"Yes," she assented, weakening swiftly. "And the mansers will have me +in their deadly clutch." + +"The only manser who will clutch you is myself." He drew her closer in +his arm as he spoke. "And you like it." + +"Yes, I love it. And I like the mansers already. I hope they like me. +I am improving, you know. I am getting more dignified every day. +Maybe they will think I am a born Presbyterian if you don't give me +away. Have you noticed how serious I am getting?" She pinched +thoughtfully at his chin. "David Duke, we have been married two whole +weeks, and it is the most delicious, and breathless, and amazing thing +in the world. It is life--real life--all there is to life, really, +isn't it?" + +"Yes, life is love, they say, so this is life. All the future must be +like this." + +"I never particularly yearned to be dead," she said, wrinkling her +brows thoughtfully, "but I never even dreamed that I could be so happy. +I am awfully glad I didn't die before I found it out." + +"You are happy, aren't you, sweetheart?" + +She turned herself slowly in his arm and lifted puckering lips to his. + +"Hey, wake up, are you playing tennis, or staging Shakespeare? We want +the court if you don't need it." + +Mr. and Mrs. Duke, honeymooners, gazed speechlessly at the group of +young men standing motionless forty feet away, then Carol wheeled about +and ran swiftly across the velvety grass, over the hill and out of +sight, her husband in close pursuit. + +Once she paused. + +"If the mansers could have seen us then!" she ejaculated, with awe in +her voice. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MANSERS + +The introduction of Mrs. David Arnold Duke, née Methodist, to the +members of her husband's Presbyterian flock, was, for the most part, +consummated with grace and dignity. Only one untoward incident +lingered in her memory to cloud her lovely face with annoyance. + +In honor of his very first honeymoon, hence his first opportunity to +escort a beautiful and blushing bride to the cozy little manse he had +so painstakingly prepared for her reception, the Reverend David +indulged in the unwonted luxury of a taxicab. And happy in the +consciousness of being absolutely correct as to detail, they were +driven slowly down the beautifully shaded avenues of the Heights, one +of the many charming suburbs of St. Louis,--aware of the scrutiny of +interested eyes from the sheltering curtains of many windows. + +Being born and bred in the ministry, Carol acquitted herself properly +before the public eye. But once inside the guarding doors of the +darling manse, secure from the condemning witness of even the least of +the fold, she danced and sang and exulted as the very young, and very +glad, must do to find expression. + +Their first dinner in the manse was more of a social triumph than a +culinary success. The coffee was nectar, though a trifle overboiled. +The gravy was sweet as honey, but rather inclined to be lumpy. And the +steak tasted like fried chicken, though Carol had peppered it twice and +salted it not at all. It wasn't her fault, however, for the salt and +pepper shakers in her "perfectly irresistible" kitchen cabinet were +exactly alike,--and how was she to know she was getting the same one +twice? + +Anyhow, although they started very properly with plates on opposite +sides of the round table, by the time they reached dessert their chairs +were just half way round from where they began the meal, and the salad +dishes were so close together that half the time they ate from one and +half the time from the other. And when it was all over, they pushed +the dishes back and clasped their hands promiscuously together and +talked with youthful passion of what they were going to do, and how +wonderful their opportunity for service was, and what revolutions they +were going to work in the lives of the nice, but no doubt prosy +mansers, and how desperately they loved each other. And it was going +to last forever and ever and ever. + +So far they were just Everybride and Everygroom. Their hearts sang and +the manse was more gorgeous than any mansion on earth, and all the +world was good and sweet, and they couldn't possibly ever make any kind +of a mistake or blunder, for love was guiding them,--and could pure +love lead astray? + +David at last looked at his watch and said, rather hurriedly: + +"By the way, I imagine a few of our young people will drop in to-night +for a first smile from the manse lady." + +Carol leaped from her chair, jerked off the big kitchen apron, and flew +up the stairs with never a word. When David followed more slowly, he +found her already painstakingly dusting her matchless skin with velvety +powder. + +"I got a brand new box of powder, David, the very last thing I did," +she began, as he entered the room. "When this is gone, I'll resort to +cheaper kinds. You see, father's had such a lot of experience with +girls and complexions that he just naturally expects them to be +expensive--and would very likely be confused and hurt if things were +changed. But I can imagine what a shock it would be to you right at +the start." + +David assured her that any powder which added to the wonder of that +most wonderful complexion was well worth any price. But Carol shook +her head sagely. + +"It's a dollar a box, my dear, and very tiny boxes at that. Now don't +talk any more for I must fix my hair and dress, and--I want to look +perfectly darling or they won't like me, and then they will not put +anything in the collections and the heathens and we will starve +together. Oh, will you buckle my slippers? Thanks. Here's half a +kiss for your kindness. Oh, David, dear, do run along and don't bother +me, for suppose some one should get here before I am all fixed, and-- +Shall I wear this little gray thing? It makes me look very, very +sensible, you know, and--er--well, pretty, too. One can be pretty as +well as sensible, and I think it's a Christian duty to do it. David, I +shall never be ready. I can not be talked to, and make myself +beautiful all at once. Dear, please go and say your prayers, and ask +God to make them love me, will you? For it is very important, and-- +If I act old, and dignified, they will think I am appropriate at least, +won't they? Oh, this horrible dress, I never can reach the hooks. +Will you try, David, there's my nice old boy. Oh, are you going down? +Well, I suppose one of us ought to be ready for them,--run along,--it's +lonesome without you,--but I have to powder my face, and-- Oh, that +was just the preliminary. The conclusion is always the same. Bye, +dearest." Then, solemnly, to her mirror, she said, "Isn't he the +blessedest old thing that ever was? My, I am glad Prudence got married +so long ago, or he might have wanted her instead of me. I don't +suppose the mansers could possibly object to a complexion like mine. I +can get a certificate from father to prove it is genuine, if they don't +believe it." + +Then she gave her full attention to tucking up tiny, straying curls +with invisible hair pins, and was quite startled when David called +suddenly: + +"Hurry up, Carol, I am waiting for you." + +"Oh, bless its heart, I forgot all about it. I am coming." + +Gaily she ran down the stairs, parted the curtains into the living-room +and said: + +"Why are you sitting in the dark, David? Headache, or just plain +sentimental? Where are you?" + +"Over here," he said, in a curious, quiet voice. + +She groped her way into the center of the room and clutched his arms. +"David," she said, laughing a little nervously, "here goes the last +gasp of my dear old Methodist fervor." + +"Why, Carol--" he interrupted. + +"Just a minute, honey. After this I am going to be settled and solemn +and when I feel perfectly glorious I'll just say, 'Very good, thank +you,' and--" + +"But, Carol--" + +"Yes, dear, just a second. This is my final gasp, my last explosion, +my dying outburst. Rah, rah, rah, David. Three cheers and a tiger. +Amen! Hallelujah! Hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the stars! +Now it's all over. I am a Presbyterian." + +David's burst of laughter was echoed on every side of the room and the +lights were switched on, and with a sickening weakness Carol faced the +young people of her husband's church. + +"More Presbyterians, dear, a whole houseful of them. They wanted to +surprise you, but you have turned the tables on them. This is my wife, +Mrs. Duke." + +Slowly Carol rallied. She smiled the irresistible smile. + +"I am so glad to meet you," she said, softly, "I know we are going to +like each other. Aren't you glad you got here in time to see me become +Presbyterian? David, why didn't you warn me that surprise parties were +still stylish? I thought they had gone out." + +Carol watched very, very closely all that evening, and she could not +see one particle of difference between these mansers and the young +folks in the Methodist Church in Mount Mark, Iowa. They told funny +stories, and laughed immoderately at them. The young men gave the +latest demonstrations of vaudeville trickery, and the girls applauded +as warmly as if they had not seen the same bits performed in the +original. They asked David if they might dance in the kitchen, and +David smilingly begged them to spare his manse the disgrace, and to +dance themselves home if they couldn't be more restrained. The young +men put in an application for Mrs. Duke as teacher of the Young Men's +Bible Class, and David sternly vetoed the measure. The young ladies +asked Carol what kind of powder she used, and however she got her hair +up in that most marvelous manner. + +And Carol decided it was not going to be such a burden after all, and +thought perhaps she might make a regular pillar in time. + +When, as she later met the elder ones of the church, and was invariably +greeted with a smiling, "How is our little Methodist to-day," she +bitterly swallowed her grief and answered with a brightness all assumed: + +"Turned Presbyterian, thank you." + +But to David she said: + +"I did seriously and religiously ask the Lord to let me get introduced +to the mansers without disgracing myself, and I am just a teeny bit +disappointed because He went back on me in such a crisis." + +But David, wise minister and able exponent of his faith, said quickly: + +"He didn't go back on you, Carol. It was the best kind of an +introduction, and He stood by you right through. They were more afraid +of you than you were of them. You might have been stiff and reserved, +and they would have been cold and self-conscious, and it would have +been ghastly for every one. But your break broke the ice right off. +You were perfectly natural." + +"Hum,--yes--natural enough, I suppose. But it wasn't dignified, and +why do you suppose I have been practising dignity these last ten years?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A BABY IN BUSINESS + +"Centerville, Iowa. + +"Dear Carol and David-- + +"Please do not call me the baby of the family any more. I am in +business, and babies have no business in business. Very good, wasn't +it? I am practising verbosity for the book I am going to write some +day. Verbosity is what I want to say, isn't it? I am never sure +whether it is that or obesity. But you know what I mean. + +"To begin at the beginning, then, you would be surprised how sensible +father is turning out. I can hardly understand it. You remember when +I insisted on studying stenography, Aunt Grace and Prue, yes, and all +the rest of you, were properly shocked and horrified, and thought I +ought to teach school because it is more ministerial. But I knew I +should need the stenography in my writing, and father looked at me, and +thought a while, and came right out on my side. And that settled it. + +"Of course, when I wanted to cut college after my second year so I +could get to work, father talked me out of it. But I am really +convinced he was right that time, even though he wasn't on my side. +But after I finished college, when they offered me the English +Department in the High School in Mount Mark at seventy-five per, and +when I insisted on coming down here to Centerville to take this +stenographic job with Messrs. Nesbitt and Orchard, at eight a week, +well, the serene atmosphere of our quiet home was decidedly murky for a +while. I said I needed the experience, both stenographic and literary, +and this was my opportunity. + +"Aunt Grace was speechless. Prudence wept over me. Fairy laughed at +me. Lark said she just wished you were home to take charge of me and +teach me a few things. But father looked at me again, and thought very +seriously for a while, and said he believed I was right. + +"Consequently, I am at Centerville. + +"Isn't it dear of father? And so surprising. The girls think he needs +medical attention, and honestly I am a little worried over him myself. +It was so unexpected. Really, I half thought he would 'put his foot +down,' as the Ladies Aiders used to want Prudence to do with us. He +was always resigned, father was, about giving the girls up in marriage, +but every one always said he would draw the line there. He is +developing, I guess. + +"Do you remember Nesbitt and Orchard? Mr. Nesbitt was a member of the +church when we lived here, but it was before I was born, so I don't +feel especially well acquainted on that account. But he calls me +Connie and acts very fatherly. + +"He is still a member of the church, and they say around town that he +is not a bit slicker outside the church than he was when father was his +pastor. He hurt me spiritually at first. So I wrote to father about +it. Father wrote back that I must be charitable--must remember that +belonging to church couldn't possibly do Mr. Nesbitt any harm, and for +all we knew to the contrary, might be keeping him out of the electric +chair every day of his life. And Mr. Nesbitt couldn't do the +Christians any harm--the Lord is looking after them. And those outside +who point to the hypocrites inside for excuses would have to think up +something new and original if we eliminated the hypocrites on their +account,--'so be generous, Connie,' wrote father, 'and don't begrudge +Mr. Nesbitt the third seat to the left for he may never get any nearer +Paradise than that.' + +"Father is just splendid, Carol. I keep feeling that the rest of you +don't realize it as hard as I do, but you will laugh at that. + +"Mr. Nesbitt likes me, but he has--well, he has what a minister should +call a 'bad disposition.' I'll tell you more about it in German when I +meet you. German is the only language I know that can do him justice. + +"I have been in trouble of one kind or another ever since I got here. +Mr. Nesbitt owns a lot of houses around town, and we have charge of +their rental. One day he gave me the address of one of his most tumble +down shacks, and promised me a bonus of five dollars if I rented it for +fifteen dollars a month on a year's lease. About ten days later, sure +enough I rented it, family to take possession immediately. Mr. Nesbitt +was out of town, so I took the rent in advance, turned over the keys, +and proceeded to spend the five dollars. I learned that system of +frenzied finance from you twins in the old days in the parsonage. + +"Next morning, full of pride, I told Mr. Nesbitt about it. + +"'Rented 800 Stout,' he roared. 'Why, I rented it myself,--a three +years' lease at eighteen a month,--move in next Monday.' + +"'Mercy,' says I. 'My family paid a month in advance.' + +"'So did mine.' + +"'My family is already in,' says I. That was a clincher. + +"He raved and he roared, and said I got them in and I could get them +out. But when he grew rational and raised my bonus to ten dollars, I +said I would do my best. He agreed to refund the month's rent, to pay +the moving expenses both in and out, to take over their five dollar +deposit for electric lights, and to pay the electric and gas bill +outstanding, which wouldn't be much for two or three days. + +"So off marches the business baby to the conflict. + +"They didn't like it a bit, and talked very crossly indeed, and said +perfectly horrible, but quite true, things about Messrs. Nesbitt and +Orchard. But finally they said they would move out, only they must +have until Friday to find a new house. They would move out on +Saturday, and leave the keys at the office. + +"Mr. Nesbitt was much pleased, and said I had done nicely, gave me the +ten dollars and a box of chocolates and we were as happy as cooing +doves the rest of the day. + +"But my family must have been more indignant than I realized. On +Saturday, at one o'clock, Mr. Nesbitt told me to go around by the house +on my way home to make sure the front door was locked. It was locked +all right, but I noticed that the electric lights were burning. Mr. +Nesbitt had not sent the key with me, as it was an automatic lock, and +it really was none of my business if folks moved out and left the +lights on. Still it seemed irregular, and when I got home I tried to +get Mr. Nesbitt on the phone. But he and Mr. Orchard had left the +office and gone out into the country for the afternoon. +Business,--they never go to the country for pleasure. So I comfortably +forgot all about the electric lights. + +"But Monday afternoon, Mr. Nesbitt happened to remark that his family +would not move in until Wednesday. Then I remembered. + +"I said, 'What is the idea in having the electric lights burning down +there?' + +"'What?' he shouted. He always shouts unless he has a particular +reason for whispering. + +"'Why, the electric lights were burning in the house when I went by +Saturday.' + +"'All of them?' + +"'Looked it from the outside.' + +"'Did you turn them off?' + +"'I should say not. I hadn't the key. Besides I didn't turn them on. +I didn't know who did, nor why. I just left them alone.' + +"That meant a neat little electric bill of about six dollars, and Mr. +Nesbitt talked to me in a very un-neutral way, and I got my hat and +walked off home. He called me up after a while and tried to make +peace, but I said I was ill from the nervous shock and couldn't work +any more that day. So he sent me a box of candy to restore my +shattered nerves, and the next day they were all right. + +"One day I got rather belligerent myself. It was just a week after I +came. One of his new tenants phoned in that Nesbitt must get the +rubbish out of the alley back of his house or he would move out. Mr. +Nesbitt tried to evade a promise, but the man was curt. 'You get that +rubbish out to-day, or I get out to-morrow.' + +"Mr. Nesbitt was just going to court, so he told me to call up a +garbage man and get the rubbish removed. + +"I didn't know the garbage men from the ministers, and they weren't +classified in the directory. So I went to Mr. Orchard, a youngish sort +of man, very pleasant, but slicker than Nesbitt himself. + +"I said, not too amiably, 'Who are the garbage haulers in this town?' + +"He said: 'Search me,' and went on writing. + +"I dropped the directory on his desk, and said, "'Well, if Mr. Nesbitt +loses a good tenant, I should worry.' + +"Then he looked up and said: 'Oh, let's see. There's Jim Green, and +Softy Meadows, and--and--Tully Scott--and--that's enough.' + +"So I called them up. Jim Green was in jail for petty larceny. Softy +Meadows was in bed with a broken leg. Tully Scott would do it for +three fifty. So I gave him the number and told him to do it that +afternoon without fail. + +"Pretty soon Mr. Nesbitt came home. 'How about that rubbish?' + +"'I got Tully Scott to do it for three fifty.' + +"He fairly tore his hair. 'Three fifty! Tully Scott is the biggest +highway robber in town, and everybody knows it! Why didn't you get the +mayor and be done with it? Three fifty! Great Scott! Three fifty! +You call his lordship Tully Scott up and ask him if he'll haul that +rubbish for a dollar and a half, and if he won't you can call off the +deal.' + +"I called him up, quietly, but inwardly raging. + +"'Will you haul that rubbish for a dollar and a half?' + +"'No,' he drawled through his nose, 'I won't haul no rubbish for no +dollar and a half, and you can tell old Skinflint I said so.' + +"He hung up. So did I. + +"'What did he say?' + +"I thought the nasal inflection made it more forceful, so I said, 'No, +I won't haul no rubbish for no dollar and a half, and you can tell old +Skinflint I said so.' + +"Mr. Orchard laughed, and Mr. Nesbitt got red. + +"'Call up Ben Moore and see if he can do it.' + +"I looked him straight in the eye. 'Nothing doing,' I said, with +dignity. 'If you want any more garbage haulers, you can get them.' + +"I sat down to the typewriter. Mr. Orchard nearly shut himself up in a +big law book in his effort to keep from meeting anybody's eye. But +Nesbitt went to the phone and called Ben Moore. Ben Moore had a four +days' job on his hands. Then he called Jim Green, and Softy Meadows, +and finally in despair called the only one left. John Knox,--nice +orthodox name, my dear. John Knox would do it for the modest sum of +five dollars, and not a--well, I'll spare you the details, but he +wouldn't do it for a cent less. Nesbitt raved, and Nesbitt swore, but +John Knox, while he may not be a pillar in the church, certainly stood +like a rock. Nesbitt could pay it or lose his tenant. He paid. + +"Mr. Orchard got up and put on his hat. 'Miss Connie wants some +flowers and some candy and an ice-cream soda, my boy, and I want some +cigars, and a coca cola. It's on you. Will you come along and pay the +bill, or will you give us the money?' + +"'I guess it will be cheaper to come along,' said Nesbitt, looking +bashfully at me, for I was very haughty. But I put on my hat, and it +cost him just one dollar and ninety cents to square himself. + +"But they both like me. In fact, Mr. Orchard suggested that I marry +him so old Nesbitt would have to stop roaring at me, but I tell him +honestly that of the two evils I prefer the roaring. + +"No, Carol, I am not counting on marriage in my scheme of life. Not +yet. Sometimes I think perhaps I do not believe in it. It doesn't +work out right. There is always something wrong somewhere. Look at +Prudence and Jerry,--devoted to each other as ever, but Jerry's +business takes him out among men and women, into the life of the city. +And Prudence's business keeps her at home with the children. He's out, +and she's in, and the only time they have to love each other is in the +evening,--and then Jerry has clubs and meetings, and Prudence is always +sleepy. Look at Fairy and Gene. He is always at the drug store, and +Fairy has nothing but parties and clubs and silly things like that to +think about,--a big, grand girl like Fairy. And she is always looking +covetously at other women's babies and visiting orphans' homes to see +if she can find one she wants to adopt, because she hasn't one of her +own. Always that sorrow behind the twinkle in her eyes! If she hadn't +married, she wouldn't want a baby. Take Larkie and Jim. Always Larkie +was healthy at home, strong, and full of life. But since little Violet +came, Lark is pale and weak, and has no strength at all. Aunt Grace is +staying with her now. Why, I can't look at dear old Larkie without +half crying. + +"Take even you, my precious Carol, perfectly happy, oh, of course, but +all your originality, your uniqueness, the very you-ness of you, will +be absorbed in a round of missionary meetings, and prayer-meetings, and +choir practises, and Sunday-school classes. The hard routine, my dear, +will take the sparkle from you, and give you a sweet, but un-Carol-like +precision and method. Oh, yes, you are happy, but thank you, dear, I +think I'll keep my Self and do my work, and--be an old maid. + +"Mr. Orchard offers himself as an alternative to the roars every now +and then, and I expound this philosophy of mine in answer. He shouts +with laughter at it. He says it is so, so like a baby in business. He +reminds me of the time when gray hairs and crow's-feet will mar my +serenity, and when solitary old age will take the lightness from my +step. But I've never noticed that husbands have a way of banishing +gray hairs and crow's-feet and feeble knees, have you? Babies are +nice, of course, but I think I'll baby myself a little. + +"I do get so homesick for the good old parsonage days, and all the +bunch, and-- Still, it is nice to be a baby in business, and think how +wonderful it will be when I graduate from my baby-hood, and have brains +enough to write books, big books, good books, for all the world to read. + +"Lovingly as always, + +"Baby Con." + + +When Carol read that letter she cried, and rubbed her face against her +husband's shoulder,--regardless of the dollar powder on his black coat. + +"A teeny bit for father," she explained, "for all his girls are gone. +And a little bit for Fairy, but she has Gene. And quite a lot for +Larkie, but she has Jim and Violet." And then, clasping her arm about +his shoulders, which, despite her teasing remonstrance, he allowed to +droop a little, she cried exultantly: "But not one bit for me, for I +have you, and Connie is a poor, poverty-stricken, wretched little waif, +with nothing in the world worth having, only she doesn't know it yet." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A WOMAN IN THE CHURCH + +And there was a woman in the church. + +There always is,--one who stands apart, distinct, different,--in the +community but not with it, in the church but not of it. + +The woman in David's church was of a languorous, sumptuous type, built +on generous proportions, with a mass of dark hair waving low on her +forehead, with dark, straight-gazing, deep-searching eyes, the kind +that impel and hold all truanting glances. She was slow in movement, +suggesting a beautiful and commendable laziness. In public she talked +very little, laughing never, but often smiling,--a curious smile that +curved one corner of her lip and drew down the tip of one eye. She had +been married, but no one knew anything about her husband. She was a +member of the church, attended with most scrupulous regularity, +assisted generously in a financial way, was on good terms with every +one, and had not one friend in the congregation. The women were afraid +of her. So were the men. But for different reasons. + +Those who would ask questions of her, ran directly against the concrete +wall of the crooked smile, and turned away abashed, unsatisfied. + +Carol was very shy with her. She was not used to the type. There had +been women in her father's churches, but they had been of different +kinds. Mrs. Waldemar's straight-staring eyes embarrassed her. She +listened silently when the other women talked of her, half admiringly, +half sneeringly, and she grew more timid. She watched her fascinated +in church, on the street, whenever they were thrown together. But one +deep look from the dark eyes set her a-flush and rendered her +tongue-tied. + +Mrs. Waldemar had paid scant attention to David before the advent of +Carol, except to follow his movements with her eyes in a way of which +he could not remain unconscious. But when Carol came, entered the +demon of mischief. Carol was young, Mrs. Waldemar was forty. Carol +was lovely, Mrs. Waldemar was only unusual. Carol was frank as the +sunshine, Mrs. Waldemar was mysterious. What woman on earth but might +wonder if the devoted groom were immune to luring eyes, and if that +lovely bride were jealous? + +So she talked to him after church. She called him on the telephone for +directions in the Bible study she was taking up. She lounged in her +hammock as he returned home from pastoral calls, and stopped him for +little chats. David was her pastor, she was one of his flock. + +But Carol screwed up her face before the mirror and frowned. + +"David," she said to herself, when a glance from her window revealed +David leaning over Mrs. Waldemar's hammock half a block away, doubtless +in the scriptural act of explaining an intricate passage of Revelation +to the dark-eyed sheep,--"David is as good as an angel, and as innocent +as a baby. Two very good traits of course, but dangerous, +tre-men-dous-ly dangerous. Goodness and innocence make men wax in +women's hands." Carol, for all her youth, had acquired considerable +shrewdness in her life-time acquaintance with the intricacies of +parsonage life. + +She looked from her window again. "There's the--the--the dark-eyed +Jezebel." She glanced fearfully about, to see if David might be near +enough to hear the word. What on earth would he think of the manse +lady calling one of his sheep a Jezebel? "Well, David," she said to +herself decidedly, "God gave you a wife for some purpose, and I'm slick +if I haven't much brains." And she shook a slender fist at her image +in the mirror and went back to setting the table. + +David was talkative that evening. "You haven't seen much of Mrs. +Waldemar, have you, dear? People here don't think much Of her. She is +very advanced,--too advanced, of course. But she is very broad, and +kind. She is well educated, too, and for one who has had no training, +she grasps Bible truths in a most remarkable way. She has never had +the proper guidance, that's the worst of it. With a little wise +direction she will be a great addition to our church and a big help in +many ways." + +Carol lowered her lashes reflectively. She was wondering how much of +this "wise direction" was going to fall to her precious David? + +"I imagine our women are a little jealous of her, and that blinds them +to her many fine qualities." + +Carol agreed, with a certain lack of enthusiasm, and David continued +with evident relish. + +"Some of her ideas are dangerous, but when she is shown the weakness of +her position she will change. She is not one of that narrow school who +holds to a fallacy just because she accepted it in the beginning. The +elders objected to her teaching a class in Sunday-school because they +claimed her opinions would prove menacing to the young and uninformed. +And it is true. She is dangerous company for the young right now. But +she is starting out along better lines and I think will be a different +woman." + +"Dangerous for the young." The words repeated themselves in Carol's +mind. "Dangerous for the young." Carol was young herself. "Dangerous +for the young." + +The next afternoon, Carol arrayed herself in her most girlishly +charming gown, and with a smile on her lips, and trepidation in her +heart, she marched off to call on her Jezebel. The Jezebel was +surprised, no doubt of that. And she was pleased. Every one liked +Carol,--even Jezebels. And Mrs. Waldemar was very much alone. However +much a woman may revel in the admiration of men, there are times when +she craves the confidence of at least one woman. Mrs. Waldemar led +Carol up-stairs to a most seductively attractive little sitting-room, +and Carol sat at her feet, as it were, for two full hours. + +Then she tripped away home, more than ever aware of the wonderful charm +of Mrs. Waldemar, but thanking God she was young. + +When David came in to dinner, a radiant Carol awaited him. In the +ruffly white dress, with its baby blue ribbons, and with a wide band of +the same color in her hair, and tiny curls clustering about her pink +ears, she was a very infant of a minister's wife. + +David took her in his arms appreciatively. "You little baby," he said +adoringly, "you look younger every day. Will you ever grow up? A +minister's wife! You look more like a little girl's baby doll." + +Carol giggled, and rumpled up his hair; When she took her place at the +table she artfully snuggled low in her chair, peeping roguishly at him +from behind the wedding-present coffee urn. + +"David," she began, as soon as he finished the blessing, "I've been +thinking all day of what you said about Mrs. Waldemar, and I've been +ashamed of myself. I really have avoided her. She is so old, and +clever, and I am such a goose, and people said things about her, +and--but after last night I was ashamed. So to-day I went to see her, +all alone by myself, without a gun or anything to protect me." + +David laughed, nodding at her approvingly. "Good for you, Carol," he +cried in approbation. "That was fine. How did you get along?" + +"Just grand. And isn't she interesting? And so kind. I believe she +likes me. She kept me a long time and made me a cup of tea, and begged +me to come again. She nearly hypnotized me, I am really infatuated +with her. Oh, we had a lovely time. She is different from us, but it +does us good to mix with other kinds, don't you think so? I believe +she did me good. I feel very emancipated to-night." + +Carol tossed her blue-ribboned, curly head, and the warm approval in +David's eyes cooled a little. + +"What did she have to say?" he asked curiously. + +"Oh, she talked a lot about being broad, and generous, and not allowing +environment to dwarf one. She thinks it is a shame for a--a--girl of +my--well, she called it my 'divine sparkle,' and she said it was a +compliment,--anyhow, she said it was a shame I should be confined to a +little half-souled bunch of Presbyterians in the Heights. She has a +lot of friends down-town, advanced thinkers, she calls them,--a poet, +and some authors, and artists, and musicians,--folks like that. They +have informal meetings every week or so, and she is going to take me. +She says I will enjoy them and that they will adore me." + +Carol's voice swelled with triumph, and David's approval turned to ice. + +"She must have liked me or she wouldn't have been so friendly. She +laughed at the Heights,--she called it a 'little, money-saving, +heart-squeezing, church-bound neighborhood.' She said I must study new +thoughts and read the new poetry, and run out with her to grip souls +with real people now and then, to keep my star from tarnishing. I +didn't understand all she said, but it sounded irresistible. Oh, she +was lovely to me." + +"She shouldn't have talked to you like that," protested David quickly. +"She is not fair to our people. She can not understand them because +they live sweet, simple lives where home and church are throned. New +thought is not necessary to them because they are full of the old, old +thought of training their babies, and keeping their homes, and +worshiping God. And I know the kind of people she meets down-town,--a +sort of high-class Bohemia where everybody flirts with everybody else +in the name of art. You wouldn't care for it." + +Carol adroitly changed the subject, and David said no more. + +The next day, quite accidentally, she met Mrs. Waldemar on the corner +and they had a soda together at the drug store. That night after +prayer-meeting David had to tarry for a deacons' meeting, and Carol and +Mrs. Waldemar sauntered off alone, arm in arm, and waited in Mrs. +Waldemar's hammock until David appeared. + +And David did not see anything wonderful in the dark, deep eyes at +all,--they looked downright wicked to him. He took Carol away +hurriedly, and questioned her feverishly to find out if Mrs. Waldemar +had put any fresh nonsense into her pretty little head. + +Day after day passed by and David began going around the block to avoid +Mrs. Waldemar's hammock. Her advanced thoughts, expressed to him, old +and settled and quite mature, were only amusing. But when she poured +the vials of her emancipation on little, innocent, trusting Carol,--it +was--well, David called it "pure down meanness." She was trying to +make his wife dissatisfied with her environment, with her life, with +her very husband. David's kindly heart swelled with unaccustomed fury. + +Carol always assured him that she didn't believe the things Mrs. +Waldemar said,--it was interesting, that was all, and curious, and gave +her new things to think about. And minister's families must be broad +enough to make Christian allowance for all. + +But, curiously enough, she grew genuinely fond of Mrs. Waldemar. And +Mrs. Waldemar, in gratitude for the girlish affection of the little +manse lady, left David alone. But one day she took Carol's dimpled +chin in her hand, and turned the face up that she might look directly +into the young blue eyes. + +"Carol," she said, smiling, "you are a girlie, girlie wife, with +dimples and curls and all the baby tricks, but you're a pretty clever +little lady at that. You were not going to let your darling old David +get into trouble, were you? And quite right, my dear, quite right. +And between you and me, I like you far, far better than your husband." +She smiled the crooked smile and pinched Carol's crimson cheek. "The +only way to keep hubby out of danger is to tackle it yourself, isn't +it? Oh, don't blush,--I like you all the better for your little trick." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A MINISTER'S SON + +"Centerville, Iowa. + +"Dear Carol and David: + +"I am getting very, exceptionally wise. I am really appalled at +myself. It seems so unnecessary in one so young. You will remember, +Carol, that I used to say it was unfair that ministers' children should +be denied so much of the worldly experience that other ordinary humans +fall heir to by the natural sequence of things. I resented the +deprivation. I coveted one taste of every species of sweet, satanic or +otherwise. + +"I have changed my mind. I have been convinced that ordinaries may +dabble in forbidden fires, and a little cold ointment will banish every +trace of the flame, but ministers' children stay scarred and charred +forever. I have decided to keep far from the worldly blazes and let +others supply the fanning breezes. For you know, Carol, that the +wickedest fires in the world would die out if there were not some +willing hands to fan them. + +"There is the effect. The cause--Kirke Connor. + +"Carol, has David ever explained to you what fatal fascination a +semi-satanic man has for nice, white women? I have been at father many +times on the subject, and he says, 'Connie, be reasonable, what do I +know about semi-satanics?' Then he goes down-town. See if you can get +anything out of David on the subject and let me know. + +"Kirke is a semi-satanic. Also a minister's son. He has been in +trouble of one kind or another ever since I first met him, when he was +fourteen years old. He fairly seethed his way through college. Mr. +Connor has resigned from the active ministry now and lives in Mount +Mark, and Kirke bought a partnership in Mr. Ives' furniture store and +goes his troubled, riotous way as heretofore. That is, he did until +recently. + +"A few weeks ago I missed my railway connections and had to lay over +for three hours in Fairfield. I checked my suit-case and started out +to look up some of my friends. As I went out one door, I glimpsed the +vanishing point of a man's coat exiting in the opposite direction. I +started to cut across the corner, but a backward glance revealed a +man's hat and one eye peering around the corner of the station. Was I +being detected? I stopped in my tracks, my literary instinct on the +alert. The hat slowly pivoted a head into view. It was Kirke Connor. +He shuffled toward me, glancing back and forth in a curious, furtive +way. His face was harrowed, his eyes blood-shot. He clutched my hand +breathlessly and clung to me as to the proverbial straw. + +"'Have you seen Matters?' he asked. + +"'Matters?' + +"'You know Matters,--the sheriff at Mount Mark.' + +"I looked at him in a way which I trust became the daughter of a +district superintendent of the Methodist Episcopal Church. + +"He mopped his fevered brow. + +"'He has been on my trail for two days.' Then he twinkled, more like +himself. 'It has been a hot trail, too, if I do say it who shouldn't. +If he has had a full breath for the last forty-eight hours, I am +ashamed of myself.' + +"'But what in the world--' + +"'Let's duck into the station a minute. I know the freight agent and +he will hide me in a trunk if need be. I will tell you about it. It +is enough to make your blood run cold.' + +"Honestly, it was running cold already. Here was literature for the +asking. Kirke's wild appearance, his furtive manner, the searching +sheriff--a plot made to order. So I tried to forget the M. E. +Universal, and we slipped into the station and seated ourselves +comfortably on some egg boxes in a shadowy corner where he told his +sad, sad tale. + +"'Connie, you keep a wary eye on the world, the flesh and the devil. I +know whereof I speak. Other earth-born creatures may flirt with sin +and escape unscathed. But the Lord is after the minister's son.' + +"'I thought it was the sheriff after you?' I interrupted. + +"'Well, so it is, technically. And the devil is after the sheriff, but +I think the Lord is touching them both up a little to get even with me. +Anyhow, between the Lord and the devil, with the sheriff thrown in, +this world is no place for a minister's son. And the rule works on +daughters, too. + +"'You know, Connie, I have received the world with open hands, a loving +heart, a receptive soul. And I got gloriously filled up, too, let me +tell you. Connie, shun the little gay-backed cards that bear diamonds +and hearts and spades. Connie, flee from the ice-cold bottles that +bubble to meet your lips. Connie, turn a cold shoulder to the gilded +youths who sing when the night is old.' + +"'For goodness' sake, Kirke, tell me the story before the sheriff gets +you.' + +"'Well, it is a story of bottles on ice.' + +"'Mount Mark is dry.' + +"'Yes, like other towns, Mount Mark is dry for those who want it dry, +but it is wet enough to drown any misguided soul who loves the damp. I +loved it,--but, with the raven, nevermore. Connie, there is one thing +even more fatal to a minister's son than bottles of beer. That thing +is politics. If I had taken my beer straight I might have escaped. +But I tried to dilute it with politics, and behold the result. My +father walking the floor in anguish, my mother in tears, my future +blasted, my hopes shattered.' + +"'Kirke, tell me the story.' + +"'Matters is running for reelection. I do not approve of Matters. He +is a booze fighter and a card shark and a lot of other unscriptural +things. As a Methodist and a minister's son I felt called to battle +his return to office. So I went out electioneering for my friend and +ally, Joe Smithson. You know, Connie, that in spite of my wandering +ways, I have friends in the county and I am a born talker. I took my +faithful steed and I spent many hours, which should have been devoted +to selling furniture, decrying the vices of Matters, extolling the +virtues of Smithson. Matters got his eye on me. + +"'He had the other eye on that office. He saw he must make a strong +bid for county favor. The easiest way to do that in Mount Mark is to +get after a boot-legger. There was Snippy Brown, a poor old harmless +nigger, trying to earn an honest living by selling a surreptitious +bottle from a hole in the ground to a thirsting neighbor in the dead of +night. Plainly Snippy Brown was fairly crying to be raided. Matters +raided him. And he got a couple of hundred of bottles on ice.' + +"'Served him right,' I said, in a Sabbatical voice. + +"'To be sure it did. And Matters put him in jail and made a great fuss +getting ready for his trial. I had a friend at court and he tipped me +off that Matters was going to disgrace the Methodist Church in general +and the Connors in particular by calling me in as a witness, making me +tell where I bought sundry bottles known to have been in my possession. +Picture it to yourself, sweet Connie,--my white-haired mother, my +sad-eyed father, the condemning deacons, the sneering Sunday-school +teachers, the prim-lipped Epworth Leaguers,--it could not be. I left +town. Matters left also,--coming my way. For two days we have been at +it, hot foot, cold foot. We have covered most of southeastern Iowa in +forty-eight hours. He has the papers to serve on me, but he's got to +go some yet.' + +"Kirke stood up and peered about among the trunks. All serene. + +"'I am nearly starved,' he said plaintively. 'Do you suppose we could +sneak into some quiet joint and grab a ham sandwich and a cup of +coffee?' + +"I was willing to risk it, so we sashayed across the Street, I swirling +my skirts as much as possible to help conceal unlucky Kirke. + +"But alas! Kirke had taken just one ravenous gulp at his sandwich when +he stopped abruptly, leaning forward, his coffee cup upraised. I +followed his wide-eyed stare. There outside the window stood Matters, +grinning diabolically. He pushed open the door, Kirke leaped across +the counter and vaulted through the side window, crashing the screen. +Matters dashed around the house in hot pursuit, and I--well, consider +that I was a reporter, seeking a scoop. They did not beat me by six +inches. Only I wish I had dropped the sandwich. I must have looked +funny. + +"Kirke flashed behind a shed, Matters after him, I after Matters. +Kirke zigzagged across a lawn dodging from tree to tree,--Matters and +I. Kirke turned into an alley,--Matters and I. Woe to the erring son +of a minister! It was a blind alley. It ended in a garage and the +garage was locked. + +"Matters pulled out a revolver and yelled, 'Now stop, you fool; stop, +Kirke!' Kirke looked back; I think he was just ready to shin up the +lightning rod but he saw the revolver and stopped. Matters walked up, +laughing, and handed him a paper. Kirke shoved it in his pocket. I +clasped my sandwich in both hands and looked at them tragically,--sob +element. Then Matters turned away and said, 'See you later, Kirke. I +congratulate the county on securing your services. Just the kind of +witness we like, nice, respectable, good family, and all. Makes it +size up big, you know. Be sure and invite your friends.' + +"For a second I thought Kirke would strike him. I shook the sandwich +at him warningly and he answered with a wave of his own,--yes, he had +his sandwich, too. Then he said in a low voice, 'All right, Matters. +But you call me in that trial and I'll get you.' + +"'Oh, oh, Sonny, you must not threaten an officer of the law,' said +Matters, in a hateful, chiding voice. He turned and sauntered away. +Kirke and I watched him silently until he was out of sight. Then we +turned to each other sympathetically. + +"'Let's go back after that coffee,' said Kirke bravely. + +"He took a bite of his sandwich thoughtfully, and I did of mine, trying +to eat the lump in my throat with it. An hour later we went our +separate ways. + +"I heard nothing further for two weeks, then Mr. Nesbitt was called +East on business and said I might go home if I liked. Imagine my +ecstasy. I found the family, as well as all Methodists in general, +quite uplifted over the strange case of Kirke Connor. From a +semi-satanic, he had suddenly evoluted into a regular pillar, as became +the son of his saintly mother and his orthodox father. He attended +church, he sang in the choir, he went to Sunday-school, he was +prominent at prayer-meeting. Every one was full of pious satisfaction +and called him 'dear old Kirke,' and gave him the glad hand and invited +him to help at ice-cream socials. No one could explain it, they +thought he was a Mount Mark edition of Twice Born Men in the flesh. + +"So the first afternoon when he drove around with his speedy little +brown horse and his rubber tired buggy and asked me to go for a drive, +father smiled, and Aunt Grace demurred not. Maybe I could give him a +little more light. I watched him pretty closely the first mile or so. +He had nothing to say until we were a mile out of town. He is a +good-looking fellow, Carol,--you remember, of course, because you never +forget the boys, especially the good-looking ones. His eyes were clear +and slightly humorous, as if he knew a host of funny things if he only +chose to tell. Finally in answer to my reproachful gaze, he said: + +"'Well, I didn't have anything to say about it, did I? I did not ask +to be born a minister's son. It was foreordained, and now I've got to +live up to it in self-defense. There may be forgiveness for other +erring ones, but I tell you our crowd is spotted.' + +"I had nothing to say. + +"'Well, you might at least say, "Good for you, my boy. Here's luck?"' +he complained. + +"I was still silent. + +"'It is good business, too,' he continued belligerently. 'I am selling +lots of furniture. I have burned the black and white cards. I have +broken the ice-cold bottles. I have shunned the gilded youths with +mellow voices. I go to church. I sell furniture. I sleuth Matters.' + +"'You what?' + +"'I am trailing Matters. Turn about. Where he goeth, I goeth. Where +he lodgeth, I lodgeth. His knowledge is my knowledge, and his tricks, +my salvation.' + +"'You make me sick, Kirke. Why don't you talk sense?' + +"'He is crooked, Connie, and everybody knows it. But it is no cinch +catching him at it. Smithson is going to be elected and Matters knows +it. But the only way I can keep out of that trial is to get something +on Matters. So whenever he is out, I am out on the same road. He is +going toward New London this afternoon and so are we. I have got just +five more days and you must be a good little scout and go driving with +me, so he won't catch on that I am sleuthing him. He will think I am +just beauing you around in the approved Mount Mark style.' + +"Sure enough after a while we came across Matters talking to a couple +of farmers on the cross roads, and Kirke and I stopped a quarter of a +mile farther down and ate sandwiches and told stories, and when Matters +passed us a little later he could have sworn we were there just for our +joy in each other's company. But we did not learn anything. + +"The next day we were out again, with no better luck. But the third +day about four in the afternoon, Kirke called me on the telephone. +There was subtle excitement in his voice. + +"'Come for a drive, Connie?' he asked; common words, but there was a +world of hidden invitation, of secret lure, in his voice for me. + +"'Yes, gladly,' I said. Father did not nod approvingly and Aunt Grace +did not smile this time. Three days in succession was a little too +warm even for a newly made pillar, but they said nothing and Kirke and +I set out. + +"'He raided Jack Mott's last night and has about three hundred bottles +to smash this afternoon. The old fellow is pretty fond of the ice-cold +bottles himself and it is common report that he raids just often enough +to keep himself supplied. So I think I'll keep an eye on him to-day. +He started half an hour ago, south road, and he has Gus Waldron with +him,--his boon companion, and the most notoriously ardent devotee of +the bottles in all dear dry Mount Mark. Lovely day for a drive, isn't +it?' + +"'Yes, lovely.' I was very happy. I felt like a princess of old, +riding off into danger, and I felt very warm and friendly toward Kirke. +Remember that he is very good-looking and just bad enough in spite of +his new pillar-hood, to be spell-binding, and--it was lots of fun. +Kirke grabbed my hand and squeezed it chummily, and I smiled at him. + +"'You are a glorious girl,' he said. + +"I suppose I should have reminded him and myself that he was a +semi-satanic, but I did not. I laughed and rubbed the back of his hand +softly with the tips of my nice pink finger nails, and laughed again. + +"Then here came a light wagon,--Matters and Waldron,--going home, and +we realized we had been loitering on the job. Kirke shook his head +impatiently. + +"'You distracted me,' he said. 'I forgot my reputation's salvation in +the smile of your eye.' + +"But we drove on to look the field over. Less than half a mile down +the road we came to a low creek with rocky rugged banks. The banks +were splashed and splattered with bits of glass, and over the glass and +over the rocks ran thin trickling streams of a pale brown liquid that +had a perfectly sickening odor. I sniffed disgustedly as we walked +over to reconnoiter. + +"'I guess he made good all right,' said Kirke in a disappointed voice, +inspecting the glass-splattered banks of the creek. Then he leaped +across and walked lightly up the bank on the opposite side. Stooping +down, he lifted an unbroken bottle and waved it at me, laughing. + +"'They missed one. Never a crack in it and still cold.' He looked at +it curiously, affectionately, then with resignation. 'I am a +minister's son,' he reminded himself sternly. He lifted the bottle +above his head, and with his eye selected a nice rough rock half way +down the bank. 'Watch the bubbles,' he called to me. + +"'Hay, mister,' interposed a voice, 'gimme half a dollar an' I'll show +you a whole pile of 'em that ain't broke.' + +"Slowly we rallied from our stupefaction as we gazed at the slim, +brown, barefooted lad of the farm who was proudly brandishing a +forbidden cigarette of corn-silks. + +"'A whole pile of 'em. On the square?' asked Kirke with glittering +eyes. + +"'Yes, sir. A couple o' fellows come out in a light wagon a while ago +an' had a lot of bottles in boxes. First they throwed one on the +rocks, an' then they throwed one up in the tall grass, one up an' one +down. There's a whole pile of 'em that ain't broke at all. An' the +little dark fellow says, "A good job, Gus. We'll be Johnny-on-the-spot +as soon as it gets dark."' + +"Kirke was standing over him, his eyes bright, his hands clenched. 'On +the level?' he whispered. + +"'Sure, but gimme the half first.' Kirke passed out a silver dollar +without a word and the boy snatched it from him, giggling to himself +with rapture. + +"'Right up there, mister, in that pile of weeds.' + +"Kirke took my hand and we scrambled up the bank, pulling back the tall +grass,--no need to stoop and look. Bottle after bottle, bottle after +bottle, lay there snugly and securely, waiting for the sheriff and his +friend to rescue them after dark. + +"The lad had already disappeared, smoking his corn-silks rapturously, +his dollar snug in the palm of his hand. And Kirke and I, without a +word, began patiently carrying the bottles to the buggy. Again and +again we returned to the clump of weeds, counting the bottles as we +carried them out,--a hundred and fifty of them, even. + +"Then we got into the buggy, feet outside, for the bed of the buggy was +filled and piled high, covered with the robe to discourage prying eyes, +and turned the little brown mare toward town. + +"'Connie, would you seriously object to kissing me just once? I feel +the need of it this minute,--moral stimulus, you know.' + +"'Ministers' daughters have to be very, very careful,' I told him in an +even voice. + +"We were both silent then as we drove into town. When he pulled up in +front of the house he looked me straight in the face, and he uses his +eyes effectively. + +"'You are a darling,' he said. + +"I said 'Thanks,' and went into the house. + +"He told me next morning what happened that evening. Of course he was +there to witness Matters' discomfiture. He did not put in appearance +until the sheriff and his friend were climbing anxiously and sadly into +the light wagon to return home empty-handed. Then he sauntered from +behind a hedge and lifted his hat in his usual debonair manner. + +"'By the way, Mr. Sheriff,' he began in a quiet, ingratiating voice, 'I +hope I am not to be called as a witness in that boot-legging case.' + +"Matters snarled at him. 'Pooh,' he said angrily, 'you can't blackmail +me like that. You can't prove anything on me. I reckon the people +around here will take the word of the sheriff of their county against +the booze fightin' son of a Methodist preacher.' + +"Kirke waved his hand airily. 'Far be it from me to enter into any +defense of my father's son. But a hundred and fifty bottles are pretty +good evidence. And speaking of witnesses, I have a hunch that the +people of this county will fall pretty hard for anything that comes +from the lips of the baby daughter of the district superintendent of +the Methodist Church.' + +"Matters hunched forward in his seat. 'Connie Starr,' he said, in a +hollow voice. + +"Kirke swished the weeds with his cane,--he has all those graceful +affectations. + +"Matters swallowed a few times. 'Old man Starr is too smart a man to +get his family mixed up in politics,' he finally brought out. + +"'Baby Con is of age, I think,' said Kirke lightly. 'And she is very +advanced, you know, something of a reformer, has all kinds of +emancipated notions.' + +"Matters whipped up and disappeared, and Kirke went to prayer-meeting. +Aunt Grace saw him; I wasn't there. + +"The next day, I met Matters on the street. Rather, he met me. + +"'Miss Connie,' he said in a friendly, inviting voice, 'you know there +are a lot of things in politics that girls can't get to the bottom of. +You know my record, I've been a good Methodist since before you were +born. Sure you wouldn't go on the witness stand on circumstantial +evidence to make trouble for a good Methodist, would you?' + +"I looked at him with wide and childish eyes. 'Of course not, Mr. +Matters,' I said quickly. He brightened visibly. 'But if I am called +on a witness stand I have to tell what I have seen and heard, haven't +I, whatever it is?' I asked this very innocently, as one seeking +information only. + +"'Your father wouldn't let a young girl like you get mixed up in any +dirty county scandal,' he protested. + +"'If I was--what do you call it--subpoenaed--is that the word?' He +forgot that I was working in a lawyer's office. 'If I was subpoenaed +as a witness, could father help himself?' + +"Mr. Matters went forlornly on his way and that night Kirke came around +to say that the sheriff had informed him casually that he thought his +services would not be needed on that boot-legging case,--they had +plenty of other witnesses,--and out of regard for the family, etc., etc. + +"Kirke smiled at him. 'Thank you very much. And, Matters, I have a +hundred and fifty nice cold bottles in the basement,--if you get too +warm some summer evening come around and I'll help you cool off.' + +"Matters thanked him incoherently and went away. + +"That day Kirke and I had a confidential conversation. 'Connie Starr, +I believe I am half a preacher right now. You marry me, and I will +study for the ministry.' + +"'Kirke Connor,' I said, 'if any fraction of you is a minister, it +isn't on speaking terms with the rest of you. That's certain. And I +wouldn't marry you if you were a whole Conference. And I don't want to +marry a preacher of all people. And anyhow I am not going to get +married at all.' + +"At breakfast the next morning father said, 'I believe Kirke Connor is +headed straight, for good and all. Now if some nice girl could just +marry him he would be safe enough.' + +"Aunt Grace looked at him warningly. 'But of course no nice girl could +do it, yet,' she interposed quickly. 'It wouldn't be safe. He can't +marry until he is sure of himself.' + +"'Oh, I don't know,' I said thoughtfully. 'Provided the girl were +clever as well as nice, she could handle Kirke easily. Now I may not +be the nicest girl in the world, but no one can deny that I am clever.' + +"Father swallowed helplessly. Then he rallied. 'By the way, Connie, +won't you come down to Burlington with me for a couple of days? I have +a lot of work to do there, and we can have a nice little honeymoon all +by ourselves. What do you say?' + +"'Oh, thank you, father, that is lovely. Let's go on the noon train, +shall we? I can be ready.' + +"'All right, just fine.' He flashed a triumphant glance at Aunt Grace +and she dimpled her approval. + +"'Now don't tell any one we are going, father,' I cautioned him. 'I +want to surprise Kirke Connor. He is going to Burlington on that train +himself, and it will be such a joke on him to find us there ready to be +entertained. He is to be there several days, so he can amuse me while +you are busy. Isn't it lovely? He really needs a little boosting now, +and it is our duty, and--will you press my suit, Auntie? I must fly or +I won't be ready.' + +"Aunt Grace looked reproachfully at father, and father looked +despairingly at Aunt Grace. But we had a splendid time in Burlington, +the three of us, for father never did one second's work all the time, +he was so deathly afraid to leave me alone with Kirke. + +"Isn't it lots of fun to be alive, Carol? So many thrilling and +interesting and happy things come up every day,--I love to dig in and +work hard, and how I love to drop my work at five thirty and run home +and doll up, and play, and flirt--just nice, harmless flirting,--and +sing, and talk,--really, it is a darling little old world, isn't it? + +"Oh, and by the way, Carol, when you want a divorce just write me about +it. Mr. Nesbitt and I specialize on divorces, and I can do the whole +thing myself and save you lots of trouble. Just tell me when, and I +will furnish your motive. + +"Lovingly as always, + +"Connie." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE HEAVY YOKE + +The burden of ministering rested very lightly on Carol's slender +shoulders. The endless procession of missionary meetings, aid +societies, guilds and boards, afforded her a childish delight and did +not sap her enthusiasm to the slightest degree. She went out of her +little manse each new day, laughing, and returned, wearily perhaps, but +still laughing. She sang light-heartedly with the youth of the church, +because she was young and happy with them. She sympathized +passionately with the old and sorry ones, because the richness of her +own content, and the blessed perfection of her own life, made her heart +tender. + +Into her new life she had carried three matchless assets for a +minister's wife,--a supreme confidence in the exaltation of the +ministry, a boundless adoration for her husband, and a natural liking +for people that made people naturally like her. Thus equipped, she +faced the years of aids and missions with profound serenity. + +She was sorry they hadn't more time for the honeymoon business, she and +David. Honeymooning was such tremendously good fun. But they were so +almost unbelievably busy all the time. On Monday David was down-town +all day, attending minister's meeting and Presbytery in the morning, +and looking up new books in the afternoon. Carol always joined him for +lunch and they counted that noon-time hour a little oasis in a week of +work. In the evening there were deacons' meetings, or trustees' +meetings, or the men's Bible class. On Tuesday evening they had a +Bible study class. On Wednesday evening was prayer-meeting. Thursday +night, they, with several of their devoted workers, walked a mile and a +half across country to Happy Hollow where they conducted mad little +mission meetings. Friday night Carol met with the young women's club, +and on Saturday night was a mission study class. + +Carol used to sigh over the impossibility of having a beau night. She +said that she had often heard that husbands couldn't be sweethearts, +but she had never believed it before. Pinned down to facts, however, +she admitted she preferred the husband. + +Mornings Carol was busy with housework, talking to herself without +intermission as she worked. And David spent long hours in his study, +poring over enormous books that Carol insisted made her head ache from +the outside and would probably give her infantile paralysis if she +dared to peep between the covers. Afternoons were the aid societies, +missionary societies, and all the rest of them, and then the endless +calls,--calls on the sick, calls on the healthy, calls on the pillars, +calls on the backsliders, calls on the very sad, calls on the very +happy,--every varying phase of life in a church community merits a call +from the minister and his wife. + +The heavy yoke,--the yoke of dead routine,--dogs the footsteps of every +minister, and even more, of every minister's wife. But Carol thought +of the folks that fitted into the cogs of the routine to drive it round +and round,--the teachers, the doctors' wives, the free-thinkers, the +mothers, the professional women, the cynics, the pillars of the +church,--and thinking of the folks, she forgot the routine. And so to +her, routine could never prove a clog, stagnation. Every meeting +brought her a fresh revelation, they amused her, those people, they +puzzled her, sometimes they made her sad and frightened her, as they +taught her facts of life they had gleaned from wide experience and +often in bitter tears. Still, they were folks, and Carol had always +had a passion for people. + +David worked too hard. It was positively wicked for any human being to +work as he did, and she scolded him roundly, and even went so far as to +shake him, and then kissed him a dozen times to prove how very angry +she was at him for abusing himself so shamefully. + +David did work hard, as hard as every young minister must work to get +things going right, to make his labor count. His face, always thin, +was leaner, more intense than ever. His eyes were clear, far-seeing. +The whiteness of his skin, amounting almost to pallor, gave him that +suggestion of spirituality not infrequently seen in men of passionate +consecration to a high ideal. The few graying hairs at his temples, +and even the half-droop of his shoulders, added to his scholarly +appearance, and Carol was firmly convinced that he was the +finest-looking man in all St. Louis, and every place else for that +matter. + +The mad little mission, so-called because of the riotous nature of the +meetings held there, was in a most flourishing condition. Everything +was going beautifully for the little church in the Heights, and in +their gratitude, and their happiness, Carol and David worked harder +than ever,--and mutually scolded each other for the folly of it. + +"I tell you this, David Arnold Duke," Carol told him sternly, "if you +don't do something to that cold so you can preach without coughing, I +shall do the preaching myself, and then where would you be?" + +"Without a job, of course," he answered. "But you wouldn't do it. The +wind has chafed your darling complexion, and you wouldn't go into the +pulpit with a rough face. Your devotion to your beauty saves me." + +"All very well, but maybe you think a cold-sermon is effective." +Carol stood up and lifted her hand impressively. "My dear brothers +and sisters,--hem-ah-hem-h-hh-em,--let us unite in reading +the--ah-huh-huh-huh. Let us sing--h-h-h-h-hem--well, let us unite in +prayer then--ah-chooo! ah-choooooo!" + +"Where did you put those cough-drops?" he demanded. "But even at that +it is better than you would do. 'Just as soon as I powder my face we +will unite in singing hymn one hundred thirty-six. Oh, excuse me a +minute,--I believe I feel a cold-sore coming,--I have a mirror right +here, and it won't take a minute. Now, I am ready. Let us arise and +sing,--but since I can not sing I will just polish my nails while the +rest of you do it. Ready, go!'" + +Carol laughed at the picture, but marched off for the bottle of cough +medicine and the powder box, and while he carefully measured out a +teaspoonful of the one for himself, she applied the other with gay +devotion. + +"But I truly think you should not go to Happy Hollow to-night," she +said. "Mr. Baldwin will go with me, bless his faithful old pillary +heart. And you ought to stay in. It is very stormy, and that long +walk--" + +"Oh, nonsense, a little cough like this! You are dead tired yourself; +you stay at home to-night, and Baldwin and I will go. You really ought +to, Carol, you are on the jump every minute. Won't you?" + +"Most certainly not. I haven't a cold, have I? Maybe you want to keep +me away so you can flirt with some of the Hollowers while I am out of +sight. Absolutely vetoed. I go." + +"Please, Carol,--won't you? Because I ask it?" + +She snuggled up to him at that and said: "It's too lonesome, Davie, and +I have to go to remind you of your rubbers, and to muffle up your +throat. But--" + +The ring of the telephone disturbed them, and she ran to answer. + +"Mr. Baldwin?--Yes--Oh, that is nice of you. I've been trying to coax +him to stay home myself. David, Mr. Baldwin thinks you should not go +out to-night, with such a cold, and he will take the meeting, and--oh, +please, honey." + +David took the receiver from her hand. + +"Thanks very much, Mr. Baldwin, that is mighty kind of you, but I feel +fine to-night.--Oh, sure, just a little cold. Yes, of course. Come +and go with us, won't you? Yes, be here about seven. Better make it a +quarter earlier, it's bad walking to-night." + +"David, please," coaxed Carol. + +"Goosie! Who but a wife would make an invalid of a man because he +sneezes?" David laughed, and Carol said no more. + +But a few minutes later, as she was carefully arranging a soft fur hat +over her hair and David stood patiently holding her coat, there came a +light tap at the door. + +"It is Mr. Daniels," said Carol. "I know his knock. Come in, Father +Daniels. I knew it was you." + +The old elder from next door, his gray hair standing in every direction +from the wind he had encountered bareheaded, his little gray eyes +twinkling bright, opened the door. + +"You crazy kids aren't going down to that Hollow a night like this," he +protested. + +They nodded, laughing. + +"Well, David can't go," he said decidedly. "That's a bad cold he's +got, and it's been hanging on too long. I can't go myself for I can't +walk, but I'll call up my son-in-law and make him go. So take off your +hat, Parson, and-- No you come over and read the Bible to me while the +young folks go gadding. I need some ministerial attention myself,--I'm +wavering in my faith." + +"You, wavering?" demanded David. "If no one ever wavered any harder +than you do, Daniels, there wouldn't be much of a job for the +preachers. And you say for me to let Carol go with Dick? What are you +thinking of? I tell you when any one goes gadding with Carol, I am the +man." Then he added seriously: "But really, I've got to go to-night. +We're just getting hold of the folks down there and we can't let go. +Otherwise, I should make Carol stay in. But the boys in her class are +so fond of her that I know she is needed as much as I am." + +"But that cough--" + +"Oh, that cough is all right. It will go when spring comes. I just +haven't had a chance to rest my throat. I feel fine to-night. Come on +in, Baldwin. Yes, we are ready. Still snowing? Well, a little snow-- +Here, Carol, you must wear your gaiters. I'll buckle them." + +A little later they set out, the three of them, heads lowered against +the driving snow. There were no cars running across country, and +indeed not even sidewalks, since it was an unfrequented part of the +town with no residences for many blocks until one reached the little, +tumbledown section in the Hollow. Here and there were heavy drifts, +and now and then an unexpected ditch in the path gave Carol a tumble +into the snow, but, laughing and breathless, she was pulled out again +and they plodded heavily on. + +In spite of the inclement weather, the tiny house--called a mission by +grace of speech--was well and noisily filled. Over sixty people were +crowded into the two small rooms, most of them boys between the ages of +twelve and sixteen, laughing, coughing, dragging their feet, shoving +the heavy benches, dropping song-books. They greeted the snow-covered +trio with a royal roar, and a few minutes later were singing, "Yes, +we'll gather at the river," at the tops of their discordant voices. +Carol sat at the wheezy organ, painfully pounding out the rhythmic +notes,--no musician she, but willing to do anything in a pinch. And +although at the pretty little church up in the Heights she never +attempted to lift her voice in song, down at the mission she felt +herself right in her element and sang with gay good-will, happy in the +knowledge that she came as near holding to the tune as half the others. + +Most of the evening was spent in song, David standing in the narrow +doorway between the two rooms, nodding this way, nodding that, in a +futile effort to keep a semblance of time among the boisterous +worshipers. A short reading from the Bible, a very brief prayer, a +short, conversational story-talk from David, and the meeting broke up +in wild clamor. + +Then back through the driving snow they made their way, considering the +evening well worth all the exertion it had required. + +Once inside the cozy manse, David and Carol hastily changed into warm +dressing-gowns and slippers and lounged lazily before the big +fireplace, sipping hot coffee, and talking, always talking of the +work,--what must be done to-morrow, what could be arranged for Sunday, +the young people's meeting, the primary department, the mission study +class. + +And Carol brought out the big bottle and administered the designated +teaspoonful. + +"For you must quit coughing, David," she said. "You ruined two good +points last Sunday by clearing your throat in the middle of a phrase. +And it isn't so easy making points as that." + +"Aren't you tired of hearing me preach, Carol? We've been married a +whole year now. Aren't you finding my sermons monotonous?" + +"David," she said earnestly, resting her head against his shoulder, +partly for weariness, partly for the pleasure of feeling the rise and +fall of his breast,--"when you go up into the pulpit you look so white +and good, like an apostle or a good angel, it almost frightens me. I +think, 'Oh, no, he isn't my husband, not really,--he is just a good +angel God sent to keep me out of mischief.' And while you are +preaching I never think, 'He is mine.' I always think, 'He is God's.'" + +Tears came into her eyes as she spoke, and David drew her close in his +arms. + +"Do you, sweetheart? It seems a terrible thing to stand up there +before a houseful, of people, most of them good, and clean, and full of +faith, and try to direct their steps in the broader road. I sometimes +feel that men are not fit for it. There ought to be angels from +Heaven." + +"But there are angels from Heaven watching over them, David, guiding +them, showing them how. I believe good white angels are guiding every +true minister,--not the bad ones-- Oh, I know a lot about ministers, +honey,--proud, ambitious, selfish, vainglorious, hypocritical, even +amorous, a lot of them,--but there are others, true ones,--you, David, +and some more. They just have to grow together until harvest, and then +the false ones will be dug up and dumped in the garbage." + +For a while they were silent. + +Finally he asked, smiling a little, "Are you getting cramped, Carol? +Are you getting narrow, and settling down to a rut? Have you lost your +enthusiasm and your sparkle?" + +Carol laughed at him. "David, do you remember the first night we were +married, when we knelt down together to say our prayers and you put +your arm around my shoulder, and we prayed there, side by side? +Dearest, that one little fifteen minutes of confidence and humility and +heart-gratitude was worth all the sparkle and fire in the world. But +have I lost it? Seems to me I am as much a shouting Methodist as ever." + +David laughed, coughing a little, and Carol bustled him off to bed, +sure he was catching a brand new cold, and berating herself roundly for +allowing this foolish angel of hers to get a chill right on her very +hands. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FIRST STEP + +It was Sunday night in mid-winter. After church, David remained for a +trustees' meeting, and Carol walked home with some of the younger ones +of the congregation. When they asked if she wished them to wait with +her for David she shook her head, smiling gratefully but with weariness. + +"No, thank you. I am going right straight to bed. I am tired." + +Into the little manse she crept, sinking into the first easy chair that +presented itself. With slow listless fingers she removed her wraps, +dropping them on the floor beside her,--laboriously unbuttoned and +removed her shoes, and in the same lifeless manner loosened her dress +and took the pins from her hair. Then, holding her garments about her, +she went in search of night dress, slippers and negligee. A few +seconds later she returned and curled herself up with some cushions on +the floor before the fireplace. + +"Ought to make some coffee,--David's so hungry after +church,--too--dead--tired--Ummmmm." Her voice trailed off into a +murmur and she closed her eyes. + +David found her so, soundly sleeping, her hair curling about her face. +He knelt down and kissed her. She opened one eye. + +"Coffee?" she queried automatically. + +"I should say not. Go to bed." He sprawled full length on the floor, +his head against her arm. + +"Worn out, aren't you, David?" + +"Well, I'm ready for bed; Such a day! Did you have time for Mrs. +Garder before Endeavor?" + +"Yes, she knew me too. I am glad I went. She had been waiting for me. +They say it is only a few days now. The way of a minister's wife is +hard sometimes. She wanted me to sing _Lead Kindly Light_, and was so +puzzled and confused when I insisted I couldn't sing. She thought +ministers' wives always sang. I know she is disappointed in me now. +If the Lord foreknew that I was going to marry a minister, why didn't +He foreordain that I should sing?" + +David laughed, but attempted no explanation. + +"Did you get along all right at the Old Ladies' Home?" + +"Oh, fine. The girls sang beautifully, and I read the Bible lesson +without mispronouncing a single word. Did the boys miss me at the +Hollow?" + +"Yes, they said they needed you worse than the old ladies. Maybe they +were right. We must save your Sunday afternoons for them after this. +They do need you." + +"Did you have supper with the Baldwins?" + +"Yes. You stayed with Mrs. Norris, didn't you?" + +"Yes. Um, I am sleepy." + +David coughed slightly. + +"Get up off this floor, David Duke," scolded Carol. "Don't you know +that floors are always drafty? I am surprised at you. I wish Prudence +was here to make you soak your feet in hot water and drink peppermint +tea." + +"You work too hard, Carol. You are busy every minute." + +"Yes. I have to be, to keep in hailing distance of you. You usually +do about three things at once." + +"It's been a good year, Carol. You've enjoyed it, spite of everything, +haven't you?" + +"It's been the most wonderful year one could dream of. Even Connie's +literary imagination could not conjure up a sweeter one." + +"Always something to do, something to think of, some one to +see,--always on the alert, to-day crowded full, to-morrow to look +forward to." + +"And best of all, David, always with you, working with you, taking care +of you,--always-- Oh, I am tired, but it is not so bad being tired out +when you've done your level best." + +"Carol, it is fine, labor is, it is life. I can't imagine an existence +without it. Going to bed, worn out with the day, rising in the morning +ready to plunge in over one's ears. It is the only real life there is. +How do people endure a drifting through the days, with never anything +to do and never worn enough to sleep?" + +"I don't know," said Carol promptly. "They aren't alive, that's sure. +But let's go to bed. David, please get off that floor and stop +coughing." + +David obediently got up, lightly dusting his trousers as he did so. +Then he lifted his arms high and breathed deeply. "Anyhow it is better +to be tired than lazy, isn't it?" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +REACTION + +"Will you have this woman?" + +David's clear, low voice sounded over the little church, and the bride +lifted confident, trusting eyes to his face. The people in the pews +leaned forward. They had glanced approvingly at the slender, dark-eyed +girl in her bridal white, but now every eye was centered on the +minister. The hand in which he held the Book was white, blue veined, +the fingers long and thin. His eyes were nervously bright, with faint +circles beneath them. + +David looked sick. + +So the glowing, sweet faced bride was neglected and the groom received +scant attention. The minister cleared his throat slightly, and the +service went smoothly on to the end. + +But the sigh of relief that went up at its conclusion betokened not so +much satisfaction that another young couple were setting forth on the +troubled, tempting waters of matrimony, as that David had finished +another service and all might yet be well. + +Carol, half way back in the church, had heard not one word of the +service. + +"David is an angel, but I do wish he were a little less heavenly," she +thought passionately. "He--makes me nervous." + +The carriage was at the door to take the minister and his wife to the +Daniels home for the bridal reception, but David said, "Tell him to +take us to the manse first, Carol. I've got to rest a minute. I'm +tired to-night." + +In the living-room of the manse he carefully removed the handsome black +coat in which he had been graduated from the Seminary in Chicago, and +in which a little later he had been ordained for the ministry and +installed in his church in the Heights. Still later he had worn it at +his marriage. David hung it over the back of a chair, saying as he did +so: + +"Wearing pretty well, isn't it? It may be called upon to officiate in +other crises for me, so it behooves me to husband it well." + +Then he dropped heavily on the davenport before the fireplace, with +Carol crouching on a cushion beside him, stroking his hand. + +"Let's not go to the reception," she said. "We've congratulated them a +dozen times already." + +"Oh, we've got to go," he answered. "They would be disappointed. +We'll only stay a few minutes. Just as soon as I rest--I am played out +to-night--it is only a step." + +They slipped among the guests at the reception quietly and +unobtrusively, but were instantly surrounded. + +"A good service, David," said Mr. Daniels, eying him keenly. "You make +such a pretty job of it I'd like to try it over myself." + +"Now, Dan," expostulated his anxious little wife. "Don't you pay any +attention to him, Mrs. Duke, he's always talking." + +"I know it," said Carol appreciatively. "I never pay attention." + +"You need a vacation, Mr. Duke," broke in a voice impulsively. + +"I know it," assented David. "We'll take one in the spring,--and you +can help pay the expenses." + +"You'd better take it now," suggested Mrs. Baldwin. "The church can +get along without you, you know." + +But the laugh that went up was not genuine. Many of them, in their +devotion to David, wondered if the church really could get along +without him. + +David gaily waved aside the enormous plate of refreshments that was +passed to him. "I had my dinner, you know," he explained. "Carol +isn't neglecting me." + +"He had it, but he didn't eat it,--and it was fried chicken," said +Carol sadly. + +A few minutes later they were at home again, and before Carol had +finished the solemn task of rubbing cold cream into her pretty skin, +David was sleeping heavily, his face flushed, his hands twitching +nervously at times. + +Carol stood above him, gazing adoringly down upon him for a while. +Then shutting her eyes, she said fervently: + +"Oh, God, do make David less like an angel, and more like other men." + +Early the next morning she was up and had steaming hot coffee ready for +David almost before his eyes were open. + +"To crowd out that mean little cough that spoils your breakfast," she +said. "I shall keep you in bed to-day." + +All morning David lounged around the house, hugging the fireplace, and +complained of feeling cold though it was a warm bright day late in +April, and although the fire was blazing. In the afternoon he took off +his jacket and loosened his collar. + +"It certainly is hot enough now," he declared. "Open the windows, +Carol,--I am roasting." + +"That is fever," she announced ominously. "Do you feel very badly?" + +"Well, nothing extra," he assented grudgingly. + +"David, if you love me, let's call a doctor. You are going to have the +grippe, or pneumonia, or something awful, and--if you love me, David." + +The pleading voice arrested his refusal and he gave the desired +consent, still laughing at the silly notion. + +So Carol sped next door to the home of Mr. Daniels, the fatherly elder. + +"Mr. Daniels," she cried, brightly happy because David had consented to +a doctor, and a doctor meant health and strength and the end of that +hateful little cough. "We are going to have a doctor see David. What +is the name of that man down-town--the one you think is so wonderful?" + +Mr. Daniels gladly gave her the name, warmly approving the move, but he +shook his head a little over David. "I am no pessimist," he said, "but +David is not just exactly right." + +"The doctor will fix him up," cried Carol joyously. "I am so relieved +and comfortable now. Don't try to worry me." + +David looked nervous when Carol gave him the name of the physician she +had called. + +"He is a Catholic,--and some of the members think--" + +"Of course they do, but I am the head of this house," declared Carol, +standing on tiptoe and assuming her most lordly air. "And Doctor +O'Hara is the best in town, and he is coming." + +"Oh, all right, if you feel like that about it. I don't suppose he +would give me strychnine just because I am a Presbyterian minister." + +"Oh, mercy!" ejaculated Carol. "I never thought of that. Do you +suppose he would?" + +But David only laughed at her, as he so often did. + +When Carol met the doctor at the door, she found instant reassurance in +the strong, kind, clever face. + +"It's a cold," she explained, "but it hangs on too long, and he keeps +running down-hill." + +The doctor looked very searchingly into David's pale bright face. And +Carol and David did not know that the extra joke and the extravagant +cheeriness of his voice indicated that things looked badly. They took +great satisfaction in his easy manner, and when, after a brief +examination, he said: + +"Now, into bed you go, Mr. Duke, and there you stay a while. Get a +substitute for Sunday. You've got to make a baby of a bad cold and pet +it a little." + +David and Carol laughed, and when the doctor went away, and David was +safely in bed, Carol perched up beside him and they had a stirring game +of parcheesi. But David soon tired, and lay very quietly all evening, +eating no dinner, and talking very little. Telephone messages from +"the members" came thick and fast, with offers of all kinds of tempting +viands, and callers came streaming to the door. But Father Daniels +next door turned them every one away. + +"He can't talk any more," he said in his abrupt, yet kindly way. "He's +just worn out talking to this bunch,--that's all that ails him." + +Next day the doctor came again, gave another examination, and said +there was some little congestion in the lungs. + +"Just do as I have told you,--keep the windows up, drink a lot of fresh +milk, and eat all the raw eggs you can choke down." + +"He won't eat anything," said Carol. + +"Let him fast then, and he'll soon be begging for raw eggs. I'll see +you again to-morrow." + +When he returned next day there was a little shadow in the kind eyes. +David lay on the cot, smiling, and Carol stood beside him. + +"How do you feel to-day?" + +"Oh, just fine," came the ready answer. + +But the shadow in the doctor's eyes deepened. + +"The meanest part of a doctor's work is handing out death blows to +hope," he said. "But you two are big enough to take a hard knock +without flinching, and I won't need to beat around the bush. Mr. Duke, +you have tuberculosis." + +David winched a little and Carol clutched his hand spasmodically, yet +they smiled quickly, comfortingly into each other's eyes. + +"That does not mean that your life is fanning out, by any means," +continued the doctor in his easy voice. "We've got a grip on the +disease now. You are getting it right at the start and you stand a +splendid chance. Your clean life will help. Your laughing wife will +help. Your confidence in a Divine Doctor will help. Everything is on +your side. If you can, I think I should go out west somewhere,--to New +Mexico, or Arizona. It is low here, and damp,--lots of people chase +the cure here, and find it, but it is easier out there where the air is +light and fine and the temperature is even, and where doctors +specialize on lungs." + +"Yes, yes, indeed, we shall go right away," declared Carol feverishly. +"Yes, indeed." + +"Keep on with my treatment while you are here. And get out as soon as +you can. Stay in bed all the time, and don't bother with many +visitors. I don't need to tell you the minor precautions. You both +have brains. Be sure you use them. Now, don't get blue. You've still +got plenty to laugh at, Mrs. Duke. And I give you fair warning, when +you quit laughing there's the end of the fight. You haven't any other +weapon strong enough to beat the germs." + +It was hard indeed for Carol to see anything to laugh at just that +moment, but she smiled, rather wanly, at the doctor when he went away. + +There was silence between them for a moment. + +At last, she leaned over him and whispered breathlessly, "Maybe it is +really a good thing, David. You did need a vacation, and now you are +bound to get it." + +David smiled at her persistent philosophy of optimism. + +Again there was silence. Finally, with an effort he spoke. "Carol, +I--I could have thanked God for letting us know this two years ago. +Then you would have escaped." + +"David, don't say that. Just this minute I was thanking Him in my +heart because we didn't know until we belonged to each other." + +She lifted her lips to him, as she always did when deeply moved, and +instinctively he lowered his to meet them. But before he touched her +he stopped, stricken by a bitter thought, and pushed her face away +almost roughly. + +"Oh, Carol," he cried, "I can't. I can never kiss you again. I have +loved to touch you, always. I have loved your cool, sweet, powdery +skin, and your lips,--I have always thought of your lips as a crimson +bow in a pale pink cloud,--I--I have loved to touch you. I have always +adored your face, the look of it as well as the feel of it. I have +_loved_ to kiss you." + +Carol slipped an arm beneath his head and strove to pull his hand away +from his face. + +"Go on and do it," she whispered passionately. "I am not afraid. You +kissed me yesterday and it didn't hurt me. Kiss me, David,--I don't +care if I do get it." + +He laughed at her then, uncertainly, brokenly, but he laughed. "Oh, no +you don't, my lady," he said. "You've got to keep strong and well to +take care of me. You want to get sick so you'll get half the petting." + +Like a flash came the revelation of what her future was to be. "Oh, of +course," she cried, in a changed voice. "Of course we must be +careful,--I forgot. I'll have to keep very strong and rugged, won't I? +Indeed, I will be careful." + +Then they sat silent again. + +"Out west," he said at last dreamily. "Out west. I've always wanted +to go west. Not just this way, but--maybe it is our chance, Carol." + +"Of course it is. We'll just rest and play a couple of months, and +then come back better than ever. No, let's get a church out there and +stay forever. That will be Safety First. Isn't it grand we have that +money in the bank, David? Think how solemn it would be now if we were +clear broke, as we were before we decided to economize and start a +bank-account." + +David nodded, smiling, but the smile was grave. The little +bank-account was very fine, but to David, lying there with the wreck of +his life about him, the outlook was solemn in spite of it. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +UPHEAVAL + +"Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, +fifty-three,--for goodness' sake!--fifty-four, fifty-five." Carol +looked helplessly at her dusty hands and mopped her face desperately +with her forearm. + +David, watching her from the bed in the adjoining room, gave way to +silent laughter, and she resumed her solemn count. + +"Forty-six, forty--" + +"Fifty-six," he called. "Don't try any trickery on me." + +"Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty." She sighed +audibly. "Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four--sixty-four +perfectly fresh eggs," she announced, turning to the doorway and +frowning at her husband, who still laughed. "Sixty-four perfectly +fresh eggs, all laid yesterday." + +"Now, I give you fair warning, my dear, I am no cold storage plant, and +you can't make me absorb any sixty-four egg-nogs daily just to even up +the demand with the supply. I drank seven yesterday, but this is too +much. You must seek another warehouse." + +"You are very clever and facetious, Davie, really quite entertaining. +But what am I to do with sixty-four fresh eggs?" + +"And I may as well confess frankly that I consider a minister's wife +distinctly out of her sphere when she tries to corner the fresh egg +market, particularly at the present price of existence. It isn't +scriptural. It isn't orthodox. I am surprised at you, Carol. It must +be some more Methodism cropping out. I never knew a Presbyterian to do +it." + +"And as for milk--" + +"There you go again,--milk. Worse and worse. Yesterday I had milk +toast, and milk custard, and fresh milk, and buttermilk. And here you +come at me again first thing to-day. Milk!" + +"Seven whole quarts have arrived this morning,--bless their darling old +hearts." + +"The cows?" + +"The parishioners," Carol explained patiently. "Ever since the doctor +said fresh milk and eggs, we've been flooded with milk and--" + +"Pelted with eggs. But you can't pelt any sixty-four eggs down me." + +"David," she said reproachfully, "I must confess that you don't sound +very sick. The doctor says, 'Take him west,' and I am taking you if I +ever get rid of these eggs. But I do think it would be more +appropriate to take you to a vaudeville show where you might coin some +of this extravagant humor. There's a market for it, you know." + +"Here comes Mrs. Sater, with a covered basket," announced David, +glancing from the window. "I just wonder if the dear kind woman is +bringing me a few fresh eggs. You know the doctor advised me to eat +fresh eggs, and--" + +Carol clutched her curly head in despair. "Cock-a-doodle-doo," she +crowed. + +"You mean, 'Cut-cut-cut-ca-duck-et,'" reproved David. + +Mrs. Sater paused outside the manse door in blank astonishment. Dear, +precious David so terribly ill, and poor little Carol getting ready to +take him away to a strange and awful country, and the world full of +sadness and weeping and gnashing of teeth, and yet--from the open +windows of the manse came the clear ring of Carol's laughter, followed +closely by David's deeper voice. What in the world was there to laugh +at, since tuberculosis had rapped at the manse door? + +They were young, of course, and they were still in love,--that helped. +And they had the deathless courage of the young and loving. But Mrs. +Sater bet a dollar she wouldn't waste any time laughing if tuberculosis +were stalking through her home. + +"Come in," said Carol, in answer to her second ring. "We saw you from +the window, but I was laughing so I was ashamed to open the door. +David's so silly, Mrs. Sater. Since he isn't obliged to strain his +mental capacity by thinking up sermons, he has developed quite a funny +streak. Oh, did you bring us some nice fresh eggs? How dear of you. +Yes, the doctor said he must eat lots of them." + +"They were just laid yesterday," said Mrs. Sater complacently. "And I +said to myself, 'Nice fresh eggs like these are too good for anybody +less than a preacher.' So I brought them. There's just half a +dozen,--he ought to eat that many in one day." + +"Oh, yes, easily. He is very fond of egg-nog." + +David sputtered feebly among the pillows. "Oh, easily," he echoed +helplessly. + +"I knew a woman that ate eighteen eggs every day," said Mrs. Sater +encouragingly. "She got well and weighed two hundred and thirty +pounds, and then she had apoplexy and died." + +David turned on Carol reproachfully. "There you see! That's what +comes of eating raw eggs." Then he added suspiciously, "Maybe you knew +it before and have been enticing me to raw eggs on purpose." + +Both Carol and David seized this silly pretext to relieve their +feelings, and laughed so heartily that good Mrs. Sater was quite +concerned for them. She had heard it sometimes affected folks like +that,--a great nervous or mental shock. She looked at them very +anxiously indeed. + +"Are you selling your furniture pretty well?" she asked nervously. + +"Oh, just fine. Mr. Barker at the drug store has promised to fumigate +everything after we are gone, so we won't scatter any germs in our +wake." Carol spoke hurriedly, her heart swelling with pity as she saw +the sudden convulsive clutching of David's hands beneath the covers. +"Mr. Daniels has a list of 'who bought what,' and will see that +everything is delivered in good shape. Only, we take the money +ourselves in advance. Now look at this chair, Mrs. Sater,--a lovely +chair," she rattled, thinking wretchedly of that contraction of David's +hands and the darkening of his eyes. "A splendid chair. It isn't sold +yet. It cost us eight seventy-five one year ago, and we are selling it +for the mere pittance of five dollars even,--we make it even because we +haven't any change. A most beautiful chair, an article to grace any +home, a constant reminder of us, a chair in which great men have +sat,--Mr. Daniels, and Mr. Baldwin, and the horrible gas collector who +has made life wretched for every one in the Heights, and--all for five +dollars, Mrs. Sater. Can you resist it?" + +Carol's voice took on a new ring as she saw the shadow leave David's +eyes, and his lips curve into laughter again. + +"Well, I swan, Mrs. Duke, if you don't beat all. Yes, I'll take that +chair. It may not be worth five dollars, but you are." + +Carol ostentatiously collected the five dollars, doubled it carefully +into a tiny bit, and tied it in the corner of her handkerchief. + +"My money, Mr. David Arnold Duke, and I shall buy candy and talcum with +it." + +Then she ran into the adjoining room to answer the telephone. + +Mrs. Sater looked about her hesitatingly and leaned forward. + +"David," she said in a low voice, "Carol ought to go home to her +father. It's dangerous for her to stay with you. Everybody says so. +Make her go home until you are well. She may get it too if she goes +along. They'll take good care of you at the Presbyterian hospital out +there, you a minister and all." + +The laughter, the light, left David's face at the first word. + +"I know it," he said in a heavy voice. "I have told her to go home. +But she won't even talk it over. She gets angry if I mention it. +Every one tells me it is dangerous,--but Carol won't listen." + +"Just until you get well, you know." + +"I shall never get well unless she is with me. But I am trying to send +her away. What can I do? I can't drive her off." His hands closed +and then relaxed, lying helplessly on the covers. + +When Carol returned she looked suspiciously from the stern white face +on the pillow to the disturbed one of her caller. + +"David is tired, Mrs. Sater," she said gently. "Let's go out in the +other room and visit. I have made him laugh too much to-day, and he is +weak. Come along and maybe I can sell you some more furniture." Then +to David, brightly, "It was Mrs. Adams, David, she wanted to know if we +needed any nice fresh eggs." She flashed a smile at him and his lips +answered, but his eyes were mute. Carol looked back at him from the +doorway, questioning, but finally followed Mrs. Sater into the next +room. + +"Mrs. Sater, you will excuse me now, won't you?" she said. "But I have +a feeling that David needs me. He looks so tired. You will come in +again, and--" + +"Certainly, my dear, David first by all means. Run right along. And +if you need any more fresh eggs, just let me know." + +"Yes, thank you, yes." + +"Carol," whispered the kindly woman earnestly, "why don't you go home +and stay with your father until David is better? They will take such +good care of him at the hospital, and he will need you when he is well, +and it isn't safe, Carol, it positively is not safe. Why won't you do +as he tells you?" + +Carol stood up, very straight and very tall. "Mrs. Sater," she said, +"you know I am an old-fashioned Methodist. And I believe that God +wanted David to have me in his illness, when he is idle. If He hadn't, +the illness would have come before our marriage. But I think God +foresaw it coming and thought maybe I could do David good when he was +laid aside. I know I am a silly little goose, but David loves me, and +is happy when I am with him, and enjoys me more than anything else in +the world. I am going with him. I know God expects me to do my part." + +And Mrs. Sater went away, after kissing Carol's cheek, which already +was paling a little with anxiety. + +Carol ran back to David and sat on the floor beside him, pulling his +hand from beneath the cover and kissing the white, blue-veined fingers. +She crooned and gurgled over him as a mother over a little child, but +did not speak until at last he turned to her and said abruptly: + +"Carol, won't you go home until I get well? Please dear, for my sake." + +Carol kissed the thumb once more and frowned at him. "You want to +flirt with the nurses when you get out there, and are trying to get me +out of the road. Every one says nurses are dangerous." + +"Carol, please." + +"Mrs. Sater has been talking to you. Oh, I knew it. She is a nice, +kind, Christian woman, and loves us both, but, David, why doesn't God +teach some people to mind their own business? She is a good Christian, +I know, dear, but I do believe there is still a little work of grace to +be done in her." + +David smiled a little, sadly. + +"Carol, it would break my heart if you got this from me." + +"I won't get it. They will teach us how to be careful and sanitary, +and take proper precautions, and things like that. I am going to be +very, very careful. Why, honey, I won't get it. But, David, I would +rather get it than go away and leave you. I couldn't do that. I +should never be happy again if I left you when you were needing me." + +David turned his face to the wall. "Maybe, dear," he said very gently, +"maybe it would be better if you did go home,--better for me. I need +perfect rest you know, and we talk and laugh so much and have such good +times together. I don't know, possibly I might get well faster--alone." + +For a long moment Carol gazed at him in horror. "David," she gasped. +"Don't say that. Dear, I will go home if it makes you worse to have +me. I will do anything. I only want to help you. But I will be very +nice and quiet, like a mouse, and never say a word, and not laugh once, +if you take me with you. David, do I make you feel sicker? Does my +chatter weary you? I thought I was helping to amuse you." + +"Carol, I can't lie like that even to send you away from me. Maybe I +ought to, but I can't. Why, sweetheart, you are the only thing left in +the world. You are the world to me now. Dear, I said it for your +sake, not for mine, Carol, never for mine." + +Slowly the smiles struggled through the anguish in her face, and she +resumed her kissing of his fingers. + +"Silly old goose," she murmured; "big old silly goose. Just because +he's a preacher he wants to boss all the time. Can't boss me. I won't +be bossed. I like to boss myself. I won't let my beautiful old David +go off out there to flirt with the nurses and Indian girls and whoever +else is out there. I should say not. I'll stick right along, and +whenever a woman turns our way, I'll shout, 'Married! He is mine!'" + +[Illustration: "Silly old goose," she murmured.] + +David laughed at her passionate discussion to herself. + +"Besides, I have been learning a lot of things. I've been talking to +the doctor privately when you couldn't hear." + +"Indeed!" + +"Oh, yes, and we are great friends. He says if we just live clean, +white, sanitary lives, I am safe. I must keep strong and fat, and the +germs can't get a start. And he has been telling me lots of nice +things to do. David, I know I can help you. The doctor said so. He +says I must be happy and gay, and be positively sure you will be well +again in time, and I can do you more good than a tonic. Yes, he said +that very thing, Doctor O'Hara did. Now please beg my pardon, and +maybe I'll forgive you." + +David promptly did, and peace was restored. + +A committee of brotherly ministers was sent out from the Presbytery to +find how things were going in the little manse in the Heights. Very +gently, very tenderly they made their inquiries of Carol, and Carol +answered frankly. + +"With the furniture money we have six hundred dollars," she told them, +rather proudly. + +"That's just fine. It will take you to Albuquerque and keep you +straight for a few months, and by that time we'll have things in hand +back here. You know, Mrs. Duke, you and David belong to us and we are +going to see you through. And then when it is all over we'll get him a +church out there,--why, everything is going splendidly. Now remember, +it may be a few months, or it may be ten years, but we are back of you +and we are going to see you through. Don't ever wonder where next +month's board is to come from. It will come. It isn't charity, Mrs. +Duke. It is just the big brotherhood of the church, that's all. We +are going to be your brothers, and fathers, and--mothers, too, if you +will have us." + +The devoted mansers rallied around them, weeping over them, giving them +good advice along with other more material, but not more helpful, +assistance and declaring they always knew David was too good to live. +And when Carol resentfully assured them that David was still very much +alive, and maybe wasn't as good as they thought, they retaliated by +suggesting that her life was in no danger on that score. + +On the occasion of Doctor O'Hara's last visit, Carol followed him out +to the porch. + +"You haven't presented your bill," she reminded him. "And it's a good +thing for you we are preachers or we might have slipped away in the +night." + +"I haven't any bill against you," he said, smiling kindly down at her. + +Carol flushed. "Doctor," she protested. "We expected to pay you. We +have the money. We don't want you to think we can't afford it. We +knew you were an expensive doctor, but we wanted you anyhow." + +He smiled again. "I know you have the money, but, my dear little girl, +you are going to need every cent of it and more too before you get rid +of this specter. But I couldn't charge David anything if he were a +millionaire. Don't you understand,--this is the only way we doctors +have of showing what we think of the big work these preachers are doing +here and there around the country?" + +"But, doctor," said Carol confusedly, "we are--Presbyterians, you +know--we are Protestants." + +The doctor laughed. "And I am a Catholic. But what is your point? +David is doing good work, not my kind perhaps, and not my way, but I +hope, my dear, we are big enough and broad enough to take off our hats +to a good worker whether he does things just our way or not." + +Carol looked abashed. She caught her under lip between her teeth and +kept her eyes upon the floor for a moment. Finally she faced him +bravely. + +"I wasn't big or broad,--not even a little teensy bit," she said +honestly. "I was a little, shut-in, self-centered goose. But I +believe I am learning things now. You are grand," she said, holding +out her slender hand. + +The doctor took it in his. "Carol, don't forget to laugh when you get +to Albuquerque. You will be sick, and sorry, and there will be sobs in +your heart, and your soul will cry aloud, but--keep laughing, for David +is going to need it." + +Carol went directly to her husband. + +"David, I am learning lots of perfectly wonderful things. If I live to +be a thousand years old,--oh, David, I believe by that time I can love +everybody on earth, and have sympathy for all and condemnation for +none; and I will really know that nearly every one in the world is +_very good_, and those that are not are _pretty_ good." + +David burst into laughter at her words. "Poorly expressed, but finely +meant," he cried. "Are you trying to become the preacher in our +family?" + +"All packed up and ready to start," she said thoughtfully, "and +to-morrow night we leave our darling little manse, and our precious old +mansers and turn cowboy. Aren't you glad you didn't send me home?" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHERE HEALTH BEGINS + +In a little white cottage tent, at the end of a long row of minutely +similar, little white cottage tents, sat David and Carol in the early +evening of a day in May, looking wistfully out at the wide sweep of +gray mesa land, reaching miles away to the mountains, blue and solemn +in the distance. + +"Do--do you feel better yet, David?" Carol asked at last, desperately +determined to break the menacing silence. + +David drew his breath. "I can't seem to notice any difference yet," he +replied honestly. "It doesn't look much like Missouri, does it?" + +"It is pretty,--very pretty," she said resolutely. + +"Carol, be a good Presbyterian and tell the truth. Do you wish you had +gone home, to green and grassy Iowa?" + +"David Duke, I am at home, and here is where I want to be and no place +else in the world. It is big and bleak and bare, but-- You are going +to get well, aren't you, David?" + +"Of course I am, but give me time. Even Miracle Land can't transform +weakness to health in two hours." + +"I must go over to the office. Mrs. Hartley said she wanted to give me +some instructions." + +Carol rose quickly and stepped outside the cottage. + +Crossing the mesa she met three men who stopped her with a gesture. +They were of sadly similar appearance, tall, thin, shoulders stooped, +hair dull and lusterless, eyes dry and bright. Carol thought at first +they were brothers, and so they were,--brothers in the grip of the +great white plague. + +"Are you a lunger?" ejaculated one of them in astonishment, noting the +light in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks. + +"A--lunger?" + +"Yes,--have you got the bugs?" + +"The bugs!" + +"Say, are you chasing the cure?" + +"Of course not," interrupted the oldest of the three impatiently. +"There's nothing the matter with her, except that she's a lunger's +wife. Your husband is the minister from St. Louis, isn't he?" + +"Yes,--I am Mrs. Duke." + +"I am Thompson. I used to be a medical missionary in the Ozarks. How +is your husband?" + +"Oh, he is doing nicely," she said brightly,--the brightness assumed to +hide the fear in her heart that some day David might look like that. + +Thompson laughed disagreeably. "Sure, they always do nicely at first. +But when the bugs get 'em, they're gone. They think they're better, +they say they are getting well,--God!" + +Carol looked at him with questioning reproach in the shadowed eyes. +"It does not hurt us to hope, at least," she said gently. "It does no +harm, and it makes us happier." + +"Oh, yes," came the bitter answer. "Sure it does. But wait a few +years. Bugs eat hope and happiness as well as lungs." + +Carol quivered. "You make me afraid," she said. + +"Thompson is an old croak," interrupted one of the younger men, smiling +encouragement. "Don't waste your time on him,--talk to me. He is such +a grouch that he gives the bugs a regular bed to sleep in. He'd have +been well years ago if he hadn't been such a chronic kicker. Cheer up, +Mrs. Duke. Of course your husband will get along. Got it right at the +start, didn't you?" + +"Oh, yes, right at the very start." + +"That's good. Most people fool around too long and then it's too late, +and all their own fault. Sure, your husband is all right. It's too +bad Thompson can't die, isn't it? He's got too mean a disposition to +keep on living with white folks." + +"Oh, I shouldn't say that," disclaimed Carol quickly. "He--he is just +not quite like the people I have known. I didn't know how to take him. +He was only joking of course." She smiled forgivingly at him, and +Thompson had the grace to flush a little. + +"I am Jimmy Jones," said the second man. "I was a bartender in little +old Chi. Far cry from a missionary to a bartender, but I'll take my +chances on Paradise with Thompson any day." + +"A--a bartender." Carol rubbed her slender fingers in bewilderment. + +"I am Arnold Barrows, formerly a Latin professor. _Amo, mas, mat,_" +said the third man suddenly. "I am looking for my Paradise right here +on earth, and I am sorry you are married. My idea of Paradise is a +girl like you and a man like me, and everything else go hang." + +Carol drew herself up as though poised for flight, a startled bird +taking wing. + +Thompson and Jones laughed at her horrified face, but the professor +maintained his solemn gravity. + +"He is just a fool," said the bartender encouragingly. "Don't bother +about him. It is not you in particular, he is nuts on all the girls. +Cheer up. We're not so bad as we sound. I have a cottage near you. +Tell the parson I'll be in to-morrow to give him the latest light on +the bonfires in perdition. I know all about them. Tell him we'll +organize a combination prayer-meeting; he can lead the prayer and I'll +give advanced lessons in bunny-hugs and fancy-fizzes." + +"Good night,--good night,--good night," gasped Carol. + +Forgetting her errand to the office, she rushed back to David, to +safety, to the sheltering folds of the little white cottage tent. + +He questioned her curiously about her experience, and although she +tried to evade the harsher points, he drew every word from her +reluctant lips. + +"Lunger,--and bugs,--and chasers,--it doesn't sound nice, David." + +"But maybe it is the best thing after all. We are not used to it yet, +but I suppose it is better for them to take it lightly and laugh and be +funny about it. They have to spend a lifetime with the specter, you +know,--maybe the joking takes away some of the grimness." + +Carol shivered a little. + +"Aren't you going to the office?" + +"No, I am not. If Mrs. Hartley wants to see me, she can come here. I +am scared, honestly. Let's do something. Let's go to bed, David." + +It was a two-roomed cottage, a thin canvas wall separating the rooms. +There were window-flaps on every side, and conscientiously Carol left +them every one upraised, although she had goose-flesh every time she +glanced into the black wall of darkness outside the circle of their +lights, a wall only punctuated by the yellow rays of light here and +there, where the more riotous guests of the institution were +dissipating up to the wicked hour of nine o'clock. + +"Good night, David,--you will call me if you want anything, won't you?" +And Carol leaped into bed, desperately afraid a lizard, or a scorpion +or a centipede might lie beneath in wait for unwary pink toes once the +guarding lights were out. + +This was the land where health began,--the land of pure light air, of +clear and penetrating sunshine, the land of ruddy cheeks and bounding +blood. This was the land which would bring color back to the pale face +of David, would restore the vigor to his step, the ring to his voice. +It was the land where health began. + +She must love it, she would love it, she did love it. It was a rich, +beautiful, gracious land,--gray, sandy, barren, but green with promise +to Carol and to David, as it had been to thousands of others who came +that way with a burden of weakness buoyed by hope. + +A shrill shriek sounded outside the tent,--a dangerous rustling in the +sand, a crinkling of dead leaves in the corners of the steps, a ring, a +roar, a wild tumult. Something whirled to the floor in David's room, +papers rattled, curtains flapped, and there was a metallic patter on +the uncarpeted floor of the tent. Carol gave an indistinct murmur of +fear and burrowed beneath the covers. + +It was David who threw back the blankets and turned on the lights. +Just a sand-storm, that was all,--a common sand-storm, without which +New Mexico might be almost any other place on earth. David's Bible had +been whirled from the window-ledge, and fine sand was piling in through +the screens. + +Carol withdrew from the covers most courageously when she heard the +comforting click of the electric switch, and the reassuring squeak of +David's feet on the floor of the room. + +"Everything's all right," he called to her. "Don't get scared. Will +you help me put these flaps down?" + +Carol leaped from her bed at that, and ran to lower the windows. Then +she sat by David's side while the storm raged outside, roaring and +piling sand against the little tent. + +After that, to bed once more, still determinedly in love with the land +of health, and praying fervently for morning. + +Soon David's heavy breathing proclaimed him sound asleep. But sleep +would not come to Carol. She gazed as one hypnotized into the starry +brightness of the black sky as she could see it through the window +beside her. How ominously dark it was. Softly she slipped out of bed +and lowered the flaps of the window. She did not like that darkness. +After the storm, David had insisted the windows must be opened +again,--that was the first law of lungers and chasers. + +She was cold when she got back into bed, for the chill of the mountain +nights was new to her. And an hour later, when she was almost dozing, +footsteps prowled about the tent, loitering in the leaves outside her +western window. David was sleeping, she must not interfere with a +moment of his restoring rest. She clasped her hands beneath the +covers, and moistened her feverish lips. If it were an Indian lurking +there, his deadly tomahawk upraised, she prayed he might strike the +fatal blow at once. But the steps passed, and she climbed on her knees +and lowered the flaps on the side where the steps sounded. + +Later, the sudden tinkle of a bell across the grounds startled her into +sitting posture. No, it wasn't David, after all,--somebody else,--some +other woman's David, likely, ringing for the nurse. Carol sighed. How +could David get well and strong out here, with all these other sick +ones to wring his heart with pity? Were the doctors surely right,--was +this the land of health? + +Again footsteps approached the tent, stirring up the dry sand, and +again Carol held her breath until they had passed. Then she grimly +closed the windows on the third side of her room, and smiled to herself +as she thought, "I'll get them up again before David is awake." + +But she crept into bed and slept at last. + +Early, very early, she was awakened by the sunlight pouring upon the +flaps at the windows. It was five o'clock, and very cold. Carol +wrapped a blanket about her and peeked in upon her husband. + +"Good morning," she greeted him brightly. "Isn't it lovely and bright? +How is my nice old boy? Nearly well?" + +"Just fine. How did you sleep?" + +"Like a top," she declared. + +"Were you afraid?" + +"Um, not exactly," she denied, glancing at him with sudden suspicion. + +"Did the wind blow all your flaps down?" + +"How did you know?" + +"Oh, I was up long ago looking in on you. We'll get a room over in the +Main Building to-day. It costs more, but the accommodations are so +much better. We are directly on the path from the street, so we hear +every passing footstep." + +Carol blushed. "I am not afraid," she insisted. + +"We'll get a room just the same. It will be easier for you all the way +around." + +Carol flung open the door and gazed out upon the land of health. The +long desolate mesa land stretched far away to the mountains, now +showing pink and rosy in the early sunshine. The little white tents +about them were as suggestively pitiful as before. There were no +trees, no flowers, no carpeting grass, to brighten the desolation. + +Bare, bleak, sandy slopes reached to the mountains on every side. +David sat up in bed and looked out with her. + +"Just a long bare slope of sand, isn't it?" she whispered. "Sand and +cactus,--no roses blooming here upon the sandy slopes." + +"Yes, just sandy slopes to the mountains,--but Carol, they are +sunny,--bare and bleak, but still they are sunny for us. Let's not +lose sight of that." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE OLD TEACHER + +"Chicago, Illinois. + +"Dear Carol and David-- + +"It is most remarkable that you two can keep on laughing away out there +by yourselves. It makes me think perhaps there is something fine in +this being married business that sort of makes up for the rest of it. +I think it must take an exceptionally good eyesight to discern sunshine +on the slopes of sickness. If I were traveling that route, I am +convinced I should find it led me through dark valleys and over stony +pathways with storm clouds and thunders and lightnings smashing all +around my head. + +"You admonished me to talk about myself and leave you alone. Well, I +suppose you know more about yourselves than I could possibly tell you, +and since it is your own little baby sister, I am sure you are more +than willing to turn your telescope away from the sunny slopes a while +for a glimpse of my business dabbles. + +"This is Chicago. + +"Aunt Grace was rendered more speechless than ever when I announced my +intention of coming, and Prudence was shocked. But father and I talked +it over, and he looked at me in that funny searching way he has and +then said: + +"'Good for you, Connie, you have the right idea. Chicago isn't big +enough to swallow you, but it won't take you long to eat Chicago +bodily. Of course you ought to go.' + +"I know it is not safe to praise men too highly, they are so easily +convinced of their astounding virtues, but that time I couldn't resist +shaking hands with father and I said, and meant it: + +"'Father, you are the only one in the world. I don't believe even the +Lord could make your duplicate.' + +"'Mr. Nesbitt was very angry because I left them'. He said that after +he took me, a stupid little country ignoramus, and made something out +of me, my desertion was nothing short of rank ingratitude and religious +hypocrisy and treason to the land of my birth. One might have inferred +that he picked me out of the gutter, brushed the dirt off, smoothed my +ragged looks, and seated me royally in his stenographic chair, and made +a business lady out of me. But it didn't work. + +"I came. + +"Mr. Baker, the minister there, is back of it. He met me on the street +one day. + +"'I hear you are literary,' he said. + +"'Well, I think I can write,' I answered modestly. + +"Then he said he had a third-half-nephew by marriage, to whom, ground +under the heel of financial incompetency, he had once loaned the +startling sum of fifty dollars,--I say startling, because it startled +me to know a preacher ever had that much ready cash ahead of his +grocery bill. Anyhow, the third-half-nephew, with the fifty dollars as +a nucleus,--I think Providence must have multiplied it a little, for +our fifty dollars never accomplished miracles like that,--but with that +fifty dollars as a starter he did a little plunging for himself, and is +now owner and editor of a great publishing house in Chicago. + +"And Mr. Baker, the old minister, kept him going and coming, you might +say, by sending him at frequent intervals, bright and budding lights +with which to illuminate his publications. It seems the +third-half-nephew by marriage, in gratitude for the fifty dollars, +never refused a position to any satellite his uncle chose to recommend. +And Mr. Baker glowed with delight that he had been able, from the +unliterary center of Centerville to send so many candles to shine in +the chandelier of Chicago. + +"All I had to do was to come. + +"As I said before, I came. + +"I went out to Mrs. Holly's on Prairie Avenue and the next morning set +out for the Carver Publishing Company, and found it, with the +assistance of most of the policemen and street-car conductors as well +as a large number of ordinary pedestrians encountered between Prairie +on the South Side, and Wilson Avenue on the North. I asked for Mr. +Carver, and handed him Mr. Baker's letter. He shook hands with me in a +melancholy way and said: + +"'When do you want to begin? Where do you live?' + +"'To-morrow. I have a room out on the south side, but I will move over +here to be nearer the office.' + +"'Hum,--you'd better wait a while.' + +"'Isn't it a permanent position?' I asked suspiciously. + +"'Oh, yes, the position is permanent, but you may not be.' + +"'Mr. Baker assured me--' + +"'Oh, sure, he's right. You've got the job. But so far, he has only +sent me nineteen, and the best of them lasted just fourteen days.' + +"'Then you are already counting on firing me before the end of two +weeks,' I said indignantly. + +"'No. I am not counting on it, but I am prepared for the worst.' + +"'What is the job? What am I supposed to do?' + +"'You must study our publications and do a little stenographic work, +and read manuscripts and reject the bum ones,--which is an endless +task,--and accept the fairly decent ones,--which takes about five +minutes a week,--and read exchanges and clip shorts for filling, and +write squibs of a spicy nature, and do various and sundry other things +and you haven't the slightest idea how to start.' + +"'No, I haven't, but you get me started, and I'll keep going all right.' + +"The next morning he asked how long it took me to get to the office +from Prairie, and I said: + +"'I moved last night, I have a room down on Diversey Boulevard now.' + +"He looked me over thoughtfully. Then he said: 'You ought to be a +poet.' + +"'Why? I haven't any poetic ability that I know of.' + +"'Probably not, but you can get along without that. What a poet needs +first of all is nerve.' + +"I didn't think of anything apt to say in return so I got to work. Day +after day he tried me out on something new and watched me when he +thought I didn't notice, and went over my work very carefully. One +morning he asked me to write five hundred words on 'The First Job in a +Big City,' bringing out a country aspirant's sensations on the occasion +of his first interview with a prospective employer. + +"I still felt so strongly about his insolent assurance that I couldn't +hold down his little old job, that I had no trouble at all with the +assignment. He read it slowly and made no comment, but he gave it a +place in the current issue. And then came a blessed day when he said, +'Well, you are on for good, Miss Starr. I now believe in the +scriptural injunction about seventy times seven, and a kind Providence +cut the margin down for me. I forgive Uncle Baker for the nineteen +atrocities at last.' + +"I was very happy about it, for I do love the work and the others in +the office are splendid, so keen and clever, and Mr. Carver is really +wonderful. We are not a large concern, and we have to lend a hand +wherever hands are needed. So I am getting five times my fifteen +dollars a week in experience, and I am singing inside every minute I +feel so good about everything. The workers are all efficient and +enthusiastic, and we are great friends. We gossip affectionately about +whoever is absent, and hold a jubilee at the restaurant down-stairs +when any one gets ahead with an extra story. No other publishers have +come rapping at my door in a mad attempt to steal me away from Mr. +Carver. I have no bulky mail soliciting stories from my facile pen. +But I am making good with Mr. Carver, and that's the thing right now. + +"Have I fallen in love yet? Carol, dear, I always understood that when +folks get married they lose their sentimentality. Are you the proving +exception? My acquaintance with Chicago masculinity is confined to the +office, the Methodist Church, and the boarding-house. The office force +is all married but the office boy. The Methodist congregation is +composed of women, callow youths and bald heads of families. Women are +counted out, of necessity. I am beyond callow youths, and not advanced +to heads of families. Why, I haven't a chance to fall in love,--worse +luck, too, for I need the experience in my business. + +"At the boarding-house I do have a little excitement now and then. The +second night after my installation a man walked into my room without +knocking,--that is, he opened the door. + +"'Gee, the old lady wasn't bluffing,' he said, in a tone of surprise. + +"It was early in the evening and he was properly dressed and looked +harmless, so I wasn't frightened. + +"'Good evening,' I said in my reserved way. + +"'Gave you my room, did she?' he asked. + +"'She gave me this one,--for a consideration.' + +"'Yes, it is mine,' he said sadly. 'She has threatened to do it, lo, +these many years, but I never believed she would. Faith in fickle +human nature,--ah, how futile.' + +"'Yes?' + +"'Yes. You see now and then I go off with the boys, and spend my money +instead of paying my board, and when I come back I expect my room to be +awaiting me. It always has been. The old lady said she would rent it +the next time, but she had said it so many times! Well, well, well. +Broke, too. It is a sad world, isn't it? Did you ever pray for death?' + +"'No, I did not. And if you will excuse me, I think perhaps you had +better fight it out with the landlady. I have paid a month's rent in +advance.' + +"'A month's rent!' He advanced and shook hands with me warmly before I +knew what he was doing. 'A month in advance. It is an honor to touch +your hand. Alas, how many moons have waned since I came in personal +contact with one who could pay a month in advance.' + +"'The landlady--' + +"'Oh, I am going. No room is big enough for two. Lots of fellows room +together to save money, but it is too multum in too parvum; I think I +prefer to spend the money. I have never resorted to it, even in my +brokest days. I didn't leave my pipe here, did I?' + +"'I haven't seen it,' I said very coldly. + +"'Well, all right. Don't get cross about it. Out into the dark and +cold, out into the wintry night, without a cent to have and hold, but +landladies are always right.' + +"He smiled appealingly but I frowned at him with my most ministerial +air. + +"'I am a poet,' he said apologetically. 'I can't help going off like +that. It isn't a mental aberration. I do it for a living.' + +"I had nothing to say. + +"'My card.' He handed it to me with a flourish, a neatly engraved one, +with the word 'advertisement' in the corner. I should have haughtily +spurned it, but I was too curious to know his name. It was William +Canfield Brewer. + +"'Well, good night. May your sleep be undisturbed by my ghost stalking +solitary through your slumbers. May no fumes from my pipe interfere +with the violet de parme you represent. If you want any advertising +done, just call on me, William Canfield Brewer. I write poetry, draw +pictures, make up stories, and prove to the absolute satisfaction of +the most skeptical public that any article is even better than you say +it is. I command a princely salary,--but I can't command it long +enough. Adieu, I go, my lady, fare thee well.' + +"'Good night.' + +"I could hardly wait for breakfast, I was so anxious to ask about him. +I gleaned the following facts. The landlady had packed his belongings +in an old closet and rented me the room in his absence, as he surmised. +He is a darling old idiot who would rather buy the chauffeur a cigar +than pay for his board. He says it is less grubby. He is too good a +fellow to make both ends meet. He is too devoted to his friends to +neglect them for business. He can write the best ads in Chicago and +get the most money for it, but he can't afford the time. Mrs. Gaylord +is a stingy old cat, she always gets her money if she waits long +enough, and he pays three times as much as anything is worth when he +does pay. Mrs. Gaylord's niece is infatuated with him, without +reciprocation, and Mrs. Gaylord wanted her, the niece, to stick to the +grocer's son; she says there is more money in being advertised than +advertising others. Wouldn't Prudence faint if she could hear this +gossip? Don't tell her,--and I wouldn't repeat it for the world. + +"I hoped he would come back for another room,--there is lots of +experience in him, I am sure, but he sent for his things. So that is +over. I found his pipe. And I am keeping it so if he gets smokey and +comes back he may have it. + +"Oh, I tell you, Carol, Experience may teach in a very expensive +school, but she makes the lessons so interesting, it is really worth +the price. + +"Lots of love to you both, + +"From + +"CONNIE." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAND O' LUNGERS + +"Is Mrs. Duke in?" + +David looked up quickly as the door opened. He saw a fair petulant +face, with pouting lips, with discontent in the dark eyes. He did not +know that face. Yet this girl had not the studied cheerfulness of +manner that marks church callers at sanatoriums. She did not look +sick, only cross. Oh, it was the new girl, of course. Carol had said +she was coming. And she was not really sick, just threatened. + +"Mrs. Duke is over at the Main Building, but will be back very soon. +Will you come in and wait?" + +She came in without speaking, pulled a chair from the corner of the +porch, and flounced down among the cushions. David could not restrain +a smile. She looked so babyishly young, and so furiously cross. To +David, youth and crossness were incongruous. + +"I am Nancy Tucker," said the girl at last. + +"And I am Mr. Duke, as you probably surmise from seeing me on Mrs. +Duke's porch. She will be back directly. I hope you are not in a +hurry." + +"Hurry! What's the use of hurrying? I am twenty years old. I've got +a whole lifetime to do nothing in, haven't I?" + +"You've got a lifetime ahead of you all right, but whether you are +going to do nothing or not depends largely on you." + +"It doesn't depend on me at all. It depends on God, and He said, +'Nothing doing. Just get out and rust the rest of your life. We don't +need you.'" + +"That does not sound like God," said David quietly. + +"Well, He gave me the bugs, didn't He?" + +"Oh, the bugs,--you've got them, have you? You don't look like it. I +didn't know it was your health. I thought maybe it was just your +disposition." + +David smiled winningly as he spoke, and the smile took the sting from +the words. + +"The bugs are worse on the disposition than they are on the lungs, +aren't they?" + +"Well, it depends. Carol says they haven't hit mine yet." He lifted +his head with boyish pride. "She ought to know. So I don't argue with +her. I am willing to take her word for it." + +Nancy smiled a little, a transforming smile that swept the discontent +from her face and made her nearly beautiful. But it only lasted a +moment. + +"Oh, go on and smile. It did me good. You can't imagine how much +better I felt directly." + +"There's nothing to make me smile," cried Nancy hotly. + +"You may smile at me," cried Carol gaily, as she ran in. "How do you +do? You are Miss Tucker, aren't you? They were telling me about you +at the office." + +"Yes, I am Miss Tucker. Are you Mrs. Duke? You look too young for a +minister's wife." + +"Yes, I am Mrs. Duke, and I am not a bit too young." + +"I asked them if I should call a doctor, and they said that could wait +a while. First of all, they said, I must come to Room Six and meet the +Dukes." + +Carol looked puzzled. "They didn't tell me that. What did they want +us to do to you?" + +"I don't know. I just said, 'Well, I guess I'd better get a doctor to +come and kill me off,' and they said, 'You go over to Number Six and +meet the Dukes.'" + +"They said lovely things about you," Carol told her, smiling. "And +they say you will be well in a few months,--that you haven't T. B.'s at +all yet, just premonitions." + +The good news brought no answering light to the girl's face. + +"They are nurses. You can't believe a word they say. It is their +business to build up false hopes." + +"When any one tells me David is worse, I think, 'That is a wicked +story'; but when any one says, 'He is better,' I am ready to fall on my +knees and salute them as messengers from Heaven," said Carol. + +One of the sudden dark clouds passed quickly overhead, obscuring the +glare of the sunshine, darkening the yellow sand. + +"I hate this country," said Nancy Tucker. "I hate that yellow hot +sand, and the yellow hot sun, and the lights and shadows on the +mountains. I hate the mountains most of all. They look so abominably +cock-sure, so crowy, standing off there and glaring down on us as if +they were laughing at our silly little fight for health." + +Carol was speechless, but David spoke up quickly. + +"That is strange; Carol and I think it is a beautiful country,--the +broad stretch of the mesa, the blue cloud on the mountains, the shadow +in the canyons, and most of all, the sunshine on the slopes. We think +the fight against T. B.'s is like walking through the dark shade in the +canyons, and then suddenly stepping out on to the sunny slopes." + +"I know you are a preacher. I suppose it is your business to talk like +that." Then when Carol and David only smiled excusingly, she said, +"Excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude. But it is hideous, and--I love +to be happy, and laugh,--" + +"Go on and do it," urged David. "We've just been waiting to hear you +laugh." + +"You should have been at the office with me," said Carol. "We laughed +until we were nearly helpless. It is that silly Mr. Gooding again, +David. He isn't very sick, Miss Tucker,--he just has red rales. I +don't know what red rales are, but when the nurses say that, it means +you aren't very sick and will soon be well. But Gooding is what he +calls 'hipped on himself.' He is always scared to death. He admits +it. Well, last night they had lobster salad, a silly thing to have in +a sanatorium. And Gooding ordered two extra helpings. The waiter +didn't want to give it to him, but Gooding is allowed anything he wants +so the waiter gave in. In the night he had a pain and got scared. He +rang for the nurses, and was sure he was going to die. They had to sit +up with him all night and rub him, and he groaned, and told them what +to tell his mother and said he knew all along he could never pull +through. But the nurse gave him some castor oil, and made him take it, +and finally he went to sleep. And every one is having a grand time +with him this morning." + +Nancy joined, rather grudgingly, in their laughter. + +"Oh, I suppose funny things happen. I know that. But what's the use +of laughing when we are all half dead?" + +"I'm not. Not within a mile of it. You brag about yourself if you +like, but count me out." + +"Hello, Preacher! How are you making it to-day?" + +They all turned to the window, greeting warmly the man who stood +outside, leaning heavily on two canes. + +"Miss Tucker, won't you meet Mr. Nevius?" + +In response to the repeated inquiry, David said, "Just fine this +morning. How are you?" + +"Oh, I am more of an acquisition than ever. I think I have a bug in my +heart." He turned to Miss Tucker cheerfully. "I am really the pride +of the institution. I've got 'em in the lungs and the throat and the +digestive apparatus, and the bones, and the blood, and one doctor +includes the brain. But I flatter myself that I've developed them in a +brand-new place, and I'm trying to get the rest of the chasers to take +up a collection and have me stuffed for a parlor ornament." + +"How does a bug in the heart feel?" + +"Oh, just about like love. I really can't tell any difference myself. +It may be one, it may be the other. But whichever it is I think I +deserve to be stuffed. Hey, Barrows!" he called suddenly, balancing +himself on one cane and waving a summons with the other. "Come across! +New lunger is here, young, good-looking. I saw her first! Hands off!" + +Barrows rushed up as rapidly as circumstances permitted, and looked +eagerly inside. + +"It is my turn," he said reproachfully. "You are not playing fair. I +say we submit this to arbitration. You had first shot at Miss +Landbury, didn't you?" + +"I am not a nigger baby at a county fair, three shots for ten cents," +interrupted Nancy resentfully. But when the others laughed at her +ready sally, she joined in good-naturedly. + +"You don't look like a lunger," said Barrows, eying her critically. + +"Mr. Duke thinks I came out for the benefit of my disposition." + +"Good idea." Nevius jerked a note-book from his pocket and made a +hurried notation. + +"Taking notes for a sermon?" asked Carol. + +"No, for a sickness. That's where I'll get 'em next. I hadn't +thought of the disposition. Thank you, thank you very much. I'll have +it to-morrow. Bugs in the disposition,--sounds medical, doesn't it?" + +"Oh, don't, Mr. Nevius," entreated Carol. "Don't get anything the +matter with your disposition. We don't care where else you collect +them, as long as you keep on making us laugh. But, woodman, spare that +disposition." + +Nevius pulled out the note-book and crossed off the notation. "There +it goes again," he muttered. "Women always were a blot on the +escutcheon of scientific progress. Just to oblige you, I've got to +forego the pleasure of making a medical curiosity of myself. Well, +well. Women are all right for domestic purposes, but they sure are a +check on science." + +"They are a check on your bank-book, too, let me tell you," said +Barrows quickly. "I never cared how much my wife checked me up on +science, but when she checked me out of three bank-accounts I drew the +line." + +"Speaking of death," began Nevius suddenly. + +"Nobody spoke of it, and nobody wants to," said Carol. + +"Miss Tucker suggests it by the forlornity of her attitude. And since +she has started the subject, I must needs continue. I want to tell you +something funny. You weren't here when Reddy Waters croaked, were you, +Duke? He had the cottage next to mine. I was in bed at the time +with--well, I don't remember where I was breaking out at the time, but +I was in bed. You may have noticed that I have what might be called a +classic pallor, and a general resemblance to a corpse." + +Nancy shivered a little and Carol frowned, but Nevius continued +imperturbably. "The undertaker down-town is a lunger, and a nervous +wreck to boot. But he is a good undertaker. He works hard. Maybe he +is practising up so he can do a really artistic job on himself when the +time comes. Anyhow, Reddy died. They always come after them when the +rest of us are in at dinner. It interferes with the appetite to see +the long basket going out. So when the rest were eating, old Bennett +comes driving up after Reddy. It was just about dark, that dusky, +spooky time when the shadows come down from the mountains and cover up +the sunny slopes you preachers rave about. So up comes Bennett, and he +got into the wrong cottage. First thing I knew, some one softly pushed +open the door, and in walked Bennett at the front end of the long +basket, the assistant trailing him in the rear. I felt kind of weak, +so I just laid there until Bennett got beside me. Then I slowly rose +up and put out one cold clammy hand and touched his. Bennett choked +and the assistant yelled, and they dropped the basket and fled. I rang +the bell and told the nurse to make that crazy undertaker come and get +the right corpse that was patiently waiting for him, and she called him +on the telephone. Nothing doing. A corpse that didn't have any better +judgment than that could stay in bed until doomsday for all of him. So +they had to get another undertaker. But Bennett told her to get the +basket and he would send the assistant after it. But I held it for +ransom, and Bennett had to pay me two dollars for it." + +His auditors wiped their eyes, half ashamed of their laughter. + +"It is funny," said Nancy Tucker, "but it seems awful to laugh at such +things." + +"Awful! Not a bit of it," declared Barrows. "It's religious. Doesn't +it say in the Bible, 'Laugh and the world laughs with you, Die and the +world laughs on'?" + +"I laugh,--but I am ashamed of myself," confessed Carol. + +"What do women want to spoil a good story for?" protested Nevius. +"That's a funny story, and it is true. It is supposed to be laughed +at. And Reddy is better off. He had so many bugs you couldn't tell +which was bugs and which was Reddy. He was an ugly guy, too, and he +was stuck on a girl and she turned him down. She said Reddy was all +right, but no one could raise a eugenical family with a father as ugly +as Reddy. He didn't care if he died. Every night he used to flip up a +coin to see if he would live till morning. He said if he got off ahead +of us he was coming back to haunt us. But I told him he'd better fly +while the flying was good, for I sure would show him a lively race up +to the rosy clouds if I ever caught up. I knew if he got there first +he'd pick out the best harp and leave me a wheezy mouth organ. He +always wanted the best of everything." + +Just then the nurse opened the door. + +"Barrows and Nevius," she said sternly. "This is the rest hour, and +you are both under orders. Please go home at once and go to bed, or I +shall report to Mrs. Hartley." When they had gone, she looked +searchingly into the face of the brand-new chaser. "How are you +feeling now?" she asked. + +"Oh, pretty well." And then she added honestly, "It really isn't as +bad as I had expected. I think I can stand it a while." + +"Have you caught a glimpse of the sunny slopes yet?" + +Instinctively they turned their eyes to the distant mountains, with the +white crown of snow at the top, and beneath, long radiating lines of +alternating light and shadow, stretching down to the mesa. + +"The shadows look pretty dark," she said, "but the sunny slopes are +there all right. But I was happy at home; I had hopes and plans--" + +"Yes, we all did," interrupted David quickly. "We were all happy, and +had hopes and plans, and-- But since we are here and have to stay, +isn't it God's blessing that there is sunshine for us on the slopes?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +OLD HOPES AND NEW + +Along toward the middle of the summer Carol began eating her meals on +the porch with David, and they fixed up a small table with doilies and +flowers, and said they were keeping house all over again. Sometimes, +when David was sleeping, Carol slipped noiselessly into the room to +turn over with loving fingers the soft woolen petticoats, and bandages, +and bonnets, and daintily embroidered dresses,--gifts of the women of +their church back in the Heights in St. Louis. + +About David the doctors had been frank with Carol. + +"He may live a long time and be comfortable, and enjoy himself. But he +will never be able to do a man's work again." + +"Are you sure?" Carol had taken the blow without flinching. + +"Oh, yes. There is no doubt about that." + +"What shall I do?" + +"Just be happy that he is here, and not suffering. Love him, and amuse +him, and enjoy him as much as you can. That is all you can do." + +"Let's not tell him," she suggested. "It would make him so sorry." + +"That is a good idea. Keep him in the dark. It is lots easier to be +happy when hope goes with it." + +But long before this, David had looked his future in the face. "I have +been set aside for good," he thought. "I know it, I feel it. But +Carol is so sure I will be well again! She shall never know the truth +from me." + +When Carol intensely told him he was stronger, he agreed promptly, and +said he thought so, himself. + +"Oh, blessed old David, I'm so glad you don't know about it," thought +Carol. + +"My sweet little Carol, I hope you never find out until it is over," +thought David. + +Sometimes Carol stood at the window when David was sleeping, and looked +out over the long mesa to the mountains. Her gaze rested on the dark +heavy shadows of the canyons. To her, those dark valleys in the +mountains represented a buried vision,--the vision of David strong and +sturdy again, springing lightly across a tennis court, walking briskly +through mud and snow to conduct a little mission in the Hollow, +standing tall and straight and sunburned in the pulpit swaying the +people with his fervor. It was a buried hope, a shadowy canyon. Then +she looked up to the sunny slopes, stretching bright and golden above +the shadows up to the snowy crest of the mountain peaks. Sunny +slopes,--a new hope rising out of the old and towering above it. And +then she always went back to the chest in the corner of the room and +fingered the tiny garments, waiting there for service, with tender +fingers. + +And once in a while, not very often, David would say, smiling, "Who +knows, Carol, but you two may some day do the things we two had hoped +to do?" + +A few weeks later Aunt Grace came out from Mount Mark, and in her usual +soft, gentle way drifted into the life of the chasers in the +sanatorium. She told of the home, of William's work and tireless zeal, +of Lark and Jim, of Fairy and Babbie, of Prudence and Jerry. She +talked most of all of Connie. + +"That Connie! She is a whole family all by herself. She is entirely +different from the rest of you. She is unique. She doesn't really +live at all, she just looks on. She watches life with the cool +critical eyes of a philosopher and a stoic and an epicure all rolled +into one. She comes, she sees, she draws conclusions. William and I +hold our breath. She may set the world on fire with her talent, or she +may become a demure little old maid crocheting jabots and feeding +kittens. No one can foretell Connie." + +And Carol, in a beautiful, heavenly relief at having this blessed +outlet for her pent-up feelings, reclined in a big rocker on the porch, +and smiled at Aunt Grace, and glowed at David, and declared the sunny +slopes were so brilliant they dazzled her eyes. + +There came a day when she packed a suitcase, and petted David a little +and gave him very strict instructions as to how he was to conduct +himself in her absence, and went away over to the other building, and +settled down in a pleasant up-stairs room with Aunt Grace in charge. +For several days she lounged there quietly content, gazing for hours +out upon the marvelous mesa land, answering with a cheery wave the gay +greetings shouted up to her from chasers loitering beneath her windows. + +But one morning, she watched with weary throbbing eyes as Aunt Grace +and a nurse and a chamber maid carefully wrapped up a tiny pink flannel +roll for a visit to Room Number Six in the McCormick Building. + +"Tell him I am just fine, and it is a lucky thing that he likes girls +better than boys, and we think she is going to look like me. And be +particularly sure to tell him she is very, very pretty, the doctor and +the nurse both say she is,--David might overlook it if his attention +were not especially called to it." + +Three weeks later, the suit-case was packed once more, and Carol was +moved back across the grounds to Number Six and David, where already +little Julia was in full control. + +"Aren't you glad she is pretty, David?" demanded Carol promptly. "I +was so relieved. Most of them are so red and frowsy, you know. I've +seen lots of new ones in my day, but this is my first experience with a +pretty one." + +The doctor and the nurse had the temerity to laugh at that, even with +Julia, pink and dimply, right before them. "Oh, that old, old story," +said the doctor. "I'm looking for a woman who can class her baby with +the others. I intend to use my fortune erecting a monument to her if I +find her,--but the fortune is safe. Every woman's baby is the only +pretty one she ever saw in her life." + +Carol and David were a little indignant at first, but finally they +decided to make allowances for the doctor,--he was old, and of course +he must be tired of babies, he had ushered in so many. They would try +and apply their Christian charity to him, though it was a great strain +on their religion. + +But what should be done with Julia? David was so ill, Carol so weak, +the baby so tender. Was it safe to keep her there? But could they let +that little rosebud go? + +"Why, I will just take her home with me," said Aunt Grace gently. "And +we'll keep her until you are ready. Oh, it won't be a bit of trouble. +We want her." + +That settled it. The baby was to go. + +"For once in my life I have made a sacrifice," said Carol grimly. "I +think I must be improving. I have allowed myself to be hurt, and +crushed, and torn to shreds, for the good of some one else. I +certainly must be improving." + +Later she thought, "She will know all her aunties before she knows me. +She will love them better. When I go home, she will not know me, and +will cry for Aunt Grace. She will be afraid of me. Really, some +things are very hard." But to David she said that of course the +doctors were right, and she and David were so old and sensible that it +would be quite easy to do as they were bid. And they were so used to +having just themselves that things would go on as they always had. + +But more nights than one she cried herself to sleep, craving the touch +of the little rosebud baby learning of motherhood from some one else. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +NEPTUNE'S SECOND DAUGHTER + +"Chicago, Illinois. + +"Dearest Carol and David-- + +"Carol, dear, an awful thing has happened. Do you remember the +millionaire's son who discovered me up the cherry tree years ago when I +was an infant? He comes to see me now and then. He is very nice and +attentive, and all of my friends have selected the color schemes for +their boudoirs in my forthcoming palatial home. One night he +telephoned and said his mother was in town with him, and they should +like to come right up if I did not mind. I did not know he was in +town, I hardly knew he had a mother, and I was in the act of shampooing +my hair. Phyllis was making candy, and Gladys was reading aloud to us +both. Imagine the mother of a millionaire's son coming right up, and I +in a shampoo. + +"'Oh,' I wailed, 'I haven't anything to wear, and I am not used to +millionaires' sons' mothers, and I won't know what to say to her.' + +"'Leave it to us, Connie!' cried my friends valiantly. + +"Gladys whirled the magazine under the bed, and Phyllis turned out the +electricity under the chafing-dish and put the candy in the window to +finish at a later date. + +"Did I tell you about our housekeeping venture? Gladys is a private +secretary to something down-town and gets an enormous salary, thirty a +week. Phyllis is an artist and has a studio somewhere, and we are +great friends. So we took a cunning little apartment for three months, +and we all live together and cook our meals in the baby kitchenette +when we feel domestic, and dine out like princesses when we feel +lordly. We have the kitchenette, and a bathroom with two kinds of +showers, and a bedroom apiece, though mine is really a closet, and two +sitting-rooms, so two of us can have beaus the same night. If we feel +the need of an extra sitting-room--that is, three beaus a night--we +draw cuts to see who has to resort to the park, or a movie, or the +ice-cream parlor, or the kitchenette. Our time is up next week and we +shall return modestly to our boarding-houses. It is great fun, but it +is expensive, and we are so busy. + +"We have lovely times. The girls are--not like me. They are really +society buds, and wear startling evening gowns and go places in taxis, +and are quite the height of fashion. It is a wonder they put up with +me at all. Still every establishment must have at least one +Cinderella. But let me admit honestly and Methodistically that I do +less Cinderelling than either of them. Gladys darns my stockings, and +Phyllis makes my bed fully half the time. + +"Anyhow, when Andrew Hedges, millionaire's son, telephoned that his +mother was coming up, they fell upon me, and one rubbed and one fanned, +and they both talked at once, and in the end I agreed to leave myself +in their hands. They knew all about millionaires' sons' mothers, it +seemed, and would fix me up just exactly O. K. right. Gladys and I are +the same size, and she has an exquisite semi-evening gown of Nile green +and honest-to-goodness lace which I have long admired humbly from my +corner among the ashes. Just the thing. I should wear it, and make +the millionaire's son's mother look like twenty cents. + +"Wickedly and wilfully I agreed. So when the hair was dry enough to +manage, they marched me into Gladys' room--the only one of the three +capable of accommodating three of us--and turned the mirrors to the +wall. I protested at that. I wanted to see my progress under their +skilful fingers. + +"'No,' said Phyllis sagely. 'It looks horrible while it is going on. +You must wait until you are finished, and then burst upon your own +enraptured vision. You will enchant yourself.' + +"Gladys seconded her and I assented weakly. I know I am not naturally +weak, Carol, but the thought of a millionaire's son's mother affected +me very strangely. It took all the starch out of my knees, and the +spine out of my backbone. + +"By this time I was established in Gladys' green slippers with +rhinestone buckles, and Gladys was putting all of her own and Phyllis' +rings on my fingers, and Phyllis was using a crimping iron on my curls. +I was too curly already, but Phyllis said natural curliness was not the +thing any more. Then Gladys began dabbing funny sticky stuff all over +my fingers, and scratching my eyebrows, and powdering about twenty +layers on my face and throat. After that, she rubbed my finger nails +until I could almost see what they were doing to me. I never thought I +had much hair, but when Phyllis got through with me I could hardly +carry it. The ladies in Hawaii who carry bushel baskets on their heads +will tell you how I felt. And whenever I moved it wabbled. But they +both clapped their hands and said I looked like a dream, and of course +I would have acquired another bushel had they advised it. + +"I trusted them because they look so wonderful when they are +finished,--just right,--never too much so. + +"Our bell rang then, and Phyllis answered and said, 'Tell them Miss +Starr will be in in a moment.' + +"There is a general apartment maid, and when we wish to be very +perfectly fine, we borrow her,--for a quarter. + +"When I knew they had arrived, I leaped up, panic-stricken, and dived +head first into that pile of Nile green silk and real lace. They +rescued me tenderly, and pushed me in, and hooked me here, and buttoned +me there, both panting and gasping, I madly hurrying them on, because I +can't get over that silly old parsonage notion that it isn't good form +to keep folks waiting. + +"'There you are,' cried Gladys. + +"'Fly,' shouted Phyllis. + +"Out I dashed, recollected myself in the bathroom, and--yes, I did that +foolish thing, Carol. Your vanity would have saved you such a blunder. +But I tore myself from their blood-stained hands, and went in to meet a +millionaire's son's mother without looking myself over in the mirror. + +"When I parted the curtains, Andy leaped to his feet with his usual +quick eagerness, but he stopped abruptly and his lips as well as his +eyes widened. + +"'How do you do?' I said, moistening my lips which already felt too +wet, only I didn't know what was the matter with them. I held out my +hand, unwontedly white, and he took it flabbily, instead of briskly and +warmly as he usually did. + +"'Mother,' he said, 'I want you to meet Miss Starr.' + +"She wasn't at all the kind of millionaire's son's mother we have read +about. She had no lorgnette, and she did not look me over +superciliously. But she had turned my way as though confident of being +pleased, and her soft eyes clouded a little, though she smiled sweetly. +Her hair was silver white and curled over her forehead and around her +ears. She had dimples, and she stuck her chin up like a girl when she +laughed. She wore the softest, sweetest kind of a wistaria colored +silk. I was charmed with her. It could not have been mutual. + +"She held out her hand, smiling so gently, still with the cloud in her +eyes, and we all sat down. She did not look me over, though she must +have yearned to do so. But Andy looked me over thoroughly, +questioningly, from the rhinestone pin at the top of the swaying hair, +to the tips of my Nile green shoes. I tried to talk, but my hair +wabbled so, and little invisible hair pins kept visibleing themselves +and sliding into my lap and down my neck, and my lips felt so moist and +sticky, and my skin didn't fit like skin, and--still I was determined +to live up to my part, and I talked on and on, and--then, quite +suddenly, I happened to glance into a mirror beside me. There was some +one else in the room. Some one in a marvelous dress, with a +white-washed throat, with lips too red, and cheeks too pink, and brows +too black, some one with an unbelievable quantity of curls on top of +her, and--I turned around to see whom it might be. Nobody there. I +looked back to the mirror. I was not dreaming,--of course there was +some one in the room. No, the room was empty save we three. I turned +suspiciously to Mrs. Hedges. She was still in her place, a smiling +study in wistaria and silver gray. I looked at Andy, immaculate in +black and white. Then--sickening realization. + +"I stood up abruptly. The atrocity in the mirror rose also. + +"'That isn't I,' I cried imploringly. + +"Mrs. Hedges looked startled, but Andy came to my side at once. + +"'No, it certainly isn't,' he said heartily. 'What on earth have you +been doing to yourself, Connie?' + +"I went close to the mirror, inspecting myself, grimly, piteously. I +do not understand it to this day. The girls do the same things to +themselves and they look wonderful,--never like that. + +"I rubbed my lips with my fingers, and understood the moisture. I +examined my brows, and knew what the scratching meant. I shook the +pile of hair, and a shower of invisible hair pins rewarded me. I +brushed my fingers across my throat, and a cloud of powder wafted +outward. + +"What does it say in the Bible about the way of the unrighteous? Well, +I know just as much about the subject as the Bible does, I think. For +a time I was speechless. I did not wish to blame my friends. But I +could not bear to think that any one should carry away such a vision of +one of father's daughters. + +"'Take a good look at me please,' I said, laughing, at last, 'for you +will never see me again. I am Neptune's second daughter. I stepped +full-grown into the world to-night from the hands of my faithless +friends. Another step into my own room, and the lovely lady is gone +forever.' + +"Andy understands me, and he laughed. But his mother still smiled the +clouded smile. + +"I hurled myself into the depths of self-abasement. I spared no harsh +details. I told of the shampoo, and the candy on the window-ledge, the +magazine under the bed. Religiously I itemized every article on my +person, giving every one her proper due. Then I excused myself and +went up-stairs. I sneaked into my own room, removed the dream of Nile +green and lace and jumped up and down on it a few times, in stocking +feet, so the girls would not hear,--and relieved my feelings somewhat. +I think I had to resort to gold dust to resurrect my own +complexion,--not the best in the world perhaps, but mine, and I am for +it. I combed my hair. I donned my simple blue dress,--cost four-fifty +and Aunt Grace made it.' I wore my white kid slippers and stockings. +My re-debut--ever hear the word?--was worth the exertion. Andy's face +shone as he came to meet me. His mother did not know me. + +"'I am Miss Starr,' I said. 'The one and only.' + +"'Why, you sweet little thing,' she said, smiling, without the cloud. + +"We went for a long drive, and had supper down-town at eleven o'clock, +and she kept me with her at the hotel all night. It was Saturday. I +slept with her and used all of her night things and toilet articles. I +told her about the magnificent stories I am going to write sometime, +and she told me what a darling Andy was when he was a baby, and between +you and me, I doubt if they have a million dollars to their name. +Honestly, Carol, they are just as nice as we are. + +"They stayed in Chicago three days, and she admitted she came on +purpose to get acquainted with me. She made me promise to spend a week +with them in Cleveland when I can get away, and she gave me the dearest +little pearl ring to remember her by. But I wonder--I wonder-- Anyhow +I can't tell him until he asks me, can I? And he has never said a +word. You know yourself, Carol, you can't blurt things out at a man +until he gives you a chance. So my conscience is quite free. And she +certainly is adorable. Think of a mother-in-law like that, pink and +gray, with dimples. Yes, she is my ideal of a mother-in-law. I +haven't met 'father' yet, but he doesn't need to be very nice. A man +can hide a hundred faults in one fold of a pocketbook the size of his. + +"Lots of love to you both,--and you write to Larkie oftener than you do +to me, which isn't fair, for she has a husband and a baby and is within +reaching distance of father, and I am an orphan, and a widow, and a +stranger in a strange land. + +"But I love you anyhow. + +"Connie." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE SECOND STEP + +They sat on canvas chairs on the sand outside the porch of the +sanatorium, warmly wrapped in rugs, for the summer evenings in New +Mexico are cold, and watched the shadows of evening tarnish the gold of +the mesa. Like children, they held hands under the protecting shelter +of the rug. They talked of little Julia off in Mount Mark, how she was +growing, the color of her eyes, the shape of her fingers. They talked +of her possible talents, and how they could best be developed, judging +as well as they could in advance by the assembled qualities of all her +relatives. David suggested that they might be prejudiced in her favor +a little, for as far as they could determine there was no avenue of +ability closed to her, but Carol stanchly refused to admit the +impeachment. They talked of the schools best qualified to train her, +of the teachers she must have, of the ministers they must demand for +her spiritual guidance. They talked of the thousand bad habits of +other little girls, and planned how Julia should be led surely, sweetly +by them. + +Then they were silent, thinking of the little pink rosebud baby as she +had left them. + +The darkness swept down from the mountains almost as sand-storms come, +and Carol leaned her head against David's shoulder. She was happy. +David was so much better. The horrible temperature was below +ninety-nine at last, and David was allowed to walk about the mesa, and +his appetite was ravenous. Maybe the doctors were wrong after all. He +was certainly on the high-road to health now. She was so glad David +had not known how near the dark valley he had passed. + +David was rejoicing that he had never told Carol how really ill he had +been. She would have been so frightened and sorry. He pictured Carol +with the light dying out in her eyes, with pallor eating the roses in +her cheeks, with languor in her step, and dullness in her voice,--the +Carol she would surely have been had she known that David was walking +under the shadow of death. David was very happy. He was so much +better, of course he would soon be himself. Things looked very bright. +Somehow to-night he did not yearn so much for work. It was Carol that +counted most, Carol and the little Julia who was theirs, and would some +day be with them. The big thing now was getting Julia ready for the +life that was to come to her. + +He was richly satisfied. + +"Carol, this is the most wonderful thing in the world, companionship +like this, being together, thinking in harmony, hoping the same hopes, +sharing the same worries, planning the same future. Companionship is +life to me now. There is nothing like it in all the world." + +Carol snuggled against his shoulder happily. + +"Love is wonderful," he went on, "but companionship is broader, for it +is love, and more beyond. It is the development of love. It is the +full blossom of the seed that has been planted in the heart. Service +is splendid, too. But after all, it takes companionship to perfect +service. One can not work alone. You are the completion of my desire +to work, and you are the inspiration of my ability to work. Yes, +companionship is life,--bigger than love and bigger than service, for +companionship includes them both." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +DEPARTED SPIRITS + +As the evenings grew colder, the camp chairs on the mesa were deserted, +and the chattering "chasers" gathered indoors, sometimes in one or +another of the airy tent cottages, sometimes before the cheerful blaze +of the logs in the fireplace of the parlors, but oftenest of all they +flocked into Number Six of McCormick Building, where David was confined +to his cot. Always there was laughter in Number Six, merry jesting, +ready repartee. So it became the mecca of those, who, even more +assiduously than they chased the cure, sought after laughter and joy. +In the parlors the guests played cards, but in Number Six, deferring +silently to David's calling, they pulled out checkers and parcheesi, +and fought desperate battles over the boards. But sometimes they +fingered the dice and the checkers idly, leaning back in their chairs, +and talked of temperatures, and hypodermics, and doctors, and war, and +ghosts. + +"I know this happened," said the big Canadian one night. "It was in my +own home and I was there. So I can swear to every word of it. We came +out from Scotland, and took up a big homestead in Saskatchewan. We +threw up a log house and began living in it before it was half done. +Evenings, the men came in from the ranches around, and we sat by the +fire in the kitchen and smoked and told stories. Joined on to the +kitchen there was a shed, which was intended for a summer kitchen. But +just then we had half a dozen cots in it, and the hands slept there. +One night one of the boys said he had a headache, and to escape the +smoke in the kitchen which was too thick to breathe, he went into the +shed and lay down on a cot. It was still unfinished, the shed was, and +there were three or four wide boards laid across the rafters at the top +to keep them from warping in the damp. Baldy lay on his back and +stared up at the roof. Suddenly he leaped off the bed,--we all saw +him; there was no door between the rooms. He leaped off and dashed +through the kitchen. + +"'What's the matter?' we asked him. + +"'Let me alone, I want to get out of here,' he said, and shot through +the door. + +"We caught just one glimpse of his face. It was ashen. We went on +smoking. 'He's a crazy Frenchman,' we said, and let it go. But my +brother was out in the barn and he corralled him going by. + +"'I am going to die, Don,' he said. 'I was lying on the bed, looking +up at the rafters, and I saw the men come in and take the big white +board and make it into a coffin for me. I am going home, I want to be +with my folks.' + +"Don came in scared stiff, and told us, and we said 'Pooh, pooh,' and +went on smoking. But about eleven o'clock a couple of fellows from +another ranch came over and said their boss had died that afternoon and +they could not find the right sized boards for the coffin. They wanted +a good straight one about six feet six by fourteen inches. We looked +in the barns and the sheds, and could not find what they wanted. Then +we went into the lean-to, where there were some loose boards in the +corner, but they wouldn't do. + +"'Say,' said one of them, 'how about that white board up there in the +rafters? About right, huh?' + +"We pulled it down, and it was just the size. They were tickled to get +it, for they hated to drive twelve miles to town through snowdrifts +over their heads. + +"'That's the big white board that Baldy saw,' said Don suddenly. Yes, +by George! We sent for Baldy that night to make sure, and it was just +what he had seen, and the very men that came for the board. Baldy was +mighty glad he wasn't the corpse." + +"Mercy," said Carol, twitching her shoulders. "Are you sure it is +true?" + +"Gospel truth. I was right there. I took down the board." + +"I know one that beats that," said the Scotchman promptly. "They have +a sayin' over in my country, that if you have a dream, or a vision, of +men comin' toward you carryin' a coffin, you will be in a coffin inside +of three days. One night a neighbor of mine, next farm, was comin' +home late, piped as usual, and as he came zigzaggin' down a dark lane, +he looked up suddenly and saw four men marchin' solemnly toward him, +carryin' a coffin. McDougall clutched his head. 'God help me,' he +cried. 'It is the vision.' Then he turned in his tracks and shot over +a hedge and up the bank, screamin' like mad. The spirits carryin' the +coffin yelled at him and, droppin' the coffin, started up the hill +after him. But McDougall only yelled louder and ran faster, and +finally they lost him in the hills. So they went back. They were not +spirits at all, and it was a real coffin. A woman had died, and they +were takin' her in to town ready for the funeral next day. But the +next day we found McDougall lyin' face down on the grass ten miles +away, stone dead." + +The girls shivered, and Carol shuffled her chair closer to David's bed. + +"Ran himself to death?" suggested David. + +"Well, he died," said the Scotchman. + +"Is it true?" asked Carol, glancing fearfully through the screen of the +porch into the black shadows on the mesa. + +"Absolutely true," declared the Scotchman. "I was in the searchin' +party that found him." + +"I--I don't believe in spirits,--I mean haunting spirits," said Carol, +stiffening her courage and her backbone by a strong effort. + +"How about the ghosts that drove the men out into the graveyards in the +Bible and made them cut up all kinds of funny capers, and finally +haunted the pigs and drove 'em into the lake?" said Barrows slyly. + +"They were not ghosts," protested Carol quickly. "Just evil spirits. +They got drowned, you know,--ghosts don't drown." + +"It does not say they got drowned," contradicted Barrows. "My Bible +does not say it. The pigs got drowned. And that is what ghosts +are,--evil spirits, very evil. They were too slick to get drowned +themselves; they just chased the pigs in and then went off haunting +somebody else." + +Carol turned to David for proof, and David smiled a little. + +"Well," he said thoughtfully, "perhaps it does not particularly say the +ghosts were drowned. It says they went into the pigs, and the pigs +were drowned. It does not say anything about the spirits coming out in +advance, though." + +Carol and Barrows mutually triumphed over each other, claiming personal +vindication. + +"Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Duke?" asked Miss Tucker in a soft +respectful voice, as if resolved not to antagonize any chance spirits +that might be prowling near. + +"Call them psychic phenomena, and I may say that I do," said David. + +"How do you explain it, then?" she persisted. + +"I explain it by saying it is a phenomenon which can not be explained," +he evaded cleverly. + +"But that doesn't get us anywhere, does it?" she protested vaguely. +"Does it--does it explain anything?" + +"It does not get us anywhere," he agreed; "but it gets me out of the +difficulty very nicely." + +"I know a good ghost story myself," said Nevius. "It is a dandy. It +will make your blood run cold. Once there was a--" + +"I do not believe in telling ghost stories," said Miss Landbury. +"There may not be any such thing, and I do not believe there is, but if +there should happen to be any, it must annoy them to be talked about." + +"You shouldn't say you don't believe in them," said Miss Tucker. "At +least not on such a dark night. Some self-respecting ghost may resent +it and try to get even with you." + +Miss Landbury swallowed convulsively, and put her arm around Carol's +waist. The sudden wail of a pack of coyotes wafted in to them, and the +girls crouched close together. + +"Once there was a man--" + +"It is your play, Mr. Barrows," said Miss Landbury. "Let's finish the +game. I am ahead, you remember." + +"Wait till I finish my story," said Nevius, grinning wickedly. "It is +too good to miss, about curdling blood, and clammy hands, and--" + +"Mr. Duke, do you think it is religious to talk about ghosts? Doesn't +it say something in the Bible about avoiding such things, and fighting +shy of spirits and soothsayers and things like that?" + +"Yes, it does," agreed Nevius, before David could speak. "That's why I +want to tell this story. I think it is my Christian duty. You will +sure fight shy of ghosts after you hear this. You won't even have +nerve enough to dream about 'em. Once there was a man--" + +Carol deliberately removed Miss Landbury's arm from her waist, and +climbed up on the bed beside David. Miss Landbury shuffled as close to +the bed as propriety would at all admit, and clutched the blanket with +desperate fingers. Miss Tucker got a firm grip on one of Carol's +hands, and after a hesitating pause, ensconced her elbow snugly against +David's Bible lying on the table. Gooding said he felt a draft, and +sat on the foot of the cot. + +"Once there was a man, and he was in love with two women--oh, yes, Mrs. +Duke, it can be done all right. I have done it myself--yes, two at the +same time. Ask any man; they can all do it. Oh, women can't. They +aren't broad-minded enough. It takes a man,--his heart can hold them +all." The girls sniffed, but Nevius would not be side-tracked from his +story. "Well, this man loved them both, and they were both worth +loving--young, and fair, and wealthy. He loved them distractedly. He +loved one because she was soft and sweet and adorable, and he called +her Precious. He loved the other because she was talented and +brilliant, a queen among women, the center of every throng, and he +called her Glory. He loved to kiss the one, and he loved to be proud +of the other. They did not know about each other, they lived in +different towns. One night the queenly one was giving a toast at a +banquet, and the revelers were leaning toward her, drinking in every +word of her rich musical voice, marveling at her brilliancy, when +suddenly she saw a tiny figure perch on the table in front of her +fiancé,--yes, he was fiancéing them both. The little figure on the +table had a sweet, round, dimply face, and wooing lips, and loving +eyes. The fiancé took her in his arms, and stroked the round pink +cheek, and kissed the curls on her forehead. Glory faltered, and tried +to brush the mist from before her eyes. She was dreaming,--there was +no tiny figure on the table. There could not be. Lover--they both +called him Lover; he had a fancy for the name--Lover was gazing up at +her with eyes full of pride and admiration. She finished hurriedly and +sat down, wiping the moisture from her white brow. 'Such a strange +thing, Lover,' she whispered. 'I saw a tiny figure come tripping up to +you, and she caressed and kissed you, and ran her fingers over your +lips so childishly and--so adoringly, and--' Lover looked startled. +'What!' he ejaculated. For little Precious had tricks like that. +'Yes, and she had one tiny curl over her left ear, and you kissed it.' +'You saw that?' 'Yes, just now.' She looked at him; he was pale and +disturbed. 'Have you ever been married, Lover?' she asked. 'Never,' +he denied quickly. But he was strangely silent the rest of the +evening. The next morning Glory was ill. When he called, they took +him up to her room, and he sat beside her and held her hand. 'Another +strange thing happened,' she said. 'The little beauty who kissed you +at the banquet came up to my bed, and put her arms around me and +caressed and fondled me and said she loved me because I was so +beautiful, and her little white arms seemed to choke me, and I +struggled for breath and floundered out of bed, and she kissed me and +said I was a darling and tripped away, and--I fainted.'" + +"Mr. Nevius, that isn't nice," protested Miss Landbury. + +"Lover said urgent business called him out of town. He would go to +Precious. Glory was getting freakish, queer. Precious never had +visions. She was not notionate. She just loved him and was content. +So he went to her. She dimpled at him adoringly, and led him out to +her bower of roses, and sat on his knee and stroked his eyes with her +pink finger tips, and he kissed the little curl over her left ear and +thought she was worth a dozen tempestuous Glories. But suddenly she +caught her breath and leaned forward. He spoke to her, but she did not +hear. Her face was colorless and her white lips were parted fearfully. +For she saw a lovely, radiant, queenly woman, magnificently gowned, the +center of a throng of people, and Lover was beside her, his face +flushed with pride, his eyes shining with admiration. Her fine voice, +like music, held every one spellbound. Precious clasped her tiny hands +over her rose-bud ears and shivered. She shut her eyes hard and opened +them and--what nonsense! There was no queenly lady, there was no loud, +clear, ringing voice. But her ears were tingling. She turned to +Lover, trembling. + +"'How--how--how funny,' she said. 'I saw a radiant woman talking, and +she fascinated all the world, and you were with her, adoring her. Her +voice was like music, but so loud, too loud; it crashed in my ears, it +deafened me.' + +"Lover's brows puckered thoughtfully. 'How did she look?' he asked. + +"'Tall and white, with crimson lips, and black hair massed high on her +head. And her voice was just like music.' + +"The next morning Precious was ill. When Lover went to her she clung +to him and cried. 'The lovely lady,' she said,' 'she came when I was +alone, and she said I was a beautiful little doll and she would give me +music, music, a world full of music. And her voice was like a bell, +and it grew louder and louder, and I thought the world was crashing +into the stars, and I screamed and fell on the floor, and when I awoke +the music was gone, and--I was so weak and sick.' + +"Lover decided to go back to Glory until Precious got over this silly +whim. But he had no peace. Glory was constantly tormented by the +loving Precious. And when he returned to Precious, the splendor of +Glory's voice was with her day and night. He lost his appetite. He +could not sleep. So he went off into the woods alone, to fish and hunt +a while. But one night as he sat in his tent, he heard a faint, +far-off whisper of music,--Glory's voice. It came nearer and nearer, +grew louder and louder, until it crashed in his ears like the clamor of +worlds banging into stars, as Precious had said. And then he felt a +tender caressing finger on his eyes, and soft warm arms encircled his +neck, and soft red lips pressed upon his. Closer drew the encircling +arms, more breathlessly the red lips pressed his. He struggled for +breath, and fought to tear away the dimpled arms. The music of Glory's +voice rose into unspeakable tumult, the warm pressure of Precious' arms +rendered him powerless. He fell insensible, and two days later they +found him,--dead." + +There was a brief eloquent silence when Nevius finished his story. The +girls shivered. + +"A true story?" queried David, smiling. + +"A true story," said Nevius decidedly. + +"Um-hum. Lover was alone in the woods, wasn't he? How did his friends +find out about those midnight spirits that came and killed him?" + +The girls brightened. "Yes, of course," chirped Carol. "How did +folks find out?' + +"Say, be reasonable," begged Nevius. "Spoiling another good story. I +say it is a true tale, and I ought to know. I," he shouted +triumphantly, "I was Lover." + +Hooting laughter greeted him. + +"But just the same," contended Barrows, "regardless of the feeble +fabrications of senile minds, there are ghosts none the less. The +night before we got word of my father's death, my sister woke up in the +night and saw a white shadow in her window,--and a voice,--father's +voice,--said, 'Stay with me, Flossie; I don't want to be alone.' She +told about it at breakfast, and said it was just five minutes to two +o'clock. And an hour later we got a message that father had died at +two that night, a thousand miles away." + +"Honestly?" + +"Yes, honestly." + +"I knew a woman in Chicago," said Miss Landbury, "and she said the +night before her mother died she lay down on the cot to rest, and a +white shadow came and hovered over the bed, and she saw in it, like a +dream, all the details of her mother's death just as it happened the +very next day. She swore it was true." + +"Don't talk any more about white shadows," said Carol. "They make me +nervous." + +"Wouldn't it be ghastly to wake up alone in a little wind-blown canvas +tent in the dead of night, and find it shut off from the world by a +white shadow, and hear a low voice whisper, 'Come,' and feel yourself +drawn slowly into the shadow by invisible clammy fingers--" + +"Don't," cried Miss Landbury. + +"That's not nice," said Carol. + +"Don't scare the girls, Barrows. Carol will sleep under the bed +to-night." + +"I am with the girls myself," said Gooding. "There isn't any sense +getting yourself all worked up talking about spirits and ghosts and +things that never happened in the world." + +"Oh, they didn't, didn't they? Just the same, when you reach out for a +cough-drop and get hold of a bunch of clinging fingers that aren't +yours, and are not connected with anybody that belongs there,--well, I +for one don't take any chances with ghosts." + +A sudden brisk tap on the door drew a startled movement from the men +and a frightened cry from the girls. The door opened and the head +nurse stood before them. + +"Ten-fifteen," she said curtly. "Please go to your cottages at once. +Mr. Duke, why don't you send your company home at ten o'clock?" + +"Bad manners. Ministers need hospitality more than religion nowadays, +they tell us." + +"Oh, Miss David," cried Miss Tucker, "won't you go out to my tent with +me? I feel so nervous to-night." + +"What is the matter?" asked the nurse suspiciously, looking from one to +another of the flushed faces and noting the restless hands and the +fearful eyes. + +"Nothing, nothing at all, but my head aches and I feel lonesome." + +The nurse contracted her lips curiously. "Of course I will go," she +said. + +"Let me come too," said Miss Landbury, rising with alacrity. "I have a +headache myself." + +Huddled together in an anxious group they set forth, and the nurse, +like a good shepherd, led her little flock to shelter. But as she +walked back to her room, her brows were knitted curiously. + +"What in the world were the silly things talking about?" she wondered. + +"David Duke," Carol was informing her husband, as she stood over him, +in negligee ready to "hop in," "I shall let the light burn all night, +or I shall sleep in the cot with you. I won't run any risk of white +shadows sitting on me in the dark." + +"Why, Carol--" + +"Take your pick, my boy," she interrupted briskly. "The light burns, +or I sleep with you." + +"This cot is hardly big enough for one," he argued. "And neither of us +can sleep with that bright light burning." + +"David," she wailed, "I have looked under the bed three times already, +but I know something will get me between the electric switch and the +bed." + +David laughed at her, but said obligingly, "Well, jump in and cover up +your head with a pillow, and get yourself settled, and I will turn off +the lights myself." + +"It is a sin and a shame and I am a selfish little coward," Carol +condemned herself, but just the same she was glad to avail herself of +the privilege. + +A little later the white colony on the mesa was in darkness. But Carol +could not sleep. The blankets over her head lent a semblance of +protection, but most distracting visions came to her wide and burning +eyes. + +"Are you asleep, David?" she would call at frequent intervals, and +David's "Yes, sound asleep," gave her momentary comfort. + +But finally he was awakened from a light sleep by a soft pressure +against his foot. Even David started nervously, and "Ghosts" flashed +into his logical and well-ordered brain. But no, it was only the soft +and shivering form of his wife, curling herself noiselessly into a ball +on the foot of his cot. David watched her, shaking with silent +laughter. Surreptitiously she slipped an arm beneath his feet, and +circled them in a deadly grip. If the ghosts got her, they would get +David's feet, and in her girlish mind ran a half acknowledged belief +that the Lord wouldn't let the ghosts get as good a man as David. + +Wretchedly uncomfortable as to position, but blissfully assured in her +mind, she fell into a doze, from which she was brought violently by a +low whisper in the room: + +"Mrs. Duke." + +"Oooooooo," moaned Carol, diving deep beneath the covers. + +David sat up quickly. + +"Who is there?" + +"It is I, Miss Landbury," came a frightened whisper. "Can't I stay +with you a while? I can't go to sleep to save me,--and honestly, I am +scared to death." + +This brought Carol forth, and with warm and sympathetic hospitality she +turned back the covers at the foot of the bed and said: + +"Yes, come right in." + +David nudged her remindingly with his foot. "Since there are two of +you to protect each other," he said, laughing, "suppose you go in to +Carol's bed, and leave me my cot in peace." + +This Carol flatly refused to do. If Miss Landbury was willing to share +the foot of David's cot, she was more than welcome. But if she meant +to stand on ceremony and go into that awful big black room without a +minister, she could go by herself, that was all. Carol lay down +decidedly, and considered the subject closed. + +"I don't want to sleep," said Miss Landbury unhappily. "I am not +sleepy. I just want a place to sit, where I--I won't keep seeing +things." + +"Turn on the light, Carol," said David. "You ought to be ashamed of +yourselves, both of you." + +"That's all right," defended Carol. "You are a preacher, and ghosts +don't bother--" + +"Don't say ghosts," chattered Miss Landbury. + +"Well, what is the plan of procedure?" inquired David patiently. "Are +you going to turn my cot into a boarding-house? You girls stay here, +and I will go in to Carol's bed. Give me my bath robe, honey, and--" + +"Oh, please," gasped Miss Landbury. + +"And leave us on this porch with nothing but screen around us?" +exclaimed Carol. "I am surprised at you, David." + +David turned his face to the wall. "Well, make yourselves comfortable. +Good night, girls." + +The girls stared at each other in the darkness, helplessly, resignedly. +Wasn't that just like a man? + +"I tell you what," said Carol hopefully, "let's bring the mattress and +the blankets from my bed and put them on the floor here beside David, +and we can all sleep nicely right together." + +"Oh, that's lovely," cried Miss Landbury. "You are the dearest thing, +Mrs. Duke." + +Hurriedly, and with bated breath, they raided Carol's bed, tugging the +heavy mattress between them, quietly ignoring the shaking of David's +cot which spoke so loudly of amusement. + +"I'll crawl right in then," said Miss Landbury comfortably. + +"I sleep next to David, if you please," said Carol with quiet dignity. + +Miss Landbury obediently rolled over, and Carol scrambled in beside her. + +"Turn off the light," suggested David. + +"Oh, yes, Miss Landbury, turn it off, will you?" said Carol pleasantly. + +"Who, me?" came the startled voice. "Indeed I won't." + +"David, dearest," pleaded Carol weakly. + +"Go on parade in my pajamas, dear?" he questioned promptly. + +"Let's both go then," compromised Carol, and she and Miss Landbury, +hand in hand, marched like Trojans to the switch in the other room, +Carol clicked the button, and then came a wild and inglorious rush back +to the mattress on the floor. + +"Good night, girls." + +"Good night, David." + +"Good night, Mr. Duke." + +"Good night, Miss Landbury." + +"Good night, Mrs. Duke." + +Then sweet and blessed silence, which lasted for at least five minutes +before there sounded a distinct, persistent rapping on their door. + +Carol and Miss Landbury rushed to the protection of each other's arms, +and before David had time to call, the door opened, the switch clicked +once more, and Gooding, his hair sticking out in every possible +direction, his bath robe flapping ungracefully about his knees, +confronted them. + +"This is a shame," he began ingratiatingly. "I know it. But I've got +to have some one to talk to. I can't go to sleep and-- Heavens, +what's that on the floor?" + +"It is I and my friend, Miss Landbury," said Carol quietly. "We are +having a slumber party." + +"Yes, all party and no slumber," muttered David. + +"Well, I am glad I happened in. I was lonesome off there by myself. +You know you do get sick of being alone all the time. Shove over, old +man, and I'll join the party." + +David looked at him in astonishment. + +"Nothing doing," he said. "This cot isn't big enough for two. Go in +and use Carol's bed if you like." + +"It's too far off," objected Gooding. "Be sociable, Duke." + +"There isn't any mattress there anyhow," said Carol. + +They looked at one another in a quandary. + +"Go on back to bed, Gooding," said David, at last. "This is no time +for conversation." + +Gooding would not hear of it. "Here I am and here I stay," he said +with finality. "I've been seeing white shadows and feeling clammy +fingers all night." + +"Well, what are you going to do? We've got a full house, you can see +that." + +"Go and get your own mattress and blankets and use them on my bed," +urged Carol. + +Miss Landbury turned on her side and closed her eyes. She was taken +care of, she should worry over Mr. Gooding! + +"I don't want to stay in there by myself," said Gooding again. "Isn't +there room out here?" + +"Do you see any?" + +"Well, I'll move in the room with you," volunteered David. + +Miss Landbury sat up abruptly. + +"We won't stay here without you, David," said Carol. + +"I tell you what," said Gooding brightly, "we'll get my mattress and +put it in the room for me, and we'll move David's mattress on Carol's +bed for David, and then we'll move the girls' mattress in on the floor +for them." + +No one offered objections to this arrangement. "Hurry up, then, and +get your mattress," begged Carol. "I am so sleepy." + +"I can't carry them alone through those long dark halls," Gooding +insisted. Miss Landbury would not accompany him without a third party, +Carol flatly refused to leave dear sick David alone in that porch, and +at last in despair David donned his bath robe and the four of them +crossed the wide parlor, traversed the dark hall to Gooding's room and +returned with mattress, pillows and blankets. After a great deal of +panting and pulling, the little party was settled for sleep. + +It must have been an hour later when they were startled into sitting +posture, their hearts in their throats, by piercing screams which rang +out over the mesa, one after another in quick succession. + +"David, David, David," gasped Carol. + +"I'm right here, Carol; we're all right," he assured her quickly. + +Miss Landbury swayed dizzily and fell back, half-conscious, upon the +pillows. Gooding, with one bound, landed on David's bed, nearly +crushing the breath out of that feeble hero of the darkness. + +Lights flashed quickly from tent to tent on the mesa, frightened voices +called for nurses, doors slammed, bells rang, and nurses and porters +rushed to the rescue. + +"Who was it?" "Where was it?" "What is it?" + +"Over here, I think," shouted a man. "Miss Tucker. I called to her +and she did not answer." + +A low indistinct sound, half groan, half sobbing, came from the open +windows of the little tent. And as they drew near, their feet rattling +the dry sand, there came a warning call. + +"A light, a light, a light," begged Miss Tucker. The nurses hesitated, +half frightened, and as they paused they heard a low drip, drip, inside +the tent, each drop emphasized by Miss Tucker's sobs. + +The porter flashed a pocket-light, and they opened the door. Miss +Tucker lay in a huddled heap on her bed, her hands over her face, her +shoulders rising and falling. The nurses shook her sternly. + +"What is the matter with you?" they demanded. + +Finally, she was persuaded to lift her face and mumble an explanation. +"I was asleep, and I heard my name called, and I looked up. There was +a white shadow on the door. I seized my pillow and threw it with all +my might, and there was a loud crash and a roar, and then began that +drip, drip, drip,--oh-h-h!" + +"You silly thing," said Miss Alien. "Of course there was a crash. You +knocked the chimney off your lamp,--that made a crash all right. And +the lamp upset, and it is the kerosene drip, dripping from the table to +the floor. Girls who must have kerosene lamps to heat their curlers +must look for trouble." + +"The white shadow--" protested the girl. + +"Moonshine, of course. Look." Miss Alien pulled the girl to her feet. +"The whole mesa is in white shadow. Run around to the tents, girls," +she said to her assistants, "and tell them Miss Tucker had a bad +dream,--nothing wrong. We will have a dozen bed patients from this +night's foolishness." + +Miss Tucker refused to be left alone and a nurse was detailed to spend +the night with her. + +When the nurses on their rounds reached Miss Landbury's room in the +McCormick Building, they had another fright. The room was empty. The +bed was cold,--had not been occupied for hours, likely. They rushed to +the head nurse, and a wild search was instituted. + +The Dukes' room, Number Six, McCormick, was wrapped in darkness. + +"Don't go near them," Miss Alien said. "Perhaps they did not hear the +noise, and Mr. Duke should not be disturbed." + +So the wild search went on. + +But after a time, a Mexican porter, with a lantern, seeking every nook +and corner, plodded stealthily around a corner of the McCormick. + +He heard a gasp beside him, and turning his lantern he looked directly +into the window, where four white, tense faces peered at him with +staring eyes. He returned their stare, speechlessly. Then he saw Miss +Landbury. + +"Ain't you lost?" he ejaculated. + +Miss Landbury, frightened out of her senses, and not recognizing the +porter in the darkness, shot into her bed on the floor, and David +answered the man's questions. A moment later an outraged matron, +flanked by two nurses, marched in upon them. + +"What is the meaning of this?" they demanded. + +"Search me," said David pleasantly. "Our friends and neighbors got +lonesome in the night and refused to sleep alone and let us rest in +contentment. So they moved in, and here we are." + +Both Gooding and Miss Landbury positively declined to go home alone, +and other nurses were appointed to guard them during the brief +remaining hours of the night. At four o'clock came sleep and silence +and serenity, with Carol on the floor, clutching David's hand, which +even in sleep she did not resign. + +The next morning a huge notice was posted on the bulletin board. + + +"Any one who tells a ghost story, or discusses departed spirits, in +this institution or on the grounds thereof, shall have all privileges +suspended for a period of six weeks. + +"By order of the Superintendent." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +RUBBING ELBOWS + +"Chicago, Illinois. + +"Dearly Beloveds: + +"Nearly I am converted to matrimony as a life career. Almost I feel it +is worth the sacrifice of independence, the death of originality, the +banishment of special friendship, and the monotonous bondage of rigid +routine. + +"I have just come back from Mount Mark, where I had my second visit +with little Julia. She is worth the giving up of anything, and the +enduring of everything. She is marvelous. + +"When I first saw her, just after Aunt Grace brought her home,--I think +I told you that I went without a new pair of lovely gray shoes at ten +dollars a pair in order to go to Mount Mark to meet her,--she was very +sweet, and all that, but when they are so rosily new they are more like +scientific curiosities than literary inspirations. But I have met her +again, and I am everlastingly converted to the domestic enslavement of +women. One little Julia is worth it. So as soon as I find the +husband, I am going to cultivate my eleven children. You remember that +was the career I picked out in the days of my tender youth. + +"Her face is big and round and white, and her eyes are bluer than any +summer sky the poets could rave about. Her lips are the original +Cupid's bow,--in fact, Julia's lips have about convinced me that Cupid +must have been a woman, certainly he could ask no more deadly weapon +for shattering the hearts of men. Her hair is comical. It is yellow +gold, but it sticks straight out in every direction. It is the most +aggravatingly, irresistibly defiant hair you ever saw in your life. It +makes you kiss it, and brush it, and soak it in water, and shake Julia +for having it, and then fall in love with her all over again. + +"She is just beginning to talk. When I arrived the whole family was +assembled to do me honor, Prudence and Fairy, Lark and all the babies. +Julia seemed to resent her temporary eclipse in the limelight. She +crowed in a compelling way, and when I advanced to bow reverently +before her, she pointed a fat, accusing finger at me, and said, 'Who is +'at?' Her very first word,--and no presidential message ever provoked +half the storm of approval her little phrase called forth. We laughed, +and kissed each other, and begged her to say it again, and Prudence +said 'Oh, if Carol could have heard that,' and then we all rushed off +and cried and scolded each other for being so silly, and Julia +screamed. Oh, it was a formal afternoon reception all right. + +"And I am putting a little three-line ad in the morning _Tribune_. +'Young, accomplished, attractive lady without means, of strong domestic +tendencies, desires a husband, eugenic, rich, good looking. Object +matrimony.' + +"Of course I know that I repeat myself. But if you don't say 'Object +matrimony,' some men wouldn't catch the point. + +"And so you are out of the San and keeping house again. A brand-new +honeymoon, of course, and cooing doves, and chiming bells, and all the +rest of it. When the rest of us back here write to each other, we say +at the end, 'Carol is well and David is better.' It conveys the idea +of a Thanksgiving service and a hallelujah chorus. It means Good +night, God bless you, and Merry Christmas, all in one. + +"By the way, do you remember William Canfield Brewer, the original +advertiser who got moved out when I moved in? Well, between you and +me, almost for a while I did begin to see some charms in matrimony. He +came again, and was properly introduced. And took me for a drive,--it +seems he had just collected his salary,--and he came again, and we went +to the park, and he came again. And that was when I began to see the +halo around the wedding bells. One night he was telling me his +experiences in saving money,--uproariously funny, my dear, for he never +could save more than five dollars a month, and ran in debt fifteen +dollars to encompass it. He said: + +"'My wife used to say it was harder work for me to carry my salary home +from the office than to earn it right at the start.' + +"I laughed,--I thought of course it was a joke. I guess the laugh was +revealing, for he turned around suddenly and said: + +"'You knew I was married, didn't you, Connie?' First time he ever +called me Connie. + +"Well, the halo vanished like a flash and hasn't got back yet. + +"I said, 'No, I didn't know it.' + +"'Why, everybody knows it,' he expostulated. + +"'I did not.' + +"'We are devoted to each other,' he said, laughing lightly, 'but we +find our devotion wears better at long distance. So she lives wherever +I do not, and we get along like birdies in their little nest. I +haven't seen her for two years.' + +"Then he went on with his financial experiences, evidently calling the +subject closed. + +"When he started home, he said, 'Well, what shall we do Sunday?' + +"'Nothing, together. You are married.' + +"'Well, I don't get any fun out of it, do I?' + +"'No, maybe not. But I have a hunch I won't get much fun out of it, +either.' + +"'I forgot about the parsonage.' He considered a moment. 'All right, +I'll hunt her up and have her get a divorce,' he volunteered cheerfully. + +"He was very puzzled and perplexed when I vetoed that. He says I can't +have the true artistic temperament, I am so ghastly religious. At any +rate, I have not seen him since, and have not answered his notes. Now, +don't weep over me, Carol, and think my young affections were trifled +with. They weren't--because they didn't have time. But I am not +taking any chances. + +"Henceforth I get my sentiment second hand. + +"The girl at our table, Emily Jarvis, who is a spherist, attributes all +the good fortune that has come to you and David to the fact that at +heart you are in harmony with the spheres. You don't know what a +spherist is, and neither do I. But it includes a lot of musical terms, +and metaphors, and is something like Christian Science and New Thought, +only more so. Spherists believe in a life of harmony, and somehow or +other they get the spheres back of it, and believe in immaterial +matter, and that all physical manifestations are negative, and the only +positive, or affirmative, is 'harmony.' + +"Emily is very, very pretty, and that sort of excuses her for digging +into the intricacies of spheral harmonies. Even such unmitigated +nonsense as sphere control, spirit harmony, and mental submission, +assumes a semblance of dignity when expounded by her cherry-red lips. +She speaks vacuously of being under world-dominance, and has absolutely +no physical consciousness. She says so herself. If she ignores her +tempting curves and matchless softness, she is the only one in the +house who does. In fact, it is only the attraction of her very +physical being, which she denies, that lends a species of sense to her +harmonious converse. She and I are great friends. She says I am a +harmonizer on the inside. + +"She is engaged to a man across the hall, Rodney Carter. She has the +room next to mine. His voice is deep and carrying, hers is clear and +ringing, and the walls are thin. So I have benefited by most of their +courtship. But the course of true love, you know. She has tried +spiritually and harmoniously to convert him to immaterialism, but +Rodney is very conscious of his physical, muscular, material being, and +he hoots at her derisively, but tenderly. + +"'Oh, cut it out, Emily,' he said, one evening. 'We can only afford +one spirit in the family. One of us has got to earn a living. +Spirits, it seems, require plenty of steak and potatoes to keep them in +harmony. I could not conscientiously lead you to the altar, even a +spheral altar, if I were not prepared to pay house rent and coal bills. +One's enough, you can be our luxury.' + +"'But, Rod, if you are in harmony you can earn our living so much more +easily. You must get above this notion of material necessities. There +are no such things.' + +"'I don't believe it,' he interrupted coldly. 'There are material +necessities. You are one of them. The most necessary in the world. +You may be harmonious, but you are material, too. That is why I love +you. I couldn't be crazy about a melodious breath of air ghosting +around the back yard. And I am not strong for disembodied minds, +either. They make me nervous. They sound like skulls and cross-bones, +and whitening skeletons to me. I love you, your arms, your face, all +of you. It may not be proper to talk about it, but I love it. Can you +imagine our minds embracing each other, thrilling at the contact,--oh, +it's tommyrot. A fool--' + +"'It may be tommyrot to you, Rod,' said Emily haughtily. 'But the +inspiration of the matchless minds of the mystic men of the Orient--' + +"'Inspiration of idiocy. What do mystic men of the Orient know about +warm-blooded Americans, dead in love? I might kiss the air until I was +blue in the face,--nothing to it,--but let me kiss you, and we are both +aquiver, and--' + +"'Rodney Carter, don't you dare say such things,' she cried furiously. +'It is insulting. Besides it has nothing to do with it. It isn't so +anyhow. And what is more--' + +"'There's nothing mysterious about us. Let the old Chinesers pad +around in their bare feet and naked souls if they want to. We are +children of light, we are, creatures of earth, earthly. We're--' + +"'Oh, I can't argue with you, Rod,' she began confusedly. + +"'I don't want you to. Kiss me. One kiss, Emily mine, will confound +the whole united order of Maudlin Mystics. I am willing to risk all +the anathemas contained in an inharmonious sphere for one touch of your +lips. Go ahead with your sacred doctrine of universal and spiritual +imbecility, but soften its harshness with worldly, physical, +sin-suggesting kisses, and I am in tune with the infinite.' + +"Then Emily broke the engagement, and Rodney, after relieving himself +of more heretical opinions of spiritual simplicity and mystic madness, +stalked unmelodiously away, slamming her door, and his own after it. + +"What I didn't hear of it myself, Emily told me afterward, for we are +very confidential. + +"The whole house was intensely interested in the dénouement. Rodney +sat stolidly at his table, crunching his food, gazing reproachfully and +adoringly at Emily's proudly lifted head. Emily, for all her +unconsciousness of physical necessity, lost her appetite, and grew +pale. The mental and physical may have nothing in harmony, as she +says, but certainly her mental upheaval resulting from the lack of +Rodney's demonstrations of love, affected her physical appetite as well +as her complexion. + +"When Rodney met Emily in the halls, he made her life miserable. + +"'Good morning, Long Sin Coo.' 'Hello, Ghostie.' 'Hey, Spirit, may I +borrow a nip of brandy to make an ethereal cocktail for my imaginary +nightcap?' + +"And he opened his transom and took to talking to himself out loud. So +Emily decided to close her transom. It stuck. She asked my +assistance, and we balanced a chair on a box and I held it steady while +she got up to oil the transom. But first she would lose her balance, +then she would drop the oil can, then the box would slip. She couldn't +reach the joints, or whatever you call them, and when she stood on +tiptoe she lost her balance. Then she got her finger in the joint and +pinched it, emitting a most material squeal as she did so. Happening +to glance through the transom, she saw Rodney standing below in the +hall, grinning at her with inharmonious, unspiritual, unsentimental +glee, and she tugged viciously at the transom, banging herself off the +box, upsetting the chair, and squirting oil all over me as she fell. + +"Rodney rushed to the rescue, but Emily was already scrambling into +sitting posture, scared, bruised and furious. She had torn her dress, +twisted her ankle, bumped her head and scratched her face. And Rodney +had seen it. + +"Ignoring me, Rodney sat down on the box and looked her over with cold +professional eyes. + +"'My little seeker after truth,' he said, 'you are a mystic combination +of spirit and mind. You are in tune with the infinite spheres. You +are a breath in a universal breeze. Therefore you feel no +inconvenience. Get up, my child, and waltz an Oriental hesitation down +the hall and convince yourself everlastingly that you are in truth only +a mysterious unit in a universe of harmonic chords.' + +"Emily dropped her head on the oil can, lifted up her voice and wept. +And Rodney, with an exclamation that a minister's daughter can not +repeat, took the unhappy mystic into his arms. + +"'Sweetheart, forgive me. I am a brute, I know. Knock me on the head +with the oil can, won't you? Don't cry, sweetheart,--Emily, don't.' + +"Finally Emily spoke. 'You are as mean and hateful as you can be, +Rodney Carter,' she said, burrowing more deeply into his shoulder. +'And I despise you. And I am going to marry you, too, just to get even +with you. Give me back my engagement ring.' Rodney ecstatically did. +The touch of her lovely, material body must have thrilled him, for he +kissed her all over the top of the head, her face being hidden. + +"I stood my ground. I was looking for literary material since I never +have a chance to make romance for myself. Emily spoke again. + +"'I know now that the Vast Infinite intends us for each other. I have +been dwelling in Perfect Harmony the last four days, trusting the All +Perfection to bring us together again. So I know that our union was +decreed from the foundation by the Universal sphere. I tell you, Rod, +you can't get ahead of the Infinite.' + +"Then I went to my own room, and they never knew when I left,--they +didn't even remember I had been there. But as I came back from +answering the phone at eleven o'clock, I met Rod in the hall. He had +some books in his hand. He ducked them behind him when he saw me. I +reached for them sternly, and he pulled them out rather sheepishly. I +read the titles, 'Spheral Mentality,' 'Infinite Spheres,' 'Spheral +Harmony.' + +"'Made me promise to read 'em, too,' he confided in a whisper. 'And by +George, she is worth it.' + +"Oh, I tell you, Carol, these boarding-houses are chuck full of +literary material. Really, I am developing. I know it. I feel it +every day. I rub elbows with every one I meet, and I like it. I don't +care if they aren't 'My Kind' at all. I am learning to reach down to +the same old human nature back of all the different kinds. Isn't that +growth? + +"You asked about the millionaire's son. He still comes to see me every +once in a while. He says he can't promise to let me spend all of his +millions for missions if I marry him,--says he has too much fun +spending them on himself,--but he insists that I may do whatever I like +with him. Isn't it too bad I can't feel called upon to take him in +hand? + +"Anyhow, if I had a million dollars do you know what I would do? Buy +an orphans' home, and dump 'em all in a big ship and go sailing, +sailing over the bounding main. I'd kidnap Julia and take her along. + +"He was here last week, and sent his love to you, and best wishes to +David. He told me to ask particularly how your complexion gets along +out in the sunny mesa land. + +"I want to see you. I am saving up my pennies religiously, and when +they have multiplied sufficiently I am coming. Thanks for the +invitation. + +"Lovingly as always, + +"Connie." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +QUIESCENT + +Long but not dreary weeks followed one after the other. In the little +'dobe cottage, situated far up the hill on the mesa, Carol and David +lived a life of passionless routine. Carol was busy, hence she had the +easier part. David's breakfast on a tray at seven, nourishment at +nine, luncheon at twelve, nourishment at three, dinner at six, +nourishment at nine,--with medicines to be administered, temperatures +to be taken, alcohol rubs to be given at frequent intervals,--this was +Carol's day. And at odd hours the house must be kept clean and +sanitary, dishes washed, letters written. And whenever the moment +came, David was waiting for her to come and read aloud to him. + +When a man of action, of energy, of boundless enthusiasm is tossed +aside, strapped with iron bands to a little white cot on a screened +porch with a view of a sunburned mesa reaching off to the mountains, +unless he is of the biggest, and finest, his personality can not +survive. David's did. Months of helplessness lay behind him, a life +of inaction lay before him. He could walk a half block or so, he could +go driving with kind neighbors who invited him, but every avenue of +service was closed, every form of expression denied him. He had hoped +to live a full, good, glowing life. And there he lay. + +It is not work which tells the caliber of man, but idleness. + +Month followed month, now there were bitter winds and blinding snows, +now the hot sun scorched the yellow sand of the mesa, now the mountains +were high white clouds of snow, now the fields of green alfalfa showed +on a few distant foothills, and the canyons were green with pines. +Otherwise there was no change. + +But the summers in New Mexico were crushingly, killingly hot, and so +the sturdy-hearted health chasers left the 'dobe cottage, packed their +few possessions and moved up into Colorado. And while David waited +patiently in the hotel, Carol set forth alone and found a small cottage +with sleeping porch, cleanly and nicely furnished, rent reasonable, no +objections to health seekers. And she and David moved into their new +home. + +And the old life of Albuquerque began again, meals, nourishments and +medicines alternating through the days. + +In the summer of the third year, Carol wrote to Connie: + + +"Haven't you been saving up long enough? We do so want to see you, and +Colorado is beautiful. We haven't the long mesa stretching up to the +sunny slopes as it was in New Mexico, but from our tiny cottage we can +look right over the city to the mountains on the other side, and the +sunny slopes are there. So please count your pennies. They give +summer rates you know." + + +Connie went down to Mount Mark the night she received that letter, +spending half the night in the train, and talked it over with the +family. Without a dissenting voice, they said she ought to go. Ten +days later, Carol and David were exulting over Connie's letter. + + +"Yes, thank you, I am coming. In fact, I was only waiting for the word +from you. So I shall start on Monday next, C., B. & Q., reaching +Denver Tuesday afternoon at 2:30. Be sure and meet me. + +"I nearly lost my job, too. I went to Mr. Carver and said I wanted a +vacation. He said 'All right, when and how long?' I said, 'Beginning +next Monday.' He nodded. 'To continue six weeks.' He nearly died. +He asked what kind of an institution for the feeble-minded I thought +this was. I said I hadn't solved it yet. He reminded me that I have +already had one week's vacation, and three days on two different +occasions. He said he hired people to work, not to visit their +relatives at his expense. He said I had one week of vacation coming. +And I interrupted to say I didn't expect any salary during that time, I +just wanted him to hold my position for me. He said he was astonished +I didn't ask him to discontinue publication during my absence. Finally +he said I might have one week on full pay, and one week without pay, +and that was enough for a senator. + +"So I went to my machine and wrote out a very literary resignation +which I handed to him. I know the business now, and I have met a lot +of publishers, so I was safe in resigning. I knew I could get another +position in three days. He tore the resignation up, and said he wished +I could outgrow my childishness. + +"Before luncheon, he said he had a good idea. We were away behind in +clippings for filling and he suggested that I take a big bundle of +exchanges with me, and clip while I vacated. Also I could doubtless +find the time to write a thousand or so words a week and send it in, +and then I might go on full pay for six weeks. Figuratively I fell +upon his neck and kissed him,--purely figuratively, for his wife has a +most annoying way of dropping in at unexpected hours,--and I am getting +the most charming new clothes made up, so David will think I am +prettier than you. Now don't withdraw the invitation, for I shall come +anyhow." + + +Carol considered herself well schooled in the art of emotional +restraint, but when she finished reading those blessed words--which to +her ears, so hungry for the voices of home, sounded like an extract +from the beatitudes--she put her head on the back of David's hand and +gulped audibly. And she admitted that she must certainly have cried, +save for the restraining influence of the knowledge that crying made +her nose red. + +In the meantime, back in Iowa, the Starrs in their separate households, +were running riot. Never was there to be such a wonderful visit for +anybody in the world. Jerry and Prudence bundled up their family, and +got into a Harmer Six and drove down to Mount Mark, where they +ensconced themselves in the family home and announced their intention +of staying until Connie had gone. As soon as Fairy heard that, she +hastened home too, full of the glad tiding that she had found a boy she +wanted to adopt at last. Lark and Jim neglected the farm shamefully, +and all the women of the neighborhood were busy making endless little +odds and ends of dainty clothing for Carol, who had lived ready-made +during the three years of their domicile in the shadowland of sunshine. + +A hurried letter was despatched to David's doctor, asking endless +questions, pledging him to secrecy, and urging him to wire an answer C. +O. D. Little Julia was instructed as to her mother's charms and her +father's virtues far beyond the point of her comprehension. And Jerry +spent long hours with Connie in the car, explaining its mechanism, and +making her a really proficient driver, although she had been very +skilful behind the wheel before. Also, he wrote long letters to his +dealer in Denver, giving him such a host of minute instructions that +the bewildered agent thought the "old gent in Des Moines had gone daft." + +Carol wrote every day, pitifully, jubilantly, begging Connie to hurry +and get started, admonishing her to take a complete line of snapshots +of every separate Starr, to count each additional gray hair in darling +father's head, and to locate every separate dimple in Julia's fat +little body. And every letter was answered by every one of the family, +who interrupted themselves to urge everybody else not to give anything +away, and to be careful what they said. And they all cried over Julia, +and over Carol's letters, and even cried over the beautiful assortment +of clothes they had accumulated for Carol, using Lark as a sewing model. + +Twenty minutes after the train left Mount Mark, came a telegram from +Carol: "Did she get off all right? Did anything happen? Wire +immediately." And the whole family rushed off to separate rooms to +weep all over again. + +But Aunt Grace walked slowly about the house, gathering up blocks, and +headless dolls, and tailless dogs, and laying them carefully away in a +drawer until little Julia should return to visit the family in Mount +Mark. + +For the doctor had said it was all right to restore the baby to her +heart-hungering parents in the mountain land. Carol was fairly strong, +David was fairly well. The baby being healthy, and the parents being +sanitary, the danger to its tiny lungs was minimized,--and by all means +send them the baby. + +So Julia was arrayed in matchless garments destined to charm the eyes +of the parents, who, in their happiness, would never realize it had any +clothes on at all, and Connie set out upon her journey with the little +girl in her charge. + +On Tuesday morning, Carol was a mental wreck. She forgot to salt +David's eggs, and gave him codeine for his cough instead of tonic +tablets for his appetite. She put no soda in the hot cakes, and made +his egg-nog of buttermilk. She laughed out loud when David was asking +the blessing, and when he wondered how tall Julia was she burst out +crying, and then broke two glasses in her energetic haste to cover up +the emotional outbreak. Altogether it was a most trying morning. She +was ready to meet the train exactly two hours and a half before it was +due, and she combed David's hair three times, and whenever she couldn't +sit still another minute she got up and dusted the railing around the +porch, brushed off his lounging jacket, and rearranged the roses in the +vase on his table. + +"David, I honestly believe I was homesick. I didn't know it before. I +got along all right before I knew she was coming, but now I want to +jump up and down and shout. Why on earth didn't she take an earlier +train and save me this agony?" + +At last, in self-defense, David insisted that she should start, and, +too impatient to wait for cars and to endure their stopping at every +corner, she walked the two miles to the station, arriving breathless, +perspiring and flushed. Even then she was thirty minutes ahead of +time, but finally the announcer called the train, and Carol stationed +herself at the exit close to the gate to watch the long line of +travelers coming up from the subway. No one noticed the slender woman +standing so motionless in the front of the waiting line, but the angels +in Heaven must have marked the tumult throbbing in her heart, and the +happiness stinging in her bright eyes. + +Then--she leaned forward. That was Connie of course,--she caught her +breath, and tears started to her eyes. Yes, that was Connie, that tall +slim girl with the shining face,--and oh, kind and merciful Providence, +that must be her own little Julia trudging along beside her, the fat +white face turning eagerly from side to side, confident she was going +to know that mother on sight, just because they had told her a mother +was what most belonged to her. + +Carol twisted her hands together, wringing her gloves into a shred. +She moistened her dry lips, and blinked desperately to crowd away those +tears. Yes, it was Connie, the little baby sister she used to tease so +mercilessly, and Julia, the little rosebud baby she had wanted so many +nights. She could not bear to let those ugly tears dim her sight for +one minute, she dare not miss one second of that feast to her hungering +eyes. + +The two sisters who had not seen each other for nearly four years, +looked into each other's faces, Carol's so pleadingly hungry for the +vision of one of her own, Connie's so strongly sweet and reassuring. +Instinctively the others drew away, and the little group, the +red-capped attendant trailing in the rear, stood alone. + +"Julia, this is your mama," said Connie, and the wide blue eyes were +lifted wonderingly into those other wide blue eyes so like them,--the +mother eyes that little Julia had never known. Carol, with an +inarticulate sob dropped on her knees and gathered her baby into her +arms. + +[Illustration: Carol, with an inarticulate sob, gathered her baby in +her arms.] + +Julia, who had been told it was to be a time of laughter, or rejoicing, +of utter gaiety, marveled at the pain in the face of this mother and +patted away the tears with chubby hands, laughing with excitement. By +the time Carol could be drawn from her wild caressing of the rosebud +baby, she was practically helpless. It was Connie who marshaled them +outside, tipped the red-capped attendant, waved a hand to the driver +waiting across the street, directed him about the baggage, and saw to +getting Carol inside and seated. + +Only once Carol came back to earth, "Mercy, Connie, taxis cost a +fortune out here." + +"This isn't a taxi," said Connie, "it is just a car." + +But Carol did not even hear her answer, for Julia, enchanted at being +so lavishly enthroned in the attention of any one, lifted her lips for +another noisy kiss, and Carol was deaf to the rest of the world. + +Her one idea now was to get this precious, wonderful, matchless +creature home to David as quickly as possible. + +"Hurry, hurry," she begged. "Make him go faster, Connie." + +"He can't," said Connie, laughing. "Do you want to get us pinched for +speeding the first thing?" + +And Julia, catching the word, immediately pinched both her auntie and +her mama, to show them she knew what they were talking about. And +Carol was stricken dumb at the wonderful, unbelievable cleverness of +this remarkable infant. + +When the car stopped before her cottage, she forgot her manners as +hostess, she forgot the baggage, and the driver, and even sister +Connie. She just grabbed Julia in her arms and rushed into the +cottage, back through the kitchen to the sleeping porch in the rear, +and stood gloating over her husband. + +"Look, look, look," she chanted. "It is Julia, she is ours, she is +here." David sat up in bed, his breath coming quickly. + +Carol, like a goddess of plenty dispensing royal favors, dumped the +smiling child on the bed and David promptly seized her. + +By this time Connie had made her arrangements with the driver, and +escorted herself calmly into the house, trailing the family to the +porch, gently readjusting Julia who was nearly turned upside down by +the fervor of her papa and mama, and informed David that she wanted to +shake hands. Thus recalled, David did shake hands, and looked pleased +when she commented on how well he was looking. But in her heart, +Connie, the young, untouched by sorrow, alive with the passion for +work, was crying out in resentment. Big, buoyant, active David reduced +to this. Carol, radiant, glowing, gleaming Carol,--this subdued gentle +woman with the thin face and dark circles beneath her eyes. "Oh, it is +wrong," thought Connie,--though she still smiled, for hearts are +marvelous creations, holding such sorrow, and hiding it well. + +When their wraps were removed, Julia sat on David's table, with David's +hand squeezing her knees, and Carol clutching her feet, and with +Connie, big and bright, sitting back and watching quietly, and telling +them startling and imaginary tales of the horrors she had encountered +on the train. David was entranced, and Carol was enchanted. This was +their baby, this brilliant, talented, beautiful little fairy,--and +Carol alternately nudged David's arm and tapped his shoulder to remind +him of the dignity of his fatherhood. + +But in one little hour, she remembered that after all, David was her +job, and even crowy, charming little Julia must not crowd him aside, +and she hastened to prepare the endless egg-nog. Then from the kitchen +window she saw the auto, still standing before their door. + +"Oh, my gracious!" she gasped. "We forgot that driver." + +She got her purse and hurried outside, but the driver was gone, and +only the car remained. Carol was too ignorant of motor-cars to observe +that it was a Harmer Six, she only wondered how on earth he could go +off and forget his car. She carried the puzzle to David, and he could +not solve it. + +"Are you able to walk at all, David?" asked Connie. + +"Yes, indeed," he said, sitting up proudly, "I can walk half a block if +there are no steps to climb." + +"Come out in front and we'll investigate," she suggested. + +When they reached the car, and it took time for David walked but +slowly, he promptly looked at the name plate. + +"Harmer Six," he read. "Why this is Jerry's kind of car." + +"Yes, it is his kind," explained Connie. "He and Prudence sent this +one out for you and Carol and Julia. They have just established an +agency here, and he has made arrangements with the dealer to take +entire care of it for you, sending it up when you want it, calling for +it when you are through, keeping it in repair, and providing gas and +oil,--and the bill goes to Jerry in Des Moines." + +One would have thought enough happiness had come to the health seekers +for one day. Carol would have sworn she could not possibly be one +little bit gladder than she had been before, with David sick, of +course. And now came this! How David would love it. She looked at +her husband, happily pottering around the engine, turning bolts and +buttons as men will do, and she looked at Julia, proudly viewing her +own physical beauties in the shining body of the car, and she looked at +Connie with the charm and glory of the parsonage life clinging about +her like a halo. Then she turned and walked into the house without a +word. Understandingly, David and Connie allowed her to pass inside +without comment. + +"Connie," said David when they were alone, "I believe God will give you +a whole chest of stars for your crown for the sweetness that brought +you out here. Carol was sick for something of home. I wanted her to +go back for a visit but she would not leave me. But she was sick. She +needed some outside life. I can give her nothing, I take my life from +her. And she needed fresh inspiration, and you have brought it." +David was silent a moment. "Connie, whenever things do get shadowy for +us, the clouds are pulled back so we may see the sun shining on the +slopes more brilliantly than ever." + +Turning quickly she followed his gaze, and a softness came into her +eyes as she looked. Truly the darkness of the canyons seemed only to +emphasize the brightness of the ridges above them. + +She laid her hand on David's arm, that strong, shapely, capable hand, +and whispered, "David, if I might have what you and Carol have, if I +could be happy in the way that you are, I think I should be willing to +lose the sunshine on the slopes and dwell entirely in the darkness of +the canyons. But I haven't got it, I don't know how to get it." Then +she added slowly, "But I suppose, having what you two have, one could +not lose the sunshine on the slopes." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +RE-CREATION + +Were you ever wakened in the early morning by the clear whistle of a +meadow-lark over your head, with the rich scent of the mountain pines +coming to you on the pure light air of a new day, with the sun wrapping +the earth in misty blue, and staining the mountains with rose? To +David, lying on his cot in the open air, every dawning morning was a +new creation, a brand new promise of hope. To be sure, the enchantment +was like to be broken in a moment, still the call of the morning had +fired his blood, and given him a new impetus,--impetus, not for work, +not for ambition, not for activity, just an impetus to lie quietly on +his cot and be happy. + +The birds were shortly rivaled by the sweeter, dearer, not less +heavenly voice of little Julia, calling an imaginary dog, counting her +mother's eyes, or singing to herself an original improvise upon the +exalted subject of two brown bugs. And a moment later, came the sound +of rapturous kissing, and Carol was awake. And before the smile of +content left his face, she stood in the doorway, her face flushed with +sleep, her hair tumbling about her face, a warm bath robe drawn about +her. Always her greeting was the same. + +"Good morning, David. Another glorious day, isn't it?" + +Then Julia came splashing out in Aunt Connie's new rose-colored boudoir +slippers, with Connie in hot barefooted pursuit. And the new day had +begun, the riotous, delirious day, with Julia at the helm. + +Connie had amusing merry tales to tell of her work, and her friends, +and the family back home. And time had to be crowded a little to make +room for long drives in the Harmer Six. Carol promptly learned to +drive it herself, and David, tentatively at first, talked of trying his +own hand on it. And finally he did, and took a boyish satisfaction in +his ability to manipulate the gears. Oh, perhaps it made him a little +more short of breath, and he found that his nerves were more highly +keyed than in the old time days,--anyhow he came home tired, hungry, +ready to sleep. + +Even the occasional windy or cloudy days, when the Harmer Six was left +wickedly wasting in the garage, had their attractions. How the girls +did talk! Sometimes, when they had finished the dishes, Carol, intent +on Connie's story, stood patiently rubbing the dish pan a hundred, a +thousand times, until David would call pleadingly, "Girls, come out +here and talk." Then, recalled in a flash, they rushed out to him, +afraid the endless chatter would tire him, but happy that he liked to +hear it. + +"Speaking of lovers," Connie would begin brightly,--for like so many of +the very charming girls who see no charm in matrimony, most of Connie's +conversation dealt with that very subject. And it was what her +auditors liked best of all to hear. Why, sometimes Carol would +interrupt right in the middle of some account of her success on the +papers, to ask if a certain man was married, or young, or good looking. +After all, getting married was the thing. And Connie was not +sufficiently enthusiastic about that. Writing stories was very well, +and poems and books had their place no doubt, but Shakespeare himself +never turned out a masterpiece to compare with Julia sitting plump and +happy in the puddle of mud to the left of the kitchen door, her round +pink face streaked and stained and grimy. + +"I really did decide to get married once," Connie began confidentially, +when they were comfortably settled on the porch by David's cot. "It +was when I was in Mount Mark one time. Julia was so sweet I thought I +could not possibly wait another minute. I kept thinking over the men +in my mind, and finally I decided to apply my business training to the +problem. Do you remember Dan Brooks?" + +Carol nodded instantly. She remembered all the family beaus from the +very beginning. "A doctor now, isn't he? Lives next door to the folks +in Mount Mark. I used to think you would marry him, Connie. He is +well off, and nice, too. And a doctor is very dignified." + +Connie agreed warmly, and David laughed. All the Starrs had been so +sensible in discussing the proper qualifications for lovers, and all +had impulsively married whenever the heart dictated. + +"Yes, that's Dan. Did you ever notice that cluster of lilac bushes +outside our dining-room window? Maybe you used it in your own beau +days. It is a lovely place to sit, very effective, for Dan's study +overlooks it from the up-stairs, and their dining-room from +down-stairs. So whenever I want to lure Dan I sit under the lilacs. +He can't miss me. + +"One day I planted myself out there with a little red note-book and the +telephone directory. Dan and his mother were eating luncheon. I was +absorbed in my work, but just the same I had a wary eye on Dan. He +shoved back his chair, and got up. Then he kissed his mother lightly +and came out the side door, whistling. I looked up, closed the +directory, snapped the lock on my note-book, and took the pencil out of +my mouth. I said, 'Hello, Danny.' Then I shoved the books behind me. + +"'Hello, Connie.--No, I wouldn't invite Fred Arnold if I were you. It +would just encourage him to try, try again, and it would mean an +additional wound in the heart for him. Leave him out.' + +"I frowned at him. 'I am not doing a party,' I said coldly. + +"'No? Then why the directory? You are not reading it for amusement, +are you? You are not--' + +"'Never mind, Dan. It is my directory, and if I wish to look up my +friends--' + +"'Look up your friends!' Dan was plainly puzzled. 'None of my +business, of course, but it is a queer notion. And why the tablet? +Are you taking notes?' He reached for the notebook with the easy +familiarity that people use when they have known you all your life. I +shoved it away and flushed a little. I can flush at a second's notice, +Carol. It is very effective in a crisis. I'll teach you, if you like. +It only requires a little imagination." + +Carol hugged her knees and beamed at Connie. "Go on," she begged. +"How did it turn out?" + +"'Well,' he said, 'you must be writing a book. Are you looking up +heroes? Mount Mark isn't tremendously rich in hero material. But here +am I, tall, handsome, courageous.' + +"I sniffed, then I smiled, then I giggled. 'Yes,' I agreed, 'I was +looking up heroes, but not for a book.' + +"'What for then?' + +"'For me.' + +"'For you?' + +"'Yes, for me. I want a hero of my own. Dan,' I said in an earnest +impressive manner, 'you may think this is very queer, and not very +modest, but I need a confidant, and Aunt Grace would think I am crazy. +Cross your heart you'll never tell?' + +"Dan obediently crossed, and I drew out the books. + +"'I am going to get married.' + +"Dan pulled his long members together with a jerk and sat up. He was +speechless. + +"I nodded affirmatively. 'Yes. Does it surprise you?' + +"'Who to?' he demanded furiously and ungrammatically. + +"'I haven't just decided,' I vouchsafed reluctantly. + +"'You haven't--great Scott, are they coming around in droves like +that?' He glanced down the street as if he expected to see a galaxy of +admirers heaving into view. 'I knew there were a few hanging around, +but there aren't many fellows in Mount Mark.' + +"'No, not many, and they aren't coming in droves. I am going after +them.' + +"Having known me almost since my toothless days, Dan knew he could only +wait. + +"'I am getting pretty old, you know.' + +"He looked at me critically and gave my age a smile. + +"'I am very much in favor of marriage, and families, and such things. +I want one myself. And if I don't hurry up, I'll have to adopt it. +There's an age limit, you know.'" + +"'Age limit,' he exploded. + +"'I think I shall have a winter wedding, a white one, along in January. +Not in December, it might interfere with my Christmas presents.' + +"'Connie--' + +"'I am going to be very systematic about it. In this note-book I am +making a list of all the nice Mount Markers. I couldn't think of any +myself right offhand, so I had to resort to the directory. Now I shall +go through the list and grade them. Some are black-marked right at the +start. Those that sound reasonable, I shall try out. The one that +makes good, I shall marry. I've got to hurry, too. My vacation only +lasts a week, and I have to work on my trousseau a little. It's lots +of fun. I am perfectly fascinated with it.' + +"Dan had nothing to say. He looked at me with that blankness of +incomprehension that must be maddening in a man after you are married +to him." + +Carol squeezed David's hand and gurgled rapturously. This was her +great delight, to get Connie talking, so cleverly, of her variegated +and cosmopolitan love-affairs. + +"'I suppose you are surprised,' I said kindly, 'and naturally you think +it rather queer. You mustn't let any one know. Mount Mark could never +comprehend such modernity. I feel very advanced, myself. I want to +spring up and shout, "Votes for Women" or "Up with the Red Flag," or +"Villa Forever," or something else outspoken and bloody.'" + +Carol and David shook with laughter, silently, not to interrupt the +story. + +"'How about love, Connie?' suggested Dan, meekly. + +"'I believe in love, absolutely. That is my strongest point. As soon +as I find a champion, I am going to concentrate all my energy and all +my talent on falling dead in love with him.' + +"'Have you found any eligibles yet?' + +"'Yes, Harvey Grath, and Robert Ingersoll, and Cal Keith, and Doctor +Meredith.' + +"'Where do I come in?' + +"'Oh, we know each other too well,' I said with discouraging +promptness. 'The real fascination in getting married is the novelty of +it. There wouldn't be any novelty in marrying you. I know as much +about you as your mother does. Eggs fried over, meat well done, no +gravy, breakfast in bed Sunday morning, sporting pages first,--it would +be like marrying father. Now I must get to work, Danny, so you'd +better trot along and not bother me. And you must keep away evenings +unless you have a date in advance. You might interrupt something if +you bob in unannounced.' + +"'May I have a date this evening?' he asked with high hauteur. + +"'So sorry, Danny, I have a date with Cal Keith.' I consulted the +note-book. 'To-morrow night Doctor Meredith. Thursday night, Buddy +Johnson.' + +"'Friday then?' + +"'Yes, Friday.' + +"The next time he saw me, he said first thing, which proved he had been +thinking seriously, 'I suppose it will be the end of my hanging around +here if you get married.' + +"Evidently he thought I would contradict him. But I didn't. + +"'I am afraid so,' I admitted. 'My husband will be so fearfully +jealous! He will be so crazy about me that he won't allow another man +to come within a mile of me.' + +"Dan snorted. 'You don't know how crazy he'll be about you.' + +"'Oh, yes, I do, for when I pick him out, I'll see to that part of it. +That will be easy. It is picking him out that is hard.' + +"You know how Dan is, Carol. He is very fond of the girls, especially +me, and he makes love in a sort of semi-fashion, but he never really +wanted to get married. He liked to be a bachelor. He noticed how +other men ran down after marriage, and he didn't want to run down. He +saw how so many girls went to seed after marriage, and he didn't want +them to belong to him. 'Let well enough alone, you fool,' was his +philosophy. I knew it. He had told me about it often, and I always +said it was sound good sense. + +"The second afternoon I told him I was going to wear white lace to be +married in, and had picked out my bridesmaids. I asked him where would +be a nice place to go for a honeymoon, and he flung himself home in a +huff, and said it was none of his business where I went but he +suggested New London or Danville. I showed no annoyance when he left +so abruptly. I was too busy. I drew my feet up under me and went on +making notes in my red book. He looked out from behind the windows of +the dining-room, carefully concealed of course, but I saw him. I could +hear him nearly having apoplexy when he saw me utterly and blissfully +absorbed in my book." + +Carol chuckled in ecstasy. She foresaw that Connie was practically +engaged to Dan, a prince of a fellow, and she was so glad. That little +scamp of a Connie, to keep it secret so long. + +"Oh," she cried, "I always thought you loved each other." + +"So?" asked Connie coolly. "Dan admitted he was surprised that my +plans worked so easily. Before that he had been my escort on every +occasion, and the town accepted it blandly. Now I had a regular series +of attendants, and Dan was relegated to a few spare moments under the +lilacs now and then. He couldn't see how I got hold of the fellows. +He said they were perfect miffs to be nosed around like that. Why +didn't they show some manhood? Boneless, brainless jelly fishes, +jumping head first because a little snip of a girl said jump. + +"The third day I called him on the phone. + +"'Dan, come over quick. I have the loveliest thing to show you.' + +"He did not wait for a hat. He dashed out and over the hedge, and I +had the door open for him. + +"'Oh, look,' I gurgled. I am not a very good gurgler, but sometimes +you just have to do it. + +"Dan looked. 'Nothing but silverware, is it?' + +"I was hurt. 'Nothing but silverware? Why, it is my silverware, for +my own little house. It cost a terribly, criminally lot, but I +couldn't resist it. I really feel much more settled since I bought it. +There is something very final about silverware. See these pretty +doilies I am making. Aunt Grace is crocheting a bedspread for me, too. +Those are guest towels,--they were given to me.' + +"Dan's lips curled scornfully. He turned the lovely linens roughly, +and wiped his hands on a dainty guest towel. + +"'Connie, this is downright immodest. Furnishing your house before you +have a lover!' + +"'Do you think so?' I kissed a circular hand-embroidered table-cloth. +'If I had known it was such fun furnishing my house, I'd have had the +lover years ago and don't you forgit it.' + +"'I am disappointed in you.' + +"'I am sorry,' I said lightly. 'But I am so excited over getting +married, that I can't bother much about what mere friends think any +more. My husband's opinions--' + +"'Mere friends,' he shouted. 'Mere friends! I am no mere friend, +Connie Starr. I'M--I'M--' + +"'Yes, what are you?' + +"Well, I am your pal, your chum, your old schoolmate, your best +friend,--' + +"'Oh, that was before I was engaged.' + +"'Engaged?' Dan was staggered. 'Are you really engaged then? Have +you found the right one?' + +"'Being engaged alters the situation. You must see that.' + +"'Who is it?' + +"'Oh, don't be so silly. I haven't found the right one yet. But the +principle is just the same. With marriage just ahead of me, all the +rest of the world must stand back to give place to my fiancé.' + +"Dan sneered. 'Yeh, look at the world standing back and gazing with +envy on this moonbeam fiancé. Look!' + +"'Oh, Dan it is the most fascinating thing in the world. In four +months I may be standing at the altar, dressed in filmy white,--I +bought the veil yesterday,--promising to love, honor and obey,--with +reservations,--for the rest of my life. A little home of my own, a +husband to pet, and chum with,--I am awfully happy, Dan, honestly I am.' + +"And Carol I did enjoy it. It was fun. I was simply hypnotized with +the idea of having a house and a husband and a lot of little Julias. +Dan glared at me in disgust. Then he went home, snarling about my +mushiness. But he thought it was becoming to me. He said I got +prettier every day. I would not even let him touch my hand any more. +You know Dan and I were pretty good pals for a long time, and he was +allowed little privileges like that. Now it was all off. Dan might +rave and Dan might storm, but I stood firm. He could not touch my +hands! I was consecrated to my future husband. + +"'It may not be wicked, Dan, I do not say it is. But it makes me +shiver to think what would happen if my husband caught you doing it. +He might kill you on the spot.' + +"'You haven't got a husband,' Dan would snap. + +"'The principle is just the same.' Then I would dimple up at him. I +am not the dimply type of girl, I know, but there are times when one +has simply got to dimple at a man, and by wrinkling my face properly I +can give the dimple effect. I have practised it weary hours before the +mirror. I have often prayed for a dimpled skin like yours, Carol, but +I guess the Lord could not figure out how to manage it since my skin +was practically finished before I began to pray. 'I keep wondering +what he will like for breakfast,' I said to Dan. 'Isn't that silly? I +hope he does not want fried potatoes. It seems so horrible to have +potatoes for breakfast.' Then I added loyally, 'But he will probably +be a very strong character, original, and unique, and men like that +always have a few idiosyncrasies, so if he wants fried potatoes for +breakfast he shall have them.' + +"Dan sniffed again. He was becoming a chronic sniffer in these days of +my engagement. + +"'Yeh, he'll want fried potatoes all right, and postum, and left-over +pumpkin pie. I have a picture of the big mutt in my mind now. +"Constance," he'll say, "for pity's sake put more lard in the potatoes +when you fry them. They are too dry. Take them back and cook them +over." He will want his potatoes swimming in grease, he is bound to, +that's just the kind of man he is. He will want everything greasy. +Oh, you're going to have a sweet time with that big stiff.' + +"I shook my fist at him. 'He will not!' I cried. 'Don't you dare make +fun of my husband. He--he--' Then I stopped and laughed. 'Isn't it +funny how women always rush to defend their husbands when outsiders +speak against them? We may get cross at them ourselves, but no one +else shall ridicule them.' + +"'Yes, you are one loving little wife all right. You sure are. You +won't let any one say a mean word against your sweet little +snookie-ookums. Oh, no. Wait till you get to darning his socks, you +won't be so crazy about him then.' + +"'I do get a little cross when I darn his socks,' I confessed. 'I +don't mind embroidering monograms on his silk shirts, but I can't say +that so far I really enjoy darning his socks. Still, since they are +his, it is not quite so bad. I wouldn't darn anybody else's, not even +my own.' + +"'Are you doing it already?' Dan gasped. He found it very hard to keep +me and my husband straight in his mind. + +"'I am just pretending. I practise on father's. I want to be a very +efficient darner, so my patches won't make his poor dear feet sore.' + +"'Lord help us,' cried Dan, springing to his feet and flinging himself +through the hedge and slamming the door until it shook the house. He +went away angry every time. He simply couldn't be rational. One day +he said he guessed he would have to be the goat and marry me himself +just to keep me out of trouble. Then he blushed, and went home and +forgot his hat. + +"Came down to the last day. 'It has simmered down to Harvey Grath and +Buddy Johnson,' I told him. 'Harvey Grath,--Buddy Johnson,--Harvey +Grath,--Buddy Johnson. Do run away, Danny, and don't be a nuisance. +Harvey Grath,--Buddy Johnson.' + +"Dan neglected his patients until it is a wonder they did not all +die,--or get well, or something. He sat up-stairs in his study +watching an endless procession of Harvey Graths and Buddy Johnsons, +coming, lingering, going. + +"That night, regardless of the illuminating moon, I took Buddy Johnson +to the lilac corner. Dan was up-stairs smoking in front of his window. +Buddy didn't know about that window, but I did. He took my hand, and I +let him. I leaned my head against his shoulder,--not truly against, +just near enough so Dan could not tell the difference. Buddy tried to +kiss me, and nearly did it. I wasn't expecting it just at that minute. +Dan sprang from his chair before the conclusion, so he did not know if +the kiss was a fact, or not. Then I moved two feet away. Dan came out +and marched across to the lilacs. + +"'Connie,' he said, 'I am sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you +a few minutes. It is a matter of business.' To Buddy he said, 'You +know Connie always helps me out when I get stuck. Can you give me a +minute, Connie?' + +"I said, 'Of course I can. You'll excuse me won't you, Buddy? It is +getting late anyhow.' + +"So Buddy went away and Dan marched we up on the porch where it was +dark and shady. + +"'Are you engaged to Buddy Johnson?' + +"'No.' + +"'Thank Heaven.' + +"Dan kissed me, regardless of the accusing eyes of my husband in the +background." + +Carol breathed loudly in her relief. He kissed her. Connie did not +care. They were engaged. + +"Dan breathlessly took back everything he ever said about getting +married, and being a bachelor, and so forth. He said he was crazy to +be married, always had been, but didn't find it out before. He said he +had always adored me. And I drew out my note-book, and showed him the +first page,--Doctor Daniel Brooks, O. K. And every other name in the +book was checked off. + +"Dan was jubilant." Connie's voice trailed away slowly, and her +earnest fine eyes were cloudy. + +"An engagement," cried Carol, springing up. + +"No," said Connie slowly, "a blunder." + +"A blunder," faltered Carol, falling back. "You did it on purpose to +make him propose, didn't you?" + +"Yes, and he proposed, and we were engaged. But it was just a blunder. +It was not Dan I wanted. Carol, every woman feels like that at times. +She is full of that great magnificent ideal of home, and husband, and +little children. It seems the finest thing in the world, the only +flawless life. She can't resist it, for the time being. She feels +that work is silly, that success is tawdry, that ambition is wicked. +It is dangerous, Carol, for if she gets the opportunity, or if she can +make the opportunity, she is pretty sure to seize it. I believe that +is why so many marriages are unhappy,--girls mistake that natural +woman-wish for love, and they get married, and then--shipwreck." + +Carol sat silent. + +"Yes," said David sympathetically, "I think you are right. You were +lucky to escape." + +"I knew that evening, that one little evening of our engagement, that +having a home and a husband, and even a little child like Julia, would +never be enough. Something else had to come first. And it had not +come. I went to bed and cried all night, so sorry for Dan for I knew +he loved me,--but not sorry enough to make me do him such a cruel +injustice. The next morning I told him, and that afternoon I returned +to Chicago. + +"I have thought a whole lot more of my job since then." + +"But why couldn't you love him?" asked Carol impatiently. "It seems +unreasonable, Connie. He is nice enough for anybody, and you were just +ripe and ready for it." + +Connie shrugged her shoulders. "Why didn't you love somebody else +besides David?" she asked, and laughed at the quick resentment that +flashed to Carol's eyes. + +"Well," concluded Connie, "God certainly wanted a few old maids to +leaven the earth, and I think I have the making for a good leavener. +So I write stories, and let other women wash the little Julias' faces," +she added, laughing, as Julia, unrecognizably dirty, entered with a +soup can full of medicine she had painstakingly concocted to make her +daddy well. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +LITERARY MATERIAL + +Connie wanted to see something out of the ordinary. What was the use +of coming to the wild and woolly if one never saw anything wilder than +a movie of New York society life, or woollier than miles of properly +garbed motorists driving under the guidance of blue-coated policemen as +safely and sanely as could be done in Chicago. + +It was Julia who came to the rescue. She discovered, on a neighbor's +porch, and with admirable socialistic tendencies appropriated, a +glaring poster, with slim-legged horses balancing themselves in the +air, not at all inconveniencing their sunburned riders in varicolored +silk shirts. + +"Look at the horses jump over the moon," she exulted, kissing a scarlet +shirt in rapture. + +Upon investigation it turned out to be an irresistible advertisement of +the annual Frontier Days, at Fort Morgan. Carol explained the pictures +to Julia, while Connie looked over her shoulder. + +"Do they do all it says?" she asked. + +Carol did not know. She had never attended any Frontier Days, but she +imagined they were even more wonderful than the quite impossible +poster. Carol's early determination to adore the Westland had become +fixed habit at last. It was capable of any miracles, to her. + +"How far is it up there?" pursued Connie, for Connie had a very +inartistic way of sticking to her subject. + +"I do not know. About a hundred miles, I believe." + +"A nice drive for the Harmer," said Connie thoughtfully. "How are the +roads?" + +"I do not know, but I think all the roads are good in Colorado. +Certainly no road is impassable for a Harmer Six with you at the wheel." + +"I have a notion to drive up and see them," said Connie. "Literary +material, you know." + +"I want to see the horsies fly, too," cried Julia quickly. + +Carol thought it might do David good, and David was sure Carol needed a +vacation. They would think it over. + +Connie immediately went down-town and returned with a road guide, and +her arm full of literature about frontier days in general. Then it was +practically settled. A little distance of a hundred miles, a splendid +car, a driver like Connie! It was nothing. And Carol was so excited +getting ready for their first outing in the years of David's illness, +that she forgot his medicine three times in succession, and David +maliciously refused to remind her. + +They all talked at once, and agreed that it was very silly and +dangerous and unwise, but insisted it was the most alluring, appealing +madness in the world. David, for over three years limited to the +orderly, methodical, unstimulating confines of a screened porch, felt +quite the old-time throbbing of his pulse and quickening of his blood. +Even the doctor waxed enthusiastic. He looked into David's tired face +and said: + +"I think it will do him good. It can not do him harm." + +In the excitement of getting ready for something unusual, he developed +an unnatural strength and simply could not be kept in bed at all. He +slept soundly, ate heartily, and looked forward to the trip in the car +so anxiously that to the girls it was really pitiful. + +Then came a glorious day in September when the Harmer Six stood early +at their door, the lunch basket, and suit-cases were carefully +arranged, and they were off,--off in the beautiful Harmer,--off to the +country,--to the mountains and canyons,--to climb one of the sunny +slopes that had beckoned to them so enticingly. Almost they held their +breath at first, afraid the first creak of the car would waken them +from the unbelievable dream. + +Always as they climbed a long hill, Carol reminded them that they were +climbing a sunny slope that would lead to a city of gold at the top, a +city where everything was happy and bright, and there was no sickness, +no sorrow, no want. And looking ahead to the spires of a little +village, nestling cloudy and blue on the plains, she vowed it was a +golden city, and they leaned forward to catch the first sparkle of the +diamond-studded streets. And when they reached the city itself, +little, ugly, sordid,--a city of gold, perhaps, to those who had made a +fortune there, but not by any means a golden city of dreams to the +Arcady travelers,--Carol shook herself and said it was a mistake, she +meant the next one. + +Rooms had been engaged in advance at the Bijou, on the ground floor, +for the sake of David's softened muscles, and they reached the town +ahead of the regular Frontier Day crowds, allowing themselves plenty of +time to get rested and to see the whole thing start. + +Julia frolicked on the wide velvety lawn with all the dogs and cats and +children that could be drawn from the surrounding neighborhood. David +sat on the porch in a big chair, enjoying the soft breezes sweeping +down over the plains, looking through half closed lids out upon the +quiet shaded street. Carol crouched excitedly in another chair beside +him, squeezing his hand to call attention to every sunburned +picturesque son of the plains that galloped down that way. But Connie, +with the lustful eyes of a fortune-hunter walked up and down the +corridors, peering here and peeking there, listening avidly to every +unaccustomed word that was spoken,--getting material. + +Quickly the hotels were filled to capacity, and overflowed to cots in +the hall, rugs on the porches, and piles of straw in the stables. The +street so quietly peaceful on Sunday, by Wednesday was a throbbing +thoroughfare, with autos, wagons and horses whirling by in clouds of +dust The main street, a block away, was a noisy, active, flourishing, +carnival city, with fortune-tellers, two-headed dogs, snake-charmers, +minstrels and all the other street-fair habitues in full possession. A +dance platform was erected on a prominent corner, and bands were +brought in from all the neighboring towns on the plains. + +Connie was convinced she could get enough material to last a lifetime. +No detective was hotter on the scent of a trail than she. Never two +cowboys met in a secluded corner in the lobby to divide their hardly +earned coins, but Connie sauntered slowly by, catching every word, +noting the size of every coin that changed possession. No gaily garbed +horseman could signal to a girl of his admiration, but Connie caught +the motion first, and was taking mental notes for future coinage. They +were not people to her, just material. She loved them, she reveled in +them, she dreamed of them, just as a collector of curios gloats over +the treasures he amasses. She classified them in a literary note-book +for her own use, and kept them on file for instant reference. + +When they went to the fair-grounds, early, in order to secure a +comfortable seat for David where he should not miss one twist of a +rider's supple body, they were as delighted as children truanting from +school. It was the most exhilarating thing in the world,--this clever +little trick on the sleeping porch and the white cot, on egg-nogs and +beef juice and buttermilk. No wonder their faces tingled with +excitement and their eyes sparkled with delight. + +Connie was surprised that the girls were pretty, really pretty, with +pink and white skin and polished finger nails, those girls in the silk +blouses and khaki shirts, those girls with the wide sombrero and the +iron muscles, who rode the bucking horses, and raced around the track, +and did a thousand other appalling things that pink-skinned, +shiny-nailed girls were not wont to do back home. They stayed at the +Bijou, a whole crowd of them, and Connie never let them out of her +sight until they closed their bedroom doors for the night. They talked +in brief broken sentences, rather curtly, but their voices were quiet +and low, and they weren't half as slangy as cowgirls, by every literary +precedent, ought to be. They were not like Connie, of course, tall and +slim, with the fine exalted face, with soft pink palms and soft round +arms. And their striking saddle costumes were not half as curious to +Fort Morgan as Connie's lacy waists, and her tailored skirts, and her +frilly little silk gowns. But they were more curious to Connie. + +She tried to picture herself in a sombrero like that, with gauntlets on +her hands, and with a fringed leather skirt that reached to her knees, +and with a scarlet silk blouse and a yellow silk belt,--and even her +distinctly literary imagination could not compass such a miracle. But +she was sure if she ever could rig herself up like that, she would look +like a dream, and she really envied the cowgirls, who leaped head first +from the saddle but always landed right side up. + +People of another world, well, yes. But there are ways of getting +together. + +Connie talked very little that first afternoon. She watched the people +around her, and listened as they discussed the points of the horses, +the cowgirls and the jockeys with equal impartiality. She heard their +bets, their guttural grunts of disapproval with the judges' decisions, +their roars of satisfaction when the right horse won. She watched the +cowgirls, walking unconcernedly about the ring, flapping their +riding-whips against their leather boots. She watched the lithe-limbed +cowboys slouching not ungracefully around the nervous ponies, waving +their hats in greeting to their friends, calling loud jests to their +fellows in the cowboy band. How strange they were, how startlingly +human, and yet how thousand-miles removed. + +Connie rebelled against it. They were folks. And so was Connie. The +thousand miles was a barrier, an injustice. In order to handle +literary material, she must get within touching distance of it. All +those notes she had collected so painstakingly were cold, inanimate. +In order to write of folks she must touch them, feel them, must know +they lived and breathed as she did. Why couldn't she get at +them,--folks, plain folks, and so was she. A slow fury rose up in her, +and she watched the great events Of the afternoon with resentful eyes. +Even when a man not entered for racing, swung over the railing into the +center field, and scrambled upon the bare back of King Devil, the wild +horse of the plains which had never yielded to man's bridling hand, and +was tossed and dragged and jerked and twisted, until it seemed there +could be no life left in him, yet who finally pulled the horse almost +by brute force into submission, while the spectators went wild, and +Julia screamed, and Carol sank breathless and white into her seat, and +David stood on the bench and yelled until Carol pulled him down,--even +then Connie could not get the feeling. She wanted to write these +people, to put them on paper, and she couldn't, because they were not +people to her, they were just "Good points." + +Afterward, when they slowly made their way to the car, and drove home +to the Bijou again, Connie was still silent. She saw David comfortably +settled in the big chair on the sunny corner of the porch, with Carol +beside him and Julia romping on the lawn. Then she walked up and down +in front of the hotel. Finally she came back to the corner of the +porch. + +"David," she said impetuously, "I've got to speak to one of them +myself." She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the fair-grounds. + +"One of them?" echoed David. + +"Yes, one of those riders. I want to see if they can make me feel +anything. I want to find out if they are anything like other folks." + +David looked up suddenly, and a smile came to his eyes. Connie turned +quickly, and there, not two feet from her, stood "One of them," the man +who had ridden King Devil. His sombrero was pushed back on his head, +and his hair clung damply to his brown forehead. His lean face was +cynical, sneering. He carried a whip and spurs in one hand, the other +rested on the bulging hip of his khaki riding trousers. + +Connie stared, fascinated, into the thin, brown, sneering face. + +"How do you do?" he said mockingly. "Isn't it charming weather?" + +Connie still looked directly into his eyes. Somehow she felt that back +of the sneer, back of the resentment, there lay a little hurt that she +should have spoken so, classed him with fine horses and cattle, him and +his kind. Connie would make amends, a daughter of the parsonage might +not do ungracious things like that. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, unsmilingly, "I did not mean to +be rude. But the riders did fascinate me. I am spellbound. I only +wished to see if the charm would hold. I have not been in the West +before this." She held out her hand, slender, white, appealing. + +[Illustration: "I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, unsmilingly, "I +did not mean to be rude."] + +The man looked at her curiously in turn, then he jerked off his +sombrero and took her hand in his. There was the contact, soft white +skin of the city, hard brown hand of the mountain plains, and human +blood is swift to leap in response to an unwonted touch. + +Connie drew her hand away quickly, but his eyes still held hers. + +"Let me beg your pardon instead," he said. "Of course you did not mean +it the way it sounded. None of my business, anyhow." + +"Come on, Prince," called a man from the road, curbing his impatient +horse. But "Prince" waved him away without turning. + +This was a wonderful girl. + +"I--I write stories," Connie explained hurriedly, to get away from that +searching clasp of glances. "I wanted some literary material, and I +seemed so far away from everything. I thought I needed the personal +touch, you know." + +"Anything I can tell you?" he offered feverishly. "I know all about +range and ranch life. I can tell you anything you want to know." + +"Really? And will you do it? You know writers have just got to get +material. It is absolutely necessary. And I am running very short of +ideas, I have been loafing." + +He waited patiently. He was more than willing to tell her everything +he knew, or could make up to please her, but he had not the slightest +idea what she wanted. Whatever it was, he certainly intended to make +the effort of his life to give her. + +"I am Constance Starr," said Connie, still more abashed by the +unfaltering presence of this curious creature, who, she fully realized +at last, was quite human enough for any literary purpose. "And this is +my brother-in-law, Mr. Duke, and my sister, Mrs. Duke." + +"My name is Prince Ingram." + +David shook hands with him cordially, with smiling eyes, and asked him +to sit down so Connie might ask her questions in comfort. They all +took chairs, and Prince waited. Connie racked her brain. Five minutes +ago there had been ten thousand things she yearned to know about this +strange existence. Now, unfairly, she could not think of one. It +seemed to her she knew all there was to know about them. They looked +into each other's eyes, men and women, as men and women do in Chicago. +They touched hands, and the blood quickened, the old Chicago style. +They talked plain English, they liked pretty clothes, they worshiped +good horses, they lived on the boundless plains. What on earth was +there to ask? Quite suddenly, Connie understood them perfectly. + +But Prince realized that he was not making good. His one claim to +admission in her presence was his ability to tell her what she wanted +to know. He had got to tell her things,--but what things? My stars, +what did she want to know? How old he was, where he was born, if he +was married,--oh, by George, she didn't think he was married, did she? + +"I am not married," he said abruptly. David looked around at him in +surprise, and Carol's eyes opened widely. But Connie, with what must +have been literary intuition, understood. She nodded at him and smiled +as she asked, "Have you always lived out here?" + +"No." He straightened his shoulders and drew a deep breath. Here was +a starter, it would be his own fault if he could not keep talking the +rest of the night. "No, I came out from Columbus when I was eighteen. +Came for my health." He squared his shoulders again, and laughed a big +deep laugh which made Connie marvel that there should be such big deep +laughs in the world. + +"My father was a doctor. He sent me out, and I got a job punching time +in the mines at Cripple Creek. I met some stock men, and one of them +offered me a job, and I came out and got in with them. Then I got hold +of a bit of land and began gathering up stock for myself. I stayed +with the Sparker outfit six years, and then my father died. I took the +money and got my start, and--why, that is all." He stopped in +astonishment. He had been sure his story would last several hours. He +had begun at the very start, his illness at eighteen, and here he was +right up to the present, and--he rubbed his knee despairingly. There +must be something else. There had to be something else. What under +the sun had he been doing all these fourteen years in the ranges? + +"Don't you ever wish to go back?" Connie prompted kindly. + +"Back to Columbus? I went twice to see my father. He had a private +sanatorium. My booming voice gave his nervous patients prostrations, +and father thought my clothes were not sanitary because they could not +be sterilized. Are you going to stay here for good?" + +It was very risky to ask, he knew, but he had to find out. + +"I am visiting my sister in Denver. We just came here for the Frontier +Days," said Connie primly. + +"There is another Frontier Week at Sterling," he said eagerly. "A fine +one, better than this. It isn't far over there. You would get more +material at Sterling, I think. Can't you go on up?" + +"I have been away from Chicago four weeks now," said Connie. "In +exactly two weeks I must be at my desk again." + +"Chicago is not a healthy town," he said, in a voice that would have +done credit to his father, the medical man. "Very unhealthy. It is +not literary either. Out west is the place for literature. All the +great writers come west. Western stories are the big sellers. There's +Ralph Connor, and Rex Beach, and Jack London and--and--" + +"But I am not a great writer," Connie interrupted modestly. "I am just +a common little filler-in in the ranks of a publishing house. I'm only +a beginner." + +"That is because you stick to Chicago," he said eloquently. "You come +out here, out in the open, where things are wide and free, and you can +see a thousand miles at one stretch. You come out here, and you'll be +as great as any of 'em,--greater!" + +The loud clamor of the dinner bell interrupted his impassioned outburst +and he relapsed into stricken silence. + +"Well, we must go to dinner before the supply runs out," said David, +rising slowly. "Come along, Julia. We are glad to have met you, Mr. +Ingram." He held out his thin, blue-veined hand. "We'll see you +again." + +Prince looked hopelessly at Connie's back, for her face was already +turned toward the dining-room. How cold and infinitely distant that +tall, straight, tailored back appeared. + +"Ask him to eat with us," Connie hissed, out of one corner of her lip, +in David's direction. + +David hesitated, looking at her doubtfully. Connie nudged him with +emphasis. + +Well, what could David do? He might wash his hands of the whole +irregular business, and he did. Connie was a writer, she must have +material, but in his opinion Connie was too young to be literary. She +should have been older, or uglier, or married. Literature is not safe +for the young and charming. Connie nudged him again. Plainly if he +did not do as she said, she was going to do it herself. + +David turned to the brown-faced, sad-eyed son of the mountain ranges, +and said: + +"Come along and have dinner with us, won't you?" + +Carol pursed up her lips warningly, but Prince Ingram, in his +eagerness, nearly picked David up bodily in his hurry to get the little +party settled before some one spoiled it all. + +He wanted to handle Connie's chair for her, he knew just how it was +done. But suppose he pushed her clear under the table, or jerked it +entirely from under her, or did something worse than either? A girl +like Connie ought to have those things done for her. Well, he would +let it go this time. So he looked after Julia, and settled her so +comfortably, and was so assiduously attentive to her that he quite won +her heart, and before the meal was over she said he might come and live +with them and be her grandpa, if he wanted. + +"Grandpa," he said facetiously. "Do I look as old as that? Can't I be +something better than a grandpa?" + +"Well, only one papa's the style," said Julia doubtfully. "And you are +too big to be a baby, and--" + +"Can't I be your uncle?" Then, glancing at Connie with a sudden +realization of the only possible way the uncle-ship could be +accomplished, he blushed. + +"Yes, an uncle is better," said Connie imperturbably. "You must +remember, Julia dear, that men are very, very sensitive about their +ages, and you must always give them credit for youth." + +"I see," said Julia. And Prince wondered how old Connie thought he +was, his hair was a little thin, not from age--always had been that +way--and he was as brown as a Zulu, but it was only sunburn. He'd +figure out a way of letting her know he was only thirty-two before the +evening was over. + +"Are you going over to the street to-night?" he asked of David, but not +caring half a cent what David did. + +"I am afraid I can't. I am not very good on my feet any more. I am +sorry, the girls would enjoy it." + +"Carol and I might go alone," suggested Connie bravely. "Every one +does out here. We wouldn't mind it." + +"I will not go to a street carnival and leave David," protested Carol. + +"It would be rather interesting." Connie looked tentatively from the +window. + +Prince swallowed in anguish. She ought to go, he told them; she really +needs to go. The evenings are so much fuller of literary material than +day-times. And the dancing-- + +"I do not dance," said Connie. "My father is a minister." + +"You do not dance! Why, that's funny. I don't either. That is, not +exactly,-- Oh, once in a while just to fill in." Then the latter part +of her remark reached his inner consciousness. "A minister. By +George!" + +"My husband is one, too," said Carol. + +Prince looked helplessly about him. Then he said faintly, "I--I am +not. But my father wanted me to be a preacher. He sent me to +Princeton, and I stuck it out nearly ten weeks. That is why they call +me Prince, short for Princeton. I am the only real college man on the +range, they say." + +"The street fair must be interesting," Connie went back to the main +idea. + +"Yes indeed, the crowds, the side-shows--I mean the exhibits, and the +lotteries, and--I am sure you never saw so much literary material +crowded into two blocks in your life." + +"Oh, well, I don't mind. Maybe some other night we can go." Connie +was sweetly resigned. + +"I should be very glad,--if you don't mind,--I haven't anything else to +do,--and I can take good care of you." + +"Oh, that is just lovely. And maybe you will give me some more +stories. Isn't that fine, David? It is so kind of you, Mr. Ingram. I +am sure I shall find lots of material." + +David kicked Carol warningly beneath the table. "You must go too, +Carol. You have never seen such a thing, and it will do you good. I +am not the selfish brute you try to make me. You girls go along with +Mr. Ingram and I will put Julia to bed and wait for you on the porch." + +Well, of course, Mrs. Duke was very nice, and anyhow it was better to +take them both than lose them both, and that preacher had a very set +face in spite of his pallor. So Prince recovered his equanimity and +devoted himself to enjoying the tumultuous evening on the street. He +bought candy and canes and pennants until the girls sternly refused to +carry another bit of rubbish. He bought David a crimson and gold silk +handkerchief, and an Indian bracelet for Julia, and took the girls to +ride on the merry-go-round, and was beside himself with joy. + +Suppose his friends of the range did draw back as he passed, and gaze +after him in awe and envy. Suppose the more reckless ones did snicker +like fools, nudging each other, lifting their hats with exaggerated +courtesy,--he should worry. He had lived on the range for fourteen +years and had never had such a chance before. Now he had it, he would +hang on to it if it cost him every sheep he had on the mountains. +Wasn't Connie the smartest girl you ever saw, always saying funny, +bright things, and--the way she stepped along like a goddess, and the +way she smiled! Prince Ingram had forgotten that girls grew like that. + +They returned to the hotel early and found David waiting on the porch +as he had promised. He was plainly tired, and Carol said he must go to +bed at once. They all rose and walked to the door, and then, very +surprisingly, Connie thought she would like to sit a while on the quiet +porch, from which every other one had gone to the carnival, and collect +her thoughts. Carol frowned, and David smiled, but what could they do? +They had said they were tired and now they must go to bed perforce. +Prince looked after her, and looked at the door that had closed behind +David and Carol, and rubbed his fingers thoughtfully under his +collar,--and followed Connie back to the porch. + +"Will it bother you if I sit here a while? I won't talk if you want to +think." + +"It won't bother me a bit," she assured him warmly. "It is nice of you +to keep me company. And I would rather talk than think." + +So he put her chair at the proper angle where the street lamp revealed +her clear white features, and he sat as close beside her as he dared. +She did not know it, but his elbow was really on the arm of her chair +instead of his own. He almost held his breath for fear a slight move +would betray him. Wasn't she a wonderful girl? She turned sidewise in +the chair, her head resting against the high back, and smiled at him. + +"Now talk," she said. "Let us get acquainted. See if you can make me +love the mountain ranges better than Chicago." + +He told her of the clean sweep of the wind around his little cottage +among the pines on the side of the mountain, of the wild animals that +sometimes prowled his way, of the shouting of the boys on the range in +the dark night, the swaying of distant lanterns, the tinkle of sheep +bells. He told her of his father, of the things that he himself had +once planned to be and do. He told her of his friends: of Lily, his +pal, so-called because he used a safety razor every morning of his +life; of Whisker, the finest dog in Colorado; of Ruby, the ruddy brown +horse that would follow him miles through the mountains and always find +the master at the end of the trail. And he told her it was a lonely +life. And it was. Prince Ingram had lived here fourteen years, with +no more consciousness of being alone than the eagle perched solitary on +the mountain crags, but quite suddenly he discovered that it was +lonely, and somehow the discovery took the wonder from that free glad +life, and made him long for the city's bright lights, where there were +others,--not just cowboys, but regular men and women. + +"Yes," assented Connie rather abruptly, "I suppose it would be nice to +be in a crowd of women, laughing and dancing and singing. I suppose +you do miss it." + +"That was not what I meant," said Prince slowly. "I don't care for a +crowd of them. Not many. One is enough." He was appalled at his own +audacity, and despised himself for his cowardice, for why didn't he +look this white fine girl of the city in the eyes and say: + +"Yes, one,--and you are it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ADVENTURING + +If Connie truly was in pursuit of literary material, she was +indefatigable in the quest. But sometimes Carol doubted if it was +altogether literary material she was after. And David was very much +concerned,--what would dignified Father Starr, District Superintendent, +say to his youngest daughter, Connie the literary, Connie the proud, +Connie the high, the fine, the perfect, delving so assiduously into the +mysteries of range life as typified in big, brown, rugged Prince Ingram? +To be sure, Prince had risen beyond the cowboy stage and was now a "stock +man," a power on the ranges, a man of money, of influence. But David +felt responsible. + +Yet no one could be responsible for Connie. Father Starr himself could +not. If she looked at one serenely and said, "I need to do this," the +rankest foolishness assumed the proportions of dire necessity. So what +could David, sick and weak, do in the face of the manifestly impossible? + +Carol scolded her. And Connie laughed. David offered brotherly +suggestions. And Connie laughed again. Julia said Prince was a darling +big grandpa, and Connie kissed her. + +The Frontier Days passed on to their uproarious conclusion. Connie saw +everything, heard everything and took copious notes. She was going to +start her book. She had made the acquaintance of some of the cowgirls, +and she studied them with a passionate eagerness that English literature +in the abstract had never aroused in her gentle breast. + +Then she became argumentative. She contended that the beautiful lawn at +the Bijou was productive of strength for David, rest for Carol, amusement +for Julia, and literary material for her. Therefore, why not linger +after the noisy crowd had gone,--just idling on the long porches, +strolling under the great trees? And because Connie had a convincing way +about her, it was unanimously agreed that the Bijou lawn could do +everything she claimed for it, and by all means they ought to tarry a +week. + +It was all settled before David and Carol learned that Prince Ingram was +tired of Frontier Days and had decided not to go on to Sterling, but +thought he too should linger, gathering up something worth while in Fort +Morgan. Carol looked at Connie reproachfully, but the little baby sister +was as imperturbable as ever. + +Prince himself was all right. Carol liked him. David liked him, too. +And Julia was frankly enchanted with him and with his horse. But Connie +and Prince,--that was the puzzle of it,--Connie, fine white, immaculate +in manner, in person and in thought,--Prince, rugged and brown, born of +the plains and the mountains. Carol knew of course that Prince could +move into the city, buy a fine home, join good clubs, dress like common +men and be thoroughly respectable. But to Carol he would always be a +brown streak of perfect horsemanship. Whatever could that awful Connie +be thinking of? + +The days passed sweetly and restfully on the Bijou lawn, but one day, +most unaccountably to Connie, Prince had an appointment with his business +partner down at Brush. He would ride Ruby down and be back in time for +dinner at night if it killed him. Connie was cross about that. She +thought he should have asked her to drive him down in the car but since +he did not she couldn't very well offer her services. What did he +suppose she was hanging around that ugly little dead burg for? Take out +the literary material, Fort Morgan had nothing for Connie. And since the +literary material saw fit to absent itself, it was so many hours gone for +nothing. + +After he had gone, Connie decided to play a good trick on him. He would +kill himself to get back to dinner with her, would he? Let him. He +could eat it with David and Carol, and the little Julia he so adored. +Connie would take a long drive in the car all by herself, and would not +be home until bedtime. She would teach that refractory Material a lesson. + +It was a bright cloudless day, the air cold and penetrating. Connie said +it was just the day for her to collect her thought, and she could do it +best of all in the car. So if they would excuse her,--and they did, of +course. Just as she was getting into the car she said that if she had a +very exceptionally nice time, she might not come back until after dinner. +They were not to worry. She knew the car, she was sure of herself, she +would come home when she got ready. + +So off she went, taking a naughty satisfaction in the good trick she was +playing on that poor boy killing himself to get back for dinner with her. +An hour in the open banished her pettishness, and she drove rapidly along +the narrow, twisting, unfamiliar road, finding a wild pleasure in her +reckless speed. She loved this, she loved it, she loved it. She clapped +on a little more gas to show how very dearly she did love it. + +After a long time, she found herself far out in a long stretch of gray +prairie where no houses broke the bare line of the plains for many miles. +It had grown bitterly cold, too, and a sudden daub of gray splashed +rapidly across the whole bright sky. Connie drew a rug about her and +laughed at the wind that cut her face. It was glorious,--but--she +glanced at the speedometer. She had come a long way. She would just run +on to the next village and have some luncheon,--mercy, it was three +o'clock. Well, as soon as she had something to eat, she would hurry home +and perhaps if Prince showed himself properly penitent she would not go +right straight to bed. + +She pressed down on the accelerator and the car sped forward. Presently +she looked around, sniffing the air suspiciously. The sky looked very +threatening. She stopped the car and got out. The wind sweeping down +from the mountains was a little too suggestive of snow flakes, and the +broad stretch of the plains was brown, bare and forbidding. She was not +hungry anyhow. She would go home without any luncheon. So she turned +the car and started back. + +Here and there at frequent intervals intersecting roads crossed the one +she was following. She must keep to the main road, the heaviest track, +she was sure of that. But sometimes it was hard to recognize the +heaviest track. Once or twice, in the sudden darkening of the ground, +she had to leap hurriedly out and examine the tracks closely. Even then +she could not always tell surely. + +Then came the snow, stinging bits of glass leaping gaily on the shoulders +of the wind that bore them. Connie set her teeth hard. A little flurry +that was all, she was in no danger, whoever heard of a snow-storm the +first week in October? + +But--ah, this was not the main track after all,--no, it was dwindling +away. She must go back. The road was soft here, with deep treacherous +ruts lying under the surface. She turned the car carefully, her eyes +intent on the road before her, leaning over the wheel to watch. Yes, +this was right,--she should have turned to the left. How stupid of her. +Here was the track,--she must go faster, it was getting dark. But was +this the track after all,--it seemed to be fading out as the other had +done? She put on the gas and bumped heavily into a hidden rut. Quickly +she threw the clutch into low, and--more gas-- What was that? The wheel +did not grip, the engine would not pull,--the matchless Harmer Six was +helpless. Again and again Connie tried to extricate herself, but it was +useless. She got out and took her bearings. It was early evening, but +darkness was coming fast. The snow was drifting down from the mountains, +and the roads were nearly obliterated. + +Connie was stuck, Connie was lost, for once she was unequal to the +emergency. In spite of her imperturbability, her serene confidence in +herself, and in circumstances, and in the final triumph of everything she +wanted and believed, Connie sat down on the step and cried, bitterly, +passionately, like any other young women lost in a snow-storm on the +plains. It did her good, though it was far beneath her dignity. +Presently she wiped her eyes. + +She must turn on the lights, every one of them, so if any travelers +happened to come her way the signal would summon them to her aid. Then +she must get warm, one might freeze on a night like this. She put up the +curtains on the car and wrapped herself as best she could in rugs and +rain coats. Even then she doubted her ability to withstand the +penetrating chill. + +"Well," she said grimly, "if I freeze I am going to do it with a pleasant +smile on my lips, so they will be sorry when they find me." Tears of +sympathy for herself came into her eyes. She hoped Prince would be quite +heart-broken, and serve him right, too. But it was terrible that poor +dear Carol should have this added sorrow, after all her years of trial. +And it was all Connie's own fault. Would women ever have sense enough to +learn that men must think of business now and then, and that even the +dearest women in the world are nuisances at times? + +Well, anyhow, she was paying dearly for her folly, and perhaps other +women could profit by it. And all that literary material wasted. "But +it is a good thing I am not leaving eleven children motherless," she +concluded philosophically. + +If men must think of business, and they say they must, there are times +when it is sheer necessity that drives and not at all desire. Prince +Ingram hated Brush that day with a mortal hatred. Only two days more of +Connie, and a few thousand silly sheep were taking him away. Well, he +had paid five hundred dollars for Ruby and he would find out if she was +worth it. He used his spurs so sharply that the high-spirited mare +snorted angrily, and plunged away at her most furious pace. It was not +an unpleasant ride. His time had been so fully occupied with the most +wonderful girl, that he had not had one moment to think how really +wonderful she was. This was his chance and he utilized it fully. + +His business partner in Brush was shocked at Prince's lack of interest in +a matter of ten thousand dollars. He wondered if perhaps King Devil had +not bounced him up more than people realized. But Prince was pliant, far +more so than usual, accepted his partner's suggestions without dissent, +and grew really enthusiastic when he said finally: + +"Well, I guess that is all." + +Prince shook hands with him then, seeming almost on the point of kissing +him, and Ruby was whirling down the road in a chariot of dust before the +bewildered partner had time to explain that his wife was expecting Prince +home with them for dinner. + +Prince fell from the saddle in front of the Bijou and looked expectantly +at the porch. He was sentimental enough to think it must be splendid to +have a girl waiting on the porch when one got home from any place. +Connie was not there. Well, it was a good thing, he was grimy with dust +and perspiration, and Connie was so alarmingly clean. But Carol called +him before he had time to escape. + +"Is it going to storm?" she asked anxiously. + +Prince wheeled toward her sharply. "Is Connie out in the car?" + +"Yes," said Carol, staring off down the road in a vain hope of catching +sight of the naughty little runaway in the gray car. + +"When did she go?" he asked. + +"About eleven. She wasn't coming home until after dinner."' + +"How far was she going?" + +"A long way, she said. She went that direction," Carol pointed out to +the right. + +"Is it going to storm?" asked David, coming up. + +"Yes, it is. But don't you worry, Mrs. Duke. I'll get her all right. +If it turns bad, I will take her to some little village or farm-house +where she can stay till morning. We'll be all right, and don't you +worry." + +There was something very assuring in the hearty voice, something +consoling in his clear eyes and broad shoulders. Carol followed him out +to his horse. + +"Prince," she said, smiling up at him, "you will get her, won't you?" + +"Of course I will. You aren't worrying, are you?" + +"Not since you got home," said Carol. "I know you will get her. I like +you, Prince." + +"Do you?" He was boyishly pleased. "Does--does David?" + +Carol laughed. "Yes, and so does Julia," she teased. + +Prince laughed, too, shamefacedly, but he dared not ask, "Does Connie?" + +He turned his horse quickly and paused to say, "You'd better get your +husband inside. He will chill in spite of the rugs. It is winter, +to-night. Good-by." + +"He will get her," said Carol confidently, when she returned to David. +"He is nice, don't you think so? Maybe he would be perfectly all +right--in the city. Connie could straighten him out." + +"Yes, brush off the dust, and give him an opera hat and a dinner coat and +he would not be half bad." + +"He is not half bad now, only--not exactly our kind." + +"Women are funny," said David slowly. "I believe Connie likes his kind, +just as he is, and would not have him changed for anything." + +At first, Prince had no difficulty in following the wide roll of Connie's +wheels, for no other cars had gone that way. But once or twice he had to +drop from the saddle and examine the tracks closely to make sure of her. +Then came the snow, and the tracks were blurred out. Prince was in +despair. + +"Three roads here," he thought rapidly. "If she took that one she will +come to Marker's ranch, and be all right. If she took the middle road +she will make Benton. But this one, it winds and twists, and never gets +any place." + +So on the road to the left, that led to no place at all, Prince carefully +guided his weary horse, already beginning to stumble. He sympathized +with every aching step, yet he urged her gently to her best speed. Then +she slipped, struggled to regain her footing, struck a treacherous bit of +ice, and fell, Prince swinging nimbly from the saddle. Plainly she was +unable to carry him farther, so he helped her to her feet and turned her +loose, pushing on as fast as he could on foot. + +Anxiously he peered into the gathering darkness, longing for the long +flash of yellow light which meant Connie and the matchless Harmer. + +Suddenly he stopped. From away over the hills to his right, mingling +with the call of the coyotes, came the unmistakable honk of a siren. He +held his breath to listen. It came again, a long continued wail, in +perfect tune with the whining of the coyotes. He turned to the right and +started over the hills in the wake of the call. + +Over a steep incline he plunged, and paused. + +"Thank God," he cried aloud, for there he saw a little round yellow glow +in the cloudy white mist,--the Harmer Six, and Connie. + +He shouted as he ran, that she might not be left in suspense a moment +longer than need be. And Connie with numbed fingers tugged the curtains +loose and leaned out in the yellow mist to watch him as he came. + +We talk of the mountain peaks of life. And poets sing of the snowy crest +of life crises, where we look like angels and speak like gods, where we +live on the summit of ages. This moment should have been a summit, yet +when Prince ran down the hill, breathless, exultant, and nearly +exhausted, Connie, her face showing peaked and white in the yellow glare, +cried, "Hello, Prince, I knew you'd make it." + +She held out a half-frozen hand and he took it in his. + +"Car's busted," she said laconically. "Won't budge. I drained the water +out of the radiator." + +"All right, we'll have to hoof it," he said cheerfully. + +He relieved her of the heavier wraps, and they set out silently through +the snow, Prince still holding her hand. + +"I am awfully glad to see you," she said once, in a polite little voice. + +He smiled down upon her. "I am kind o' glad to see you, too, Connie." + +After a while she said slowly, "I need wings. My feet are numb." And a +moment later, "I can not walk any farther." + +"It is ten miles to a house," he told her gravely. "I couldn't carry you +so far. I'll take you a mile or so, and you will get rested." + +"I am not tired, I am cold. And if you carry me I will be colder. You +just run along and tell Carol I am all right--" + +"Run along! Why, you would freeze." + +"Yes, that is what I mean." + +"There is a railroad track half a mile over there. Can you make that?" + +Connie looked at him pitifully. "I can not even lift my feet. I am +utterly stuck. I kept stepping along," she mumbled indistinctly, "and +saying, one more,--just one more,--one more,--but the foot would not come +up,--and I knew I was stuck." + +Her voice trailed away, and she bundled against him and closed her eyes. + +Prince gritted his teeth and took her in his arms. Connie was five feet +seven, and very solid. And Prince himself was nearly exhausted with the +day's exertion. Sometimes he staggered and fell to his knees, sometimes +he hardly knew if he was dragging Connie or pushing her, or if they were +both blown along by the wind. Always there was the choke in his throat, +the blur in his eyes, and that almost unbearable drag in every muscle. A +freight train passed--only a few rods away. He thought he could never +climb that bank. "One more--one--more--one more," mumbled Connie in his +ear. + +He shook himself angrily. Of course he could make that bank,--if he +could only rest a minute,--he was not cold,--just a minute's rest to get +his breath again--a moment would be enough. God, what was he thinking +of? It was not weariness, it was the chill of the night that demanded a +moment's rest. He strained Connie closer in his arms and struggled up +the bank. + +At the top, he dropped her beside the track, and fell with her. For a +moment the fatal languor possessed him. + +A freight train rounded the curve and came puffing toward them. Prince, +roused by springing hope, clambered to his feet, pulling the little +pocket flash from his pocket. He waved it imploringly at the train, but +it thundered by them. + +Resolutely bestirring himself, he carried Connie to a sheltered place +where the wind could not strike her, and wrapped her as best he could in +his coat and sweater. Then, lowering his head against the driving wind, +he plunged down the track in the face of the storm. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +HARBORAGE + +Less than a mile down the track, Prince came to the tiny signal house +for which he had been looking. The door was locked, and so numb and +clumsy were his fingers that he found it hard to force it open. Once +on the inside, he felt that the struggle was nearly over. This was the +end. Using the railway's private phone, he astonished the telegraph +operator in Fort Morgan by cutting in on him and asking him to run +across to the nearest garage with a call for a service car. + +For a long moment the operator was speechless. Did you ever hear of +insolence like that? He told Prince to get off that wire and keep his +hands away from railway property or he would land in the pen. Then he +went back to his work. But Prince cut in on him again. Finally the +operator referred him to the station master and gave him the +connection. But the station master refused to meddle with any such +irregular business. This was against the law, and station masters are +strong for law and order. But Prince was persistent. At last, in +despair, they connected him with the district superintendent. + +"Who in thunder are you, and what do you want?" asked the +superintendent in no gentle voice. + +"I want some of those sap-heads of yours in Fort Morgan to take a +message to the garage, and they won't do it," yelled Prince. + +"Say, what do you think this is? A philanthropic messenger service?" +ejaculated the superintendent. + +"I haven't got time to talk," cried Prince. "I've got to get at a +garage, and quickly." + +"Well, we don't run a garage." + +"Shut up a minute and listen, will you? There is a woman out here on +the track, half frozen. We are twenty miles from a house. Will you +send that message or not? The woman can't live two hours." + +"Well, why didn't you tell what was the matter? I will connect you +with the operator at Fort Morgan and tell him to do whatever you say. +You stay on the wire until he reports they have a car started." + +So Prince was flung back to the operator at Fort Morgan, and that +high-souled scion of the railway was sent out like a common delivery +boy to take a message. Prince waited in an agony of suspense for the +report from the garage. It was not favorable. No man in town would go +out on a wild goose chase into the plains on a night like that. +Awfully sorry, nothing doing. + +"Take a gun and make them come," said Prince, between set teeth. + +"I'm not looking for trouble. Your woman would freeze before they got +there anyhow." + +"Send the sheriff," begged Prince. + +"He couldn't get out there a night like this in time to do you any +good." + +This was literally true. For a second Prince was silent. + +"Anything else?" asked the operator. "Want me to run out and get you a +cigar, or a bottle of perfume, or anything?" + +"Then there is just one thing to do," said Prince abruptly. "I'll have +to flag the first train and get her aboard." + +"What! You can't do it. You don't dare do it. It is against the law +to flag a train on private business." + +"I know it. So I am asking you to make it the railroad's business. I +am warning you in advance. Where are the fuses?" + +The operator helplessly called up the superintendent once more. + +"What the dickens do you want now?" + +"It's that nut on the line," explained the operator. "He wants +something else." + +"Yes, I want to know where the fuses are so I can flag the first train +that comes. Or I will just set the tool house afire; that will stop +them." + +"The fuses are in the lock box under the phone. Break the lock, or +pick it. Let us know if you get in all right. How the dickens did you +get a woman out there a night like this?" + +But Prince had no time to explain. "Thanks, old man, you're pretty +white," he said, and clasped the receiver on to the hook. A little +later, with the precious fuses in his pocket, he was fighting his way +through the snow back to Connie, lying unconscious in the white +blankets which no longer chilled her. + +The waiting seemed endlessly weary. Prince dared not sit down, but +must needs keep staggering up and down the track, praying as he had +never prayed in all his life, that God would send a train before Connie +should freeze to death. Stooping over her, he chafed her hands and +ankles, shaking her roughly, but never succeeding in restoring her to +consciousness though doubtless he did much toward keeping the blood in +feeble circulation. + +Then, thank God! No heavenly star ever shone half so gloriously bright +as that wide sweep of light that circled around the ragged rocks. +Prince hastily fired the fuse, and a few minutes later a lumbering +freight train pulled up beside him, anxious voices calling inquiry. + +With rough but willing hands they pulled the girl on board, and piled +heavy coats on a bench beside the fire where she might lie, and brought +out some hot coffee which Prince swallowed in deep gulps. They even +forced a few drops of it down Connie's throat. Prince was soon himself +again, and sat silently beside Connie as she slept the heavy sleep. + +A long lumbering ride it was, the cars creaking and rocking, reeling +from side to side as if they too were drunk with weariness and cold. + +At last Connie moved a little and lifted her lashes. She lay very +still a while, looking with puzzled eyes at her strange surroundings, +enjoying the huge fire, wondering at that curious rocking. Then, +glancing at the big brown head beside her, where Prince sat on an +overturned bucket with her hand in his, she closed her eyes again, +still puzzled, but content. + +Long minutes afterward she spoke. + +"Are you cold, Prince?" + +He tightened his clasp on her hand. + +"No." + +"How did you ever make it?" + +"The train came along and we got on. Now we are thawing out," he +explained, smiling reassurance. + +"I do not remember it. I only remember that I was stuck in the snow, +and that you did not leave me." + +"Here comes some more coffee, lady," said the brakeman, coming up. +Connie drank it gratefully and sat up. + +"Where are we going?" + +"To Fort Morgan." + +"Want any more blankets or anything?" asked the brakeman kindly. "Are +you getting warm?" + +"Too warm, I will have to move a little." + +Prince helped her gently farther from the roaring flames, and again +pulled his bucket close to her side. He placed his hand in her lap and +Connie wriggled her fingers into his. + +Suddenly she leaned forward and looked into his face, noting the steady +steely eyes, the square strong chin, the boyish mouth. Not a handsome +face, like Jerry's, not fine and pure, like David's,--but strong and +kind, a face that somehow spoke wistfully of deep needs and secret +longings. Suddenly Connie felt that she was very happy, and in the +same instant discovered that her eyes were wet. She smiled. + +"Connie," whispered the big brown man, "are we going to get married, +sometime?" + +"Yes," she whispered promptly, "sometime. If you want me." + +His hands closed convulsively over hers. + +"Make it soon," he begged. "It is terribly lonesome." + +"Two years," she suggested, wrinkling her brows. "But if it is too +lonesome, we will make it one." + +"You won't go away." Prince was aghast at the thought. + +"I have to," she told him, caressing his hand with her fingers. "You +know I believe I have a talent, and it says in the Bible if you do not +use what is given you, all the other nice things you have may be taken +away. So if I don't use that talent, I may lose it and you into the +bargain." + +Prince did not understand that, but it sounded reasonable. Whatever +Connie said, of course. She had a talent, all right, a dozen,--a +hundred of them. He thought she had a monopoly on talents. + +"I will go back a while and study and work and get ready to use the +talent. I have to finish getting ready first. Then I will come and +live with you and you can help me use it. You won't mind, will you?" + +"I want you to use it," he said. "I'm proud of it. I will take you +wherever you wish to go, I will do whatever you want. I'll get a home +in Denver, and just manage the business from the outside. I can live +the way you like to live and do the things you like to have done; +Connie, I know I can." + +Connie reached slowly for her hand-bag. From it she took a tiny +note-book and tossed it in the fire. + +"Literary material," she explained, smiting at him. "I can not write +what I have learned in Fort Morgan. I can only live it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE SUNNY SLOPE + +After Connie's visit, when she had returned to Chicago to finish +learning how to write her knowledge, David and Carol with little Julia +settled down in the cottage among the pines, and the winter came and +the mountains were huge white monuments over the last summer that had +died. Later in the winter a nurse came in to take charge of the little +family, and although Carol was afraid of her, she obeyed with childish +confidence whenever the nurse gave directions. + +"I feel fine to-day," David said to her one morning. "I think when +spring comes I shall be stronger again. It is a good thing to be +alive." + +He glanced through the window and looked at Carol, buttoning Julia's +gaiters for the fifth time that morning. + +"It is a pretty nice world to most of us," said the nurse. + +"We each have a world of our own, I guess. Mine is Carol and Julia +now. I have no grouch at life, and I register no complaint against +circumstances, but I should be glad to live in my little world a long, +long time." + +One morning when spring had come, when the white monuments melted and +drifted away with the clouds, and when the shadowy canyons and the +yellow rocky peaks stood out bare and bright, David called her to him. + +"Look," he said, "the same old sunny slope. We have been climbing it +four years now, a long climb, sometimes pretty rough and rugged for +you." + +"It was not, David,--never," she protested quickly. "It was always a +clear bright path. And we've been finding things to laugh at all the +way." + +He pulled her into his arm beside him on the bed. "We are going to the +top of the sunny slope together. Look at the mountain there. We are +going up one of those sunny ridges, and sometime, after a while, we +will stand at the top, right on the summit, with the sky above and the +valleys below." + +She nodded her head, smiling at him bravely. + +"I think it is probably very near to Heaven," he said slowly, in a +dreamy voice. "I think it must be. It is so intensely bright,--see +how it cuts into the blue. Yes, it must be right at the gates of +Heaven. We will stand right there together, won't we?" + +"David," she whispered. + +"This is what I want to say. After that, there will be another way for +you to go, on the other side. Look at the mountains, dear. See, there +are other peaks beyond, with alternating slopes of sunshine and canyons +of shadow. It is much easier to stick to the sunny slopes when there +are two together. It is very easy to stagger off into the shadows, +when one has to travel alone. But, Carol, don't you go into the +shadows. I want to think always that you are staying in the sunshine, +on the slopes, where it is bright, where Julia can laugh and play, +where you can sing and listen to the birds. Stick to the sunny slopes, +dear, even when you are climbing alone." + +Carol nodded her head in affirmation, though her face was hidden. + +"I will, David. I will run right out of the shadows and find the sunny +slopes." + +"And do not try to live by, 'what would David like?' Be happy, dear. +Follow the sunshine. I think it guides us truly, for a pure kind heart +can not mistake fleeting gaiety for lasting joys like you and I have +had. So wherever your journey of joy may take you, follow it and be +assured that I am smiling at you in the sunshine." + +Carol stayed with him after that, sitting very quietly, speaking +softly, in the subdued way that had developed from her youthful +buoyance, always quick to smile reassuringly and adoringly when he +looked at her, always ready to look hopefully to the sunny slopes when +his finger pointed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE END + +In a low hammock beneath the maples Carol lay, pale and slender, +dressed in a soft gown of creamy white, with a pink rose at her belt. +Through an open window she could see her father at his desk up-stairs. +Often he came to the window, waving a friendly greeting that told how +glad he was to have her in the family home again. And she could see +Aunt Grace in the kitchen, energetically whipping cream for the apple +pie for dinner--"Carol always did love apple pie with whipped cream." +Julia was digging a canal through the flower bed a dozen steps away. +And close at her side sat Lark, the sweet, old, precious twin, who +could not attend to the farm a single minute now that Carol was at home +once more. + +Carol's hands were clasped under her head, and she was staring up +through the trees at the clear blue sky, flecked like a sea with bits +of foam. + +"Mother," cried Julia, running to the hammock and sweeping wildly at +the sky with a knife she was using for a spade, "I looked right up into +Heaven and I saw my daddy, and he did not cough a bit. He smiled at me +and said, 'Hello, little sweetheart. Take good care of Mother.'" + +Carol kissed her, softly, regardless of the streaks of earth upon her +chubby face. + +"Mother," puzzled Julia, "what is it to be died? I can't think it. +And I lie down and I can't do it. What is it to be died?" + +"Death, Julia, you mean death. I think, dear, it is life,--life that +is all made straight; life where one can work and never be laid aside +for illness; life where one can love, and fear no separation; life +where one can do the big things he yearned to do, and be the big man he +yearned to be with no hindrance of little petty things. I think that +death is life, the happy life." + +Julia, satisfied, returned to her canal, and Lark, with throbbing pity, +patted Carol's arm. + +"Do you know, Larkie, I think that death is life on the top of a sunny +slope, clear up on the peak where it touches the sky. Such a big sunny +slope that the canyons of shadow are miles and miles away, out of sight +entirely. I believe that David is living right along on the top of a +sunny slope." + +Her father stepped to the window and tapped on the pane, waving down to +them. "I can't keep away from this window," he called. "Whenever you +twins get together I think I have to watch you just as I used to when +you were mobbing the parsonage." + +The twins laughed, and when he went back to his desk they turned to +each other with eyes that plainly said, "Isn't he the grandest father +that ever lived?" + +Then Carol folded her hands behind her head again and looked dreamily +up through the leafy maples, seeing the broad mesa stretching off miles +away to the mountains, where the dark canyons underlined the sunny +slopes. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNNY SLOPES*** + + +******* This file should be named 18426-8.txt or 18426-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/4/2/18426 + + + +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Sunny Slopes</p> +<p>Author: Ethel Hueston</p> +<p>Release Date: May 20, 2006 [eBook #18426]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNNY SLOPES***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Al Haines</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT=""A minister's wife! You look more like a little girl's baby doll."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="417" HEIGHT="624"> +<H4> +[Frontispiece: "A minister's wife! You look more like a little girl's baby doll."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +SUNNY SLOPES +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ETHEL HUESTON +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF +<BR> +PRUDENCE OF THE PARSONAGE, +<BR> +PRUDENCE SAYS SO, ETC. +</H3> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATED BY +<BR> +ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP +<BR> +PUBLISHERS ———— NEW YORK +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT 1917 +<BR> +THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +<I> +This Book<BR> +Is Written in Memory of My Husband<BR> +Eager in Service, Patient in Illness<BR> +Unfaltering in Death, and<BR> +Is Dedicated to<BR> +The St. Louis Presbytery<BR> +To Which I Owe a Debt of Interest<BR> +Of Sympathy and of Unfailing Friendship<BR> +I Can Ever Hope to Pay<BR> +</I> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE BEGINNING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">MANSERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">A BABY IN BUSINESS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">A WOMAN IN THE CHURCH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">A MINISTER'S SON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE HEAVY YOKE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE FIRST STEP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">REACTION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">UPHEAVAL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">WHERE HEALTH BEGINS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE OLD TEACHER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE LAND O' LUNGERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">OLD HOPES AND NEW</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">NEPTUNE'S SECOND DAUGHTER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">THE SECOND STEP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">DEPARTED SPIRITS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">RUBBING ELBOWS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">QUIESCENT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">RE-CREATION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">LITERARY MATERIAL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">ADVENTURING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">HARBORAGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">THE SUNNY SLOPE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">THE END</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +"A minister's wife! You look more<BR> +like a little girl's baby doll." . . . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-120"> +"Silly old goose," she murmured. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-254"> +Carol, with an inarticulate sob,<BR> +gathered her baby in her arms. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-302"> +"I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly,<BR> +unsmilingly, "I did not mean to be rude." +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +SUNNY SLOPES +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BEGINNING +</H3> + +<P> +Back and forth, back and forth, over the net, spun the little white +ball, driven by the quick, sure strokes of the players. There was no +sound save the bounding of the ball against the racquets, and the thud +of rubber soles on the hard ground. Then—a sudden twirl of a supple +wrist, and— +</P> + +<P> +"Deuce!" cried the girl, triumphantly brandishing her racquet in the +air. +</P> + +<P> +The man on the other side of the net laughed as he gathered up the +balls for a new serve. +</P> + +<P> +Back and forth, back and forth, once more,—close to the net, away back +to the line, now to the right, now to the left,—and then— +</P> + +<P> +"Ad out, I am beating you, David," warned the girl, leaping lightly +into the air to catch the ball he tossed her. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is a beauty," she said, as the ball spun away from her racquet. +</P> + +<P> +The two, white-clad, nimble figures flashed from side to side of the +court. He sprang into the air to meet her ball, and drove it into the +farthest corner, but she caught it with a backward gesture. Still he +was ready for it, cutting it low across the net,—yes, she was there, +she got it,—but the stroke was hard,—and the ball was light. +</P> + +<P> +"Was it good?" she gasped, clasping the racquet in both hands and +tilting dangerously forward on tiptoe to look. +</P> + +<P> +"Good enough,—and your game." +</P> + +<P> +With one accord they ran forward to the net, pausing a second to glance +about enquiringly, and then, one impulse guiding, kissed each other +ecstatically. +</P> + +<P> +"The very first time I have beaten you, David," exulted the girl. +"Isn't everything glorious?" she demanded, with all of youth's +enthusiasm. +</P> + +<P> +"Just glorious," came the ready answer, with all of mature manhood's +response to girlish youth. Clasping the slender hands more tightly, he +added, laughing, "And I kiss the fingers that defeated me." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, David," the buoyant voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "I love +you,—I love you,—I—I am just crazy about you." +</P> + +<P> +"Careful, Carol, remember the manse," he cautioned gaily. +</P> + +<P> +"But this is honeymooning, and the manse hasn't gloomed on my horizon +yet. I'll be careful when I get installed. I am really a Methodist +yet, and Methodists are expected to shout and be enthusiastic. When we +move into our manse, and the honeymoon is ended, I'll just say, 'I am +very fond of you, Mr. Duke.'" The voice lengthened into prim and prosy +solemnity. +</P> + +<P> +"But our honeymoon isn't to end. Didn't we promise that it should last +forever?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it will." She dimpled up at him, snuggling herself in the +arm that still encircled her shoulders. "Of course it will." She +balanced her racquet on the top of his head as he bent adoringly over +her. "Of course it will,—unless your grim old Presbyterians manse all +the life out of me." +</P> + +<P> +"If it ever begins, tell me," he begged, "and we'll join the Salvation +Army. There's life enough even for you." +</P> + +<P> +"I beat you," she teased, irrelevantly. "I am surprised,—a great big +man like you." +</P> + +<P> +"And to-morrow we'll be in St. Louis." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she assented, weakening swiftly. "And the mansers will have me +in their deadly clutch." +</P> + +<P> +"The only manser who will clutch you is myself." He drew her closer in +his arm as he spoke. "And you like it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I love it. And I like the mansers already. I hope they like me. +I am improving, you know. I am getting more dignified every day. +Maybe they will think I am a born Presbyterian if you don't give me +away. Have you noticed how serious I am getting?" She pinched +thoughtfully at his chin. "David Duke, we have been married two whole +weeks, and it is the most delicious, and breathless, and amazing thing +in the world. It is life—real life—all there is to life, really, +isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, life is love, they say, so this is life. All the future must be +like this." +</P> + +<P> +"I never particularly yearned to be dead," she said, wrinkling her +brows thoughtfully, "but I never even dreamed that I could be so happy. +I am awfully glad I didn't die before I found it out." +</P> + +<P> +"You are happy, aren't you, sweetheart?" +</P> + +<P> +She turned herself slowly in his arm and lifted puckering lips to his. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey, wake up, are you playing tennis, or staging Shakespeare? We want +the court if you don't need it." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. and Mrs. Duke, honeymooners, gazed speechlessly at the group of +young men standing motionless forty feet away, then Carol wheeled about +and ran swiftly across the velvety grass, over the hill and out of +sight, her husband in close pursuit. +</P> + +<P> +Once she paused. +</P> + +<P> +"If the mansers could have seen us then!" she ejaculated, with awe in +her voice. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MANSERS +</H3> + + +<P> +The introduction of Mrs. David Arnold Duke, née Methodist, to the +members of her husband's Presbyterian flock, was, for the most part, +consummated with grace and dignity. Only one untoward incident +lingered in her memory to cloud her lovely face with annoyance. +</P> + +<P> +In honor of his very first honeymoon, hence his first opportunity to +escort a beautiful and blushing bride to the cozy little manse he had +so painstakingly prepared for her reception, the Reverend David +indulged in the unwonted luxury of a taxicab. And happy in the +consciousness of being absolutely correct as to detail, they were +driven slowly down the beautifully shaded avenues of the Heights, one +of the many charming suburbs of St. Louis,—aware of the scrutiny of +interested eyes from the sheltering curtains of many windows. +</P> + +<P> +Being born and bred in the ministry, Carol acquitted herself properly +before the public eye. But once inside the guarding doors of the +darling manse, secure from the condemning witness of even the least of +the fold, she danced and sang and exulted as the very young, and very +glad, must do to find expression. +</P> + +<P> +Their first dinner in the manse was more of a social triumph than a +culinary success. The coffee was nectar, though a trifle overboiled. +The gravy was sweet as honey, but rather inclined to be lumpy. And the +steak tasted like fried chicken, though Carol had peppered it twice and +salted it not at all. It wasn't her fault, however, for the salt and +pepper shakers in her "perfectly irresistible" kitchen cabinet were +exactly alike,—and how was she to know she was getting the same one +twice? +</P> + +<P> +Anyhow, although they started very properly with plates on opposite +sides of the round table, by the time they reached dessert their chairs +were just half way round from where they began the meal, and the salad +dishes were so close together that half the time they ate from one and +half the time from the other. And when it was all over, they pushed +the dishes back and clasped their hands promiscuously together and +talked with youthful passion of what they were going to do, and how +wonderful their opportunity for service was, and what revolutions they +were going to work in the lives of the nice, but no doubt prosy +mansers, and how desperately they loved each other. And it was going +to last forever and ever and ever. +</P> + +<P> +So far they were just Everybride and Everygroom. Their hearts sang and +the manse was more gorgeous than any mansion on earth, and all the +world was good and sweet, and they couldn't possibly ever make any kind +of a mistake or blunder, for love was guiding them,—and could pure +love lead astray? +</P> + +<P> +David at last looked at his watch and said, rather hurriedly: +</P> + +<P> +"By the way, I imagine a few of our young people will drop in to-night +for a first smile from the manse lady." +</P> + +<P> +Carol leaped from her chair, jerked off the big kitchen apron, and flew +up the stairs with never a word. When David followed more slowly, he +found her already painstakingly dusting her matchless skin with velvety +powder. +</P> + +<P> +"I got a brand new box of powder, David, the very last thing I did," +she began, as he entered the room. "When this is gone, I'll resort to +cheaper kinds. You see, father's had such a lot of experience with +girls and complexions that he just naturally expects them to be +expensive—and would very likely be confused and hurt if things were +changed. But I can imagine what a shock it would be to you right at +the start." +</P> + +<P> +David assured her that any powder which added to the wonder of that +most wonderful complexion was well worth any price. But Carol shook +her head sagely. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a dollar a box, my dear, and very tiny boxes at that. Now don't +talk any more for I must fix my hair and dress, and—I want to look +perfectly darling or they won't like me, and then they will not put +anything in the collections and the heathens and we will starve +together. Oh, will you buckle my slippers? Thanks. Here's half a +kiss for your kindness. Oh, David, dear, do run along and don't bother +me, for suppose some one should get here before I am all fixed, and— +Shall I wear this little gray thing? It makes me look very, very +sensible, you know, and—er—well, pretty, too. One can be pretty as +well as sensible, and I think it's a Christian duty to do it. David, I +shall never be ready. I can not be talked to, and make myself +beautiful all at once. Dear, please go and say your prayers, and ask +God to make them love me, will you? For it is very important, and— +If I act old, and dignified, they will think I am appropriate at least, +won't they? Oh, this horrible dress, I never can reach the hooks. +Will you try, David, there's my nice old boy. Oh, are you going down? +Well, I suppose one of us ought to be ready for them,—run along,—it's +lonesome without you,—but I have to powder my face, and— Oh, that +was just the preliminary. The conclusion is always the same. Bye, +dearest." Then, solemnly, to her mirror, she said, "Isn't he the +blessedest old thing that ever was? My, I am glad Prudence got married +so long ago, or he might have wanted her instead of me. I don't +suppose the mansers could possibly object to a complexion like mine. I +can get a certificate from father to prove it is genuine, if they don't +believe it." +</P> + +<P> +Then she gave her full attention to tucking up tiny, straying curls +with invisible hair pins, and was quite startled when David called +suddenly: +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry up, Carol, I am waiting for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, bless its heart, I forgot all about it. I am coming." +</P> + +<P> +Gaily she ran down the stairs, parted the curtains into the living-room +and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Why are you sitting in the dark, David? Headache, or just plain +sentimental? Where are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Over here," he said, in a curious, quiet voice. +</P> + +<P> +She groped her way into the center of the room and clutched his arms. +"David," she said, laughing a little nervously, "here goes the last +gasp of my dear old Methodist fervor." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Carol—" he interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a minute, honey. After this I am going to be settled and solemn +and when I feel perfectly glorious I'll just say, 'Very good, thank +you,' and—" +</P> + +<P> +"But, Carol—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, dear, just a second. This is my final gasp, my last explosion, +my dying outburst. Rah, rah, rah, David. Three cheers and a tiger. +Amen! Hallelujah! Hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the stars! +Now it's all over. I am a Presbyterian." +</P> + +<P> +David's burst of laughter was echoed on every side of the room and the +lights were switched on, and with a sickening weakness Carol faced the +young people of her husband's church. +</P> + +<P> +"More Presbyterians, dear, a whole houseful of them. They wanted to +surprise you, but you have turned the tables on them. This is my wife, +Mrs. Duke." +</P> + +<P> +Slowly Carol rallied. She smiled the irresistible smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I am so glad to meet you," she said, softly, "I know we are going to +like each other. Aren't you glad you got here in time to see me become +Presbyterian? David, why didn't you warn me that surprise parties were +still stylish? I thought they had gone out." +</P> + +<P> +Carol watched very, very closely all that evening, and she could not +see one particle of difference between these mansers and the young +folks in the Methodist Church in Mount Mark, Iowa. They told funny +stories, and laughed immoderately at them. The young men gave the +latest demonstrations of vaudeville trickery, and the girls applauded +as warmly as if they had not seen the same bits performed in the +original. They asked David if they might dance in the kitchen, and +David smilingly begged them to spare his manse the disgrace, and to +dance themselves home if they couldn't be more restrained. The young +men put in an application for Mrs. Duke as teacher of the Young Men's +Bible Class, and David sternly vetoed the measure. The young ladies +asked Carol what kind of powder she used, and however she got her hair +up in that most marvelous manner. +</P> + +<P> +And Carol decided it was not going to be such a burden after all, and +thought perhaps she might make a regular pillar in time. +</P> + +<P> +When, as she later met the elder ones of the church, and was invariably +greeted with a smiling, "How is our little Methodist to-day," she +bitterly swallowed her grief and answered with a brightness all assumed: +</P> + +<P> +"Turned Presbyterian, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +But to David she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I did seriously and religiously ask the Lord to let me get introduced +to the mansers without disgracing myself, and I am just a teeny bit +disappointed because He went back on me in such a crisis." +</P> + +<P> +But David, wise minister and able exponent of his faith, said quickly: +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't go back on you, Carol. It was the best kind of an +introduction, and He stood by you right through. They were more afraid +of you than you were of them. You might have been stiff and reserved, +and they would have been cold and self-conscious, and it would have +been ghastly for every one. But your break broke the ice right off. +You were perfectly natural." +</P> + +<P> +"Hum,—yes—natural enough, I suppose. But it wasn't dignified, and +why do you suppose I have been practising dignity these last ten years?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A BABY IN BUSINESS +</H3> + + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Centerville, Iowa. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Dear Carol and David— +</P> + +<P> +"Please do not call me the baby of the family any more. I am in +business, and babies have no business in business. Very good, wasn't +it? I am practising verbosity for the book I am going to write some +day. Verbosity is what I want to say, isn't it? I am never sure +whether it is that or obesity. But you know what I mean. +</P> + +<P> +"To begin at the beginning, then, you would be surprised how sensible +father is turning out. I can hardly understand it. You remember when +I insisted on studying stenography, Aunt Grace and Prue, yes, and all +the rest of you, were properly shocked and horrified, and thought I +ought to teach school because it is more ministerial. But I knew I +should need the stenography in my writing, and father looked at me, and +thought a while, and came right out on my side. And that settled it. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, when I wanted to cut college after my second year so I +could get to work, father talked me out of it. But I am really +convinced he was right that time, even though he wasn't on my side. +But after I finished college, when they offered me the English +Department in the High School in Mount Mark at seventy-five per, and +when I insisted on coming down here to Centerville to take this +stenographic job with Messrs. Nesbitt and Orchard, at eight a week, +well, the serene atmosphere of our quiet home was decidedly murky for a +while. I said I needed the experience, both stenographic and literary, +and this was my opportunity. +</P> + +<P> +"Aunt Grace was speechless. Prudence wept over me. Fairy laughed at +me. Lark said she just wished you were home to take charge of me and +teach me a few things. But father looked at me again, and thought very +seriously for a while, and said he believed I was right. +</P> + +<P> +"Consequently, I am at Centerville. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it dear of father? And so surprising. The girls think he needs +medical attention, and honestly I am a little worried over him myself. +It was so unexpected. Really, I half thought he would 'put his foot +down,' as the Ladies Aiders used to want Prudence to do with us. He +was always resigned, father was, about giving the girls up in marriage, +but every one always said he would draw the line there. He is +developing, I guess. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember Nesbitt and Orchard? Mr. Nesbitt was a member of the +church when we lived here, but it was before I was born, so I don't +feel especially well acquainted on that account. But he calls me +Connie and acts very fatherly. +</P> + +<P> +"He is still a member of the church, and they say around town that he +is not a bit slicker outside the church than he was when father was his +pastor. He hurt me spiritually at first. So I wrote to father about +it. Father wrote back that I must be charitable—must remember that +belonging to church couldn't possibly do Mr. Nesbitt any harm, and for +all we knew to the contrary, might be keeping him out of the electric +chair every day of his life. And Mr. Nesbitt couldn't do the +Christians any harm—the Lord is looking after them. And those outside +who point to the hypocrites inside for excuses would have to think up +something new and original if we eliminated the hypocrites on their +account,—'so be generous, Connie,' wrote father, 'and don't begrudge +Mr. Nesbitt the third seat to the left for he may never get any nearer +Paradise than that.' +</P> + +<P> +"Father is just splendid, Carol. I keep feeling that the rest of you +don't realize it as hard as I do, but you will laugh at that. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Nesbitt likes me, but he has—well, he has what a minister should +call a 'bad disposition.' I'll tell you more about it in German when I +meet you. German is the only language I know that can do him justice. +</P> + +<P> +"I have been in trouble of one kind or another ever since I got here. +Mr. Nesbitt owns a lot of houses around town, and we have charge of +their rental. One day he gave me the address of one of his most tumble +down shacks, and promised me a bonus of five dollars if I rented it for +fifteen dollars a month on a year's lease. About ten days later, sure +enough I rented it, family to take possession immediately. Mr. Nesbitt +was out of town, so I took the rent in advance, turned over the keys, +and proceeded to spend the five dollars. I learned that system of +frenzied finance from you twins in the old days in the parsonage. +</P> + +<P> +"Next morning, full of pride, I told Mr. Nesbitt about it. +</P> + +<P> +"'Rented 800 Stout,' he roared. 'Why, I rented it myself,—a three +years' lease at eighteen a month,—move in next Monday.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Mercy,' says I. 'My family paid a month in advance.' +</P> + +<P> +"'So did mine.' +</P> + +<P> +"'My family is already in,' says I. That was a clincher. +</P> + +<P> +"He raved and he roared, and said I got them in and I could get them +out. But when he grew rational and raised my bonus to ten dollars, I +said I would do my best. He agreed to refund the month's rent, to pay +the moving expenses both in and out, to take over their five dollar +deposit for electric lights, and to pay the electric and gas bill +outstanding, which wouldn't be much for two or three days. +</P> + +<P> +"So off marches the business baby to the conflict. +</P> + +<P> +"They didn't like it a bit, and talked very crossly indeed, and said +perfectly horrible, but quite true, things about Messrs. Nesbitt and +Orchard. But finally they said they would move out, only they must +have until Friday to find a new house. They would move out on +Saturday, and leave the keys at the office. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Nesbitt was much pleased, and said I had done nicely, gave me the +ten dollars and a box of chocolates and we were as happy as cooing +doves the rest of the day. +</P> + +<P> +"But my family must have been more indignant than I realized. On +Saturday, at one o'clock, Mr. Nesbitt told me to go around by the house +on my way home to make sure the front door was locked. It was locked +all right, but I noticed that the electric lights were burning. Mr. +Nesbitt had not sent the key with me, as it was an automatic lock, and +it really was none of my business if folks moved out and left the +lights on. Still it seemed irregular, and when I got home I tried to +get Mr. Nesbitt on the phone. But he and Mr. Orchard had left the +office and gone out into the country for the afternoon. +Business,—they never go to the country for pleasure. So I comfortably +forgot all about the electric lights. +</P> + +<P> +"But Monday afternoon, Mr. Nesbitt happened to remark that his family +would not move in until Wednesday. Then I remembered. +</P> + +<P> +"I said, 'What is the idea in having the electric lights burning down +there?' +</P> + +<P> +"'What?' he shouted. He always shouts unless he has a particular +reason for whispering. +</P> + +<P> +"'Why, the electric lights were burning in the house when I went by +Saturday.' +</P> + +<P> +"'All of them?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Looked it from the outside.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Did you turn them off?' +</P> + +<P> +"'I should say not. I hadn't the key. Besides I didn't turn them on. +I didn't know who did, nor why. I just left them alone.' +</P> + +<P> +"That meant a neat little electric bill of about six dollars, and Mr. +Nesbitt talked to me in a very un-neutral way, and I got my hat and +walked off home. He called me up after a while and tried to make +peace, but I said I was ill from the nervous shock and couldn't work +any more that day. So he sent me a box of candy to restore my +shattered nerves, and the next day they were all right. +</P> + +<P> +"One day I got rather belligerent myself. It was just a week after I +came. One of his new tenants phoned in that Nesbitt must get the +rubbish out of the alley back of his house or he would move out. Mr. +Nesbitt tried to evade a promise, but the man was curt. 'You get that +rubbish out to-day, or I get out to-morrow.' +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Nesbitt was just going to court, so he told me to call up a +garbage man and get the rubbish removed. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know the garbage men from the ministers, and they weren't +classified in the directory. So I went to Mr. Orchard, a youngish sort +of man, very pleasant, but slicker than Nesbitt himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I said, not too amiably, 'Who are the garbage haulers in this town?' +</P> + +<P> +"He said: 'Search me,' and went on writing. +</P> + +<P> +"I dropped the directory on his desk, and said, "'Well, if Mr. Nesbitt +loses a good tenant, I should worry.' +</P> + +<P> +"Then he looked up and said: 'Oh, let's see. There's Jim Green, and +Softy Meadows, and—and—Tully Scott—and—that's enough.' +</P> + +<P> +"So I called them up. Jim Green was in jail for petty larceny. Softy +Meadows was in bed with a broken leg. Tully Scott would do it for +three fifty. So I gave him the number and told him to do it that +afternoon without fail. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty soon Mr. Nesbitt came home. 'How about that rubbish?' +</P> + +<P> +"'I got Tully Scott to do it for three fifty.' +</P> + +<P> +"He fairly tore his hair. 'Three fifty! Tully Scott is the biggest +highway robber in town, and everybody knows it! Why didn't you get the +mayor and be done with it? Three fifty! Great Scott! Three fifty! +You call his lordship Tully Scott up and ask him if he'll haul that +rubbish for a dollar and a half, and if he won't you can call off the +deal.' +</P> + +<P> +"I called him up, quietly, but inwardly raging. +</P> + +<P> +"'Will you haul that rubbish for a dollar and a half?' +</P> + +<P> +"'No,' he drawled through his nose, 'I won't haul no rubbish for no +dollar and a half, and you can tell old Skinflint I said so.' +</P> + +<P> +"He hung up. So did I. +</P> + +<P> +"'What did he say?' +</P> + +<P> +"I thought the nasal inflection made it more forceful, so I said, 'No, +I won't haul no rubbish for no dollar and a half, and you can tell old +Skinflint I said so.' +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Orchard laughed, and Mr. Nesbitt got red. +</P> + +<P> +"'Call up Ben Moore and see if he can do it.' +</P> + +<P> +"I looked him straight in the eye. 'Nothing doing,' I said, with +dignity. 'If you want any more garbage haulers, you can get them.' +</P> + +<P> +"I sat down to the typewriter. Mr. Orchard nearly shut himself up in a +big law book in his effort to keep from meeting anybody's eye. But +Nesbitt went to the phone and called Ben Moore. Ben Moore had a four +days' job on his hands. Then he called Jim Green, and Softy Meadows, +and finally in despair called the only one left. John Knox,—nice +orthodox name, my dear. John Knox would do it for the modest sum of +five dollars, and not a—well, I'll spare you the details, but he +wouldn't do it for a cent less. Nesbitt raved, and Nesbitt swore, but +John Knox, while he may not be a pillar in the church, certainly stood +like a rock. Nesbitt could pay it or lose his tenant. He paid. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Orchard got up and put on his hat. 'Miss Connie wants some +flowers and some candy and an ice-cream soda, my boy, and I want some +cigars, and a coca cola. It's on you. Will you come along and pay the +bill, or will you give us the money?' +</P> + +<P> +"'I guess it will be cheaper to come along,' said Nesbitt, looking +bashfully at me, for I was very haughty. But I put on my hat, and it +cost him just one dollar and ninety cents to square himself. +</P> + +<P> +"But they both like me. In fact, Mr. Orchard suggested that I marry +him so old Nesbitt would have to stop roaring at me, but I tell him +honestly that of the two evils I prefer the roaring. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Carol, I am not counting on marriage in my scheme of life. Not +yet. Sometimes I think perhaps I do not believe in it. It doesn't +work out right. There is always something wrong somewhere. Look at +Prudence and Jerry,—devoted to each other as ever, but Jerry's +business takes him out among men and women, into the life of the city. +And Prudence's business keeps her at home with the children. He's out, +and she's in, and the only time they have to love each other is in the +evening,—and then Jerry has clubs and meetings, and Prudence is always +sleepy. Look at Fairy and Gene. He is always at the drug store, and +Fairy has nothing but parties and clubs and silly things like that to +think about,—a big, grand girl like Fairy. And she is always looking +covetously at other women's babies and visiting orphans' homes to see +if she can find one she wants to adopt, because she hasn't one of her +own. Always that sorrow behind the twinkle in her eyes! If she hadn't +married, she wouldn't want a baby. Take Larkie and Jim. Always Larkie +was healthy at home, strong, and full of life. But since little Violet +came, Lark is pale and weak, and has no strength at all. Aunt Grace is +staying with her now. Why, I can't look at dear old Larkie without +half crying. +</P> + +<P> +"Take even you, my precious Carol, perfectly happy, oh, of course, but +all your originality, your uniqueness, the very you-ness of you, will +be absorbed in a round of missionary meetings, and prayer-meetings, and +choir practises, and Sunday-school classes. The hard routine, my dear, +will take the sparkle from you, and give you a sweet, but un-Carol-like +precision and method. Oh, yes, you are happy, but thank you, dear, I +think I'll keep my Self and do my work, and—be an old maid. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Orchard offers himself as an alternative to the roars every now +and then, and I expound this philosophy of mine in answer. He shouts +with laughter at it. He says it is so, so like a baby in business. He +reminds me of the time when gray hairs and crow's-feet will mar my +serenity, and when solitary old age will take the lightness from my +step. But I've never noticed that husbands have a way of banishing +gray hairs and crow's-feet and feeble knees, have you? Babies are +nice, of course, but I think I'll baby myself a little. +</P> + +<P> +"I do get so homesick for the good old parsonage days, and all the +bunch, and— Still, it is nice to be a baby in business, and think how +wonderful it will be when I graduate from my baby-hood, and have brains +enough to write books, big books, good books, for all the world to read. +</P> + +<P> +"Lovingly as always, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Baby Con." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +When Carol read that letter she cried, and rubbed her face against her +husband's shoulder,—regardless of the dollar powder on his black coat. +</P> + +<P> +"A teeny bit for father," she explained, "for all his girls are gone. +And a little bit for Fairy, but she has Gene. And quite a lot for +Larkie, but she has Jim and Violet." And then, clasping her arm about +his shoulders, which, despite her teasing remonstrance, he allowed to +droop a little, she cried exultantly: "But not one bit for me, for I +have you, and Connie is a poor, poverty-stricken, wretched little waif, +with nothing in the world worth having, only she doesn't know it yet." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A WOMAN IN THE CHURCH +</H3> + + +<P> +And there was a woman in the church. +</P> + +<P> +There always is,—one who stands apart, distinct, different,—in the +community but not with it, in the church but not of it. +</P> + +<P> +The woman in David's church was of a languorous, sumptuous type, built +on generous proportions, with a mass of dark hair waving low on her +forehead, with dark, straight-gazing, deep-searching eyes, the kind +that impel and hold all truanting glances. She was slow in movement, +suggesting a beautiful and commendable laziness. In public she talked +very little, laughing never, but often smiling,—a curious smile that +curved one corner of her lip and drew down the tip of one eye. She had +been married, but no one knew anything about her husband. She was a +member of the church, attended with most scrupulous regularity, +assisted generously in a financial way, was on good terms with every +one, and had not one friend in the congregation. The women were afraid +of her. So were the men. But for different reasons. +</P> + +<P> +Those who would ask questions of her, ran directly against the concrete +wall of the crooked smile, and turned away abashed, unsatisfied. +</P> + +<P> +Carol was very shy with her. She was not used to the type. There had +been women in her father's churches, but they had been of different +kinds. Mrs. Waldemar's straight-staring eyes embarrassed her. She +listened silently when the other women talked of her, half admiringly, +half sneeringly, and she grew more timid. She watched her fascinated +in church, on the street, whenever they were thrown together. But one +deep look from the dark eyes set her a-flush and rendered her +tongue-tied. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Waldemar had paid scant attention to David before the advent of +Carol, except to follow his movements with her eyes in a way of which +he could not remain unconscious. But when Carol came, entered the +demon of mischief. Carol was young, Mrs. Waldemar was forty. Carol +was lovely, Mrs. Waldemar was only unusual. Carol was frank as the +sunshine, Mrs. Waldemar was mysterious. What woman on earth but might +wonder if the devoted groom were immune to luring eyes, and if that +lovely bride were jealous? +</P> + +<P> +So she talked to him after church. She called him on the telephone for +directions in the Bible study she was taking up. She lounged in her +hammock as he returned home from pastoral calls, and stopped him for +little chats. David was her pastor, she was one of his flock. +</P> + +<P> +But Carol screwed up her face before the mirror and frowned. +</P> + +<P> +"David," she said to herself, when a glance from her window revealed +David leaning over Mrs. Waldemar's hammock half a block away, doubtless +in the scriptural act of explaining an intricate passage of Revelation +to the dark-eyed sheep,—"David is as good as an angel, and as innocent +as a baby. Two very good traits of course, but dangerous, +tre-men-dous-ly dangerous. Goodness and innocence make men wax in +women's hands." Carol, for all her youth, had acquired considerable +shrewdness in her life-time acquaintance with the intricacies of +parsonage life. +</P> + +<P> +She looked from her window again. "There's the—the—the dark-eyed +Jezebel." She glanced fearfully about, to see if David might be near +enough to hear the word. What on earth would he think of the manse +lady calling one of his sheep a Jezebel? "Well, David," she said to +herself decidedly, "God gave you a wife for some purpose, and I'm slick +if I haven't much brains." And she shook a slender fist at her image +in the mirror and went back to setting the table. +</P> + +<P> +David was talkative that evening. "You haven't seen much of Mrs. +Waldemar, have you, dear? People here don't think much Of her. She is +very advanced,—too advanced, of course. But she is very broad, and +kind. She is well educated, too, and for one who has had no training, +she grasps Bible truths in a most remarkable way. She has never had +the proper guidance, that's the worst of it. With a little wise +direction she will be a great addition to our church and a big help in +many ways." +</P> + +<P> +Carol lowered her lashes reflectively. She was wondering how much of +this "wise direction" was going to fall to her precious David? +</P> + +<P> +"I imagine our women are a little jealous of her, and that blinds them +to her many fine qualities." +</P> + +<P> +Carol agreed, with a certain lack of enthusiasm, and David continued +with evident relish. +</P> + +<P> +"Some of her ideas are dangerous, but when she is shown the weakness of +her position she will change. She is not one of that narrow school who +holds to a fallacy just because she accepted it in the beginning. The +elders objected to her teaching a class in Sunday-school because they +claimed her opinions would prove menacing to the young and uninformed. +And it is true. She is dangerous company for the young right now. But +she is starting out along better lines and I think will be a different +woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Dangerous for the young." The words repeated themselves in Carol's +mind. "Dangerous for the young." Carol was young herself. "Dangerous +for the young." +</P> + +<P> +The next afternoon, Carol arrayed herself in her most girlishly +charming gown, and with a smile on her lips, and trepidation in her +heart, she marched off to call on her Jezebel. The Jezebel was +surprised, no doubt of that. And she was pleased. Every one liked +Carol,—even Jezebels. And Mrs. Waldemar was very much alone. However +much a woman may revel in the admiration of men, there are times when +she craves the confidence of at least one woman. Mrs. Waldemar led +Carol up-stairs to a most seductively attractive little sitting-room, +and Carol sat at her feet, as it were, for two full hours. +</P> + +<P> +Then she tripped away home, more than ever aware of the wonderful charm +of Mrs. Waldemar, but thanking God she was young. +</P> + +<P> +When David came in to dinner, a radiant Carol awaited him. In the +ruffly white dress, with its baby blue ribbons, and with a wide band of +the same color in her hair, and tiny curls clustering about her pink +ears, she was a very infant of a minister's wife. +</P> + +<P> +David took her in his arms appreciatively. "You little baby," he said +adoringly, "you look younger every day. Will you ever grow up? A +minister's wife! You look more like a little girl's baby doll." +</P> + +<P> +Carol giggled, and rumpled up his hair; When she took her place at the +table she artfully snuggled low in her chair, peeping roguishly at him +from behind the wedding-present coffee urn. +</P> + +<P> +"David," she began, as soon as he finished the blessing, "I've been +thinking all day of what you said about Mrs. Waldemar, and I've been +ashamed of myself. I really have avoided her. She is so old, and +clever, and I am such a goose, and people said things about her, +and—but after last night I was ashamed. So to-day I went to see her, +all alone by myself, without a gun or anything to protect me." +</P> + +<P> +David laughed, nodding at her approvingly. "Good for you, Carol," he +cried in approbation. "That was fine. How did you get along?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just grand. And isn't she interesting? And so kind. I believe she +likes me. She kept me a long time and made me a cup of tea, and begged +me to come again. She nearly hypnotized me, I am really infatuated +with her. Oh, we had a lovely time. She is different from us, but it +does us good to mix with other kinds, don't you think so? I believe +she did me good. I feel very emancipated to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Carol tossed her blue-ribboned, curly head, and the warm approval in +David's eyes cooled a little. +</P> + +<P> +"What did she have to say?" he asked curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she talked a lot about being broad, and generous, and not allowing +environment to dwarf one. She thinks it is a shame for a—a—girl of +my—well, she called it my 'divine sparkle,' and she said it was a +compliment,—anyhow, she said it was a shame I should be confined to a +little half-souled bunch of Presbyterians in the Heights. She has a +lot of friends down-town, advanced thinkers, she calls them,—a poet, +and some authors, and artists, and musicians,—folks like that. They +have informal meetings every week or so, and she is going to take me. +She says I will enjoy them and that they will adore me." +</P> + +<P> +Carol's voice swelled with triumph, and David's approval turned to ice. +</P> + +<P> +"She must have liked me or she wouldn't have been so friendly. She +laughed at the Heights,—she called it a 'little, money-saving, +heart-squeezing, church-bound neighborhood.' She said I must study new +thoughts and read the new poetry, and run out with her to grip souls +with real people now and then, to keep my star from tarnishing. I +didn't understand all she said, but it sounded irresistible. Oh, she +was lovely to me." +</P> + +<P> +"She shouldn't have talked to you like that," protested David quickly. +"She is not fair to our people. She can not understand them because +they live sweet, simple lives where home and church are throned. New +thought is not necessary to them because they are full of the old, old +thought of training their babies, and keeping their homes, and +worshiping God. And I know the kind of people she meets down-town,—a +sort of high-class Bohemia where everybody flirts with everybody else +in the name of art. You wouldn't care for it." +</P> + +<P> +Carol adroitly changed the subject, and David said no more. +</P> + +<P> +The next day, quite accidentally, she met Mrs. Waldemar on the corner +and they had a soda together at the drug store. That night after +prayer-meeting David had to tarry for a deacons' meeting, and Carol and +Mrs. Waldemar sauntered off alone, arm in arm, and waited in Mrs. +Waldemar's hammock until David appeared. +</P> + +<P> +And David did not see anything wonderful in the dark, deep eyes at +all,—they looked downright wicked to him. He took Carol away +hurriedly, and questioned her feverishly to find out if Mrs. Waldemar +had put any fresh nonsense into her pretty little head. +</P> + +<P> +Day after day passed by and David began going around the block to avoid +Mrs. Waldemar's hammock. Her advanced thoughts, expressed to him, old +and settled and quite mature, were only amusing. But when she poured +the vials of her emancipation on little, innocent, trusting Carol,—it +was—well, David called it "pure down meanness." She was trying to +make his wife dissatisfied with her environment, with her life, with +her very husband. David's kindly heart swelled with unaccustomed fury. +</P> + +<P> +Carol always assured him that she didn't believe the things Mrs. +Waldemar said,—it was interesting, that was all, and curious, and gave +her new things to think about. And minister's families must be broad +enough to make Christian allowance for all. +</P> + +<P> +But, curiously enough, she grew genuinely fond of Mrs. Waldemar. And +Mrs. Waldemar, in gratitude for the girlish affection of the little +manse lady, left David alone. But one day she took Carol's dimpled +chin in her hand, and turned the face up that she might look directly +into the young blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Carol," she said, smiling, "you are a girlie, girlie wife, with +dimples and curls and all the baby tricks, but you're a pretty clever +little lady at that. You were not going to let your darling old David +get into trouble, were you? And quite right, my dear, quite right. +And between you and me, I like you far, far better than your husband." +She smiled the crooked smile and pinched Carol's crimson cheek. "The +only way to keep hubby out of danger is to tackle it yourself, isn't +it? Oh, don't blush,—I like you all the better for your little trick." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MINISTER'S SON +</H3> + + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Centerville, Iowa. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Dear Carol and David: +</P> + +<P> +"I am getting very, exceptionally wise. I am really appalled at +myself. It seems so unnecessary in one so young. You will remember, +Carol, that I used to say it was unfair that ministers' children should +be denied so much of the worldly experience that other ordinary humans +fall heir to by the natural sequence of things. I resented the +deprivation. I coveted one taste of every species of sweet, satanic or +otherwise. +</P> + +<P> +"I have changed my mind. I have been convinced that ordinaries may +dabble in forbidden fires, and a little cold ointment will banish every +trace of the flame, but ministers' children stay scarred and charred +forever. I have decided to keep far from the worldly blazes and let +others supply the fanning breezes. For you know, Carol, that the +wickedest fires in the world would die out if there were not some +willing hands to fan them. +</P> + +<P> +"There is the effect. The cause—Kirke Connor. +</P> + +<P> +"Carol, has David ever explained to you what fatal fascination a +semi-satanic man has for nice, white women? I have been at father many +times on the subject, and he says, 'Connie, be reasonable, what do I +know about semi-satanics?' Then he goes down-town. See if you can get +anything out of David on the subject and let me know. +</P> + +<P> +"Kirke is a semi-satanic. Also a minister's son. He has been in +trouble of one kind or another ever since I first met him, when he was +fourteen years old. He fairly seethed his way through college. Mr. +Connor has resigned from the active ministry now and lives in Mount +Mark, and Kirke bought a partnership in Mr. Ives' furniture store and +goes his troubled, riotous way as heretofore. That is, he did until +recently. +</P> + +<P> +"A few weeks ago I missed my railway connections and had to lay over +for three hours in Fairfield. I checked my suit-case and started out +to look up some of my friends. As I went out one door, I glimpsed the +vanishing point of a man's coat exiting in the opposite direction. I +started to cut across the corner, but a backward glance revealed a +man's hat and one eye peering around the corner of the station. Was I +being detected? I stopped in my tracks, my literary instinct on the +alert. The hat slowly pivoted a head into view. It was Kirke Connor. +He shuffled toward me, glancing back and forth in a curious, furtive +way. His face was harrowed, his eyes blood-shot. He clutched my hand +breathlessly and clung to me as to the proverbial straw. +</P> + +<P> +"'Have you seen Matters?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"'Matters?' +</P> + +<P> +"'You know Matters,—the sheriff at Mount Mark.' +</P> + +<P> +"I looked at him in a way which I trust became the daughter of a +district superintendent of the Methodist Episcopal Church. +</P> + +<P> +"He mopped his fevered brow. +</P> + +<P> +"'He has been on my trail for two days.' Then he twinkled, more like +himself. 'It has been a hot trail, too, if I do say it who shouldn't. +If he has had a full breath for the last forty-eight hours, I am +ashamed of myself.' +</P> + +<P> +"'But what in the world—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Let's duck into the station a minute. I know the freight agent and +he will hide me in a trunk if need be. I will tell you about it. It +is enough to make your blood run cold.' +</P> + +<P> +"Honestly, it was running cold already. Here was literature for the +asking. Kirke's wild appearance, his furtive manner, the searching +sheriff—a plot made to order. So I tried to forget the M. E. +Universal, and we slipped into the station and seated ourselves +comfortably on some egg boxes in a shadowy corner where he told his +sad, sad tale. +</P> + +<P> +"'Connie, you keep a wary eye on the world, the flesh and the devil. I +know whereof I speak. Other earth-born creatures may flirt with sin +and escape unscathed. But the Lord is after the minister's son.' +</P> + +<P> +"'I thought it was the sheriff after you?' I interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, so it is, technically. And the devil is after the sheriff, but +I think the Lord is touching them both up a little to get even with me. +Anyhow, between the Lord and the devil, with the sheriff thrown in, +this world is no place for a minister's son. And the rule works on +daughters, too. +</P> + +<P> +"'You know, Connie, I have received the world with open hands, a loving +heart, a receptive soul. And I got gloriously filled up, too, let me +tell you. Connie, shun the little gay-backed cards that bear diamonds +and hearts and spades. Connie, flee from the ice-cold bottles that +bubble to meet your lips. Connie, turn a cold shoulder to the gilded +youths who sing when the night is old.' +</P> + +<P> +"'For goodness' sake, Kirke, tell me the story before the sheriff gets +you.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, it is a story of bottles on ice.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Mount Mark is dry.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, like other towns, Mount Mark is dry for those who want it dry, +but it is wet enough to drown any misguided soul who loves the damp. I +loved it,—but, with the raven, nevermore. Connie, there is one thing +even more fatal to a minister's son than bottles of beer. That thing +is politics. If I had taken my beer straight I might have escaped. +But I tried to dilute it with politics, and behold the result. My +father walking the floor in anguish, my mother in tears, my future +blasted, my hopes shattered.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Kirke, tell me the story.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Matters is running for reelection. I do not approve of Matters. He +is a booze fighter and a card shark and a lot of other unscriptural +things. As a Methodist and a minister's son I felt called to battle +his return to office. So I went out electioneering for my friend and +ally, Joe Smithson. You know, Connie, that in spite of my wandering +ways, I have friends in the county and I am a born talker. I took my +faithful steed and I spent many hours, which should have been devoted +to selling furniture, decrying the vices of Matters, extolling the +virtues of Smithson. Matters got his eye on me. +</P> + +<P> +"'He had the other eye on that office. He saw he must make a strong +bid for county favor. The easiest way to do that in Mount Mark is to +get after a boot-legger. There was Snippy Brown, a poor old harmless +nigger, trying to earn an honest living by selling a surreptitious +bottle from a hole in the ground to a thirsting neighbor in the dead of +night. Plainly Snippy Brown was fairly crying to be raided. Matters +raided him. And he got a couple of hundred of bottles on ice.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Served him right,' I said, in a Sabbatical voice. +</P> + +<P> +"'To be sure it did. And Matters put him in jail and made a great fuss +getting ready for his trial. I had a friend at court and he tipped me +off that Matters was going to disgrace the Methodist Church in general +and the Connors in particular by calling me in as a witness, making me +tell where I bought sundry bottles known to have been in my possession. +Picture it to yourself, sweet Connie,—my white-haired mother, my +sad-eyed father, the condemning deacons, the sneering Sunday-school +teachers, the prim-lipped Epworth Leaguers,—it could not be. I left +town. Matters left also,—coming my way. For two days we have been at +it, hot foot, cold foot. We have covered most of southeastern Iowa in +forty-eight hours. He has the papers to serve on me, but he's got to +go some yet.' +</P> + +<P> +"Kirke stood up and peered about among the trunks. All serene. +</P> + +<P> +"'I am nearly starved,' he said plaintively. 'Do you suppose we could +sneak into some quiet joint and grab a ham sandwich and a cup of +coffee?' +</P> + +<P> +"I was willing to risk it, so we sashayed across the Street, I swirling +my skirts as much as possible to help conceal unlucky Kirke. +</P> + +<P> +"But alas! Kirke had taken just one ravenous gulp at his sandwich when +he stopped abruptly, leaning forward, his coffee cup upraised. I +followed his wide-eyed stare. There outside the window stood Matters, +grinning diabolically. He pushed open the door, Kirke leaped across +the counter and vaulted through the side window, crashing the screen. +Matters dashed around the house in hot pursuit, and I—well, consider +that I was a reporter, seeking a scoop. They did not beat me by six +inches. Only I wish I had dropped the sandwich. I must have looked +funny. +</P> + +<P> +"Kirke flashed behind a shed, Matters after him, I after Matters. +Kirke zigzagged across a lawn dodging from tree to tree,—Matters and +I. Kirke turned into an alley,—Matters and I. Woe to the erring son +of a minister! It was a blind alley. It ended in a garage and the +garage was locked. +</P> + +<P> +"Matters pulled out a revolver and yelled, 'Now stop, you fool; stop, +Kirke!' Kirke looked back; I think he was just ready to shin up the +lightning rod but he saw the revolver and stopped. Matters walked up, +laughing, and handed him a paper. Kirke shoved it in his pocket. I +clasped my sandwich in both hands and looked at them tragically,—sob +element. Then Matters turned away and said, 'See you later, Kirke. I +congratulate the county on securing your services. Just the kind of +witness we like, nice, respectable, good family, and all. Makes it +size up big, you know. Be sure and invite your friends.' +</P> + +<P> +"For a second I thought Kirke would strike him. I shook the sandwich +at him warningly and he answered with a wave of his own,—yes, he had +his sandwich, too. Then he said in a low voice, 'All right, Matters. +But you call me in that trial and I'll get you.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, oh, Sonny, you must not threaten an officer of the law,' said +Matters, in a hateful, chiding voice. He turned and sauntered away. +Kirke and I watched him silently until he was out of sight. Then we +turned to each other sympathetically. +</P> + +<P> +"'Let's go back after that coffee,' said Kirke bravely. +</P> + +<P> +"He took a bite of his sandwich thoughtfully, and I did of mine, trying +to eat the lump in my throat with it. An hour later we went our +separate ways. +</P> + +<P> +"I heard nothing further for two weeks, then Mr. Nesbitt was called +East on business and said I might go home if I liked. Imagine my +ecstasy. I found the family, as well as all Methodists in general, +quite uplifted over the strange case of Kirke Connor. From a +semi-satanic, he had suddenly evoluted into a regular pillar, as became +the son of his saintly mother and his orthodox father. He attended +church, he sang in the choir, he went to Sunday-school, he was +prominent at prayer-meeting. Every one was full of pious satisfaction +and called him 'dear old Kirke,' and gave him the glad hand and invited +him to help at ice-cream socials. No one could explain it, they +thought he was a Mount Mark edition of Twice Born Men in the flesh. +</P> + +<P> +"So the first afternoon when he drove around with his speedy little +brown horse and his rubber tired buggy and asked me to go for a drive, +father smiled, and Aunt Grace demurred not. Maybe I could give him a +little more light. I watched him pretty closely the first mile or so. +He had nothing to say until we were a mile out of town. He is a +good-looking fellow, Carol,—you remember, of course, because you never +forget the boys, especially the good-looking ones. His eyes were clear +and slightly humorous, as if he knew a host of funny things if he only +chose to tell. Finally in answer to my reproachful gaze, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, I didn't have anything to say about it, did I? I did not ask +to be born a minister's son. It was foreordained, and now I've got to +live up to it in self-defense. There may be forgiveness for other +erring ones, but I tell you our crowd is spotted.' +</P> + +<P> +"I had nothing to say. +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, you might at least say, "Good for you, my boy. Here's luck?"' +he complained. +</P> + +<P> +"I was still silent. +</P> + +<P> +"'It is good business, too,' he continued belligerently. 'I am selling +lots of furniture. I have burned the black and white cards. I have +broken the ice-cold bottles. I have shunned the gilded youths with +mellow voices. I go to church. I sell furniture. I sleuth Matters.' +</P> + +<P> +"'You what?' +</P> + +<P> +"'I am trailing Matters. Turn about. Where he goeth, I goeth. Where +he lodgeth, I lodgeth. His knowledge is my knowledge, and his tricks, +my salvation.' +</P> + +<P> +"'You make me sick, Kirke. Why don't you talk sense?' +</P> + +<P> +"'He is crooked, Connie, and everybody knows it. But it is no cinch +catching him at it. Smithson is going to be elected and Matters knows +it. But the only way I can keep out of that trial is to get something +on Matters. So whenever he is out, I am out on the same road. He is +going toward New London this afternoon and so are we. I have got just +five more days and you must be a good little scout and go driving with +me, so he won't catch on that I am sleuthing him. He will think I am +just beauing you around in the approved Mount Mark style.' +</P> + +<P> +"Sure enough after a while we came across Matters talking to a couple +of farmers on the cross roads, and Kirke and I stopped a quarter of a +mile farther down and ate sandwiches and told stories, and when Matters +passed us a little later he could have sworn we were there just for our +joy in each other's company. But we did not learn anything. +</P> + +<P> +"The next day we were out again, with no better luck. But the third +day about four in the afternoon, Kirke called me on the telephone. +There was subtle excitement in his voice. +</P> + +<P> +"'Come for a drive, Connie?' he asked; common words, but there was a +world of hidden invitation, of secret lure, in his voice for me. +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, gladly,' I said. Father did not nod approvingly and Aunt Grace +did not smile this time. Three days in succession was a little too +warm even for a newly made pillar, but they said nothing and Kirke and +I set out. +</P> + +<P> +"'He raided Jack Mott's last night and has about three hundred bottles +to smash this afternoon. The old fellow is pretty fond of the ice-cold +bottles himself and it is common report that he raids just often enough +to keep himself supplied. So I think I'll keep an eye on him to-day. +He started half an hour ago, south road, and he has Gus Waldron with +him,—his boon companion, and the most notoriously ardent devotee of +the bottles in all dear dry Mount Mark. Lovely day for a drive, isn't +it?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, lovely.' I was very happy. I felt like a princess of old, +riding off into danger, and I felt very warm and friendly toward Kirke. +Remember that he is very good-looking and just bad enough in spite of +his new pillar-hood, to be spell-binding, and—it was lots of fun. +Kirke grabbed my hand and squeezed it chummily, and I smiled at him. +</P> + +<P> +"'You are a glorious girl,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I should have reminded him and myself that he was a +semi-satanic, but I did not. I laughed and rubbed the back of his hand +softly with the tips of my nice pink finger nails, and laughed again. +</P> + +<P> +"Then here came a light wagon,—Matters and Waldron,—going home, and +we realized we had been loitering on the job. Kirke shook his head +impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +"'You distracted me,' he said. 'I forgot my reputation's salvation in +the smile of your eye.' +</P> + +<P> +"But we drove on to look the field over. Less than half a mile down +the road we came to a low creek with rocky rugged banks. The banks +were splashed and splattered with bits of glass, and over the glass and +over the rocks ran thin trickling streams of a pale brown liquid that +had a perfectly sickening odor. I sniffed disgustedly as we walked +over to reconnoiter. +</P> + +<P> +"'I guess he made good all right,' said Kirke in a disappointed voice, +inspecting the glass-splattered banks of the creek. Then he leaped +across and walked lightly up the bank on the opposite side. Stooping +down, he lifted an unbroken bottle and waved it at me, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"'They missed one. Never a crack in it and still cold.' He looked at +it curiously, affectionately, then with resignation. 'I am a +minister's son,' he reminded himself sternly. He lifted the bottle +above his head, and with his eye selected a nice rough rock half way +down the bank. 'Watch the bubbles,' he called to me. +</P> + +<P> +"'Hay, mister,' interposed a voice, 'gimme half a dollar an' I'll show +you a whole pile of 'em that ain't broke.' +</P> + +<P> +"Slowly we rallied from our stupefaction as we gazed at the slim, +brown, barefooted lad of the farm who was proudly brandishing a +forbidden cigarette of corn-silks. +</P> + +<P> +"'A whole pile of 'em. On the square?' asked Kirke with glittering +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, sir. A couple o' fellows come out in a light wagon a while ago +an' had a lot of bottles in boxes. First they throwed one on the +rocks, an' then they throwed one up in the tall grass, one up an' one +down. There's a whole pile of 'em that ain't broke at all. An' the +little dark fellow says, "A good job, Gus. We'll be Johnny-on-the-spot +as soon as it gets dark."' +</P> + +<P> +"Kirke was standing over him, his eyes bright, his hands clenched. 'On +the level?' he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"'Sure, but gimme the half first.' Kirke passed out a silver dollar +without a word and the boy snatched it from him, giggling to himself +with rapture. +</P> + +<P> +"'Right up there, mister, in that pile of weeds.' +</P> + +<P> +"Kirke took my hand and we scrambled up the bank, pulling back the tall +grass,—no need to stoop and look. Bottle after bottle, bottle after +bottle, lay there snugly and securely, waiting for the sheriff and his +friend to rescue them after dark. +</P> + +<P> +"The lad had already disappeared, smoking his corn-silks rapturously, +his dollar snug in the palm of his hand. And Kirke and I, without a +word, began patiently carrying the bottles to the buggy. Again and +again we returned to the clump of weeds, counting the bottles as we +carried them out,—a hundred and fifty of them, even. +</P> + +<P> +"Then we got into the buggy, feet outside, for the bed of the buggy was +filled and piled high, covered with the robe to discourage prying eyes, +and turned the little brown mare toward town. +</P> + +<P> +"'Connie, would you seriously object to kissing me just once? I feel +the need of it this minute,—moral stimulus, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Ministers' daughters have to be very, very careful,' I told him in an +even voice. +</P> + +<P> +"We were both silent then as we drove into town. When he pulled up in +front of the house he looked me straight in the face, and he uses his +eyes effectively. +</P> + +<P> +"'You are a darling,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I said 'Thanks,' and went into the house. +</P> + +<P> +"He told me next morning what happened that evening. Of course he was +there to witness Matters' discomfiture. He did not put in appearance +until the sheriff and his friend were climbing anxiously and sadly into +the light wagon to return home empty-handed. Then he sauntered from +behind a hedge and lifted his hat in his usual debonair manner. +</P> + +<P> +"'By the way, Mr. Sheriff,' he began in a quiet, ingratiating voice, 'I +hope I am not to be called as a witness in that boot-legging case.' +</P> + +<P> +"Matters snarled at him. 'Pooh,' he said angrily, 'you can't blackmail +me like that. You can't prove anything on me. I reckon the people +around here will take the word of the sheriff of their county against +the booze fightin' son of a Methodist preacher.' +</P> + +<P> +"Kirke waved his hand airily. 'Far be it from me to enter into any +defense of my father's son. But a hundred and fifty bottles are pretty +good evidence. And speaking of witnesses, I have a hunch that the +people of this county will fall pretty hard for anything that comes +from the lips of the baby daughter of the district superintendent of +the Methodist Church.' +</P> + +<P> +"Matters hunched forward in his seat. 'Connie Starr,' he said, in a +hollow voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Kirke swished the weeds with his cane,—he has all those graceful +affectations. +</P> + +<P> +"Matters swallowed a few times. 'Old man Starr is too smart a man to +get his family mixed up in politics,' he finally brought out. +</P> + +<P> +"'Baby Con is of age, I think,' said Kirke lightly. 'And she is very +advanced, you know, something of a reformer, has all kinds of +emancipated notions.' +</P> + +<P> +"Matters whipped up and disappeared, and Kirke went to prayer-meeting. +Aunt Grace saw him; I wasn't there. +</P> + +<P> +"The next day, I met Matters on the street. Rather, he met me. +</P> + +<P> +"'Miss Connie,' he said in a friendly, inviting voice, 'you know there +are a lot of things in politics that girls can't get to the bottom of. +You know my record, I've been a good Methodist since before you were +born. Sure you wouldn't go on the witness stand on circumstantial +evidence to make trouble for a good Methodist, would you?' +</P> + +<P> +"I looked at him with wide and childish eyes. 'Of course not, Mr. +Matters,' I said quickly. He brightened visibly. 'But if I am called +on a witness stand I have to tell what I have seen and heard, haven't +I, whatever it is?' I asked this very innocently, as one seeking +information only. +</P> + +<P> +"'Your father wouldn't let a young girl like you get mixed up in any +dirty county scandal,' he protested. +</P> + +<P> +"'If I was—what do you call it—subpoenaed—is that the word?' He +forgot that I was working in a lawyer's office. 'If I was subpoenaed +as a witness, could father help himself?' +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Matters went forlornly on his way and that night Kirke came around +to say that the sheriff had informed him casually that he thought his +services would not be needed on that boot-legging case,—they had +plenty of other witnesses,—and out of regard for the family, etc., etc. +</P> + +<P> +"Kirke smiled at him. 'Thank you very much. And, Matters, I have a +hundred and fifty nice cold bottles in the basement,—if you get too +warm some summer evening come around and I'll help you cool off.' +</P> + +<P> +"Matters thanked him incoherently and went away. +</P> + +<P> +"That day Kirke and I had a confidential conversation. 'Connie Starr, +I believe I am half a preacher right now. You marry me, and I will +study for the ministry.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Kirke Connor,' I said, 'if any fraction of you is a minister, it +isn't on speaking terms with the rest of you. That's certain. And I +wouldn't marry you if you were a whole Conference. And I don't want to +marry a preacher of all people. And anyhow I am not going to get +married at all.' +</P> + +<P> +"At breakfast the next morning father said, 'I believe Kirke Connor is +headed straight, for good and all. Now if some nice girl could just +marry him he would be safe enough.' +</P> + +<P> +"Aunt Grace looked at him warningly. 'But of course no nice girl could +do it, yet,' she interposed quickly. 'It wouldn't be safe. He can't +marry until he is sure of himself.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, I don't know,' I said thoughtfully. 'Provided the girl were +clever as well as nice, she could handle Kirke easily. Now I may not +be the nicest girl in the world, but no one can deny that I am clever.' +</P> + +<P> +"Father swallowed helplessly. Then he rallied. 'By the way, Connie, +won't you come down to Burlington with me for a couple of days? I have +a lot of work to do there, and we can have a nice little honeymoon all +by ourselves. What do you say?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, thank you, father, that is lovely. Let's go on the noon train, +shall we? I can be ready.' +</P> + +<P> +"'All right, just fine.' He flashed a triumphant glance at Aunt Grace +and she dimpled her approval. +</P> + +<P> +"'Now don't tell any one we are going, father,' I cautioned him. 'I +want to surprise Kirke Connor. He is going to Burlington on that train +himself, and it will be such a joke on him to find us there ready to be +entertained. He is to be there several days, so he can amuse me while +you are busy. Isn't it lovely? He really needs a little boosting now, +and it is our duty, and—will you press my suit, Auntie? I must fly or +I won't be ready.' +</P> + +<P> +"Aunt Grace looked reproachfully at father, and father looked +despairingly at Aunt Grace. But we had a splendid time in Burlington, +the three of us, for father never did one second's work all the time, +he was so deathly afraid to leave me alone with Kirke. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it lots of fun to be alive, Carol? So many thrilling and +interesting and happy things come up every day,—I love to dig in and +work hard, and how I love to drop my work at five thirty and run home +and doll up, and play, and flirt—just nice, harmless flirting,—and +sing, and talk,—really, it is a darling little old world, isn't it? +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, and by the way, Carol, when you want a divorce just write me about +it. Mr. Nesbitt and I specialize on divorces, and I can do the whole +thing myself and save you lots of trouble. Just tell me when, and I +will furnish your motive. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Lovingly as always, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Connie." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HEAVY YOKE +</H3> + + +<P> +The burden of ministering rested very lightly on Carol's slender +shoulders. The endless procession of missionary meetings, aid +societies, guilds and boards, afforded her a childish delight and did +not sap her enthusiasm to the slightest degree. She went out of her +little manse each new day, laughing, and returned, wearily perhaps, but +still laughing. She sang light-heartedly with the youth of the church, +because she was young and happy with them. She sympathized +passionately with the old and sorry ones, because the richness of her +own content, and the blessed perfection of her own life, made her heart +tender. +</P> + +<P> +Into her new life she had carried three matchless assets for a +minister's wife,—a supreme confidence in the exaltation of the +ministry, a boundless adoration for her husband, and a natural liking +for people that made people naturally like her. Thus equipped, she +faced the years of aids and missions with profound serenity. +</P> + +<P> +She was sorry they hadn't more time for the honeymoon business, she and +David. Honeymooning was such tremendously good fun. But they were so +almost unbelievably busy all the time. On Monday David was down-town +all day, attending minister's meeting and Presbytery in the morning, +and looking up new books in the afternoon. Carol always joined him for +lunch and they counted that noon-time hour a little oasis in a week of +work. In the evening there were deacons' meetings, or trustees' +meetings, or the men's Bible class. On Tuesday evening they had a +Bible study class. On Wednesday evening was prayer-meeting. Thursday +night, they, with several of their devoted workers, walked a mile and a +half across country to Happy Hollow where they conducted mad little +mission meetings. Friday night Carol met with the young women's club, +and on Saturday night was a mission study class. +</P> + +<P> +Carol used to sigh over the impossibility of having a beau night. She +said that she had often heard that husbands couldn't be sweethearts, +but she had never believed it before. Pinned down to facts, however, +she admitted she preferred the husband. +</P> + +<P> +Mornings Carol was busy with housework, talking to herself without +intermission as she worked. And David spent long hours in his study, +poring over enormous books that Carol insisted made her head ache from +the outside and would probably give her infantile paralysis if she +dared to peep between the covers. Afternoons were the aid societies, +missionary societies, and all the rest of them, and then the endless +calls,—calls on the sick, calls on the healthy, calls on the pillars, +calls on the backsliders, calls on the very sad, calls on the very +happy,—every varying phase of life in a church community merits a call +from the minister and his wife. +</P> + +<P> +The heavy yoke,—the yoke of dead routine,—dogs the footsteps of every +minister, and even more, of every minister's wife. But Carol thought +of the folks that fitted into the cogs of the routine to drive it round +and round,—the teachers, the doctors' wives, the free-thinkers, the +mothers, the professional women, the cynics, the pillars of the +church,—and thinking of the folks, she forgot the routine. And so to +her, routine could never prove a clog, stagnation. Every meeting +brought her a fresh revelation, they amused her, those people, they +puzzled her, sometimes they made her sad and frightened her, as they +taught her facts of life they had gleaned from wide experience and +often in bitter tears. Still, they were folks, and Carol had always +had a passion for people. +</P> + +<P> +David worked too hard. It was positively wicked for any human being to +work as he did, and she scolded him roundly, and even went so far as to +shake him, and then kissed him a dozen times to prove how very angry +she was at him for abusing himself so shamefully. +</P> + +<P> +David did work hard, as hard as every young minister must work to get +things going right, to make his labor count. His face, always thin, +was leaner, more intense than ever. His eyes were clear, far-seeing. +The whiteness of his skin, amounting almost to pallor, gave him that +suggestion of spirituality not infrequently seen in men of passionate +consecration to a high ideal. The few graying hairs at his temples, +and even the half-droop of his shoulders, added to his scholarly +appearance, and Carol was firmly convinced that he was the +finest-looking man in all St. Louis, and every place else for that +matter. +</P> + +<P> +The mad little mission, so-called because of the riotous nature of the +meetings held there, was in a most flourishing condition. Everything +was going beautifully for the little church in the Heights, and in +their gratitude, and their happiness, Carol and David worked harder +than ever,—and mutually scolded each other for the folly of it. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you this, David Arnold Duke," Carol told him sternly, "if you +don't do something to that cold so you can preach without coughing, I +shall do the preaching myself, and then where would you be?" +</P> + +<P> +"Without a job, of course," he answered. "But you wouldn't do it. The +wind has chafed your darling complexion, and you wouldn't go into the +pulpit with a rough face. Your devotion to your beauty saves me." +</P> + +<P> +"All very well, but maybe you think a cold-sermon is effective." Carol +stood up and lifted her hand impressively. "My dear brothers and +sisters,—hem-ah-hem-h-hh-em,—let us unite in reading +the—ah-huh-huh-huh. Let us sing—h-h-h-h-hem—well, let us unite in +prayer then—ah-chooo! ah-choooooo!" +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you put those cough-drops?" he demanded. "But even at that +it is better than you would do. 'Just as soon as I powder my face we +will unite in singing hymn one hundred thirty-six. Oh, excuse me a +minute,—I believe I feel a cold-sore coming,—I have a mirror right +here, and it won't take a minute. Now, I am ready. Let us arise and +sing,—but since I can not sing I will just polish my nails while the +rest of you do it. Ready, go!'" +</P> + +<P> +Carol laughed at the picture, but marched off for the bottle of cough +medicine and the powder box, and while he carefully measured out a +teaspoonful of the one for himself, she applied the other with gay +devotion. +</P> + +<P> +"But I truly think you should not go to Happy Hollow to-night," she +said. "Mr. Baldwin will go with me, bless his faithful old pillary +heart. And you ought to stay in. It is very stormy, and that long +walk—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, nonsense, a little cough like this! You are dead tired yourself; +you stay at home to-night, and Baldwin and I will go. You really ought +to, Carol, you are on the jump every minute. Won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most certainly not. I haven't a cold, have I? Maybe you want to keep +me away so you can flirt with some of the Hollowers while I am out of +sight. Absolutely vetoed. I go." +</P> + +<P> +"Please, Carol,—won't you? Because I ask it?" +</P> + +<P> +She snuggled up to him at that and said: "It's too lonesome, Davie, and +I have to go to remind you of your rubbers, and to muffle up your +throat. But—" +</P> + +<P> +The ring of the telephone disturbed them, and she ran to answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Baldwin?—Yes—Oh, that is nice of you. I've been trying to coax +him to stay home myself. David, Mr. Baldwin thinks you should not go +out to-night, with such a cold, and he will take the meeting, and—oh, +please, honey." +</P> + +<P> +David took the receiver from her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks very much, Mr. Baldwin, that is mighty kind of you, but I feel +fine to-night.—Oh, sure, just a little cold. Yes, of course. Come +and go with us, won't you? Yes, be here about seven. Better make it a +quarter earlier, it's bad walking to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"David, please," coaxed Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"Goosie! Who but a wife would make an invalid of a man because he +sneezes?" David laughed, and Carol said no more. +</P> + +<P> +But a few minutes later, as she was carefully arranging a soft fur hat +over her hair and David stood patiently holding her coat, there came a +light tap at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"It is Mr. Daniels," said Carol. "I know his knock. Come in, Father +Daniels. I knew it was you." +</P> + +<P> +The old elder from next door, his gray hair standing in every direction +from the wind he had encountered bareheaded, his little gray eyes +twinkling bright, opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +"You crazy kids aren't going down to that Hollow a night like this," he +protested. +</P> + +<P> +They nodded, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, David can't go," he said decidedly. "That's a bad cold he's +got, and it's been hanging on too long. I can't go myself for I can't +walk, but I'll call up my son-in-law and make him go. So take off your +hat, Parson, and— No you come over and read the Bible to me while the +young folks go gadding. I need some ministerial attention myself,—I'm +wavering in my faith." +</P> + +<P> +"You, wavering?" demanded David. "If no one ever wavered any harder +than you do, Daniels, there wouldn't be much of a job for the +preachers. And you say for me to let Carol go with Dick? What are you +thinking of? I tell you when any one goes gadding with Carol, I am the +man." Then he added seriously: "But really, I've got to go to-night. +We're just getting hold of the folks down there and we can't let go. +Otherwise, I should make Carol stay in. But the boys in her class are +so fond of her that I know she is needed as much as I am." +</P> + +<P> +"But that cough—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that cough is all right. It will go when spring comes. I just +haven't had a chance to rest my throat. I feel fine to-night. Come on +in, Baldwin. Yes, we are ready. Still snowing? Well, a little snow— +Here, Carol, you must wear your gaiters. I'll buckle them." +</P> + +<P> +A little later they set out, the three of them, heads lowered against +the driving snow. There were no cars running across country, and +indeed not even sidewalks, since it was an unfrequented part of the +town with no residences for many blocks until one reached the little, +tumbledown section in the Hollow. Here and there were heavy drifts, +and now and then an unexpected ditch in the path gave Carol a tumble +into the snow, but, laughing and breathless, she was pulled out again +and they plodded heavily on. +</P> + +<P> +In spite of the inclement weather, the tiny house—called a mission by +grace of speech—was well and noisily filled. Over sixty people were +crowded into the two small rooms, most of them boys between the ages of +twelve and sixteen, laughing, coughing, dragging their feet, shoving +the heavy benches, dropping song-books. They greeted the snow-covered +trio with a royal roar, and a few minutes later were singing, "Yes, +we'll gather at the river," at the tops of their discordant voices. +Carol sat at the wheezy organ, painfully pounding out the rhythmic +notes,—no musician she, but willing to do anything in a pinch. And +although at the pretty little church up in the Heights she never +attempted to lift her voice in song, down at the mission she felt +herself right in her element and sang with gay good-will, happy in the +knowledge that she came as near holding to the tune as half the others. +</P> + +<P> +Most of the evening was spent in song, David standing in the narrow +doorway between the two rooms, nodding this way, nodding that, in a +futile effort to keep a semblance of time among the boisterous +worshipers. A short reading from the Bible, a very brief prayer, a +short, conversational story-talk from David, and the meeting broke up +in wild clamor. +</P> + +<P> +Then back through the driving snow they made their way, considering the +evening well worth all the exertion it had required. +</P> + +<P> +Once inside the cozy manse, David and Carol hastily changed into warm +dressing-gowns and slippers and lounged lazily before the big +fireplace, sipping hot coffee, and talking, always talking of the +work,—what must be done to-morrow, what could be arranged for Sunday, +the young people's meeting, the primary department, the mission study +class. +</P> + +<P> +And Carol brought out the big bottle and administered the designated +teaspoonful. +</P> + +<P> +"For you must quit coughing, David," she said. "You ruined two good +points last Sunday by clearing your throat in the middle of a phrase. +And it isn't so easy making points as that." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you tired of hearing me preach, Carol? We've been married a +whole year now. Aren't you finding my sermons monotonous?" +</P> + +<P> +"David," she said earnestly, resting her head against his shoulder, +partly for weariness, partly for the pleasure of feeling the rise and +fall of his breast,—"when you go up into the pulpit you look so white +and good, like an apostle or a good angel, it almost frightens me. I +think, 'Oh, no, he isn't my husband, not really,—he is just a good +angel God sent to keep me out of mischief.' And while you are +preaching I never think, 'He is mine.' I always think, 'He is God's.'" +</P> + +<P> +Tears came into her eyes as she spoke, and David drew her close in his +arms. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you, sweetheart? It seems a terrible thing to stand up there +before a houseful, of people, most of them good, and clean, and full of +faith, and try to direct their steps in the broader road. I sometimes +feel that men are not fit for it. There ought to be angels from +Heaven." +</P> + +<P> +"But there are angels from Heaven watching over them, David, guiding +them, showing them how. I believe good white angels are guiding every +true minister,—not the bad ones— Oh, I know a lot about ministers, +honey,—proud, ambitious, selfish, vainglorious, hypocritical, even +amorous, a lot of them,—but there are others, true ones,—you, David, +and some more. They just have to grow together until harvest, and then +the false ones will be dug up and dumped in the garbage." +</P> + +<P> +For a while they were silent. +</P> + +<P> +Finally he asked, smiling a little, "Are you getting cramped, Carol? +Are you getting narrow, and settling down to a rut? Have you lost your +enthusiasm and your sparkle?" +</P> + +<P> +Carol laughed at him. "David, do you remember the first night we were +married, when we knelt down together to say our prayers and you put +your arm around my shoulder, and we prayed there, side by side? +Dearest, that one little fifteen minutes of confidence and humility and +heart-gratitude was worth all the sparkle and fire in the world. But +have I lost it? Seems to me I am as much a shouting Methodist as ever." +</P> + +<P> +David laughed, coughing a little, and Carol bustled him off to bed, +sure he was catching a brand new cold, and berating herself roundly for +allowing this foolish angel of hers to get a chill right on her very +hands. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIRST STEP +</H3> + + +<P> +It was Sunday night in mid-winter. After church, David remained for a +trustees' meeting, and Carol walked home with some of the younger ones +of the congregation. When they asked if she wished them to wait with +her for David she shook her head, smiling gratefully but with weariness. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you. I am going right straight to bed. I am tired." +</P> + +<P> +Into the little manse she crept, sinking into the first easy chair that +presented itself. With slow listless fingers she removed her wraps, +dropping them on the floor beside her,—laboriously unbuttoned and +removed her shoes, and in the same lifeless manner loosened her dress +and took the pins from her hair. Then, holding her garments about her, +she went in search of night dress, slippers and negligee. A few +seconds later she returned and curled herself up with some cushions on +the floor before the fireplace. +</P> + +<P> +"Ought to make some coffee,—David's so hungry after +church,—too—dead—tired—Ummmmm." Her voice trailed off into a +murmur and she closed her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +David found her so, soundly sleeping, her hair curling about her face. +He knelt down and kissed her. She opened one eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Coffee?" she queried automatically. +</P> + +<P> +"I should say not. Go to bed." He sprawled full length on the floor, +his head against her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Worn out, aren't you, David?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm ready for bed; Such a day! Did you have time for Mrs. +Garder before Endeavor?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, she knew me too. I am glad I went. She had been waiting for me. +They say it is only a few days now. The way of a minister's wife is +hard sometimes. She wanted me to sing <I>Lead Kindly Light</I>, and was so +puzzled and confused when I insisted I couldn't sing. She thought +ministers' wives always sang. I know she is disappointed in me now. +If the Lord foreknew that I was going to marry a minister, why didn't +He foreordain that I should sing?" +</P> + +<P> +David laughed, but attempted no explanation. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you get along all right at the Old Ladies' Home?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, fine. The girls sang beautifully, and I read the Bible lesson +without mispronouncing a single word. Did the boys miss me at the +Hollow?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, they said they needed you worse than the old ladies. Maybe they +were right. We must save your Sunday afternoons for them after this. +They do need you." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you have supper with the Baldwins?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. You stayed with Mrs. Norris, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Um, I am sleepy." +</P> + +<P> +David coughed slightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up off this floor, David Duke," scolded Carol. "Don't you know +that floors are always drafty? I am surprised at you. I wish Prudence +was here to make you soak your feet in hot water and drink peppermint +tea." +</P> + +<P> +"You work too hard, Carol. You are busy every minute." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I have to be, to keep in hailing distance of you. You usually +do about three things at once." +</P> + +<P> +"It's been a good year, Carol. You've enjoyed it, spite of everything, +haven't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's been the most wonderful year one could dream of. Even Connie's +literary imagination could not conjure up a sweeter one." +</P> + +<P> +"Always something to do, something to think of, some one to +see,—always on the alert, to-day crowded full, to-morrow to look +forward to." +</P> + +<P> +"And best of all, David, always with you, working with you, taking care +of you,—always— Oh, I am tired, but it is not so bad being tired out +when you've done your level best." +</P> + +<P> +"Carol, it is fine, labor is, it is life. I can't imagine an existence +without it. Going to bed, worn out with the day, rising in the morning +ready to plunge in over one's ears. It is the only real life there is. +How do people endure a drifting through the days, with never anything +to do and never worn enough to sleep?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," said Carol promptly. "They aren't alive, that's sure. +But let's go to bed. David, please get off that floor and stop +coughing." +</P> + +<P> +David obediently got up, lightly dusting his trousers as he did so. +Then he lifted his arms high and breathed deeply. "Anyhow it is better +to be tired than lazy, isn't it?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +REACTION +</H3> + + +<P> +"Will you have this woman?" +</P> + +<P> +David's clear, low voice sounded over the little church, and the bride +lifted confident, trusting eyes to his face. The people in the pews +leaned forward. They had glanced approvingly at the slender, dark-eyed +girl in her bridal white, but now every eye was centered on the +minister. The hand in which he held the Book was white, blue veined, +the fingers long and thin. His eyes were nervously bright, with faint +circles beneath them. +</P> + +<P> +David looked sick. +</P> + +<P> +So the glowing, sweet faced bride was neglected and the groom received +scant attention. The minister cleared his throat slightly, and the +service went smoothly on to the end. +</P> + +<P> +But the sigh of relief that went up at its conclusion betokened not so +much satisfaction that another young couple were setting forth on the +troubled, tempting waters of matrimony, as that David had finished +another service and all might yet be well. +</P> + +<P> +Carol, half way back in the church, had heard not one word of the +service. +</P> + +<P> +"David is an angel, but I do wish he were a little less heavenly," she +thought passionately. "He—makes me nervous." +</P> + +<P> +The carriage was at the door to take the minister and his wife to the +Daniels home for the bridal reception, but David said, "Tell him to +take us to the manse first, Carol. I've got to rest a minute. I'm +tired to-night." +</P> + +<P> +In the living-room of the manse he carefully removed the handsome black +coat in which he had been graduated from the Seminary in Chicago, and +in which a little later he had been ordained for the ministry and +installed in his church in the Heights. Still later he had worn it at +his marriage. David hung it over the back of a chair, saying as he did +so: +</P> + +<P> +"Wearing pretty well, isn't it? It may be called upon to officiate in +other crises for me, so it behooves me to husband it well." +</P> + +<P> +Then he dropped heavily on the davenport before the fireplace, with +Carol crouching on a cushion beside him, stroking his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's not go to the reception," she said. "We've congratulated them a +dozen times already." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, we've got to go," he answered. "They would be disappointed. +We'll only stay a few minutes. Just as soon as I rest—I am played out +to-night—it is only a step." +</P> + +<P> +They slipped among the guests at the reception quietly and +unobtrusively, but were instantly surrounded. +</P> + +<P> +"A good service, David," said Mr. Daniels, eying him keenly. "You make +such a pretty job of it I'd like to try it over myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Dan," expostulated his anxious little wife. "Don't you pay any +attention to him, Mrs. Duke, he's always talking." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it," said Carol appreciatively. "I never pay attention." +</P> + +<P> +"You need a vacation, Mr. Duke," broke in a voice impulsively. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it," assented David. "We'll take one in the spring,—and you +can help pay the expenses." +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better take it now," suggested Mrs. Baldwin. "The church can +get along without you, you know." +</P> + +<P> +But the laugh that went up was not genuine. Many of them, in their +devotion to David, wondered if the church really could get along +without him. +</P> + +<P> +David gaily waved aside the enormous plate of refreshments that was +passed to him. "I had my dinner, you know," he explained. "Carol +isn't neglecting me." +</P> + +<P> +"He had it, but he didn't eat it,—and it was fried chicken," said +Carol sadly. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later they were at home again, and before Carol had +finished the solemn task of rubbing cold cream into her pretty skin, +David was sleeping heavily, his face flushed, his hands twitching +nervously at times. +</P> + +<P> +Carol stood above him, gazing adoringly down upon him for a while. +Then shutting her eyes, she said fervently: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, God, do make David less like an angel, and more like other men." +</P> + +<P> +Early the next morning she was up and had steaming hot coffee ready for +David almost before his eyes were open. +</P> + +<P> +"To crowd out that mean little cough that spoils your breakfast," she +said. "I shall keep you in bed to-day." +</P> + +<P> +All morning David lounged around the house, hugging the fireplace, and +complained of feeling cold though it was a warm bright day late in +April, and although the fire was blazing. In the afternoon he took off +his jacket and loosened his collar. +</P> + +<P> +"It certainly is hot enough now," he declared. "Open the windows, +Carol,—I am roasting." +</P> + +<P> +"That is fever," she announced ominously. "Do you feel very badly?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, nothing extra," he assented grudgingly. +</P> + +<P> +"David, if you love me, let's call a doctor. You are going to have the +grippe, or pneumonia, or something awful, and—if you love me, David." +</P> + +<P> +The pleading voice arrested his refusal and he gave the desired +consent, still laughing at the silly notion. +</P> + +<P> +So Carol sped next door to the home of Mr. Daniels, the fatherly elder. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Daniels," she cried, brightly happy because David had consented to +a doctor, and a doctor meant health and strength and the end of that +hateful little cough. "We are going to have a doctor see David. What +is the name of that man down-town—the one you think is so wonderful?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Daniels gladly gave her the name, warmly approving the move, but he +shook his head a little over David. "I am no pessimist," he said, "but +David is not just exactly right." +</P> + +<P> +"The doctor will fix him up," cried Carol joyously. "I am so relieved +and comfortable now. Don't try to worry me." +</P> + +<P> +David looked nervous when Carol gave him the name of the physician she +had called. +</P> + +<P> +"He is a Catholic,—and some of the members think—" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course they do, but I am the head of this house," declared Carol, +standing on tiptoe and assuming her most lordly air. "And Doctor +O'Hara is the best in town, and he is coming." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, all right, if you feel like that about it. I don't suppose he +would give me strychnine just because I am a Presbyterian minister." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, mercy!" ejaculated Carol. "I never thought of that. Do you +suppose he would?" +</P> + +<P> +But David only laughed at her, as he so often did. +</P> + +<P> +When Carol met the doctor at the door, she found instant reassurance in +the strong, kind, clever face. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a cold," she explained, "but it hangs on too long, and he keeps +running down-hill." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor looked very searchingly into David's pale bright face. And +Carol and David did not know that the extra joke and the extravagant +cheeriness of his voice indicated that things looked badly. They took +great satisfaction in his easy manner, and when, after a brief +examination, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Now, into bed you go, Mr. Duke, and there you stay a while. Get a +substitute for Sunday. You've got to make a baby of a bad cold and pet +it a little." +</P> + +<P> +David and Carol laughed, and when the doctor went away, and David was +safely in bed, Carol perched up beside him and they had a stirring game +of parcheesi. But David soon tired, and lay very quietly all evening, +eating no dinner, and talking very little. Telephone messages from +"the members" came thick and fast, with offers of all kinds of tempting +viands, and callers came streaming to the door. But Father Daniels +next door turned them every one away. +</P> + +<P> +"He can't talk any more," he said in his abrupt, yet kindly way. "He's +just worn out talking to this bunch,—that's all that ails him." +</P> + +<P> +Next day the doctor came again, gave another examination, and said +there was some little congestion in the lungs. +</P> + +<P> +"Just do as I have told you,—keep the windows up, drink a lot of fresh +milk, and eat all the raw eggs you can choke down." +</P> + +<P> +"He won't eat anything," said Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"Let him fast then, and he'll soon be begging for raw eggs. I'll see +you again to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +When he returned next day there was a little shadow in the kind eyes. +David lay on the cot, smiling, and Carol stood beside him. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you feel to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, just fine," came the ready answer. +</P> + +<P> +But the shadow in the doctor's eyes deepened. +</P> + +<P> +"The meanest part of a doctor's work is handing out death blows to +hope," he said. "But you two are big enough to take a hard knock +without flinching, and I won't need to beat around the bush. Mr. Duke, +you have tuberculosis." +</P> + +<P> +David winched a little and Carol clutched his hand spasmodically, yet +they smiled quickly, comfortingly into each other's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"That does not mean that your life is fanning out, by any means," +continued the doctor in his easy voice. "We've got a grip on the +disease now. You are getting it right at the start and you stand a +splendid chance. Your clean life will help. Your laughing wife will +help. Your confidence in a Divine Doctor will help. Everything is on +your side. If you can, I think I should go out west somewhere,—to New +Mexico, or Arizona. It is low here, and damp,—lots of people chase +the cure here, and find it, but it is easier out there where the air is +light and fine and the temperature is even, and where doctors +specialize on lungs." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes, indeed, we shall go right away," declared Carol feverishly. +"Yes, indeed." +</P> + +<P> +"Keep on with my treatment while you are here. And get out as soon as +you can. Stay in bed all the time, and don't bother with many +visitors. I don't need to tell you the minor precautions. You both +have brains. Be sure you use them. Now, don't get blue. You've still +got plenty to laugh at, Mrs. Duke. And I give you fair warning, when +you quit laughing there's the end of the fight. You haven't any other +weapon strong enough to beat the germs." +</P> + +<P> +It was hard indeed for Carol to see anything to laugh at just that +moment, but she smiled, rather wanly, at the doctor when he went away. +</P> + +<P> +There was silence between them for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +At last, she leaned over him and whispered breathlessly, "Maybe it is +really a good thing, David. You did need a vacation, and now you are +bound to get it." +</P> + +<P> +David smiled at her persistent philosophy of optimism. +</P> + +<P> +Again there was silence. Finally, with an effort he spoke. "Carol, +I—I could have thanked God for letting us know this two years ago. +Then you would have escaped." +</P> + +<P> +"David, don't say that. Just this minute I was thanking Him in my +heart because we didn't know until we belonged to each other." +</P> + +<P> +She lifted her lips to him, as she always did when deeply moved, and +instinctively he lowered his to meet them. But before he touched her +he stopped, stricken by a bitter thought, and pushed her face away +almost roughly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Carol," he cried, "I can't. I can never kiss you again. I have +loved to touch you, always. I have loved your cool, sweet, powdery +skin, and your lips,—I have always thought of your lips as a crimson +bow in a pale pink cloud,—I—I have loved to touch you. I have always +adored your face, the look of it as well as the feel of it. I have +<I>loved</I> to kiss you." +</P> + +<P> +Carol slipped an arm beneath his head and strove to pull his hand away +from his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on and do it," she whispered passionately. "I am not afraid. You +kissed me yesterday and it didn't hurt me. Kiss me, David,—I don't +care if I do get it." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed at her then, uncertainly, brokenly, but he laughed. "Oh, no +you don't, my lady," he said. "You've got to keep strong and well to +take care of me. You want to get sick so you'll get half the petting." +</P> + +<P> +Like a flash came the revelation of what her future was to be. "Oh, of +course," she cried, in a changed voice. "Of course we must be +careful,—I forgot. I'll have to keep very strong and rugged, won't I? +Indeed, I will be careful." +</P> + +<P> +Then they sat silent again. +</P> + +<P> +"Out west," he said at last dreamily. "Out west. I've always wanted +to go west. Not just this way, but—maybe it is our chance, Carol." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it is. We'll just rest and play a couple of months, and +then come back better than ever. No, let's get a church out there and +stay forever. That will be Safety First. Isn't it grand we have that +money in the bank, David? Think how solemn it would be now if we were +clear broke, as we were before we decided to economize and start a +bank-account." +</P> + +<P> +David nodded, smiling, but the smile was grave. The little +bank-account was very fine, but to David, lying there with the wreck of +his life about him, the outlook was solemn in spite of it. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +UPHEAVAL +</H3> + + +<P> +"Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, +fifty-three,—for goodness' sake!—fifty-four, fifty-five." Carol +looked helplessly at her dusty hands and mopped her face desperately +with her forearm. +</P> + +<P> +David, watching her from the bed in the adjoining room, gave way to +silent laughter, and she resumed her solemn count. +</P> + +<P> +"Forty-six, forty—" +</P> + +<P> +"Fifty-six," he called. "Don't try any trickery on me." +</P> + +<P> +"Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty." She sighed +audibly. "Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four—sixty-four +perfectly fresh eggs," she announced, turning to the doorway and +frowning at her husband, who still laughed. "Sixty-four perfectly +fresh eggs, all laid yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, I give you fair warning, my dear, I am no cold storage plant, and +you can't make me absorb any sixty-four egg-nogs daily just to even up +the demand with the supply. I drank seven yesterday, but this is too +much. You must seek another warehouse." +</P> + +<P> +"You are very clever and facetious, Davie, really quite entertaining. +But what am I to do with sixty-four fresh eggs?" +</P> + +<P> +"And I may as well confess frankly that I consider a minister's wife +distinctly out of her sphere when she tries to corner the fresh egg +market, particularly at the present price of existence. It isn't +scriptural. It isn't orthodox. I am surprised at you, Carol. It must +be some more Methodism cropping out. I never knew a Presbyterian to do +it." +</P> + +<P> +"And as for milk—" +</P> + +<P> +"There you go again,—milk. Worse and worse. Yesterday I had milk +toast, and milk custard, and fresh milk, and buttermilk. And here you +come at me again first thing to-day. Milk!" +</P> + +<P> +"Seven whole quarts have arrived this morning,—bless their darling old +hearts." +</P> + +<P> +"The cows?" +</P> + +<P> +"The parishioners," Carol explained patiently. "Ever since the doctor +said fresh milk and eggs, we've been flooded with milk and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Pelted with eggs. But you can't pelt any sixty-four eggs down me." +</P> + +<P> +"David," she said reproachfully, "I must confess that you don't sound +very sick. The doctor says, 'Take him west,' and I am taking you if I +ever get rid of these eggs. But I do think it would be more +appropriate to take you to a vaudeville show where you might coin some +of this extravagant humor. There's a market for it, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Here comes Mrs. Sater, with a covered basket," announced David, +glancing from the window. "I just wonder if the dear kind woman is +bringing me a few fresh eggs. You know the doctor advised me to eat +fresh eggs, and—" +</P> + +<P> +Carol clutched her curly head in despair. "Cock-a-doodle-doo," she +crowed. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean, 'Cut-cut-cut-ca-duck-et,'" reproved David. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sater paused outside the manse door in blank astonishment. Dear, +precious David so terribly ill, and poor little Carol getting ready to +take him away to a strange and awful country, and the world full of +sadness and weeping and gnashing of teeth, and yet—from the open +windows of the manse came the clear ring of Carol's laughter, followed +closely by David's deeper voice. What in the world was there to laugh +at, since tuberculosis had rapped at the manse door? +</P> + +<P> +They were young, of course, and they were still in love,—that helped. +And they had the deathless courage of the young and loving. But Mrs. +Sater bet a dollar she wouldn't waste any time laughing if tuberculosis +were stalking through her home. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in," said Carol, in answer to her second ring. "We saw you from +the window, but I was laughing so I was ashamed to open the door. +David's so silly, Mrs. Sater. Since he isn't obliged to strain his +mental capacity by thinking up sermons, he has developed quite a funny +streak. Oh, did you bring us some nice fresh eggs? How dear of you. +Yes, the doctor said he must eat lots of them." +</P> + +<P> +"They were just laid yesterday," said Mrs. Sater complacently. "And I +said to myself, 'Nice fresh eggs like these are too good for anybody +less than a preacher.' So I brought them. There's just half a +dozen,—he ought to eat that many in one day." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, easily. He is very fond of egg-nog." +</P> + +<P> +David sputtered feebly among the pillows. "Oh, easily," he echoed +helplessly. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew a woman that ate eighteen eggs every day," said Mrs. Sater +encouragingly. "She got well and weighed two hundred and thirty +pounds, and then she had apoplexy and died." +</P> + +<P> +David turned on Carol reproachfully. "There you see! That's what +comes of eating raw eggs." Then he added suspiciously, "Maybe you knew +it before and have been enticing me to raw eggs on purpose." +</P> + +<P> +Both Carol and David seized this silly pretext to relieve their +feelings, and laughed so heartily that good Mrs. Sater was quite +concerned for them. She had heard it sometimes affected folks like +that,—a great nervous or mental shock. She looked at them very +anxiously indeed. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you selling your furniture pretty well?" she asked nervously. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, just fine. Mr. Barker at the drug store has promised to fumigate +everything after we are gone, so we won't scatter any germs in our +wake." Carol spoke hurriedly, her heart swelling with pity as she saw +the sudden convulsive clutching of David's hands beneath the covers. +"Mr. Daniels has a list of 'who bought what,' and will see that +everything is delivered in good shape. Only, we take the money +ourselves in advance. Now look at this chair, Mrs. Sater,—a lovely +chair," she rattled, thinking wretchedly of that contraction of David's +hands and the darkening of his eyes. "A splendid chair. It isn't sold +yet. It cost us eight seventy-five one year ago, and we are selling it +for the mere pittance of five dollars even,—we make it even because we +haven't any change. A most beautiful chair, an article to grace any +home, a constant reminder of us, a chair in which great men have +sat,—Mr. Daniels, and Mr. Baldwin, and the horrible gas collector who +has made life wretched for every one in the Heights, and—all for five +dollars, Mrs. Sater. Can you resist it?" +</P> + +<P> +Carol's voice took on a new ring as she saw the shadow leave David's +eyes, and his lips curve into laughter again. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I swan, Mrs. Duke, if you don't beat all. Yes, I'll take that +chair. It may not be worth five dollars, but you are." +</P> + +<P> +Carol ostentatiously collected the five dollars, doubled it carefully +into a tiny bit, and tied it in the corner of her handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"My money, Mr. David Arnold Duke, and I shall buy candy and talcum with +it." +</P> + +<P> +Then she ran into the adjoining room to answer the telephone. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sater looked about her hesitatingly and leaned forward. +</P> + +<P> +"David," she said in a low voice, "Carol ought to go home to her +father. It's dangerous for her to stay with you. Everybody says so. +Make her go home until you are well. She may get it too if she goes +along. They'll take good care of you at the Presbyterian hospital out +there, you a minister and all." +</P> + +<P> +The laughter, the light, left David's face at the first word. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it," he said in a heavy voice. "I have told her to go home. +But she won't even talk it over. She gets angry if I mention it. +Every one tells me it is dangerous,—but Carol won't listen." +</P> + +<P> +"Just until you get well, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall never get well unless she is with me. But I am trying to send +her away. What can I do? I can't drive her off." His hands closed +and then relaxed, lying helplessly on the covers. +</P> + +<P> +When Carol returned she looked suspiciously from the stern white face +on the pillow to the disturbed one of her caller. +</P> + +<P> +"David is tired, Mrs. Sater," she said gently. "Let's go out in the +other room and visit. I have made him laugh too much to-day, and he is +weak. Come along and maybe I can sell you some more furniture." Then +to David, brightly, "It was Mrs. Adams, David, she wanted to know if we +needed any nice fresh eggs." She flashed a smile at him and his lips +answered, but his eyes were mute. Carol looked back at him from the +doorway, questioning, but finally followed Mrs. Sater into the next +room. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Sater, you will excuse me now, won't you?" she said. "But I have +a feeling that David needs me. He looks so tired. You will come in +again, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, my dear, David first by all means. Run right along. And +if you need any more fresh eggs, just let me know." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, thank you, yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Carol," whispered the kindly woman earnestly, "why don't you go home +and stay with your father until David is better? They will take such +good care of him at the hospital, and he will need you when he is well, +and it isn't safe, Carol, it positively is not safe. Why won't you do +as he tells you?" +</P> + +<P> +Carol stood up, very straight and very tall. "Mrs. Sater," she said, +"you know I am an old-fashioned Methodist. And I believe that God +wanted David to have me in his illness, when he is idle. If He hadn't, +the illness would have come before our marriage. But I think God +foresaw it coming and thought maybe I could do David good when he was +laid aside. I know I am a silly little goose, but David loves me, and +is happy when I am with him, and enjoys me more than anything else in +the world. I am going with him. I know God expects me to do my part." +</P> + +<P> +And Mrs. Sater went away, after kissing Carol's cheek, which already +was paling a little with anxiety. +</P> + +<P> +Carol ran back to David and sat on the floor beside him, pulling his +hand from beneath the cover and kissing the white, blue-veined fingers. +She crooned and gurgled over him as a mother over a little child, but +did not speak until at last he turned to her and said abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"Carol, won't you go home until I get well? Please dear, for my sake." +</P> + +<P> +Carol kissed the thumb once more and frowned at him. "You want to +flirt with the nurses when you get out there, and are trying to get me +out of the road. Every one says nurses are dangerous." +</P> + +<P> +"Carol, please." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Sater has been talking to you. Oh, I knew it. She is a nice, +kind, Christian woman, and loves us both, but, David, why doesn't God +teach some people to mind their own business? She is a good Christian, +I know, dear, but I do believe there is still a little work of grace to +be done in her." +</P> + +<P> +David smiled a little, sadly. +</P> + +<P> +"Carol, it would break my heart if you got this from me." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't get it. They will teach us how to be careful and sanitary, +and take proper precautions, and things like that. I am going to be +very, very careful. Why, honey, I won't get it. But, David, I would +rather get it than go away and leave you. I couldn't do that. I +should never be happy again if I left you when you were needing me." +</P> + +<P> +David turned his face to the wall. "Maybe, dear," he said very gently, +"maybe it would be better if you did go home,—better for me. I need +perfect rest you know, and we talk and laugh so much and have such good +times together. I don't know, possibly I might get well faster—alone." +</P> + +<P> +For a long moment Carol gazed at him in horror. "David," she gasped. +"Don't say that. Dear, I will go home if it makes you worse to have +me. I will do anything. I only want to help you. But I will be very +nice and quiet, like a mouse, and never say a word, and not laugh once, +if you take me with you. David, do I make you feel sicker? Does my +chatter weary you? I thought I was helping to amuse you." +</P> + +<P> +"Carol, I can't lie like that even to send you away from me. Maybe I +ought to, but I can't. Why, sweetheart, you are the only thing left in +the world. You are the world to me now. Dear, I said it for your +sake, not for mine, Carol, never for mine." +</P> + +<P> +Slowly the smiles struggled through the anguish in her face, and she +resumed her kissing of his fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"Silly old goose," she murmured; "big old silly goose. Just because +he's a preacher he wants to boss all the time. Can't boss me. I won't +be bossed. I like to boss myself. I won't let my beautiful old David +go off out there to flirt with the nurses and Indian girls and whoever +else is out there. I should say not. I'll stick right along, and +whenever a woman turns our way, I'll shout, 'Married! He is mine!'" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-120"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-120.jpg" ALT=""Silly old goose," she murmured." BORDER="2" WIDTH="589" HEIGHT="439"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "Silly old goose," she murmured.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +David laughed at her passionate discussion to herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Besides, I have been learning a lot of things. I've been talking to +the doctor privately when you couldn't hear." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, and we are great friends. He says if we just live clean, +white, sanitary lives, I am safe. I must keep strong and fat, and the +germs can't get a start. And he has been telling me lots of nice +things to do. David, I know I can help you. The doctor said so. He +says I must be happy and gay, and be positively sure you will be well +again in time, and I can do you more good than a tonic. Yes, he said +that very thing, Doctor O'Hara did. Now please beg my pardon, and +maybe I'll forgive you." +</P> + +<P> +David promptly did, and peace was restored. +</P> + +<P> +A committee of brotherly ministers was sent out from the Presbytery to +find how things were going in the little manse in the Heights. Very +gently, very tenderly they made their inquiries of Carol, and Carol +answered frankly. +</P> + +<P> +"With the furniture money we have six hundred dollars," she told them, +rather proudly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's just fine. It will take you to Albuquerque and keep you +straight for a few months, and by that time we'll have things in hand +back here. You know, Mrs. Duke, you and David belong to us and we are +going to see you through. And then when it is all over we'll get him a +church out there,—why, everything is going splendidly. Now remember, +it may be a few months, or it may be ten years, but we are back of you +and we are going to see you through. Don't ever wonder where next +month's board is to come from. It will come. It isn't charity, Mrs. +Duke. It is just the big brotherhood of the church, that's all. We +are going to be your brothers, and fathers, and—mothers, too, if you +will have us." +</P> + +<P> +The devoted mansers rallied around them, weeping over them, giving them +good advice along with other more material, but not more helpful, +assistance and declaring they always knew David was too good to live. +And when Carol resentfully assured them that David was still very much +alive, and maybe wasn't as good as they thought, they retaliated by +suggesting that her life was in no danger on that score. +</P> + +<P> +On the occasion of Doctor O'Hara's last visit, Carol followed him out +to the porch. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't presented your bill," she reminded him. "And it's a good +thing for you we are preachers or we might have slipped away in the +night." +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't any bill against you," he said, smiling kindly down at her. +</P> + +<P> +Carol flushed. "Doctor," she protested. "We expected to pay you. We +have the money. We don't want you to think we can't afford it. We +knew you were an expensive doctor, but we wanted you anyhow." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled again. "I know you have the money, but, my dear little girl, +you are going to need every cent of it and more too before you get rid +of this specter. But I couldn't charge David anything if he were a +millionaire. Don't you understand,—this is the only way we doctors +have of showing what we think of the big work these preachers are doing +here and there around the country?" +</P> + +<P> +"But, doctor," said Carol confusedly, "we are—Presbyterians, you +know—we are Protestants." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor laughed. "And I am a Catholic. But what is your point? +David is doing good work, not my kind perhaps, and not my way, but I +hope, my dear, we are big enough and broad enough to take off our hats +to a good worker whether he does things just our way or not." +</P> + +<P> +Carol looked abashed. She caught her under lip between her teeth and +kept her eyes upon the floor for a moment. Finally she faced him +bravely. +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't big or broad,—not even a little teensy bit," she said +honestly. "I was a little, shut-in, self-centered goose. But I +believe I am learning things now. You are grand," she said, holding +out her slender hand. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor took it in his. "Carol, don't forget to laugh when you get +to Albuquerque. You will be sick, and sorry, and there will be sobs in +your heart, and your soul will cry aloud, but—keep laughing, for David +is going to need it." +</P> + +<P> +Carol went directly to her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"David, I am learning lots of perfectly wonderful things. If I live to +be a thousand years old,—oh, David, I believe by that time I can love +everybody on earth, and have sympathy for all and condemnation for +none; and I will really know that nearly every one in the world is +<I>very good</I>, and those that are not are <I>pretty</I> good." +</P> + +<P> +David burst into laughter at her words. "Poorly expressed, but finely +meant," he cried. "Are you trying to become the preacher in our +family?" +</P> + +<P> +"All packed up and ready to start," she said thoughtfully, "and +to-morrow night we leave our darling little manse, and our precious old +mansers and turn cowboy. Aren't you glad you didn't send me home?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHERE HEALTH BEGINS +</H3> + + +<P> +In a little white cottage tent, at the end of a long row of minutely +similar, little white cottage tents, sat David and Carol in the early +evening of a day in May, looking wistfully out at the wide sweep of +gray mesa land, reaching miles away to the mountains, blue and solemn +in the distance. +</P> + +<P> +"Do—do you feel better yet, David?" Carol asked at last, desperately +determined to break the menacing silence. +</P> + +<P> +David drew his breath. "I can't seem to notice any difference yet," he +replied honestly. "It doesn't look much like Missouri, does it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is pretty,—very pretty," she said resolutely. +</P> + +<P> +"Carol, be a good Presbyterian and tell the truth. Do you wish you had +gone home, to green and grassy Iowa?" +</P> + +<P> +"David Duke, I am at home, and here is where I want to be and no place +else in the world. It is big and bleak and bare, but— You are going +to get well, aren't you, David?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I am, but give me time. Even Miracle Land can't transform +weakness to health in two hours." +</P> + +<P> +"I must go over to the office. Mrs. Hartley said she wanted to give me +some instructions." +</P> + +<P> +Carol rose quickly and stepped outside the cottage. +</P> + +<P> +Crossing the mesa she met three men who stopped her with a gesture. +They were of sadly similar appearance, tall, thin, shoulders stooped, +hair dull and lusterless, eyes dry and bright. Carol thought at first +they were brothers, and so they were,—brothers in the grip of the +great white plague. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you a lunger?" ejaculated one of them in astonishment, noting the +light in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"A—lunger?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes,—have you got the bugs?" +</P> + +<P> +"The bugs!" +</P> + +<P> +"Say, are you chasing the cure?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not," interrupted the oldest of the three impatiently. +"There's nothing the matter with her, except that she's a lunger's +wife. Your husband is the minister from St. Louis, isn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes,—I am Mrs. Duke." +</P> + +<P> +"I am Thompson. I used to be a medical missionary in the Ozarks. How +is your husband?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he is doing nicely," she said brightly,—the brightness assumed to +hide the fear in her heart that some day David might look like that. +</P> + +<P> +Thompson laughed disagreeably. "Sure, they always do nicely at first. +But when the bugs get 'em, they're gone. They think they're better, +they say they are getting well,—God!" +</P> + +<P> +Carol looked at him with questioning reproach in the shadowed eyes. +"It does not hurt us to hope, at least," she said gently. "It does no +harm, and it makes us happier." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," came the bitter answer. "Sure it does. But wait a few +years. Bugs eat hope and happiness as well as lungs." +</P> + +<P> +Carol quivered. "You make me afraid," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Thompson is an old croak," interrupted one of the younger men, smiling +encouragement. "Don't waste your time on him,—talk to me. He is such +a grouch that he gives the bugs a regular bed to sleep in. He'd have +been well years ago if he hadn't been such a chronic kicker. Cheer up, +Mrs. Duke. Of course your husband will get along. Got it right at the +start, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, right at the very start." +</P> + +<P> +"That's good. Most people fool around too long and then it's too late, +and all their own fault. Sure, your husband is all right. It's too +bad Thompson can't die, isn't it? He's got too mean a disposition to +keep on living with white folks." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I shouldn't say that," disclaimed Carol quickly. "He—he is just +not quite like the people I have known. I didn't know how to take him. +He was only joking of course." She smiled forgivingly at him, and +Thompson had the grace to flush a little. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Jimmy Jones," said the second man. "I was a bartender in little +old Chi. Far cry from a missionary to a bartender, but I'll take my +chances on Paradise with Thompson any day." +</P> + +<P> +"A—a bartender." Carol rubbed her slender fingers in bewilderment. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Arnold Barrows, formerly a Latin professor. <I>Amo, mas, mat,</I>" +said the third man suddenly. "I am looking for my Paradise right here +on earth, and I am sorry you are married. My idea of Paradise is a +girl like you and a man like me, and everything else go hang." +</P> + +<P> +Carol drew herself up as though poised for flight, a startled bird +taking wing. +</P> + +<P> +Thompson and Jones laughed at her horrified face, but the professor +maintained his solemn gravity. +</P> + +<P> +"He is just a fool," said the bartender encouragingly. "Don't bother +about him. It is not you in particular, he is nuts on all the girls. +Cheer up. We're not so bad as we sound. I have a cottage near you. +Tell the parson I'll be in to-morrow to give him the latest light on +the bonfires in perdition. I know all about them. Tell him we'll +organize a combination prayer-meeting; he can lead the prayer and I'll +give advanced lessons in bunny-hugs and fancy-fizzes." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night,—good night,—good night," gasped Carol. +</P> + +<P> +Forgetting her errand to the office, she rushed back to David, to +safety, to the sheltering folds of the little white cottage tent. +</P> + +<P> +He questioned her curiously about her experience, and although she +tried to evade the harsher points, he drew every word from her +reluctant lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Lunger,—and bugs,—and chasers,—it doesn't sound nice, David." +</P> + +<P> +"But maybe it is the best thing after all. We are not used to it yet, +but I suppose it is better for them to take it lightly and laugh and be +funny about it. They have to spend a lifetime with the specter, you +know,—maybe the joking takes away some of the grimness." +</P> + +<P> +Carol shivered a little. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you going to the office?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I am not. If Mrs. Hartley wants to see me, she can come here. I +am scared, honestly. Let's do something. Let's go to bed, David." +</P> + +<P> +It was a two-roomed cottage, a thin canvas wall separating the rooms. +There were window-flaps on every side, and conscientiously Carol left +them every one upraised, although she had goose-flesh every time she +glanced into the black wall of darkness outside the circle of their +lights, a wall only punctuated by the yellow rays of light here and +there, where the more riotous guests of the institution were +dissipating up to the wicked hour of nine o'clock. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, David,—you will call me if you want anything, won't you?" +And Carol leaped into bed, desperately afraid a lizard, or a scorpion +or a centipede might lie beneath in wait for unwary pink toes once the +guarding lights were out. +</P> + +<P> +This was the land where health began,—the land of pure light air, of +clear and penetrating sunshine, the land of ruddy cheeks and bounding +blood. This was the land which would bring color back to the pale face +of David, would restore the vigor to his step, the ring to his voice. +It was the land where health began. +</P> + +<P> +She must love it, she would love it, she did love it. It was a rich, +beautiful, gracious land,—gray, sandy, barren, but green with promise +to Carol and to David, as it had been to thousands of others who came +that way with a burden of weakness buoyed by hope. +</P> + +<P> +A shrill shriek sounded outside the tent,—a dangerous rustling in the +sand, a crinkling of dead leaves in the corners of the steps, a ring, a +roar, a wild tumult. Something whirled to the floor in David's room, +papers rattled, curtains flapped, and there was a metallic patter on +the uncarpeted floor of the tent. Carol gave an indistinct murmur of +fear and burrowed beneath the covers. +</P> + +<P> +It was David who threw back the blankets and turned on the lights. +Just a sand-storm, that was all,—a common sand-storm, without which +New Mexico might be almost any other place on earth. David's Bible had +been whirled from the window-ledge, and fine sand was piling in through +the screens. +</P> + +<P> +Carol withdrew from the covers most courageously when she heard the +comforting click of the electric switch, and the reassuring squeak of +David's feet on the floor of the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Everything's all right," he called to her. "Don't get scared. Will +you help me put these flaps down?" +</P> + +<P> +Carol leaped from her bed at that, and ran to lower the windows. Then +she sat by David's side while the storm raged outside, roaring and +piling sand against the little tent. +</P> + +<P> +After that, to bed once more, still determinedly in love with the land +of health, and praying fervently for morning. +</P> + +<P> +Soon David's heavy breathing proclaimed him sound asleep. But sleep +would not come to Carol. She gazed as one hypnotized into the starry +brightness of the black sky as she could see it through the window +beside her. How ominously dark it was. Softly she slipped out of bed +and lowered the flaps of the window. She did not like that darkness. +After the storm, David had insisted the windows must be opened +again,—that was the first law of lungers and chasers. +</P> + +<P> +She was cold when she got back into bed, for the chill of the mountain +nights was new to her. And an hour later, when she was almost dozing, +footsteps prowled about the tent, loitering in the leaves outside her +western window. David was sleeping, she must not interfere with a +moment of his restoring rest. She clasped her hands beneath the +covers, and moistened her feverish lips. If it were an Indian lurking +there, his deadly tomahawk upraised, she prayed he might strike the +fatal blow at once. But the steps passed, and she climbed on her knees +and lowered the flaps on the side where the steps sounded. +</P> + +<P> +Later, the sudden tinkle of a bell across the grounds startled her into +sitting posture. No, it wasn't David, after all,—somebody else,—some +other woman's David, likely, ringing for the nurse. Carol sighed. How +could David get well and strong out here, with all these other sick +ones to wring his heart with pity? Were the doctors surely right,—was +this the land of health? +</P> + +<P> +Again footsteps approached the tent, stirring up the dry sand, and +again Carol held her breath until they had passed. Then she grimly +closed the windows on the third side of her room, and smiled to herself +as she thought, "I'll get them up again before David is awake." +</P> + +<P> +But she crept into bed and slept at last. +</P> + +<P> +Early, very early, she was awakened by the sunlight pouring upon the +flaps at the windows. It was five o'clock, and very cold. Carol +wrapped a blanket about her and peeked in upon her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," she greeted him brightly. "Isn't it lovely and bright? +How is my nice old boy? Nearly well?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just fine. How did you sleep?" +</P> + +<P> +"Like a top," she declared. +</P> + +<P> +"Were you afraid?" +</P> + +<P> +"Um, not exactly," she denied, glancing at him with sudden suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +"Did the wind blow all your flaps down?" +</P> + +<P> +"How did you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I was up long ago looking in on you. We'll get a room over in the +Main Building to-day. It costs more, but the accommodations are so +much better. We are directly on the path from the street, so we hear +every passing footstep." +</P> + +<P> +Carol blushed. "I am not afraid," she insisted. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll get a room just the same. It will be easier for you all the way +around." +</P> + +<P> +Carol flung open the door and gazed out upon the land of health. The +long desolate mesa land stretched far away to the mountains, now +showing pink and rosy in the early sunshine. The little white tents +about them were as suggestively pitiful as before. There were no +trees, no flowers, no carpeting grass, to brighten the desolation. +</P> + +<P> +Bare, bleak, sandy slopes reached to the mountains on every side. +David sat up in bed and looked out with her. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a long bare slope of sand, isn't it?" she whispered. "Sand and +cactus,—no roses blooming here upon the sandy slopes." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, just sandy slopes to the mountains,—but Carol, they are +sunny,—bare and bleak, but still they are sunny for us. Let's not +lose sight of that." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE OLD TEACHER +</H3> + + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Chicago, Illinois. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Dear Carol and David— +</P> + +<P> +"It is most remarkable that you two can keep on laughing away out there +by yourselves. It makes me think perhaps there is something fine in +this being married business that sort of makes up for the rest of it. +I think it must take an exceptionally good eyesight to discern sunshine +on the slopes of sickness. If I were traveling that route, I am +convinced I should find it led me through dark valleys and over stony +pathways with storm clouds and thunders and lightnings smashing all +around my head. +</P> + +<P> +"You admonished me to talk about myself and leave you alone. Well, I +suppose you know more about yourselves than I could possibly tell you, +and since it is your own little baby sister, I am sure you are more +than willing to turn your telescope away from the sunny slopes a while +for a glimpse of my business dabbles. +</P> + +<P> +"This is Chicago. +</P> + +<P> +"Aunt Grace was rendered more speechless than ever when I announced my +intention of coming, and Prudence was shocked. But father and I talked +it over, and he looked at me in that funny searching way he has and +then said: +</P> + +<P> +"'Good for you, Connie, you have the right idea. Chicago isn't big +enough to swallow you, but it won't take you long to eat Chicago +bodily. Of course you ought to go.' +</P> + +<P> +"I know it is not safe to praise men too highly, they are so easily +convinced of their astounding virtues, but that time I couldn't resist +shaking hands with father and I said, and meant it: +</P> + +<P> +"'Father, you are the only one in the world. I don't believe even the +Lord could make your duplicate.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Mr. Nesbitt was very angry because I left them'. He said that after +he took me, a stupid little country ignoramus, and made something out +of me, my desertion was nothing short of rank ingratitude and religious +hypocrisy and treason to the land of my birth. One might have inferred +that he picked me out of the gutter, brushed the dirt off, smoothed my +ragged looks, and seated me royally in his stenographic chair, and made +a business lady out of me. But it didn't work. +</P> + +<P> +"I came. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Baker, the minister there, is back of it. He met me on the street +one day. +</P> + +<P> +"'I hear you are literary,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, I think I can write,' I answered modestly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then he said he had a third-half-nephew by marriage, to whom, ground +under the heel of financial incompetency, he had once loaned the +startling sum of fifty dollars,—I say startling, because it startled +me to know a preacher ever had that much ready cash ahead of his +grocery bill. Anyhow, the third-half-nephew, with the fifty dollars as +a nucleus,—I think Providence must have multiplied it a little, for +our fifty dollars never accomplished miracles like that,—but with that +fifty dollars as a starter he did a little plunging for himself, and is +now owner and editor of a great publishing house in Chicago. +</P> + +<P> +"And Mr. Baker, the old minister, kept him going and coming, you might +say, by sending him at frequent intervals, bright and budding lights +with which to illuminate his publications. It seems the +third-half-nephew by marriage, in gratitude for the fifty dollars, +never refused a position to any satellite his uncle chose to recommend. +And Mr. Baker glowed with delight that he had been able, from the +unliterary center of Centerville to send so many candles to shine in +the chandelier of Chicago. +</P> + +<P> +"All I had to do was to come. +</P> + +<P> +"As I said before, I came. +</P> + +<P> +"I went out to Mrs. Holly's on Prairie Avenue and the next morning set +out for the Carver Publishing Company, and found it, with the +assistance of most of the policemen and street-car conductors as well +as a large number of ordinary pedestrians encountered between Prairie +on the South Side, and Wilson Avenue on the North. I asked for Mr. +Carver, and handed him Mr. Baker's letter. He shook hands with me in a +melancholy way and said: +</P> + +<P> +"'When do you want to begin? Where do you live?' +</P> + +<P> +"'To-morrow. I have a room out on the south side, but I will move over +here to be nearer the office.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Hum,—you'd better wait a while.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Isn't it a permanent position?' I asked suspiciously. +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, yes, the position is permanent, but you may not be.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Mr. Baker assured me—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, sure, he's right. You've got the job. But so far, he has only +sent me nineteen, and the best of them lasted just fourteen days.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Then you are already counting on firing me before the end of two +weeks,' I said indignantly. +</P> + +<P> +"'No. I am not counting on it, but I am prepared for the worst.' +</P> + +<P> +"'What is the job? What am I supposed to do?' +</P> + +<P> +"'You must study our publications and do a little stenographic work, +and read manuscripts and reject the bum ones,—which is an endless +task,—and accept the fairly decent ones,—which takes about five +minutes a week,—and read exchanges and clip shorts for filling, and +write squibs of a spicy nature, and do various and sundry other things +and you haven't the slightest idea how to start.' +</P> + +<P> +"'No, I haven't, but you get me started, and I'll keep going all right.' +</P> + +<P> +"The next morning he asked how long it took me to get to the office +from Prairie, and I said: +</P> + +<P> +"'I moved last night, I have a room down on Diversey Boulevard now.' +</P> + +<P> +"He looked me over thoughtfully. Then he said: 'You ought to be a +poet.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Why? I haven't any poetic ability that I know of.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Probably not, but you can get along without that. What a poet needs +first of all is nerve.' +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't think of anything apt to say in return so I got to work. Day +after day he tried me out on something new and watched me when he +thought I didn't notice, and went over my work very carefully. One +morning he asked me to write five hundred words on 'The First Job in a +Big City,' bringing out a country aspirant's sensations on the occasion +of his first interview with a prospective employer. +</P> + +<P> +"I still felt so strongly about his insolent assurance that I couldn't +hold down his little old job, that I had no trouble at all with the +assignment. He read it slowly and made no comment, but he gave it a +place in the current issue. And then came a blessed day when he said, +'Well, you are on for good, Miss Starr. I now believe in the +scriptural injunction about seventy times seven, and a kind Providence +cut the margin down for me. I forgive Uncle Baker for the nineteen +atrocities at last.' +</P> + +<P> +"I was very happy about it, for I do love the work and the others in +the office are splendid, so keen and clever, and Mr. Carver is really +wonderful. We are not a large concern, and we have to lend a hand +wherever hands are needed. So I am getting five times my fifteen +dollars a week in experience, and I am singing inside every minute I +feel so good about everything. The workers are all efficient and +enthusiastic, and we are great friends. We gossip affectionately about +whoever is absent, and hold a jubilee at the restaurant down-stairs +when any one gets ahead with an extra story. No other publishers have +come rapping at my door in a mad attempt to steal me away from Mr. +Carver. I have no bulky mail soliciting stories from my facile pen. +But I am making good with Mr. Carver, and that's the thing right now. +</P> + +<P> +"Have I fallen in love yet? Carol, dear, I always understood that when +folks get married they lose their sentimentality. Are you the proving +exception? My acquaintance with Chicago masculinity is confined to the +office, the Methodist Church, and the boarding-house. The office force +is all married but the office boy. The Methodist congregation is +composed of women, callow youths and bald heads of families. Women are +counted out, of necessity. I am beyond callow youths, and not advanced +to heads of families. Why, I haven't a chance to fall in love,—worse +luck, too, for I need the experience in my business. +</P> + +<P> +"At the boarding-house I do have a little excitement now and then. The +second night after my installation a man walked into my room without +knocking,—that is, he opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +"'Gee, the old lady wasn't bluffing,' he said, in a tone of surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"It was early in the evening and he was properly dressed and looked +harmless, so I wasn't frightened. +</P> + +<P> +"'Good evening,' I said in my reserved way. +</P> + +<P> +"'Gave you my room, did she?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"'She gave me this one,—for a consideration.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, it is mine,' he said sadly. 'She has threatened to do it, lo, +these many years, but I never believed she would. Faith in fickle +human nature,—ah, how futile.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes. You see now and then I go off with the boys, and spend my money +instead of paying my board, and when I come back I expect my room to be +awaiting me. It always has been. The old lady said she would rent it +the next time, but she had said it so many times! Well, well, well. +Broke, too. It is a sad world, isn't it? Did you ever pray for death?' +</P> + +<P> +"'No, I did not. And if you will excuse me, I think perhaps you had +better fight it out with the landlady. I have paid a month's rent in +advance.' +</P> + +<P> +"'A month's rent!' He advanced and shook hands with me warmly before I +knew what he was doing. 'A month in advance. It is an honor to touch +your hand. Alas, how many moons have waned since I came in personal +contact with one who could pay a month in advance.' +</P> + +<P> +"'The landlady—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, I am going. No room is big enough for two. Lots of fellows room +together to save money, but it is too multum in too parvum; I think I +prefer to spend the money. I have never resorted to it, even in my +brokest days. I didn't leave my pipe here, did I?' +</P> + +<P> +"'I haven't seen it,' I said very coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, all right. Don't get cross about it. Out into the dark and +cold, out into the wintry night, without a cent to have and hold, but +landladies are always right.' +</P> + +<P> +"He smiled appealingly but I frowned at him with my most ministerial +air. +</P> + +<P> +"'I am a poet,' he said apologetically. 'I can't help going off like +that. It isn't a mental aberration. I do it for a living.' +</P> + +<P> +"I had nothing to say. +</P> + +<P> +"'My card.' He handed it to me with a flourish, a neatly engraved one, +with the word 'advertisement' in the corner. I should have haughtily +spurned it, but I was too curious to know his name. It was William +Canfield Brewer. +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, good night. May your sleep be undisturbed by my ghost stalking +solitary through your slumbers. May no fumes from my pipe interfere +with the violet de parme you represent. If you want any advertising +done, just call on me, William Canfield Brewer. I write poetry, draw +pictures, make up stories, and prove to the absolute satisfaction of +the most skeptical public that any article is even better than you say +it is. I command a princely salary,—but I can't command it long +enough. Adieu, I go, my lady, fare thee well.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Good night.' +</P> + +<P> +"I could hardly wait for breakfast, I was so anxious to ask about him. +I gleaned the following facts. The landlady had packed his belongings +in an old closet and rented me the room in his absence, as he surmised. +He is a darling old idiot who would rather buy the chauffeur a cigar +than pay for his board. He says it is less grubby. He is too good a +fellow to make both ends meet. He is too devoted to his friends to +neglect them for business. He can write the best ads in Chicago and +get the most money for it, but he can't afford the time. Mrs. Gaylord +is a stingy old cat, she always gets her money if she waits long +enough, and he pays three times as much as anything is worth when he +does pay. Mrs. Gaylord's niece is infatuated with him, without +reciprocation, and Mrs. Gaylord wanted her, the niece, to stick to the +grocer's son; she says there is more money in being advertised than +advertising others. Wouldn't Prudence faint if she could hear this +gossip? Don't tell her,—and I wouldn't repeat it for the world. +</P> + +<P> +"I hoped he would come back for another room,—there is lots of +experience in him, I am sure, but he sent for his things. So that is +over. I found his pipe. And I am keeping it so if he gets smokey and +comes back he may have it. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I tell you, Carol, Experience may teach in a very expensive +school, but she makes the lessons so interesting, it is really worth +the price. +</P> + +<P> +"Lots of love to you both, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"From +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"CONNIE." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAND O' LUNGERS +</H3> + + +<P> +"Is Mrs. Duke in?" +</P> + +<P> +David looked up quickly as the door opened. He saw a fair petulant +face, with pouting lips, with discontent in the dark eyes. He did not +know that face. Yet this girl had not the studied cheerfulness of +manner that marks church callers at sanatoriums. She did not look +sick, only cross. Oh, it was the new girl, of course. Carol had said +she was coming. And she was not really sick, just threatened. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Duke is over at the Main Building, but will be back very soon. +Will you come in and wait?" +</P> + +<P> +She came in without speaking, pulled a chair from the corner of the +porch, and flounced down among the cushions. David could not restrain +a smile. She looked so babyishly young, and so furiously cross. To +David, youth and crossness were incongruous. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Nancy Tucker," said the girl at last. +</P> + +<P> +"And I am Mr. Duke, as you probably surmise from seeing me on Mrs. +Duke's porch. She will be back directly. I hope you are not in a +hurry." +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry! What's the use of hurrying? I am twenty years old. I've got +a whole lifetime to do nothing in, haven't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've got a lifetime ahead of you all right, but whether you are +going to do nothing or not depends largely on you." +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't depend on me at all. It depends on God, and He said, +'Nothing doing. Just get out and rust the rest of your life. We don't +need you.'" +</P> + +<P> +"That does not sound like God," said David quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, He gave me the bugs, didn't He?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the bugs,—you've got them, have you? You don't look like it. I +didn't know it was your health. I thought maybe it was just your +disposition." +</P> + +<P> +David smiled winningly as he spoke, and the smile took the sting from +the words. +</P> + +<P> +"The bugs are worse on the disposition than they are on the lungs, +aren't they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it depends. Carol says they haven't hit mine yet." He lifted +his head with boyish pride. "She ought to know. So I don't argue with +her. I am willing to take her word for it." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy smiled a little, a transforming smile that swept the discontent +from her face and made her nearly beautiful. But it only lasted a +moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, go on and smile. It did me good. You can't imagine how much +better I felt directly." +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing to make me smile," cried Nancy hotly. +</P> + +<P> +"You may smile at me," cried Carol gaily, as she ran in. "How do you +do? You are Miss Tucker, aren't you? They were telling me about you +at the office." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I am Miss Tucker. Are you Mrs. Duke? You look too young for a +minister's wife." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I am Mrs. Duke, and I am not a bit too young." +</P> + +<P> +"I asked them if I should call a doctor, and they said that could wait +a while. First of all, they said, I must come to Room Six and meet the +Dukes." +</P> + +<P> +Carol looked puzzled. "They didn't tell me that. What did they want +us to do to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. I just said, 'Well, I guess I'd better get a doctor to +come and kill me off,' and they said, 'You go over to Number Six and +meet the Dukes.'" +</P> + +<P> +"They said lovely things about you," Carol told her, smiling. "And +they say you will be well in a few months,—that you haven't T. B.'s at +all yet, just premonitions." +</P> + +<P> +The good news brought no answering light to the girl's face. +</P> + +<P> +"They are nurses. You can't believe a word they say. It is their +business to build up false hopes." +</P> + +<P> +"When any one tells me David is worse, I think, 'That is a wicked +story'; but when any one says, 'He is better,' I am ready to fall on my +knees and salute them as messengers from Heaven," said Carol. +</P> + +<P> +One of the sudden dark clouds passed quickly overhead, obscuring the +glare of the sunshine, darkening the yellow sand. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate this country," said Nancy Tucker. "I hate that yellow hot +sand, and the yellow hot sun, and the lights and shadows on the +mountains. I hate the mountains most of all. They look so abominably +cock-sure, so crowy, standing off there and glaring down on us as if +they were laughing at our silly little fight for health." +</P> + +<P> +Carol was speechless, but David spoke up quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"That is strange; Carol and I think it is a beautiful country,—the +broad stretch of the mesa, the blue cloud on the mountains, the shadow +in the canyons, and most of all, the sunshine on the slopes. We think +the fight against T. B.'s is like walking through the dark shade in the +canyons, and then suddenly stepping out on to the sunny slopes." +</P> + +<P> +"I know you are a preacher. I suppose it is your business to talk like +that." Then when Carol and David only smiled excusingly, she said, +"Excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude. But it is hideous, and—I love +to be happy, and laugh,—" +</P> + +<P> +"Go on and do it," urged David. "We've just been waiting to hear you +laugh." +</P> + +<P> +"You should have been at the office with me," said Carol. "We laughed +until we were nearly helpless. It is that silly Mr. Gooding again, +David. He isn't very sick, Miss Tucker,—he just has red rales. I +don't know what red rales are, but when the nurses say that, it means +you aren't very sick and will soon be well. But Gooding is what he +calls 'hipped on himself.' He is always scared to death. He admits +it. Well, last night they had lobster salad, a silly thing to have in +a sanatorium. And Gooding ordered two extra helpings. The waiter +didn't want to give it to him, but Gooding is allowed anything he wants +so the waiter gave in. In the night he had a pain and got scared. He +rang for the nurses, and was sure he was going to die. They had to sit +up with him all night and rub him, and he groaned, and told them what +to tell his mother and said he knew all along he could never pull +through. But the nurse gave him some castor oil, and made him take it, +and finally he went to sleep. And every one is having a grand time +with him this morning." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy joined, rather grudgingly, in their laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I suppose funny things happen. I know that. But what's the use +of laughing when we are all half dead?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not. Not within a mile of it. You brag about yourself if you +like, but count me out." +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Preacher! How are you making it to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +They all turned to the window, greeting warmly the man who stood +outside, leaning heavily on two canes. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Tucker, won't you meet Mr. Nevius?" +</P> + +<P> +In response to the repeated inquiry, David said, "Just fine this +morning. How are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I am more of an acquisition than ever. I think I have a bug in my +heart." He turned to Miss Tucker cheerfully. "I am really the pride +of the institution. I've got 'em in the lungs and the throat and the +digestive apparatus, and the bones, and the blood, and one doctor +includes the brain. But I flatter myself that I've developed them in a +brand-new place, and I'm trying to get the rest of the chasers to take +up a collection and have me stuffed for a parlor ornament." +</P> + +<P> +"How does a bug in the heart feel?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, just about like love. I really can't tell any difference myself. +It may be one, it may be the other. But whichever it is I think I +deserve to be stuffed. Hey, Barrows!" he called suddenly, balancing +himself on one cane and waving a summons with the other. "Come across! +New lunger is here, young, good-looking. I saw her first! Hands off!" +</P> + +<P> +Barrows rushed up as rapidly as circumstances permitted, and looked +eagerly inside. +</P> + +<P> +"It is my turn," he said reproachfully. "You are not playing fair. I +say we submit this to arbitration. You had first shot at Miss +Landbury, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am not a nigger baby at a county fair, three shots for ten cents," +interrupted Nancy resentfully. But when the others laughed at her +ready sally, she joined in good-naturedly. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't look like a lunger," said Barrows, eying her critically. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Duke thinks I came out for the benefit of my disposition." +</P> + +<P> +"Good idea." Nevius jerked a note-book from his pocket and made a +hurried notation. +</P> + +<P> +"Taking notes for a sermon?" asked Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"No, for a sickness. That's where I'll get 'em next. I hadn't +thought of the disposition. Thank you, thank you very much. I'll have +it to-morrow. Bugs in the disposition,—sounds medical, doesn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't, Mr. Nevius," entreated Carol. "Don't get anything the +matter with your disposition. We don't care where else you collect +them, as long as you keep on making us laugh. But, woodman, spare that +disposition." +</P> + +<P> +Nevius pulled out the note-book and crossed off the notation. "There +it goes again," he muttered. "Women always were a blot on the +escutcheon of scientific progress. Just to oblige you, I've got to +forego the pleasure of making a medical curiosity of myself. Well, +well. Women are all right for domestic purposes, but they sure are a +check on science." +</P> + +<P> +"They are a check on your bank-book, too, let me tell you," said +Barrows quickly. "I never cared how much my wife checked me up on +science, but when she checked me out of three bank-accounts I drew the +line." +</P> + +<P> +"Speaking of death," began Nevius suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody spoke of it, and nobody wants to," said Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Tucker suggests it by the forlornity of her attitude. And since +she has started the subject, I must needs continue. I want to tell you +something funny. You weren't here when Reddy Waters croaked, were you, +Duke? He had the cottage next to mine. I was in bed at the time +with—well, I don't remember where I was breaking out at the time, but +I was in bed. You may have noticed that I have what might be called a +classic pallor, and a general resemblance to a corpse." +</P> + +<P> +Nancy shivered a little and Carol frowned, but Nevius continued +imperturbably. "The undertaker down-town is a lunger, and a nervous +wreck to boot. But he is a good undertaker. He works hard. Maybe he +is practising up so he can do a really artistic job on himself when the +time comes. Anyhow, Reddy died. They always come after them when the +rest of us are in at dinner. It interferes with the appetite to see +the long basket going out. So when the rest were eating, old Bennett +comes driving up after Reddy. It was just about dark, that dusky, +spooky time when the shadows come down from the mountains and cover up +the sunny slopes you preachers rave about. So up comes Bennett, and he +got into the wrong cottage. First thing I knew, some one softly pushed +open the door, and in walked Bennett at the front end of the long +basket, the assistant trailing him in the rear. I felt kind of weak, +so I just laid there until Bennett got beside me. Then I slowly rose +up and put out one cold clammy hand and touched his. Bennett choked +and the assistant yelled, and they dropped the basket and fled. I rang +the bell and told the nurse to make that crazy undertaker come and get +the right corpse that was patiently waiting for him, and she called him +on the telephone. Nothing doing. A corpse that didn't have any better +judgment than that could stay in bed until doomsday for all of him. So +they had to get another undertaker. But Bennett told her to get the +basket and he would send the assistant after it. But I held it for +ransom, and Bennett had to pay me two dollars for it." +</P> + +<P> +His auditors wiped their eyes, half ashamed of their laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"It is funny," said Nancy Tucker, "but it seems awful to laugh at such +things." +</P> + +<P> +"Awful! Not a bit of it," declared Barrows. "It's religious. Doesn't +it say in the Bible, 'Laugh and the world laughs with you, Die and the +world laughs on'?" +</P> + +<P> +"I laugh,—but I am ashamed of myself," confessed Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"What do women want to spoil a good story for?" protested Nevius. +"That's a funny story, and it is true. It is supposed to be laughed +at. And Reddy is better off. He had so many bugs you couldn't tell +which was bugs and which was Reddy. He was an ugly guy, too, and he +was stuck on a girl and she turned him down. She said Reddy was all +right, but no one could raise a eugenical family with a father as ugly +as Reddy. He didn't care if he died. Every night he used to flip up a +coin to see if he would live till morning. He said if he got off ahead +of us he was coming back to haunt us. But I told him he'd better fly +while the flying was good, for I sure would show him a lively race up +to the rosy clouds if I ever caught up. I knew if he got there first +he'd pick out the best harp and leave me a wheezy mouth organ. He +always wanted the best of everything." +</P> + +<P> +Just then the nurse opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Barrows and Nevius," she said sternly. "This is the rest hour, and +you are both under orders. Please go home at once and go to bed, or I +shall report to Mrs. Hartley." When they had gone, she looked +searchingly into the face of the brand-new chaser. "How are you +feeling now?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, pretty well." And then she added honestly, "It really isn't as +bad as I had expected. I think I can stand it a while." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you caught a glimpse of the sunny slopes yet?" +</P> + +<P> +Instinctively they turned their eyes to the distant mountains, with the +white crown of snow at the top, and beneath, long radiating lines of +alternating light and shadow, stretching down to the mesa. +</P> + +<P> +"The shadows look pretty dark," she said, "but the sunny slopes are +there all right. But I was happy at home; I had hopes and plans—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, we all did," interrupted David quickly. "We were all happy, and +had hopes and plans, and— But since we are here and have to stay, +isn't it God's blessing that there is sunshine for us on the slopes?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +OLD HOPES AND NEW +</H3> + + +<P> +Along toward the middle of the summer Carol began eating her meals on +the porch with David, and they fixed up a small table with doilies and +flowers, and said they were keeping house all over again. Sometimes, +when David was sleeping, Carol slipped noiselessly into the room to +turn over with loving fingers the soft woolen petticoats, and bandages, +and bonnets, and daintily embroidered dresses,—gifts of the women of +their church back in the Heights in St. Louis. +</P> + +<P> +About David the doctors had been frank with Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"He may live a long time and be comfortable, and enjoy himself. But he +will never be able to do a man's work again." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure?" Carol had taken the blow without flinching. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes. There is no doubt about that." +</P> + +<P> +"What shall I do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just be happy that he is here, and not suffering. Love him, and amuse +him, and enjoy him as much as you can. That is all you can do." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's not tell him," she suggested. "It would make him so sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"That is a good idea. Keep him in the dark. It is lots easier to be +happy when hope goes with it." +</P> + +<P> +But long before this, David had looked his future in the face. "I have +been set aside for good," he thought. "I know it, I feel it. But +Carol is so sure I will be well again! She shall never know the truth +from me." +</P> + +<P> +When Carol intensely told him he was stronger, he agreed promptly, and +said he thought so, himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, blessed old David, I'm so glad you don't know about it," thought +Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"My sweet little Carol, I hope you never find out until it is over," +thought David. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes Carol stood at the window when David was sleeping, and looked +out over the long mesa to the mountains. Her gaze rested on the dark +heavy shadows of the canyons. To her, those dark valleys in the +mountains represented a buried vision,—the vision of David strong and +sturdy again, springing lightly across a tennis court, walking briskly +through mud and snow to conduct a little mission in the Hollow, +standing tall and straight and sunburned in the pulpit swaying the +people with his fervor. It was a buried hope, a shadowy canyon. Then +she looked up to the sunny slopes, stretching bright and golden above +the shadows up to the snowy crest of the mountain peaks. Sunny +slopes,—a new hope rising out of the old and towering above it. And +then she always went back to the chest in the corner of the room and +fingered the tiny garments, waiting there for service, with tender +fingers. +</P> + +<P> +And once in a while, not very often, David would say, smiling, "Who +knows, Carol, but you two may some day do the things we two had hoped +to do?" +</P> + +<P> +A few weeks later Aunt Grace came out from Mount Mark, and in her usual +soft, gentle way drifted into the life of the chasers in the +sanatorium. She told of the home, of William's work and tireless zeal, +of Lark and Jim, of Fairy and Babbie, of Prudence and Jerry. She +talked most of all of Connie. +</P> + +<P> +"That Connie! She is a whole family all by herself. She is entirely +different from the rest of you. She is unique. She doesn't really +live at all, she just looks on. She watches life with the cool +critical eyes of a philosopher and a stoic and an epicure all rolled +into one. She comes, she sees, she draws conclusions. William and I +hold our breath. She may set the world on fire with her talent, or she +may become a demure little old maid crocheting jabots and feeding +kittens. No one can foretell Connie." +</P> + +<P> +And Carol, in a beautiful, heavenly relief at having this blessed +outlet for her pent-up feelings, reclined in a big rocker on the porch, +and smiled at Aunt Grace, and glowed at David, and declared the sunny +slopes were so brilliant they dazzled her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +There came a day when she packed a suitcase, and petted David a little +and gave him very strict instructions as to how he was to conduct +himself in her absence, and went away over to the other building, and +settled down in a pleasant up-stairs room with Aunt Grace in charge. +For several days she lounged there quietly content, gazing for hours +out upon the marvelous mesa land, answering with a cheery wave the gay +greetings shouted up to her from chasers loitering beneath her windows. +</P> + +<P> +But one morning, she watched with weary throbbing eyes as Aunt Grace +and a nurse and a chamber maid carefully wrapped up a tiny pink flannel +roll for a visit to Room Number Six in the McCormick Building. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell him I am just fine, and it is a lucky thing that he likes girls +better than boys, and we think she is going to look like me. And be +particularly sure to tell him she is very, very pretty, the doctor and +the nurse both say she is,—David might overlook it if his attention +were not especially called to it." +</P> + +<P> +Three weeks later, the suit-case was packed once more, and Carol was +moved back across the grounds to Number Six and David, where already +little Julia was in full control. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you glad she is pretty, David?" demanded Carol promptly. "I +was so relieved. Most of them are so red and frowsy, you know. I've +seen lots of new ones in my day, but this is my first experience with a +pretty one." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor and the nurse had the temerity to laugh at that, even with +Julia, pink and dimply, right before them. "Oh, that old, old story," +said the doctor. "I'm looking for a woman who can class her baby with +the others. I intend to use my fortune erecting a monument to her if I +find her,—but the fortune is safe. Every woman's baby is the only +pretty one she ever saw in her life." +</P> + +<P> +Carol and David were a little indignant at first, but finally they +decided to make allowances for the doctor,—he was old, and of course +he must be tired of babies, he had ushered in so many. They would try +and apply their Christian charity to him, though it was a great strain +on their religion. +</P> + +<P> +But what should be done with Julia? David was so ill, Carol so weak, +the baby so tender. Was it safe to keep her there? But could they let +that little rosebud go? +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I will just take her home with me," said Aunt Grace gently. "And +we'll keep her until you are ready. Oh, it won't be a bit of trouble. +We want her." +</P> + +<P> +That settled it. The baby was to go. +</P> + +<P> +"For once in my life I have made a sacrifice," said Carol grimly. "I +think I must be improving. I have allowed myself to be hurt, and +crushed, and torn to shreds, for the good of some one else. I +certainly must be improving." +</P> + +<P> +Later she thought, "She will know all her aunties before she knows me. +She will love them better. When I go home, she will not know me, and +will cry for Aunt Grace. She will be afraid of me. Really, some +things are very hard." But to David she said that of course the +doctors were right, and she and David were so old and sensible that it +would be quite easy to do as they were bid. And they were so used to +having just themselves that things would go on as they always had. +</P> + +<P> +But more nights than one she cried herself to sleep, craving the touch +of the little rosebud baby learning of motherhood from some one else. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NEPTUNE'S SECOND DAUGHTER +</H3> + + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Chicago, Illinois. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Dearest Carol and David— +</P> + +<P> +"Carol, dear, an awful thing has happened. Do you remember the +millionaire's son who discovered me up the cherry tree years ago when I +was an infant? He comes to see me now and then. He is very nice and +attentive, and all of my friends have selected the color schemes for +their boudoirs in my forthcoming palatial home. One night he +telephoned and said his mother was in town with him, and they should +like to come right up if I did not mind. I did not know he was in +town, I hardly knew he had a mother, and I was in the act of shampooing +my hair. Phyllis was making candy, and Gladys was reading aloud to us +both. Imagine the mother of a millionaire's son coming right up, and I +in a shampoo. +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh,' I wailed, 'I haven't anything to wear, and I am not used to +millionaires' sons' mothers, and I won't know what to say to her.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Leave it to us, Connie!' cried my friends valiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Gladys whirled the magazine under the bed, and Phyllis turned out the +electricity under the chafing-dish and put the candy in the window to +finish at a later date. +</P> + +<P> +"Did I tell you about our housekeeping venture? Gladys is a private +secretary to something down-town and gets an enormous salary, thirty a +week. Phyllis is an artist and has a studio somewhere, and we are +great friends. So we took a cunning little apartment for three months, +and we all live together and cook our meals in the baby kitchenette +when we feel domestic, and dine out like princesses when we feel +lordly. We have the kitchenette, and a bathroom with two kinds of +showers, and a bedroom apiece, though mine is really a closet, and two +sitting-rooms, so two of us can have beaus the same night. If we feel +the need of an extra sitting-room—that is, three beaus a night—we +draw cuts to see who has to resort to the park, or a movie, or the +ice-cream parlor, or the kitchenette. Our time is up next week and we +shall return modestly to our boarding-houses. It is great fun, but it +is expensive, and we are so busy. +</P> + +<P> +"We have lovely times. The girls are—not like me. They are really +society buds, and wear startling evening gowns and go places in taxis, +and are quite the height of fashion. It is a wonder they put up with +me at all. Still every establishment must have at least one +Cinderella. But let me admit honestly and Methodistically that I do +less Cinderelling than either of them. Gladys darns my stockings, and +Phyllis makes my bed fully half the time. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyhow, when Andrew Hedges, millionaire's son, telephoned that his +mother was coming up, they fell upon me, and one rubbed and one fanned, +and they both talked at once, and in the end I agreed to leave myself +in their hands. They knew all about millionaires' sons' mothers, it +seemed, and would fix me up just exactly O. K. right. Gladys and I are +the same size, and she has an exquisite semi-evening gown of Nile green +and honest-to-goodness lace which I have long admired humbly from my +corner among the ashes. Just the thing. I should wear it, and make +the millionaire's son's mother look like twenty cents. +</P> + +<P> +"Wickedly and wilfully I agreed. So when the hair was dry enough to +manage, they marched me into Gladys' room—the only one of the three +capable of accommodating three of us—and turned the mirrors to the +wall. I protested at that. I wanted to see my progress under their +skilful fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"'No,' said Phyllis sagely. 'It looks horrible while it is going on. +You must wait until you are finished, and then burst upon your own +enraptured vision. You will enchant yourself.' +</P> + +<P> +"Gladys seconded her and I assented weakly. I know I am not naturally +weak, Carol, but the thought of a millionaire's son's mother affected +me very strangely. It took all the starch out of my knees, and the +spine out of my backbone. +</P> + +<P> +"By this time I was established in Gladys' green slippers with +rhinestone buckles, and Gladys was putting all of her own and Phyllis' +rings on my fingers, and Phyllis was using a crimping iron on my curls. +I was too curly already, but Phyllis said natural curliness was not the +thing any more. Then Gladys began dabbing funny sticky stuff all over +my fingers, and scratching my eyebrows, and powdering about twenty +layers on my face and throat. After that, she rubbed my finger nails +until I could almost see what they were doing to me. I never thought I +had much hair, but when Phyllis got through with me I could hardly +carry it. The ladies in Hawaii who carry bushel baskets on their heads +will tell you how I felt. And whenever I moved it wabbled. But they +both clapped their hands and said I looked like a dream, and of course +I would have acquired another bushel had they advised it. +</P> + +<P> +"I trusted them because they look so wonderful when they are +finished,—just right,—never too much so. +</P> + +<P> +"Our bell rang then, and Phyllis answered and said, 'Tell them Miss +Starr will be in in a moment.' +</P> + +<P> +"There is a general apartment maid, and when we wish to be very +perfectly fine, we borrow her,—for a quarter. +</P> + +<P> +"When I knew they had arrived, I leaped up, panic-stricken, and dived +head first into that pile of Nile green silk and real lace. They +rescued me tenderly, and pushed me in, and hooked me here, and buttoned +me there, both panting and gasping, I madly hurrying them on, because I +can't get over that silly old parsonage notion that it isn't good form +to keep folks waiting. +</P> + +<P> +"'There you are,' cried Gladys. +</P> + +<P> +"'Fly,' shouted Phyllis. +</P> + +<P> +"Out I dashed, recollected myself in the bathroom, and—yes, I did that +foolish thing, Carol. Your vanity would have saved you such a blunder. +But I tore myself from their blood-stained hands, and went in to meet a +millionaire's son's mother without looking myself over in the mirror. +</P> + +<P> +"When I parted the curtains, Andy leaped to his feet with his usual +quick eagerness, but he stopped abruptly and his lips as well as his +eyes widened. +</P> + +<P> +"'How do you do?' I said, moistening my lips which already felt too +wet, only I didn't know what was the matter with them. I held out my +hand, unwontedly white, and he took it flabbily, instead of briskly and +warmly as he usually did. +</P> + +<P> +"'Mother,' he said, 'I want you to meet Miss Starr.' +</P> + +<P> +"She wasn't at all the kind of millionaire's son's mother we have read +about. She had no lorgnette, and she did not look me over +superciliously. But she had turned my way as though confident of being +pleased, and her soft eyes clouded a little, though she smiled sweetly. +Her hair was silver white and curled over her forehead and around her +ears. She had dimples, and she stuck her chin up like a girl when she +laughed. She wore the softest, sweetest kind of a wistaria colored +silk. I was charmed with her. It could not have been mutual. +</P> + +<P> +"She held out her hand, smiling so gently, still with the cloud in her +eyes, and we all sat down. She did not look me over, though she must +have yearned to do so. But Andy looked me over thoroughly, +questioningly, from the rhinestone pin at the top of the swaying hair, +to the tips of my Nile green shoes. I tried to talk, but my hair +wabbled so, and little invisible hair pins kept visibleing themselves +and sliding into my lap and down my neck, and my lips felt so moist and +sticky, and my skin didn't fit like skin, and—still I was determined +to live up to my part, and I talked on and on, and—then, quite +suddenly, I happened to glance into a mirror beside me. There was some +one else in the room. Some one in a marvelous dress, with a +white-washed throat, with lips too red, and cheeks too pink, and brows +too black, some one with an unbelievable quantity of curls on top of +her, and—I turned around to see whom it might be. Nobody there. I +looked back to the mirror. I was not dreaming,—of course there was +some one in the room. No, the room was empty save we three. I turned +suspiciously to Mrs. Hedges. She was still in her place, a smiling +study in wistaria and silver gray. I looked at Andy, immaculate in +black and white. Then—sickening realization. +</P> + +<P> +"I stood up abruptly. The atrocity in the mirror rose also. +</P> + +<P> +"'That isn't I,' I cried imploringly. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Hedges looked startled, but Andy came to my side at once. +</P> + +<P> +"'No, it certainly isn't,' he said heartily. 'What on earth have you +been doing to yourself, Connie?' +</P> + +<P> +"I went close to the mirror, inspecting myself, grimly, piteously. I +do not understand it to this day. The girls do the same things to +themselves and they look wonderful,—never like that. +</P> + +<P> +"I rubbed my lips with my fingers, and understood the moisture. I +examined my brows, and knew what the scratching meant. I shook the +pile of hair, and a shower of invisible hair pins rewarded me. I +brushed my fingers across my throat, and a cloud of powder wafted +outward. +</P> + +<P> +"What does it say in the Bible about the way of the unrighteous? Well, +I know just as much about the subject as the Bible does, I think. For +a time I was speechless. I did not wish to blame my friends. But I +could not bear to think that any one should carry away such a vision of +one of father's daughters. +</P> + +<P> +"'Take a good look at me please,' I said, laughing, at last, 'for you +will never see me again. I am Neptune's second daughter. I stepped +full-grown into the world to-night from the hands of my faithless +friends. Another step into my own room, and the lovely lady is gone +forever.' +</P> + +<P> +"Andy understands me, and he laughed. But his mother still smiled the +clouded smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I hurled myself into the depths of self-abasement. I spared no harsh +details. I told of the shampoo, and the candy on the window-ledge, the +magazine under the bed. Religiously I itemized every article on my +person, giving every one her proper due. Then I excused myself and +went up-stairs. I sneaked into my own room, removed the dream of Nile +green and lace and jumped up and down on it a few times, in stocking +feet, so the girls would not hear,—and relieved my feelings somewhat. +I think I had to resort to gold dust to resurrect my own +complexion,—not the best in the world perhaps, but mine, and I am for +it. I combed my hair. I donned my simple blue dress,—cost four-fifty +and Aunt Grace made it.' I wore my white kid slippers and stockings. +My re-debut—ever hear the word?—was worth the exertion. Andy's face +shone as he came to meet me. His mother did not know me. +</P> + +<P> +"'I am Miss Starr,' I said. 'The one and only.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Why, you sweet little thing,' she said, smiling, without the cloud. +</P> + +<P> +"We went for a long drive, and had supper down-town at eleven o'clock, +and she kept me with her at the hotel all night. It was Saturday. I +slept with her and used all of her night things and toilet articles. I +told her about the magnificent stories I am going to write sometime, +and she told me what a darling Andy was when he was a baby, and between +you and me, I doubt if they have a million dollars to their name. +Honestly, Carol, they are just as nice as we are. +</P> + +<P> +"They stayed in Chicago three days, and she admitted she came on +purpose to get acquainted with me. She made me promise to spend a week +with them in Cleveland when I can get away, and she gave me the dearest +little pearl ring to remember her by. But I wonder—I wonder— Anyhow +I can't tell him until he asks me, can I? And he has never said a +word. You know yourself, Carol, you can't blurt things out at a man +until he gives you a chance. So my conscience is quite free. And she +certainly is adorable. Think of a mother-in-law like that, pink and +gray, with dimples. Yes, she is my ideal of a mother-in-law. I +haven't met 'father' yet, but he doesn't need to be very nice. A man +can hide a hundred faults in one fold of a pocketbook the size of his. +</P> + +<P> +"Lots of love to you both,—and you write to Larkie oftener than you do +to me, which isn't fair, for she has a husband and a baby and is within +reaching distance of father, and I am an orphan, and a widow, and a +stranger in a strange land. +</P> + +<P> +"But I love you anyhow. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Connie." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SECOND STEP +</H3> + + +<P> +They sat on canvas chairs on the sand outside the porch of the +sanatorium, warmly wrapped in rugs, for the summer evenings in New +Mexico are cold, and watched the shadows of evening tarnish the gold of +the mesa. Like children, they held hands under the protecting shelter +of the rug. They talked of little Julia off in Mount Mark, how she was +growing, the color of her eyes, the shape of her fingers. They talked +of her possible talents, and how they could best be developed, judging +as well as they could in advance by the assembled qualities of all her +relatives. David suggested that they might be prejudiced in her favor +a little, for as far as they could determine there was no avenue of +ability closed to her, but Carol stanchly refused to admit the +impeachment. They talked of the schools best qualified to train her, +of the teachers she must have, of the ministers they must demand for +her spiritual guidance. They talked of the thousand bad habits of +other little girls, and planned how Julia should be led surely, sweetly +by them. +</P> + +<P> +Then they were silent, thinking of the little pink rosebud baby as she +had left them. +</P> + +<P> +The darkness swept down from the mountains almost as sand-storms come, +and Carol leaned her head against David's shoulder. She was happy. +David was so much better. The horrible temperature was below +ninety-nine at last, and David was allowed to walk about the mesa, and +his appetite was ravenous. Maybe the doctors were wrong after all. He +was certainly on the high-road to health now. She was so glad David +had not known how near the dark valley he had passed. +</P> + +<P> +David was rejoicing that he had never told Carol how really ill he had +been. She would have been so frightened and sorry. He pictured Carol +with the light dying out in her eyes, with pallor eating the roses in +her cheeks, with languor in her step, and dullness in her voice,—the +Carol she would surely have been had she known that David was walking +under the shadow of death. David was very happy. He was so much +better, of course he would soon be himself. Things looked very bright. +Somehow to-night he did not yearn so much for work. It was Carol that +counted most, Carol and the little Julia who was theirs, and would some +day be with them. The big thing now was getting Julia ready for the +life that was to come to her. +</P> + +<P> +He was richly satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +"Carol, this is the most wonderful thing in the world, companionship +like this, being together, thinking in harmony, hoping the same hopes, +sharing the same worries, planning the same future. Companionship is +life to me now. There is nothing like it in all the world." +</P> + +<P> +Carol snuggled against his shoulder happily. +</P> + +<P> +"Love is wonderful," he went on, "but companionship is broader, for it +is love, and more beyond. It is the development of love. It is the +full blossom of the seed that has been planted in the heart. Service +is splendid, too. But after all, it takes companionship to perfect +service. One can not work alone. You are the completion of my desire +to work, and you are the inspiration of my ability to work. Yes, +companionship is life,—bigger than love and bigger than service, for +companionship includes them both." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DEPARTED SPIRITS +</H3> + + +<P> +As the evenings grew colder, the camp chairs on the mesa were deserted, +and the chattering "chasers" gathered indoors, sometimes in one or +another of the airy tent cottages, sometimes before the cheerful blaze +of the logs in the fireplace of the parlors, but oftenest of all they +flocked into Number Six of McCormick Building, where David was confined +to his cot. Always there was laughter in Number Six, merry jesting, +ready repartee. So it became the mecca of those, who, even more +assiduously than they chased the cure, sought after laughter and joy. +In the parlors the guests played cards, but in Number Six, deferring +silently to David's calling, they pulled out checkers and parcheesi, +and fought desperate battles over the boards. But sometimes they +fingered the dice and the checkers idly, leaning back in their chairs, +and talked of temperatures, and hypodermics, and doctors, and war, and +ghosts. +</P> + +<P> +"I know this happened," said the big Canadian one night. "It was in my +own home and I was there. So I can swear to every word of it. We came +out from Scotland, and took up a big homestead in Saskatchewan. We +threw up a log house and began living in it before it was half done. +Evenings, the men came in from the ranches around, and we sat by the +fire in the kitchen and smoked and told stories. Joined on to the +kitchen there was a shed, which was intended for a summer kitchen. But +just then we had half a dozen cots in it, and the hands slept there. +One night one of the boys said he had a headache, and to escape the +smoke in the kitchen which was too thick to breathe, he went into the +shed and lay down on a cot. It was still unfinished, the shed was, and +there were three or four wide boards laid across the rafters at the top +to keep them from warping in the damp. Baldy lay on his back and +stared up at the roof. Suddenly he leaped off the bed,—we all saw +him; there was no door between the rooms. He leaped off and dashed +through the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +"'What's the matter?' we asked him. +</P> + +<P> +"'Let me alone, I want to get out of here,' he said, and shot through +the door. +</P> + +<P> +"We caught just one glimpse of his face. It was ashen. We went on +smoking. 'He's a crazy Frenchman,' we said, and let it go. But my +brother was out in the barn and he corralled him going by. +</P> + +<P> +"'I am going to die, Don,' he said. 'I was lying on the bed, looking +up at the rafters, and I saw the men come in and take the big white +board and make it into a coffin for me. I am going home, I want to be +with my folks.' +</P> + +<P> +"Don came in scared stiff, and told us, and we said 'Pooh, pooh,' and +went on smoking. But about eleven o'clock a couple of fellows from +another ranch came over and said their boss had died that afternoon and +they could not find the right sized boards for the coffin. They wanted +a good straight one about six feet six by fourteen inches. We looked +in the barns and the sheds, and could not find what they wanted. Then +we went into the lean-to, where there were some loose boards in the +corner, but they wouldn't do. +</P> + +<P> +"'Say,' said one of them, 'how about that white board up there in the +rafters? About right, huh?' +</P> + +<P> +"We pulled it down, and it was just the size. They were tickled to get +it, for they hated to drive twelve miles to town through snowdrifts +over their heads. +</P> + +<P> +"'That's the big white board that Baldy saw,' said Don suddenly. Yes, +by George! We sent for Baldy that night to make sure, and it was just +what he had seen, and the very men that came for the board. Baldy was +mighty glad he wasn't the corpse." +</P> + +<P> +"Mercy," said Carol, twitching her shoulders. "Are you sure it is +true?" +</P> + +<P> +"Gospel truth. I was right there. I took down the board." +</P> + +<P> +"I know one that beats that," said the Scotchman promptly. "They have +a sayin' over in my country, that if you have a dream, or a vision, of +men comin' toward you carryin' a coffin, you will be in a coffin inside +of three days. One night a neighbor of mine, next farm, was comin' +home late, piped as usual, and as he came zigzaggin' down a dark lane, +he looked up suddenly and saw four men marchin' solemnly toward him, +carryin' a coffin. McDougall clutched his head. 'God help me,' he +cried. 'It is the vision.' Then he turned in his tracks and shot over +a hedge and up the bank, screamin' like mad. The spirits carryin' the +coffin yelled at him and, droppin' the coffin, started up the hill +after him. But McDougall only yelled louder and ran faster, and +finally they lost him in the hills. So they went back. They were not +spirits at all, and it was a real coffin. A woman had died, and they +were takin' her in to town ready for the funeral next day. But the +next day we found McDougall lyin' face down on the grass ten miles +away, stone dead." +</P> + +<P> +The girls shivered, and Carol shuffled her chair closer to David's bed. +</P> + +<P> +"Ran himself to death?" suggested David. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he died," said the Scotchman. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it true?" asked Carol, glancing fearfully through the screen of the +porch into the black shadows on the mesa. +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely true," declared the Scotchman. "I was in the searchin' +party that found him." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't believe in spirits,—I mean haunting spirits," said Carol, +stiffening her courage and her backbone by a strong effort. +</P> + +<P> +"How about the ghosts that drove the men out into the graveyards in the +Bible and made them cut up all kinds of funny capers, and finally +haunted the pigs and drove 'em into the lake?" said Barrows slyly. +</P> + +<P> +"They were not ghosts," protested Carol quickly. "Just evil spirits. +They got drowned, you know,—ghosts don't drown." +</P> + +<P> +"It does not say they got drowned," contradicted Barrows. "My Bible +does not say it. The pigs got drowned. And that is what ghosts +are,—evil spirits, very evil. They were too slick to get drowned +themselves; they just chased the pigs in and then went off haunting +somebody else." +</P> + +<P> +Carol turned to David for proof, and David smiled a little. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he said thoughtfully, "perhaps it does not particularly say the +ghosts were drowned. It says they went into the pigs, and the pigs +were drowned. It does not say anything about the spirits coming out in +advance, though." +</P> + +<P> +Carol and Barrows mutually triumphed over each other, claiming personal +vindication. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Duke?" asked Miss Tucker in a soft +respectful voice, as if resolved not to antagonize any chance spirits +that might be prowling near. +</P> + +<P> +"Call them psychic phenomena, and I may say that I do," said David. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you explain it, then?" she persisted. +</P> + +<P> +"I explain it by saying it is a phenomenon which can not be explained," +he evaded cleverly. +</P> + +<P> +"But that doesn't get us anywhere, does it?" she protested vaguely. +"Does it—does it explain anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"It does not get us anywhere," he agreed; "but it gets me out of the +difficulty very nicely." +</P> + +<P> +"I know a good ghost story myself," said Nevius. "It is a dandy. It +will make your blood run cold. Once there was a—" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not believe in telling ghost stories," said Miss Landbury. +"There may not be any such thing, and I do not believe there is, but if +there should happen to be any, it must annoy them to be talked about." +</P> + +<P> +"You shouldn't say you don't believe in them," said Miss Tucker. "At +least not on such a dark night. Some self-respecting ghost may resent +it and try to get even with you." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Landbury swallowed convulsively, and put her arm around Carol's +waist. The sudden wail of a pack of coyotes wafted in to them, and the +girls crouched close together. +</P> + +<P> +"Once there was a man—" +</P> + +<P> +"It is your play, Mr. Barrows," said Miss Landbury. "Let's finish the +game. I am ahead, you remember." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait till I finish my story," said Nevius, grinning wickedly. "It is +too good to miss, about curdling blood, and clammy hands, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Duke, do you think it is religious to talk about ghosts? Doesn't +it say something in the Bible about avoiding such things, and fighting +shy of spirits and soothsayers and things like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it does," agreed Nevius, before David could speak. "That's why I +want to tell this story. I think it is my Christian duty. You will +sure fight shy of ghosts after you hear this. You won't even have +nerve enough to dream about 'em. Once there was a man—" +</P> + +<P> +Carol deliberately removed Miss Landbury's arm from her waist, and +climbed up on the bed beside David. Miss Landbury shuffled as close to +the bed as propriety would at all admit, and clutched the blanket with +desperate fingers. Miss Tucker got a firm grip on one of Carol's +hands, and after a hesitating pause, ensconced her elbow snugly against +David's Bible lying on the table. Gooding said he felt a draft, and +sat on the foot of the cot. +</P> + +<P> +"Once there was a man, and he was in love with two women—oh, yes, Mrs. +Duke, it can be done all right. I have done it myself—yes, two at the +same time. Ask any man; they can all do it. Oh, women can't. They +aren't broad-minded enough. It takes a man,—his heart can hold them +all." The girls sniffed, but Nevius would not be side-tracked from his +story. "Well, this man loved them both, and they were both worth +loving—young, and fair, and wealthy. He loved them distractedly. He +loved one because she was soft and sweet and adorable, and he called +her Precious. He loved the other because she was talented and +brilliant, a queen among women, the center of every throng, and he +called her Glory. He loved to kiss the one, and he loved to be proud +of the other. They did not know about each other, they lived in +different towns. One night the queenly one was giving a toast at a +banquet, and the revelers were leaning toward her, drinking in every +word of her rich musical voice, marveling at her brilliancy, when +suddenly she saw a tiny figure perch on the table in front of her +fiancé,—yes, he was fiancéing them both. The little figure on the +table had a sweet, round, dimply face, and wooing lips, and loving +eyes. The fiancé took her in his arms, and stroked the round pink +cheek, and kissed the curls on her forehead. Glory faltered, and tried +to brush the mist from before her eyes. She was dreaming,—there was +no tiny figure on the table. There could not be. Lover—they both +called him Lover; he had a fancy for the name—Lover was gazing up at +her with eyes full of pride and admiration. She finished hurriedly and +sat down, wiping the moisture from her white brow. 'Such a strange +thing, Lover,' she whispered. 'I saw a tiny figure come tripping up to +you, and she caressed and kissed you, and ran her fingers over your +lips so childishly and—so adoringly, and—' Lover looked startled. +'What!' he ejaculated. For little Precious had tricks like that. +'Yes, and she had one tiny curl over her left ear, and you kissed it.' +'You saw that?' 'Yes, just now.' She looked at him; he was pale and +disturbed. 'Have you ever been married, Lover?' she asked. 'Never,' +he denied quickly. But he was strangely silent the rest of the +evening. The next morning Glory was ill. When he called, they took +him up to her room, and he sat beside her and held her hand. 'Another +strange thing happened,' she said. 'The little beauty who kissed you +at the banquet came up to my bed, and put her arms around me and +caressed and fondled me and said she loved me because I was so +beautiful, and her little white arms seemed to choke me, and I +struggled for breath and floundered out of bed, and she kissed me and +said I was a darling and tripped away, and—I fainted.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Nevius, that isn't nice," protested Miss Landbury. +</P> + +<P> +"Lover said urgent business called him out of town. He would go to +Precious. Glory was getting freakish, queer. Precious never had +visions. She was not notionate. She just loved him and was content. +So he went to her. She dimpled at him adoringly, and led him out to +her bower of roses, and sat on his knee and stroked his eyes with her +pink finger tips, and he kissed the little curl over her left ear and +thought she was worth a dozen tempestuous Glories. But suddenly she +caught her breath and leaned forward. He spoke to her, but she did not +hear. Her face was colorless and her white lips were parted fearfully. +For she saw a lovely, radiant, queenly woman, magnificently gowned, the +center of a throng of people, and Lover was beside her, his face +flushed with pride, his eyes shining with admiration. Her fine voice, +like music, held every one spellbound. Precious clasped her tiny hands +over her rose-bud ears and shivered. She shut her eyes hard and opened +them and—what nonsense! There was no queenly lady, there was no loud, +clear, ringing voice. But her ears were tingling. She turned to +Lover, trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"'How—how—how funny,' she said. 'I saw a radiant woman talking, and +she fascinated all the world, and you were with her, adoring her. Her +voice was like music, but so loud, too loud; it crashed in my ears, it +deafened me.' +</P> + +<P> +"Lover's brows puckered thoughtfully. 'How did she look?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"'Tall and white, with crimson lips, and black hair massed high on her +head. And her voice was just like music.' +</P> + +<P> +"The next morning Precious was ill. When Lover went to her she clung +to him and cried. 'The lovely lady,' she said,' 'she came when I was +alone, and she said I was a beautiful little doll and she would give me +music, music, a world full of music. And her voice was like a bell, +and it grew louder and louder, and I thought the world was crashing +into the stars, and I screamed and fell on the floor, and when I awoke +the music was gone, and—I was so weak and sick.' +</P> + +<P> +"Lover decided to go back to Glory until Precious got over this silly +whim. But he had no peace. Glory was constantly tormented by the +loving Precious. And when he returned to Precious, the splendor of +Glory's voice was with her day and night. He lost his appetite. He +could not sleep. So he went off into the woods alone, to fish and hunt +a while. But one night as he sat in his tent, he heard a faint, +far-off whisper of music,—Glory's voice. It came nearer and nearer, +grew louder and louder, until it crashed in his ears like the clamor of +worlds banging into stars, as Precious had said. And then he felt a +tender caressing finger on his eyes, and soft warm arms encircled his +neck, and soft red lips pressed upon his. Closer drew the encircling +arms, more breathlessly the red lips pressed his. He struggled for +breath, and fought to tear away the dimpled arms. The music of Glory's +voice rose into unspeakable tumult, the warm pressure of Precious' arms +rendered him powerless. He fell insensible, and two days later they +found him,—dead." +</P> + +<P> +There was a brief eloquent silence when Nevius finished his story. The +girls shivered. +</P> + +<P> +"A true story?" queried David, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"A true story," said Nevius decidedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Um-hum. Lover was alone in the woods, wasn't he? How did his friends +find out about those midnight spirits that came and killed him?" +</P> + +<P> +The girls brightened. "Yes, of course," chirped Carol. "How did +folks find out?' +</P> + +<P> +"Say, be reasonable," begged Nevius. "Spoiling another good story. I +say it is a true tale, and I ought to know. I," he shouted +triumphantly, "I was Lover." +</P> + +<P> +Hooting laughter greeted him. +</P> + +<P> +"But just the same," contended Barrows, "regardless of the feeble +fabrications of senile minds, there are ghosts none the less. The +night before we got word of my father's death, my sister woke up in the +night and saw a white shadow in her window,—and a voice,—father's +voice,—said, 'Stay with me, Flossie; I don't want to be alone.' She +told about it at breakfast, and said it was just five minutes to two +o'clock. And an hour later we got a message that father had died at +two that night, a thousand miles away." +</P> + +<P> +"Honestly?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, honestly." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew a woman in Chicago," said Miss Landbury, "and she said the +night before her mother died she lay down on the cot to rest, and a +white shadow came and hovered over the bed, and she saw in it, like a +dream, all the details of her mother's death just as it happened the +very next day. She swore it was true." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk any more about white shadows," said Carol. "They make me +nervous." +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't it be ghastly to wake up alone in a little wind-blown canvas +tent in the dead of night, and find it shut off from the world by a +white shadow, and hear a low voice whisper, 'Come,' and feel yourself +drawn slowly into the shadow by invisible clammy fingers—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't," cried Miss Landbury. +</P> + +<P> +"That's not nice," said Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't scare the girls, Barrows. Carol will sleep under the bed +to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"I am with the girls myself," said Gooding. "There isn't any sense +getting yourself all worked up talking about spirits and ghosts and +things that never happened in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, they didn't, didn't they? Just the same, when you reach out for a +cough-drop and get hold of a bunch of clinging fingers that aren't +yours, and are not connected with anybody that belongs there,—well, I +for one don't take any chances with ghosts." +</P> + +<P> +A sudden brisk tap on the door drew a startled movement from the men +and a frightened cry from the girls. The door opened and the head +nurse stood before them. +</P> + +<P> +"Ten-fifteen," she said curtly. "Please go to your cottages at once. +Mr. Duke, why don't you send your company home at ten o'clock?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bad manners. Ministers need hospitality more than religion nowadays, +they tell us." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Miss David," cried Miss Tucker, "won't you go out to my tent with +me? I feel so nervous to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter?" asked the nurse suspiciously, looking from one to +another of the flushed faces and noting the restless hands and the +fearful eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, nothing at all, but my head aches and I feel lonesome." +</P> + +<P> +The nurse contracted her lips curiously. "Of course I will go," she +said. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me come too," said Miss Landbury, rising with alacrity. "I have a +headache myself." +</P> + +<P> +Huddled together in an anxious group they set forth, and the nurse, +like a good shepherd, led her little flock to shelter. But as she +walked back to her room, her brows were knitted curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"What in the world were the silly things talking about?" she wondered. +</P> + +<P> +"David Duke," Carol was informing her husband, as she stood over him, +in negligee ready to "hop in," "I shall let the light burn all night, +or I shall sleep in the cot with you. I won't run any risk of white +shadows sitting on me in the dark." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Carol—" +</P> + +<P> +"Take your pick, my boy," she interrupted briskly. "The light burns, +or I sleep with you." +</P> + +<P> +"This cot is hardly big enough for one," he argued. "And neither of us +can sleep with that bright light burning." +</P> + +<P> +"David," she wailed, "I have looked under the bed three times already, +but I know something will get me between the electric switch and the +bed." +</P> + +<P> +David laughed at her, but said obligingly, "Well, jump in and cover up +your head with a pillow, and get yourself settled, and I will turn off +the lights myself." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a sin and a shame and I am a selfish little coward," Carol +condemned herself, but just the same she was glad to avail herself of +the privilege. +</P> + +<P> +A little later the white colony on the mesa was in darkness. But Carol +could not sleep. The blankets over her head lent a semblance of +protection, but most distracting visions came to her wide and burning +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you asleep, David?" she would call at frequent intervals, and +David's "Yes, sound asleep," gave her momentary comfort. +</P> + +<P> +But finally he was awakened from a light sleep by a soft pressure +against his foot. Even David started nervously, and "Ghosts" flashed +into his logical and well-ordered brain. But no, it was only the soft +and shivering form of his wife, curling herself noiselessly into a ball +on the foot of his cot. David watched her, shaking with silent +laughter. Surreptitiously she slipped an arm beneath his feet, and +circled them in a deadly grip. If the ghosts got her, they would get +David's feet, and in her girlish mind ran a half acknowledged belief +that the Lord wouldn't let the ghosts get as good a man as David. +</P> + +<P> +Wretchedly uncomfortable as to position, but blissfully assured in her +mind, she fell into a doze, from which she was brought violently by a +low whisper in the room: +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Duke." +</P> + +<P> +"Oooooooo," moaned Carol, diving deep beneath the covers. +</P> + +<P> +David sat up quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is there?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is I, Miss Landbury," came a frightened whisper. "Can't I stay +with you a while? I can't go to sleep to save me,—and honestly, I am +scared to death." +</P> + +<P> +This brought Carol forth, and with warm and sympathetic hospitality she +turned back the covers at the foot of the bed and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, come right in." +</P> + +<P> +David nudged her remindingly with his foot. "Since there are two of +you to protect each other," he said, laughing, "suppose you go in to +Carol's bed, and leave me my cot in peace." +</P> + +<P> +This Carol flatly refused to do. If Miss Landbury was willing to share +the foot of David's cot, she was more than welcome. But if she meant +to stand on ceremony and go into that awful big black room without a +minister, she could go by herself, that was all. Carol lay down +decidedly, and considered the subject closed. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to sleep," said Miss Landbury unhappily. "I am not +sleepy. I just want a place to sit, where I—I won't keep seeing +things." +</P> + +<P> +"Turn on the light, Carol," said David. "You ought to be ashamed of +yourselves, both of you." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," defended Carol. "You are a preacher, and ghosts +don't bother—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say ghosts," chattered Miss Landbury. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what is the plan of procedure?" inquired David patiently. "Are +you going to turn my cot into a boarding-house? You girls stay here, +and I will go in to Carol's bed. Give me my bath robe, honey, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, please," gasped Miss Landbury. +</P> + +<P> +"And leave us on this porch with nothing but screen around us?" +exclaimed Carol. "I am surprised at you, David." +</P> + +<P> +David turned his face to the wall. "Well, make yourselves comfortable. +Good night, girls." +</P> + +<P> +The girls stared at each other in the darkness, helplessly, resignedly. +Wasn't that just like a man? +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you what," said Carol hopefully, "let's bring the mattress and +the blankets from my bed and put them on the floor here beside David, +and we can all sleep nicely right together." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's lovely," cried Miss Landbury. "You are the dearest thing, +Mrs. Duke." +</P> + +<P> +Hurriedly, and with bated breath, they raided Carol's bed, tugging the +heavy mattress between them, quietly ignoring the shaking of David's +cot which spoke so loudly of amusement. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll crawl right in then," said Miss Landbury comfortably. +</P> + +<P> +"I sleep next to David, if you please," said Carol with quiet dignity. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Landbury obediently rolled over, and Carol scrambled in beside her. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn off the light," suggested David. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, Miss Landbury, turn it off, will you?" said Carol pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who, me?" came the startled voice. "Indeed I won't." +</P> + +<P> +"David, dearest," pleaded Carol weakly. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on parade in my pajamas, dear?" he questioned promptly. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's both go then," compromised Carol, and she and Miss Landbury, +hand in hand, marched like Trojans to the switch in the other room, +Carol clicked the button, and then came a wild and inglorious rush back +to the mattress on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, girls." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, David." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, Mr. Duke." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, Miss Landbury." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, Mrs. Duke." +</P> + +<P> +Then sweet and blessed silence, which lasted for at least five minutes +before there sounded a distinct, persistent rapping on their door. +</P> + +<P> +Carol and Miss Landbury rushed to the protection of each other's arms, +and before David had time to call, the door opened, the switch clicked +once more, and Gooding, his hair sticking out in every possible +direction, his bath robe flapping ungracefully about his knees, +confronted them. +</P> + +<P> +"This is a shame," he began ingratiatingly. "I know it. But I've got +to have some one to talk to. I can't go to sleep and— Heavens, +what's that on the floor?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is I and my friend, Miss Landbury," said Carol quietly. "We are +having a slumber party." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, all party and no slumber," muttered David. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I am glad I happened in. I was lonesome off there by myself. +You know you do get sick of being alone all the time. Shove over, old +man, and I'll join the party." +</P> + +<P> +David looked at him in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing doing," he said. "This cot isn't big enough for two. Go in +and use Carol's bed if you like." +</P> + +<P> +"It's too far off," objected Gooding. "Be sociable, Duke." +</P> + +<P> +"There isn't any mattress there anyhow," said Carol. +</P> + +<P> +They looked at one another in a quandary. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on back to bed, Gooding," said David, at last. "This is no time +for conversation." +</P> + +<P> +Gooding would not hear of it. "Here I am and here I stay," he said +with finality. "I've been seeing white shadows and feeling clammy +fingers all night." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what are you going to do? We've got a full house, you can see +that." +</P> + +<P> +"Go and get your own mattress and blankets and use them on my bed," +urged Carol. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Landbury turned on her side and closed her eyes. She was taken +care of, she should worry over Mr. Gooding! +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to stay in there by myself," said Gooding again. "Isn't +there room out here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you see any?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll move in the room with you," volunteered David. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Landbury sat up abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"We won't stay here without you, David," said Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you what," said Gooding brightly, "we'll get my mattress and +put it in the room for me, and we'll move David's mattress on Carol's +bed for David, and then we'll move the girls' mattress in on the floor +for them." +</P> + +<P> +No one offered objections to this arrangement. "Hurry up, then, and +get your mattress," begged Carol. "I am so sleepy." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't carry them alone through those long dark halls," Gooding +insisted. Miss Landbury would not accompany him without a third party, +Carol flatly refused to leave dear sick David alone in that porch, and +at last in despair David donned his bath robe and the four of them +crossed the wide parlor, traversed the dark hall to Gooding's room and +returned with mattress, pillows and blankets. After a great deal of +panting and pulling, the little party was settled for sleep. +</P> + +<P> +It must have been an hour later when they were startled into sitting +posture, their hearts in their throats, by piercing screams which rang +out over the mesa, one after another in quick succession. +</P> + +<P> +"David, David, David," gasped Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm right here, Carol; we're all right," he assured her quickly. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Landbury swayed dizzily and fell back, half-conscious, upon the +pillows. Gooding, with one bound, landed on David's bed, nearly +crushing the breath out of that feeble hero of the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Lights flashed quickly from tent to tent on the mesa, frightened voices +called for nurses, doors slammed, bells rang, and nurses and porters +rushed to the rescue. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was it?" "Where was it?" "What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Over here, I think," shouted a man. "Miss Tucker. I called to her +and she did not answer." +</P> + +<P> +A low indistinct sound, half groan, half sobbing, came from the open +windows of the little tent. And as they drew near, their feet rattling +the dry sand, there came a warning call. +</P> + +<P> +"A light, a light, a light," begged Miss Tucker. The nurses hesitated, +half frightened, and as they paused they heard a low drip, drip, inside +the tent, each drop emphasized by Miss Tucker's sobs. +</P> + +<P> +The porter flashed a pocket-light, and they opened the door. Miss +Tucker lay in a huddled heap on her bed, her hands over her face, her +shoulders rising and falling. The nurses shook her sternly. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter with you?" they demanded. +</P> + +<P> +Finally, she was persuaded to lift her face and mumble an explanation. +"I was asleep, and I heard my name called, and I looked up. There was +a white shadow on the door. I seized my pillow and threw it with all +my might, and there was a loud crash and a roar, and then began that +drip, drip, drip,—oh-h-h!" +</P> + +<P> +"You silly thing," said Miss Alien. "Of course there was a crash. You +knocked the chimney off your lamp,—that made a crash all right. And +the lamp upset, and it is the kerosene drip, dripping from the table to +the floor. Girls who must have kerosene lamps to heat their curlers +must look for trouble." +</P> + +<P> +"The white shadow—" protested the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Moonshine, of course. Look." Miss Alien pulled the girl to her feet. +"The whole mesa is in white shadow. Run around to the tents, girls," +she said to her assistants, "and tell them Miss Tucker had a bad +dream,—nothing wrong. We will have a dozen bed patients from this +night's foolishness." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Tucker refused to be left alone and a nurse was detailed to spend +the night with her. +</P> + +<P> +When the nurses on their rounds reached Miss Landbury's room in the +McCormick Building, they had another fright. The room was empty. The +bed was cold,—had not been occupied for hours, likely. They rushed to +the head nurse, and a wild search was instituted. +</P> + +<P> +The Dukes' room, Number Six, McCormick, was wrapped in darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't go near them," Miss Alien said. "Perhaps they did not hear the +noise, and Mr. Duke should not be disturbed." +</P> + +<P> +So the wild search went on. +</P> + +<P> +But after a time, a Mexican porter, with a lantern, seeking every nook +and corner, plodded stealthily around a corner of the McCormick. +</P> + +<P> +He heard a gasp beside him, and turning his lantern he looked directly +into the window, where four white, tense faces peered at him with +staring eyes. He returned their stare, speechlessly. Then he saw Miss +Landbury. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't you lost?" he ejaculated. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Landbury, frightened out of her senses, and not recognizing the +porter in the darkness, shot into her bed on the floor, and David +answered the man's questions. A moment later an outraged matron, +flanked by two nurses, marched in upon them. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the meaning of this?" they demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Search me," said David pleasantly. "Our friends and neighbors got +lonesome in the night and refused to sleep alone and let us rest in +contentment. So they moved in, and here we are." +</P> + +<P> +Both Gooding and Miss Landbury positively declined to go home alone, +and other nurses were appointed to guard them during the brief +remaining hours of the night. At four o'clock came sleep and silence +and serenity, with Carol on the floor, clutching David's hand, which +even in sleep she did not resign. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning a huge notice was posted on the bulletin board. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Any one who tells a ghost story, or discusses departed spirits, in +this institution or on the grounds thereof, shall have all privileges +suspended for a period of six weeks. +<BR><BR> +"By order of the Superintendent." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +RUBBING ELBOWS +</H3> + + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Chicago, Illinois. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Dearly Beloveds: +</P> + +<P> +"Nearly I am converted to matrimony as a life career. Almost I feel it +is worth the sacrifice of independence, the death of originality, the +banishment of special friendship, and the monotonous bondage of rigid +routine. +</P> + +<P> +"I have just come back from Mount Mark, where I had my second visit +with little Julia. She is worth the giving up of anything, and the +enduring of everything. She is marvelous. +</P> + +<P> +"When I first saw her, just after Aunt Grace brought her home,—I think +I told you that I went without a new pair of lovely gray shoes at ten +dollars a pair in order to go to Mount Mark to meet her,—she was very +sweet, and all that, but when they are so rosily new they are more like +scientific curiosities than literary inspirations. But I have met her +again, and I am everlastingly converted to the domestic enslavement of +women. One little Julia is worth it. So as soon as I find the +husband, I am going to cultivate my eleven children. You remember that +was the career I picked out in the days of my tender youth. +</P> + +<P> +"Her face is big and round and white, and her eyes are bluer than any +summer sky the poets could rave about. Her lips are the original +Cupid's bow,—in fact, Julia's lips have about convinced me that Cupid +must have been a woman, certainly he could ask no more deadly weapon +for shattering the hearts of men. Her hair is comical. It is yellow +gold, but it sticks straight out in every direction. It is the most +aggravatingly, irresistibly defiant hair you ever saw in your life. It +makes you kiss it, and brush it, and soak it in water, and shake Julia +for having it, and then fall in love with her all over again. +</P> + +<P> +"She is just beginning to talk. When I arrived the whole family was +assembled to do me honor, Prudence and Fairy, Lark and all the babies. +Julia seemed to resent her temporary eclipse in the limelight. She +crowed in a compelling way, and when I advanced to bow reverently +before her, she pointed a fat, accusing finger at me, and said, 'Who is +'at?' Her very first word,—and no presidential message ever provoked +half the storm of approval her little phrase called forth. We laughed, +and kissed each other, and begged her to say it again, and Prudence +said 'Oh, if Carol could have heard that,' and then we all rushed off +and cried and scolded each other for being so silly, and Julia +screamed. Oh, it was a formal afternoon reception all right. +</P> + +<P> +"And I am putting a little three-line ad in the morning <I>Tribune</I>. +'Young, accomplished, attractive lady without means, of strong domestic +tendencies, desires a husband, eugenic, rich, good looking. Object +matrimony.' +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I know that I repeat myself. But if you don't say 'Object +matrimony,' some men wouldn't catch the point. +</P> + +<P> +"And so you are out of the San and keeping house again. A brand-new +honeymoon, of course, and cooing doves, and chiming bells, and all the +rest of it. When the rest of us back here write to each other, we say +at the end, 'Carol is well and David is better.' It conveys the idea +of a Thanksgiving service and a hallelujah chorus. It means Good +night, God bless you, and Merry Christmas, all in one. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way, do you remember William Canfield Brewer, the original +advertiser who got moved out when I moved in? Well, between you and +me, almost for a while I did begin to see some charms in matrimony. He +came again, and was properly introduced. And took me for a drive,—it +seems he had just collected his salary,—and he came again, and we went +to the park, and he came again. And that was when I began to see the +halo around the wedding bells. One night he was telling me his +experiences in saving money,—uproariously funny, my dear, for he never +could save more than five dollars a month, and ran in debt fifteen +dollars to encompass it. He said: +</P> + +<P> +"'My wife used to say it was harder work for me to carry my salary home +from the office than to earn it right at the start.' +</P> + +<P> +"I laughed,—I thought of course it was a joke. I guess the laugh was +revealing, for he turned around suddenly and said: +</P> + +<P> +"'You knew I was married, didn't you, Connie?' First time he ever +called me Connie. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the halo vanished like a flash and hasn't got back yet. +</P> + +<P> +"I said, 'No, I didn't know it.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Why, everybody knows it,' he expostulated. +</P> + +<P> +"'I did not.' +</P> + +<P> +"'We are devoted to each other,' he said, laughing lightly, 'but we +find our devotion wears better at long distance. So she lives wherever +I do not, and we get along like birdies in their little nest. I +haven't seen her for two years.' +</P> + +<P> +"Then he went on with his financial experiences, evidently calling the +subject closed. +</P> + +<P> +"When he started home, he said, 'Well, what shall we do Sunday?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Nothing, together. You are married.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, I don't get any fun out of it, do I?' +</P> + +<P> +"'No, maybe not. But I have a hunch I won't get much fun out of it, +either.' +</P> + +<P> +"'I forgot about the parsonage.' He considered a moment. 'All right, +I'll hunt her up and have her get a divorce,' he volunteered cheerfully. +</P> + +<P> +"He was very puzzled and perplexed when I vetoed that. He says I can't +have the true artistic temperament, I am so ghastly religious. At any +rate, I have not seen him since, and have not answered his notes. Now, +don't weep over me, Carol, and think my young affections were trifled +with. They weren't—because they didn't have time. But I am not +taking any chances. +</P> + +<P> +"Henceforth I get my sentiment second hand. +</P> + +<P> +"The girl at our table, Emily Jarvis, who is a spherist, attributes all +the good fortune that has come to you and David to the fact that at +heart you are in harmony with the spheres. You don't know what a +spherist is, and neither do I. But it includes a lot of musical terms, +and metaphors, and is something like Christian Science and New Thought, +only more so. Spherists believe in a life of harmony, and somehow or +other they get the spheres back of it, and believe in immaterial +matter, and that all physical manifestations are negative, and the only +positive, or affirmative, is 'harmony.' +</P> + +<P> +"Emily is very, very pretty, and that sort of excuses her for digging +into the intricacies of spheral harmonies. Even such unmitigated +nonsense as sphere control, spirit harmony, and mental submission, +assumes a semblance of dignity when expounded by her cherry-red lips. +She speaks vacuously of being under world-dominance, and has absolutely +no physical consciousness. She says so herself. If she ignores her +tempting curves and matchless softness, she is the only one in the +house who does. In fact, it is only the attraction of her very +physical being, which she denies, that lends a species of sense to her +harmonious converse. She and I are great friends. She says I am a +harmonizer on the inside. +</P> + +<P> +"She is engaged to a man across the hall, Rodney Carter. She has the +room next to mine. His voice is deep and carrying, hers is clear and +ringing, and the walls are thin. So I have benefited by most of their +courtship. But the course of true love, you know. She has tried +spiritually and harmoniously to convert him to immaterialism, but +Rodney is very conscious of his physical, muscular, material being, and +he hoots at her derisively, but tenderly. +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, cut it out, Emily,' he said, one evening. 'We can only afford +one spirit in the family. One of us has got to earn a living. +Spirits, it seems, require plenty of steak and potatoes to keep them in +harmony. I could not conscientiously lead you to the altar, even a +spheral altar, if I were not prepared to pay house rent and coal bills. +One's enough, you can be our luxury.' +</P> + +<P> +"'But, Rod, if you are in harmony you can earn our living so much more +easily. You must get above this notion of material necessities. There +are no such things.' +</P> + +<P> +"'I don't believe it,' he interrupted coldly. 'There are material +necessities. You are one of them. The most necessary in the world. +You may be harmonious, but you are material, too. That is why I love +you. I couldn't be crazy about a melodious breath of air ghosting +around the back yard. And I am not strong for disembodied minds, +either. They make me nervous. They sound like skulls and cross-bones, +and whitening skeletons to me. I love you, your arms, your face, all +of you. It may not be proper to talk about it, but I love it. Can you +imagine our minds embracing each other, thrilling at the contact,—oh, +it's tommyrot. A fool—' +</P> + +<P> +"'It may be tommyrot to you, Rod,' said Emily haughtily. 'But the +inspiration of the matchless minds of the mystic men of the Orient—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Inspiration of idiocy. What do mystic men of the Orient know about +warm-blooded Americans, dead in love? I might kiss the air until I was +blue in the face,—nothing to it,—but let me kiss you, and we are both +aquiver, and—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Rodney Carter, don't you dare say such things,' she cried furiously. +'It is insulting. Besides it has nothing to do with it. It isn't so +anyhow. And what is more—' +</P> + +<P> +"'There's nothing mysterious about us. Let the old Chinesers pad +around in their bare feet and naked souls if they want to. We are +children of light, we are, creatures of earth, earthly. We're—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, I can't argue with you, Rod,' she began confusedly. +</P> + +<P> +"'I don't want you to. Kiss me. One kiss, Emily mine, will confound +the whole united order of Maudlin Mystics. I am willing to risk all +the anathemas contained in an inharmonious sphere for one touch of your +lips. Go ahead with your sacred doctrine of universal and spiritual +imbecility, but soften its harshness with worldly, physical, +sin-suggesting kisses, and I am in tune with the infinite.' +</P> + +<P> +"Then Emily broke the engagement, and Rodney, after relieving himself +of more heretical opinions of spiritual simplicity and mystic madness, +stalked unmelodiously away, slamming her door, and his own after it. +</P> + +<P> +"What I didn't hear of it myself, Emily told me afterward, for we are +very confidential. +</P> + +<P> +"The whole house was intensely interested in the dénouement. Rodney +sat stolidly at his table, crunching his food, gazing reproachfully and +adoringly at Emily's proudly lifted head. Emily, for all her +unconsciousness of physical necessity, lost her appetite, and grew +pale. The mental and physical may have nothing in harmony, as she +says, but certainly her mental upheaval resulting from the lack of +Rodney's demonstrations of love, affected her physical appetite as well +as her complexion. +</P> + +<P> +"When Rodney met Emily in the halls, he made her life miserable. +</P> + +<P> +"'Good morning, Long Sin Coo.' 'Hello, Ghostie.' 'Hey, Spirit, may I +borrow a nip of brandy to make an ethereal cocktail for my imaginary +nightcap?' +</P> + +<P> +"And he opened his transom and took to talking to himself out loud. So +Emily decided to close her transom. It stuck. She asked my +assistance, and we balanced a chair on a box and I held it steady while +she got up to oil the transom. But first she would lose her balance, +then she would drop the oil can, then the box would slip. She couldn't +reach the joints, or whatever you call them, and when she stood on +tiptoe she lost her balance. Then she got her finger in the joint and +pinched it, emitting a most material squeal as she did so. Happening +to glance through the transom, she saw Rodney standing below in the +hall, grinning at her with inharmonious, unspiritual, unsentimental +glee, and she tugged viciously at the transom, banging herself off the +box, upsetting the chair, and squirting oil all over me as she fell. +</P> + +<P> +"Rodney rushed to the rescue, but Emily was already scrambling into +sitting posture, scared, bruised and furious. She had torn her dress, +twisted her ankle, bumped her head and scratched her face. And Rodney +had seen it. +</P> + +<P> +"Ignoring me, Rodney sat down on the box and looked her over with cold +professional eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"'My little seeker after truth,' he said, 'you are a mystic combination +of spirit and mind. You are in tune with the infinite spheres. You +are a breath in a universal breeze. Therefore you feel no +inconvenience. Get up, my child, and waltz an Oriental hesitation down +the hall and convince yourself everlastingly that you are in truth only +a mysterious unit in a universe of harmonic chords.' +</P> + +<P> +"Emily dropped her head on the oil can, lifted up her voice and wept. +And Rodney, with an exclamation that a minister's daughter can not +repeat, took the unhappy mystic into his arms. +</P> + +<P> +"'Sweetheart, forgive me. I am a brute, I know. Knock me on the head +with the oil can, won't you? Don't cry, sweetheart,—Emily, don't.' +</P> + +<P> +"Finally Emily spoke. 'You are as mean and hateful as you can be, +Rodney Carter,' she said, burrowing more deeply into his shoulder. +'And I despise you. And I am going to marry you, too, just to get even +with you. Give me back my engagement ring.' Rodney ecstatically did. +The touch of her lovely, material body must have thrilled him, for he +kissed her all over the top of the head, her face being hidden. +</P> + +<P> +"I stood my ground. I was looking for literary material since I never +have a chance to make romance for myself. Emily spoke again. +</P> + +<P> +"'I know now that the Vast Infinite intends us for each other. I have +been dwelling in Perfect Harmony the last four days, trusting the All +Perfection to bring us together again. So I know that our union was +decreed from the foundation by the Universal sphere. I tell you, Rod, +you can't get ahead of the Infinite.' +</P> + +<P> +"Then I went to my own room, and they never knew when I left,—they +didn't even remember I had been there. But as I came back from +answering the phone at eleven o'clock, I met Rod in the hall. He had +some books in his hand. He ducked them behind him when he saw me. I +reached for them sternly, and he pulled them out rather sheepishly. I +read the titles, 'Spheral Mentality,' 'Infinite Spheres,' 'Spheral +Harmony.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Made me promise to read 'em, too,' he confided in a whisper. 'And by +George, she is worth it.' +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I tell you, Carol, these boarding-houses are chuck full of +literary material. Really, I am developing. I know it. I feel it +every day. I rub elbows with every one I meet, and I like it. I don't +care if they aren't 'My Kind' at all. I am learning to reach down to +the same old human nature back of all the different kinds. Isn't that +growth? +</P> + +<P> +"You asked about the millionaire's son. He still comes to see me every +once in a while. He says he can't promise to let me spend all of his +millions for missions if I marry him,—says he has too much fun +spending them on himself,—but he insists that I may do whatever I like +with him. Isn't it too bad I can't feel called upon to take him in +hand? +</P> + +<P> +"Anyhow, if I had a million dollars do you know what I would do? Buy +an orphans' home, and dump 'em all in a big ship and go sailing, +sailing over the bounding main. I'd kidnap Julia and take her along. +</P> + +<P> +"He was here last week, and sent his love to you, and best wishes to +David. He told me to ask particularly how your complexion gets along +out in the sunny mesa land. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to see you. I am saving up my pennies religiously, and when +they have multiplied sufficiently I am coming. Thanks for the +invitation. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Lovingly as always, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Connie." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +QUIESCENT +</H3> + + +<P> +Long but not dreary weeks followed one after the other. In the little +'dobe cottage, situated far up the hill on the mesa, Carol and David +lived a life of passionless routine. Carol was busy, hence she had the +easier part. David's breakfast on a tray at seven, nourishment at +nine, luncheon at twelve, nourishment at three, dinner at six, +nourishment at nine,—with medicines to be administered, temperatures +to be taken, alcohol rubs to be given at frequent intervals,—this was +Carol's day. And at odd hours the house must be kept clean and +sanitary, dishes washed, letters written. And whenever the moment +came, David was waiting for her to come and read aloud to him. +</P> + +<P> +When a man of action, of energy, of boundless enthusiasm is tossed +aside, strapped with iron bands to a little white cot on a screened +porch with a view of a sunburned mesa reaching off to the mountains, +unless he is of the biggest, and finest, his personality can not +survive. David's did. Months of helplessness lay behind him, a life +of inaction lay before him. He could walk a half block or so, he could +go driving with kind neighbors who invited him, but every avenue of +service was closed, every form of expression denied him. He had hoped +to live a full, good, glowing life. And there he lay. +</P> + +<P> +It is not work which tells the caliber of man, but idleness. +</P> + +<P> +Month followed month, now there were bitter winds and blinding snows, +now the hot sun scorched the yellow sand of the mesa, now the mountains +were high white clouds of snow, now the fields of green alfalfa showed +on a few distant foothills, and the canyons were green with pines. +Otherwise there was no change. +</P> + +<P> +But the summers in New Mexico were crushingly, killingly hot, and so +the sturdy-hearted health chasers left the 'dobe cottage, packed their +few possessions and moved up into Colorado. And while David waited +patiently in the hotel, Carol set forth alone and found a small cottage +with sleeping porch, cleanly and nicely furnished, rent reasonable, no +objections to health seekers. And she and David moved into their new +home. +</P> + +<P> +And the old life of Albuquerque began again, meals, nourishments and +medicines alternating through the days. +</P> + +<P> +In the summer of the third year, Carol wrote to Connie: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Haven't you been saving up long enough? We do so want to see you, and +Colorado is beautiful. We haven't the long mesa stretching up to the +sunny slopes as it was in New Mexico, but from our tiny cottage we can +look right over the city to the mountains on the other side, and the +sunny slopes are there. So please count your pennies. They give +summer rates you know." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Connie went down to Mount Mark the night she received that letter, +spending half the night in the train, and talked it over with the +family. Without a dissenting voice, they said she ought to go. Ten +days later, Carol and David were exulting over Connie's letter. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Yes, thank you, I am coming. In fact, I was only waiting for the word +from you. So I shall start on Monday next, C., B. & Q., reaching +Denver Tuesday afternoon at 2:30. Be sure and meet me. +</P> + +<P> +"I nearly lost my job, too. I went to Mr. Carver and said I wanted a +vacation. He said 'All right, when and how long?' I said, 'Beginning +next Monday.' He nodded. 'To continue six weeks.' He nearly died. +He asked what kind of an institution for the feeble-minded I thought +this was. I said I hadn't solved it yet. He reminded me that I have +already had one week's vacation, and three days on two different +occasions. He said he hired people to work, not to visit their +relatives at his expense. He said I had one week of vacation coming. +And I interrupted to say I didn't expect any salary during that time, I +just wanted him to hold my position for me. He said he was astonished +I didn't ask him to discontinue publication during my absence. Finally +he said I might have one week on full pay, and one week without pay, +and that was enough for a senator. +</P> + +<P> +"So I went to my machine and wrote out a very literary resignation +which I handed to him. I know the business now, and I have met a lot +of publishers, so I was safe in resigning. I knew I could get another +position in three days. He tore the resignation up, and said he wished +I could outgrow my childishness. +</P> + +<P> +"Before luncheon, he said he had a good idea. We were away behind in +clippings for filling and he suggested that I take a big bundle of +exchanges with me, and clip while I vacated. Also I could doubtless +find the time to write a thousand or so words a week and send it in, +and then I might go on full pay for six weeks. Figuratively I fell +upon his neck and kissed him,—purely figuratively, for his wife has a +most annoying way of dropping in at unexpected hours,—and I am getting +the most charming new clothes made up, so David will think I am +prettier than you. Now don't withdraw the invitation, for I shall come +anyhow." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Carol considered herself well schooled in the art of emotional +restraint, but when she finished reading those blessed words—which to +her ears, so hungry for the voices of home, sounded like an extract +from the beatitudes—she put her head on the back of David's hand and +gulped audibly. And she admitted that she must certainly have cried, +save for the restraining influence of the knowledge that crying made +her nose red. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime, back in Iowa, the Starrs in their separate households, +were running riot. Never was there to be such a wonderful visit for +anybody in the world. Jerry and Prudence bundled up their family, and +got into a Harmer Six and drove down to Mount Mark, where they +ensconced themselves in the family home and announced their intention +of staying until Connie had gone. As soon as Fairy heard that, she +hastened home too, full of the glad tiding that she had found a boy she +wanted to adopt at last. Lark and Jim neglected the farm shamefully, +and all the women of the neighborhood were busy making endless little +odds and ends of dainty clothing for Carol, who had lived ready-made +during the three years of their domicile in the shadowland of sunshine. +</P> + +<P> +A hurried letter was despatched to David's doctor, asking endless +questions, pledging him to secrecy, and urging him to wire an answer C. +O. D. Little Julia was instructed as to her mother's charms and her +father's virtues far beyond the point of her comprehension. And Jerry +spent long hours with Connie in the car, explaining its mechanism, and +making her a really proficient driver, although she had been very +skilful behind the wheel before. Also, he wrote long letters to his +dealer in Denver, giving him such a host of minute instructions that +the bewildered agent thought the "old gent in Des Moines had gone daft." +</P> + +<P> +Carol wrote every day, pitifully, jubilantly, begging Connie to hurry +and get started, admonishing her to take a complete line of snapshots +of every separate Starr, to count each additional gray hair in darling +father's head, and to locate every separate dimple in Julia's fat +little body. And every letter was answered by every one of the family, +who interrupted themselves to urge everybody else not to give anything +away, and to be careful what they said. And they all cried over Julia, +and over Carol's letters, and even cried over the beautiful assortment +of clothes they had accumulated for Carol, using Lark as a sewing model. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty minutes after the train left Mount Mark, came a telegram from +Carol: "Did she get off all right? Did anything happen? Wire +immediately." And the whole family rushed off to separate rooms to +weep all over again. +</P> + +<P> +But Aunt Grace walked slowly about the house, gathering up blocks, and +headless dolls, and tailless dogs, and laying them carefully away in a +drawer until little Julia should return to visit the family in Mount +Mark. +</P> + +<P> +For the doctor had said it was all right to restore the baby to her +heart-hungering parents in the mountain land. Carol was fairly strong, +David was fairly well. The baby being healthy, and the parents being +sanitary, the danger to its tiny lungs was minimized,—and by all means +send them the baby. +</P> + +<P> +So Julia was arrayed in matchless garments destined to charm the eyes +of the parents, who, in their happiness, would never realize it had any +clothes on at all, and Connie set out upon her journey with the little +girl in her charge. +</P> + +<P> +On Tuesday morning, Carol was a mental wreck. She forgot to salt +David's eggs, and gave him codeine for his cough instead of tonic +tablets for his appetite. She put no soda in the hot cakes, and made +his egg-nog of buttermilk. She laughed out loud when David was asking +the blessing, and when he wondered how tall Julia was she burst out +crying, and then broke two glasses in her energetic haste to cover up +the emotional outbreak. Altogether it was a most trying morning. She +was ready to meet the train exactly two hours and a half before it was +due, and she combed David's hair three times, and whenever she couldn't +sit still another minute she got up and dusted the railing around the +porch, brushed off his lounging jacket, and rearranged the roses in the +vase on his table. +</P> + +<P> +"David, I honestly believe I was homesick. I didn't know it before. I +got along all right before I knew she was coming, but now I want to +jump up and down and shout. Why on earth didn't she take an earlier +train and save me this agony?" +</P> + +<P> +At last, in self-defense, David insisted that she should start, and, +too impatient to wait for cars and to endure their stopping at every +corner, she walked the two miles to the station, arriving breathless, +perspiring and flushed. Even then she was thirty minutes ahead of +time, but finally the announcer called the train, and Carol stationed +herself at the exit close to the gate to watch the long line of +travelers coming up from the subway. No one noticed the slender woman +standing so motionless in the front of the waiting line, but the angels +in Heaven must have marked the tumult throbbing in her heart, and the +happiness stinging in her bright eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Then—she leaned forward. That was Connie of course,—she caught her +breath, and tears started to her eyes. Yes, that was Connie, that tall +slim girl with the shining face,—and oh, kind and merciful Providence, +that must be her own little Julia trudging along beside her, the fat +white face turning eagerly from side to side, confident she was going +to know that mother on sight, just because they had told her a mother +was what most belonged to her. +</P> + +<P> +Carol twisted her hands together, wringing her gloves into a shred. +She moistened her dry lips, and blinked desperately to crowd away those +tears. Yes, it was Connie, the little baby sister she used to tease so +mercilessly, and Julia, the little rosebud baby she had wanted so many +nights. She could not bear to let those ugly tears dim her sight for +one minute, she dare not miss one second of that feast to her hungering +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The two sisters who had not seen each other for nearly four years, +looked into each other's faces, Carol's so pleadingly hungry for the +vision of one of her own, Connie's so strongly sweet and reassuring. +Instinctively the others drew away, and the little group, the +red-capped attendant trailing in the rear, stood alone. +</P> + +<P> +"Julia, this is your mama," said Connie, and the wide blue eyes were +lifted wonderingly into those other wide blue eyes so like them,—the +mother eyes that little Julia had never known. Carol, with an +inarticulate sob dropped on her knees and gathered her baby into her +arms. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-254"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-254.jpg" ALT="Carol, with an inarticulate sob, gathered her baby in her arms." BORDER="2" WIDTH="404" HEIGHT="608"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Carol, with an inarticulate sob, gathered her baby in her arms.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Julia, who had been told it was to be a time of laughter, or rejoicing, +of utter gaiety, marveled at the pain in the face of this mother and +patted away the tears with chubby hands, laughing with excitement. By +the time Carol could be drawn from her wild caressing of the rosebud +baby, she was practically helpless. It was Connie who marshaled them +outside, tipped the red-capped attendant, waved a hand to the driver +waiting across the street, directed him about the baggage, and saw to +getting Carol inside and seated. +</P> + +<P> +Only once Carol came back to earth, "Mercy, Connie, taxis cost a +fortune out here." +</P> + +<P> +"This isn't a taxi," said Connie, "it is just a car." +</P> + +<P> +But Carol did not even hear her answer, for Julia, enchanted at being +so lavishly enthroned in the attention of any one, lifted her lips for +another noisy kiss, and Carol was deaf to the rest of the world. +</P> + +<P> +Her one idea now was to get this precious, wonderful, matchless +creature home to David as quickly as possible. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry, hurry," she begged. "Make him go faster, Connie." +</P> + +<P> +"He can't," said Connie, laughing. "Do you want to get us pinched for +speeding the first thing?" +</P> + +<P> +And Julia, catching the word, immediately pinched both her auntie and +her mama, to show them she knew what they were talking about. And +Carol was stricken dumb at the wonderful, unbelievable cleverness of +this remarkable infant. +</P> + +<P> +When the car stopped before her cottage, she forgot her manners as +hostess, she forgot the baggage, and the driver, and even sister +Connie. She just grabbed Julia in her arms and rushed into the +cottage, back through the kitchen to the sleeping porch in the rear, +and stood gloating over her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Look, look, look," she chanted. "It is Julia, she is ours, she is +here." David sat up in bed, his breath coming quickly. +</P> + +<P> +Carol, like a goddess of plenty dispensing royal favors, dumped the +smiling child on the bed and David promptly seized her. +</P> + +<P> +By this time Connie had made her arrangements with the driver, and +escorted herself calmly into the house, trailing the family to the +porch, gently readjusting Julia who was nearly turned upside down by +the fervor of her papa and mama, and informed David that she wanted to +shake hands. Thus recalled, David did shake hands, and looked pleased +when she commented on how well he was looking. But in her heart, +Connie, the young, untouched by sorrow, alive with the passion for +work, was crying out in resentment. Big, buoyant, active David reduced +to this. Carol, radiant, glowing, gleaming Carol,—this subdued gentle +woman with the thin face and dark circles beneath her eyes. "Oh, it is +wrong," thought Connie,—though she still smiled, for hearts are +marvelous creations, holding such sorrow, and hiding it well. +</P> + +<P> +When their wraps were removed, Julia sat on David's table, with David's +hand squeezing her knees, and Carol clutching her feet, and with +Connie, big and bright, sitting back and watching quietly, and telling +them startling and imaginary tales of the horrors she had encountered +on the train. David was entranced, and Carol was enchanted. This was +their baby, this brilliant, talented, beautiful little fairy,—and +Carol alternately nudged David's arm and tapped his shoulder to remind +him of the dignity of his fatherhood. +</P> + +<P> +But in one little hour, she remembered that after all, David was her +job, and even crowy, charming little Julia must not crowd him aside, +and she hastened to prepare the endless egg-nog. Then from the kitchen +window she saw the auto, still standing before their door. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my gracious!" she gasped. "We forgot that driver." +</P> + +<P> +She got her purse and hurried outside, but the driver was gone, and +only the car remained. Carol was too ignorant of motor-cars to observe +that it was a Harmer Six, she only wondered how on earth he could go +off and forget his car. She carried the puzzle to David, and he could +not solve it. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you able to walk at all, David?" asked Connie. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, indeed," he said, sitting up proudly, "I can walk half a block if +there are no steps to climb." +</P> + +<P> +"Come out in front and we'll investigate," she suggested. +</P> + +<P> +When they reached the car, and it took time for David walked but +slowly, he promptly looked at the name plate. +</P> + +<P> +"Harmer Six," he read. "Why this is Jerry's kind of car." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it is his kind," explained Connie. "He and Prudence sent this +one out for you and Carol and Julia. They have just established an +agency here, and he has made arrangements with the dealer to take +entire care of it for you, sending it up when you want it, calling for +it when you are through, keeping it in repair, and providing gas and +oil,—and the bill goes to Jerry in Des Moines." +</P> + +<P> +One would have thought enough happiness had come to the health seekers +for one day. Carol would have sworn she could not possibly be one +little bit gladder than she had been before, with David sick, of +course. And now came this! How David would love it. She looked at +her husband, happily pottering around the engine, turning bolts and +buttons as men will do, and she looked at Julia, proudly viewing her +own physical beauties in the shining body of the car, and she looked at +Connie with the charm and glory of the parsonage life clinging about +her like a halo. Then she turned and walked into the house without a +word. Understandingly, David and Connie allowed her to pass inside +without comment. +</P> + +<P> +"Connie," said David when they were alone, "I believe God will give you +a whole chest of stars for your crown for the sweetness that brought +you out here. Carol was sick for something of home. I wanted her to +go back for a visit but she would not leave me. But she was sick. She +needed some outside life. I can give her nothing, I take my life from +her. And she needed fresh inspiration, and you have brought it." +David was silent a moment. "Connie, whenever things do get shadowy for +us, the clouds are pulled back so we may see the sun shining on the +slopes more brilliantly than ever." +</P> + +<P> +Turning quickly she followed his gaze, and a softness came into her +eyes as she looked. Truly the darkness of the canyons seemed only to +emphasize the brightness of the ridges above them. +</P> + +<P> +She laid her hand on David's arm, that strong, shapely, capable hand, +and whispered, "David, if I might have what you and Carol have, if I +could be happy in the way that you are, I think I should be willing to +lose the sunshine on the slopes and dwell entirely in the darkness of +the canyons. But I haven't got it, I don't know how to get it." Then +she added slowly, "But I suppose, having what you two have, one could +not lose the sunshine on the slopes." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +RE-CREATION +</H3> + + +<P> +Were you ever wakened in the early morning by the clear whistle of a +meadow-lark over your head, with the rich scent of the mountain pines +coming to you on the pure light air of a new day, with the sun wrapping +the earth in misty blue, and staining the mountains with rose? To +David, lying on his cot in the open air, every dawning morning was a +new creation, a brand new promise of hope. To be sure, the enchantment +was like to be broken in a moment, still the call of the morning had +fired his blood, and given him a new impetus,—impetus, not for work, +not for ambition, not for activity, just an impetus to lie quietly on +his cot and be happy. +</P> + +<P> +The birds were shortly rivaled by the sweeter, dearer, not less +heavenly voice of little Julia, calling an imaginary dog, counting her +mother's eyes, or singing to herself an original improvise upon the +exalted subject of two brown bugs. And a moment later, came the sound +of rapturous kissing, and Carol was awake. And before the smile of +content left his face, she stood in the doorway, her face flushed with +sleep, her hair tumbling about her face, a warm bath robe drawn about +her. Always her greeting was the same. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, David. Another glorious day, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Then Julia came splashing out in Aunt Connie's new rose-colored boudoir +slippers, with Connie in hot barefooted pursuit. And the new day had +begun, the riotous, delirious day, with Julia at the helm. +</P> + +<P> +Connie had amusing merry tales to tell of her work, and her friends, +and the family back home. And time had to be crowded a little to make +room for long drives in the Harmer Six. Carol promptly learned to +drive it herself, and David, tentatively at first, talked of trying his +own hand on it. And finally he did, and took a boyish satisfaction in +his ability to manipulate the gears. Oh, perhaps it made him a little +more short of breath, and he found that his nerves were more highly +keyed than in the old time days,—anyhow he came home tired, hungry, +ready to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Even the occasional windy or cloudy days, when the Harmer Six was left +wickedly wasting in the garage, had their attractions. How the girls +did talk! Sometimes, when they had finished the dishes, Carol, intent +on Connie's story, stood patiently rubbing the dish pan a hundred, a +thousand times, until David would call pleadingly, "Girls, come out +here and talk." Then, recalled in a flash, they rushed out to him, +afraid the endless chatter would tire him, but happy that he liked to +hear it. +</P> + +<P> +"Speaking of lovers," Connie would begin brightly,—for like so many of +the very charming girls who see no charm in matrimony, most of Connie's +conversation dealt with that very subject. And it was what her +auditors liked best of all to hear. Why, sometimes Carol would +interrupt right in the middle of some account of her success on the +papers, to ask if a certain man was married, or young, or good looking. +After all, getting married was the thing. And Connie was not +sufficiently enthusiastic about that. Writing stories was very well, +and poems and books had their place no doubt, but Shakespeare himself +never turned out a masterpiece to compare with Julia sitting plump and +happy in the puddle of mud to the left of the kitchen door, her round +pink face streaked and stained and grimy. +</P> + +<P> +"I really did decide to get married once," Connie began confidentially, +when they were comfortably settled on the porch by David's cot. "It +was when I was in Mount Mark one time. Julia was so sweet I thought I +could not possibly wait another minute. I kept thinking over the men +in my mind, and finally I decided to apply my business training to the +problem. Do you remember Dan Brooks?" +</P> + +<P> +Carol nodded instantly. She remembered all the family beaus from the +very beginning. "A doctor now, isn't he? Lives next door to the folks +in Mount Mark. I used to think you would marry him, Connie. He is +well off, and nice, too. And a doctor is very dignified." +</P> + +<P> +Connie agreed warmly, and David laughed. All the Starrs had been so +sensible in discussing the proper qualifications for lovers, and all +had impulsively married whenever the heart dictated. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that's Dan. Did you ever notice that cluster of lilac bushes +outside our dining-room window? Maybe you used it in your own beau +days. It is a lovely place to sit, very effective, for Dan's study +overlooks it from the up-stairs, and their dining-room from +down-stairs. So whenever I want to lure Dan I sit under the lilacs. +He can't miss me. +</P> + +<P> +"One day I planted myself out there with a little red note-book and the +telephone directory. Dan and his mother were eating luncheon. I was +absorbed in my work, but just the same I had a wary eye on Dan. He +shoved back his chair, and got up. Then he kissed his mother lightly +and came out the side door, whistling. I looked up, closed the +directory, snapped the lock on my note-book, and took the pencil out of +my mouth. I said, 'Hello, Danny.' Then I shoved the books behind me. +</P> + +<P> +"'Hello, Connie.—No, I wouldn't invite Fred Arnold if I were you. It +would just encourage him to try, try again, and it would mean an +additional wound in the heart for him. Leave him out.' +</P> + +<P> +"I frowned at him. 'I am not doing a party,' I said coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"'No? Then why the directory? You are not reading it for amusement, +are you? You are not—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Never mind, Dan. It is my directory, and if I wish to look up my +friends—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Look up your friends!' Dan was plainly puzzled. 'None of my +business, of course, but it is a queer notion. And why the tablet? +Are you taking notes?' He reached for the notebook with the easy +familiarity that people use when they have known you all your life. I +shoved it away and flushed a little. I can flush at a second's notice, +Carol. It is very effective in a crisis. I'll teach you, if you like. +It only requires a little imagination." +</P> + +<P> +Carol hugged her knees and beamed at Connie. "Go on," she begged. +"How did it turn out?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Well,' he said, 'you must be writing a book. Are you looking up +heroes? Mount Mark isn't tremendously rich in hero material. But here +am I, tall, handsome, courageous.' +</P> + +<P> +"I sniffed, then I smiled, then I giggled. 'Yes,' I agreed, 'I was +looking up heroes, but not for a book.' +</P> + +<P> +"'What for then?' +</P> + +<P> +"'For me.' +</P> + +<P> +"'For you?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, for me. I want a hero of my own. Dan,' I said in an earnest +impressive manner, 'you may think this is very queer, and not very +modest, but I need a confidant, and Aunt Grace would think I am crazy. +Cross your heart you'll never tell?' +</P> + +<P> +"Dan obediently crossed, and I drew out the books. +</P> + +<P> +"'I am going to get married.' +</P> + +<P> +"Dan pulled his long members together with a jerk and sat up. He was +speechless. +</P> + +<P> +"I nodded affirmatively. 'Yes. Does it surprise you?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Who to?' he demanded furiously and ungrammatically. +</P> + +<P> +"'I haven't just decided,' I vouchsafed reluctantly. +</P> + +<P> +"'You haven't—great Scott, are they coming around in droves like +that?' He glanced down the street as if he expected to see a galaxy of +admirers heaving into view. 'I knew there were a few hanging around, +but there aren't many fellows in Mount Mark.' +</P> + +<P> +"'No, not many, and they aren't coming in droves. I am going after +them.' +</P> + +<P> +"Having known me almost since my toothless days, Dan knew he could only +wait. +</P> + +<P> +"'I am getting pretty old, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +"He looked at me critically and gave my age a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"'I am very much in favor of marriage, and families, and such things. +I want one myself. And if I don't hurry up, I'll have to adopt it. +There's an age limit, you know.'" +</P> + +<P> +"'Age limit,' he exploded. +</P> + +<P> +"'I think I shall have a winter wedding, a white one, along in January. +Not in December, it might interfere with my Christmas presents.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Connie—' +</P> + +<P> +"'I am going to be very systematic about it. In this note-book I am +making a list of all the nice Mount Markers. I couldn't think of any +myself right offhand, so I had to resort to the directory. Now I shall +go through the list and grade them. Some are black-marked right at the +start. Those that sound reasonable, I shall try out. The one that +makes good, I shall marry. I've got to hurry, too. My vacation only +lasts a week, and I have to work on my trousseau a little. It's lots +of fun. I am perfectly fascinated with it.' +</P> + +<P> +"Dan had nothing to say. He looked at me with that blankness of +incomprehension that must be maddening in a man after you are married +to him." +</P> + +<P> +Carol squeezed David's hand and gurgled rapturously. This was her +great delight, to get Connie talking, so cleverly, of her variegated +and cosmopolitan love-affairs. +</P> + +<P> +"'I suppose you are surprised,' I said kindly, 'and naturally you think +it rather queer. You mustn't let any one know. Mount Mark could never +comprehend such modernity. I feel very advanced, myself. I want to +spring up and shout, "Votes for Women" or "Up with the Red Flag," or +"Villa Forever," or something else outspoken and bloody.'" +</P> + +<P> +Carol and David shook with laughter, silently, not to interrupt the +story. +</P> + +<P> +"'How about love, Connie?' suggested Dan, meekly. +</P> + +<P> +"'I believe in love, absolutely. That is my strongest point. As soon +as I find a champion, I am going to concentrate all my energy and all +my talent on falling dead in love with him.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Have you found any eligibles yet?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, Harvey Grath, and Robert Ingersoll, and Cal Keith, and Doctor +Meredith.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Where do I come in?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, we know each other too well,' I said with discouraging +promptness. 'The real fascination in getting married is the novelty of +it. There wouldn't be any novelty in marrying you. I know as much +about you as your mother does. Eggs fried over, meat well done, no +gravy, breakfast in bed Sunday morning, sporting pages first,—it would +be like marrying father. Now I must get to work, Danny, so you'd +better trot along and not bother me. And you must keep away evenings +unless you have a date in advance. You might interrupt something if +you bob in unannounced.' +</P> + +<P> +"'May I have a date this evening?' he asked with high hauteur. +</P> + +<P> +"'So sorry, Danny, I have a date with Cal Keith.' I consulted the +note-book. 'To-morrow night Doctor Meredith. Thursday night, Buddy +Johnson.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Friday then?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, Friday.' +</P> + +<P> +"The next time he saw me, he said first thing, which proved he had been +thinking seriously, 'I suppose it will be the end of my hanging around +here if you get married.' +</P> + +<P> +"Evidently he thought I would contradict him. But I didn't. +</P> + +<P> +"'I am afraid so,' I admitted. 'My husband will be so fearfully +jealous! He will be so crazy about me that he won't allow another man +to come within a mile of me.' +</P> + +<P> +"Dan snorted. 'You don't know how crazy he'll be about you.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, yes, I do, for when I pick him out, I'll see to that part of it. +That will be easy. It is picking him out that is hard.' +</P> + +<P> +"You know how Dan is, Carol. He is very fond of the girls, especially +me, and he makes love in a sort of semi-fashion, but he never really +wanted to get married. He liked to be a bachelor. He noticed how +other men ran down after marriage, and he didn't want to run down. He +saw how so many girls went to seed after marriage, and he didn't want +them to belong to him. 'Let well enough alone, you fool,' was his +philosophy. I knew it. He had told me about it often, and I always +said it was sound good sense. +</P> + +<P> +"The second afternoon I told him I was going to wear white lace to be +married in, and had picked out my bridesmaids. I asked him where would +be a nice place to go for a honeymoon, and he flung himself home in a +huff, and said it was none of his business where I went but he +suggested New London or Danville. I showed no annoyance when he left +so abruptly. I was too busy. I drew my feet up under me and went on +making notes in my red book. He looked out from behind the windows of +the dining-room, carefully concealed of course, but I saw him. I could +hear him nearly having apoplexy when he saw me utterly and blissfully +absorbed in my book." +</P> + +<P> +Carol chuckled in ecstasy. She foresaw that Connie was practically +engaged to Dan, a prince of a fellow, and she was so glad. That little +scamp of a Connie, to keep it secret so long. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," she cried, "I always thought you loved each other." +</P> + +<P> +"So?" asked Connie coolly. "Dan admitted he was surprised that my +plans worked so easily. Before that he had been my escort on every +occasion, and the town accepted it blandly. Now I had a regular series +of attendants, and Dan was relegated to a few spare moments under the +lilacs now and then. He couldn't see how I got hold of the fellows. +He said they were perfect miffs to be nosed around like that. Why +didn't they show some manhood? Boneless, brainless jelly fishes, +jumping head first because a little snip of a girl said jump. +</P> + +<P> +"The third day I called him on the phone. +</P> + +<P> +"'Dan, come over quick. I have the loveliest thing to show you.' +</P> + +<P> +"He did not wait for a hat. He dashed out and over the hedge, and I +had the door open for him. +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, look,' I gurgled. I am not a very good gurgler, but sometimes +you just have to do it. +</P> + +<P> +"Dan looked. 'Nothing but silverware, is it?' +</P> + +<P> +"I was hurt. 'Nothing but silverware? Why, it is my silverware, for +my own little house. It cost a terribly, criminally lot, but I +couldn't resist it. I really feel much more settled since I bought it. +There is something very final about silverware. See these pretty +doilies I am making. Aunt Grace is crocheting a bedspread for me, too. +Those are guest towels,—they were given to me.' +</P> + +<P> +"Dan's lips curled scornfully. He turned the lovely linens roughly, +and wiped his hands on a dainty guest towel. +</P> + +<P> +"'Connie, this is downright immodest. Furnishing your house before you +have a lover!' +</P> + +<P> +"'Do you think so?' I kissed a circular hand-embroidered table-cloth. +'If I had known it was such fun furnishing my house, I'd have had the +lover years ago and don't you forgit it.' +</P> + +<P> +"'I am disappointed in you.' +</P> + +<P> +"'I am sorry,' I said lightly. 'But I am so excited over getting +married, that I can't bother much about what mere friends think any +more. My husband's opinions—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Mere friends,' he shouted. 'Mere friends! I am no mere friend, +Connie Starr. I'M—I'M—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, what are you?' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I am your pal, your chum, your old schoolmate, your best +friend,—' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, that was before I was engaged.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Engaged?' Dan was staggered. 'Are you really engaged then? Have +you found the right one?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Being engaged alters the situation. You must see that.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Who is it?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, don't be so silly. I haven't found the right one yet. But the +principle is just the same. With marriage just ahead of me, all the +rest of the world must stand back to give place to my fiancé.' +</P> + +<P> +"Dan sneered. 'Yeh, look at the world standing back and gazing with +envy on this moonbeam fiancé. Look!' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, Dan it is the most fascinating thing in the world. In four +months I may be standing at the altar, dressed in filmy white,—I +bought the veil yesterday,—promising to love, honor and obey,—with +reservations,—for the rest of my life. A little home of my own, a +husband to pet, and chum with,—I am awfully happy, Dan, honestly I am.' +</P> + +<P> +"And Carol I did enjoy it. It was fun. I was simply hypnotized with +the idea of having a house and a husband and a lot of little Julias. +Dan glared at me in disgust. Then he went home, snarling about my +mushiness. But he thought it was becoming to me. He said I got +prettier every day. I would not even let him touch my hand any more. +You know Dan and I were pretty good pals for a long time, and he was +allowed little privileges like that. Now it was all off. Dan might +rave and Dan might storm, but I stood firm. He could not touch my +hands! I was consecrated to my future husband. +</P> + +<P> +"'It may not be wicked, Dan, I do not say it is. But it makes me +shiver to think what would happen if my husband caught you doing it. +He might kill you on the spot.' +</P> + +<P> +"'You haven't got a husband,' Dan would snap. +</P> + +<P> +"'The principle is just the same.' Then I would dimple up at him. I +am not the dimply type of girl, I know, but there are times when one +has simply got to dimple at a man, and by wrinkling my face properly I +can give the dimple effect. I have practised it weary hours before the +mirror. I have often prayed for a dimpled skin like yours, Carol, but +I guess the Lord could not figure out how to manage it since my skin +was practically finished before I began to pray. 'I keep wondering +what he will like for breakfast,' I said to Dan. 'Isn't that silly? I +hope he does not want fried potatoes. It seems so horrible to have +potatoes for breakfast.' Then I added loyally, 'But he will probably +be a very strong character, original, and unique, and men like that +always have a few idiosyncrasies, so if he wants fried potatoes for +breakfast he shall have them.' +</P> + +<P> +"Dan sniffed again. He was becoming a chronic sniffer in these days of +my engagement. +</P> + +<P> +"'Yeh, he'll want fried potatoes all right, and postum, and left-over +pumpkin pie. I have a picture of the big mutt in my mind now. +"Constance," he'll say, "for pity's sake put more lard in the potatoes +when you fry them. They are too dry. Take them back and cook them +over." He will want his potatoes swimming in grease, he is bound to, +that's just the kind of man he is. He will want everything greasy. +Oh, you're going to have a sweet time with that big stiff.' +</P> + +<P> +"I shook my fist at him. 'He will not!' I cried. 'Don't you dare make +fun of my husband. He—he—' Then I stopped and laughed. 'Isn't it +funny how women always rush to defend their husbands when outsiders +speak against them? We may get cross at them ourselves, but no one +else shall ridicule them.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, you are one loving little wife all right. You sure are. You +won't let any one say a mean word against your sweet little +snookie-ookums. Oh, no. Wait till you get to darning his socks, you +won't be so crazy about him then.' +</P> + +<P> +"'I do get a little cross when I darn his socks,' I confessed. 'I +don't mind embroidering monograms on his silk shirts, but I can't say +that so far I really enjoy darning his socks. Still, since they are +his, it is not quite so bad. I wouldn't darn anybody else's, not even +my own.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Are you doing it already?' Dan gasped. He found it very hard to keep +me and my husband straight in his mind. +</P> + +<P> +"'I am just pretending. I practise on father's. I want to be a very +efficient darner, so my patches won't make his poor dear feet sore.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Lord help us,' cried Dan, springing to his feet and flinging himself +through the hedge and slamming the door until it shook the house. He +went away angry every time. He simply couldn't be rational. One day +he said he guessed he would have to be the goat and marry me himself +just to keep me out of trouble. Then he blushed, and went home and +forgot his hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Came down to the last day. 'It has simmered down to Harvey Grath and +Buddy Johnson,' I told him. 'Harvey Grath,—Buddy Johnson,—Harvey +Grath,—Buddy Johnson. Do run away, Danny, and don't be a nuisance. +Harvey Grath,—Buddy Johnson.' +</P> + +<P> +"Dan neglected his patients until it is a wonder they did not all +die,—or get well, or something. He sat up-stairs in his study +watching an endless procession of Harvey Graths and Buddy Johnsons, +coming, lingering, going. +</P> + +<P> +"That night, regardless of the illuminating moon, I took Buddy Johnson +to the lilac corner. Dan was up-stairs smoking in front of his window. +Buddy didn't know about that window, but I did. He took my hand, and I +let him. I leaned my head against his shoulder,—not truly against, +just near enough so Dan could not tell the difference. Buddy tried to +kiss me, and nearly did it. I wasn't expecting it just at that minute. +Dan sprang from his chair before the conclusion, so he did not know if +the kiss was a fact, or not. Then I moved two feet away. Dan came out +and marched across to the lilacs. +</P> + +<P> +"'Connie,' he said, 'I am sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you +a few minutes. It is a matter of business.' To Buddy he said, 'You +know Connie always helps me out when I get stuck. Can you give me a +minute, Connie?' +</P> + +<P> +"I said, 'Of course I can. You'll excuse me won't you, Buddy? It is +getting late anyhow.' +</P> + +<P> +"So Buddy went away and Dan marched we up on the porch where it was +dark and shady. +</P> + +<P> +"'Are you engaged to Buddy Johnson?' +</P> + +<P> +"'No.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Thank Heaven.' +</P> + +<P> +"Dan kissed me, regardless of the accusing eyes of my husband in the +background." +</P> + +<P> +Carol breathed loudly in her relief. He kissed her. Connie did not +care. They were engaged. +</P> + +<P> +"Dan breathlessly took back everything he ever said about getting +married, and being a bachelor, and so forth. He said he was crazy to +be married, always had been, but didn't find it out before. He said he +had always adored me. And I drew out my note-book, and showed him the +first page,—Doctor Daniel Brooks, O. K. And every other name in the +book was checked off. +</P> + +<P> +"Dan was jubilant." Connie's voice trailed away slowly, and her +earnest fine eyes were cloudy. +</P> + +<P> +"An engagement," cried Carol, springing up. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Connie slowly, "a blunder." +</P> + +<P> +"A blunder," faltered Carol, falling back. "You did it on purpose to +make him propose, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and he proposed, and we were engaged. But it was just a blunder. +It was not Dan I wanted. Carol, every woman feels like that at times. +She is full of that great magnificent ideal of home, and husband, and +little children. It seems the finest thing in the world, the only +flawless life. She can't resist it, for the time being. She feels +that work is silly, that success is tawdry, that ambition is wicked. +It is dangerous, Carol, for if she gets the opportunity, or if she can +make the opportunity, she is pretty sure to seize it. I believe that +is why so many marriages are unhappy,—girls mistake that natural +woman-wish for love, and they get married, and then—shipwreck." +</P> + +<P> +Carol sat silent. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said David sympathetically, "I think you are right. You were +lucky to escape." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew that evening, that one little evening of our engagement, that +having a home and a husband, and even a little child like Julia, would +never be enough. Something else had to come first. And it had not +come. I went to bed and cried all night, so sorry for Dan for I knew +he loved me,—but not sorry enough to make me do him such a cruel +injustice. The next morning I told him, and that afternoon I returned +to Chicago. +</P> + +<P> +"I have thought a whole lot more of my job since then." +</P> + +<P> +"But why couldn't you love him?" asked Carol impatiently. "It seems +unreasonable, Connie. He is nice enough for anybody, and you were just +ripe and ready for it." +</P> + +<P> +Connie shrugged her shoulders. "Why didn't you love somebody else +besides David?" she asked, and laughed at the quick resentment that +flashed to Carol's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," concluded Connie, "God certainly wanted a few old maids to +leaven the earth, and I think I have the making for a good leavener. +So I write stories, and let other women wash the little Julias' faces," +she added, laughing, as Julia, unrecognizably dirty, entered with a +soup can full of medicine she had painstakingly concocted to make her +daddy well. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LITERARY MATERIAL +</H3> + + +<P> +Connie wanted to see something out of the ordinary. What was the use +of coming to the wild and woolly if one never saw anything wilder than +a movie of New York society life, or woollier than miles of properly +garbed motorists driving under the guidance of blue-coated policemen as +safely and sanely as could be done in Chicago. +</P> + +<P> +It was Julia who came to the rescue. She discovered, on a neighbor's +porch, and with admirable socialistic tendencies appropriated, a +glaring poster, with slim-legged horses balancing themselves in the +air, not at all inconveniencing their sunburned riders in varicolored +silk shirts. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at the horses jump over the moon," she exulted, kissing a scarlet +shirt in rapture. +</P> + +<P> +Upon investigation it turned out to be an irresistible advertisement of +the annual Frontier Days, at Fort Morgan. Carol explained the pictures +to Julia, while Connie looked over her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Do they do all it says?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Carol did not know. She had never attended any Frontier Days, but she +imagined they were even more wonderful than the quite impossible +poster. Carol's early determination to adore the Westland had become +fixed habit at last. It was capable of any miracles, to her. +</P> + +<P> +"How far is it up there?" pursued Connie, for Connie had a very +inartistic way of sticking to her subject. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know. About a hundred miles, I believe." +</P> + +<P> +"A nice drive for the Harmer," said Connie thoughtfully. "How are the +roads?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know, but I think all the roads are good in Colorado. +Certainly no road is impassable for a Harmer Six with you at the wheel." +</P> + +<P> +"I have a notion to drive up and see them," said Connie. "Literary +material, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"I want to see the horsies fly, too," cried Julia quickly. +</P> + +<P> +Carol thought it might do David good, and David was sure Carol needed a +vacation. They would think it over. +</P> + +<P> +Connie immediately went down-town and returned with a road guide, and +her arm full of literature about frontier days in general. Then it was +practically settled. A little distance of a hundred miles, a splendid +car, a driver like Connie! It was nothing. And Carol was so excited +getting ready for their first outing in the years of David's illness, +that she forgot his medicine three times in succession, and David +maliciously refused to remind her. +</P> + +<P> +They all talked at once, and agreed that it was very silly and +dangerous and unwise, but insisted it was the most alluring, appealing +madness in the world. David, for over three years limited to the +orderly, methodical, unstimulating confines of a screened porch, felt +quite the old-time throbbing of his pulse and quickening of his blood. +Even the doctor waxed enthusiastic. He looked into David's tired face +and said: +</P> + +<P> +"I think it will do him good. It can not do him harm." +</P> + +<P> +In the excitement of getting ready for something unusual, he developed +an unnatural strength and simply could not be kept in bed at all. He +slept soundly, ate heartily, and looked forward to the trip in the car +so anxiously that to the girls it was really pitiful. +</P> + +<P> +Then came a glorious day in September when the Harmer Six stood early +at their door, the lunch basket, and suit-cases were carefully +arranged, and they were off,—off in the beautiful Harmer,—off to the +country,—to the mountains and canyons,—to climb one of the sunny +slopes that had beckoned to them so enticingly. Almost they held their +breath at first, afraid the first creak of the car would waken them +from the unbelievable dream. +</P> + +<P> +Always as they climbed a long hill, Carol reminded them that they were +climbing a sunny slope that would lead to a city of gold at the top, a +city where everything was happy and bright, and there was no sickness, +no sorrow, no want. And looking ahead to the spires of a little +village, nestling cloudy and blue on the plains, she vowed it was a +golden city, and they leaned forward to catch the first sparkle of the +diamond-studded streets. And when they reached the city itself, +little, ugly, sordid,—a city of gold, perhaps, to those who had made a +fortune there, but not by any means a golden city of dreams to the +Arcady travelers,—Carol shook herself and said it was a mistake, she +meant the next one. +</P> + +<P> +Rooms had been engaged in advance at the Bijou, on the ground floor, +for the sake of David's softened muscles, and they reached the town +ahead of the regular Frontier Day crowds, allowing themselves plenty of +time to get rested and to see the whole thing start. +</P> + +<P> +Julia frolicked on the wide velvety lawn with all the dogs and cats and +children that could be drawn from the surrounding neighborhood. David +sat on the porch in a big chair, enjoying the soft breezes sweeping +down over the plains, looking through half closed lids out upon the +quiet shaded street. Carol crouched excitedly in another chair beside +him, squeezing his hand to call attention to every sunburned +picturesque son of the plains that galloped down that way. But Connie, +with the lustful eyes of a fortune-hunter walked up and down the +corridors, peering here and peeking there, listening avidly to every +unaccustomed word that was spoken,—getting material. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly the hotels were filled to capacity, and overflowed to cots in +the hall, rugs on the porches, and piles of straw in the stables. The +street so quietly peaceful on Sunday, by Wednesday was a throbbing +thoroughfare, with autos, wagons and horses whirling by in clouds of +dust The main street, a block away, was a noisy, active, flourishing, +carnival city, with fortune-tellers, two-headed dogs, snake-charmers, +minstrels and all the other street-fair habitues in full possession. A +dance platform was erected on a prominent corner, and bands were +brought in from all the neighboring towns on the plains. +</P> + +<P> +Connie was convinced she could get enough material to last a lifetime. +No detective was hotter on the scent of a trail than she. Never two +cowboys met in a secluded corner in the lobby to divide their hardly +earned coins, but Connie sauntered slowly by, catching every word, +noting the size of every coin that changed possession. No gaily garbed +horseman could signal to a girl of his admiration, but Connie caught +the motion first, and was taking mental notes for future coinage. They +were not people to her, just material. She loved them, she reveled in +them, she dreamed of them, just as a collector of curios gloats over +the treasures he amasses. She classified them in a literary note-book +for her own use, and kept them on file for instant reference. +</P> + +<P> +When they went to the fair-grounds, early, in order to secure a +comfortable seat for David where he should not miss one twist of a +rider's supple body, they were as delighted as children truanting from +school. It was the most exhilarating thing in the world,—this clever +little trick on the sleeping porch and the white cot, on egg-nogs and +beef juice and buttermilk. No wonder their faces tingled with +excitement and their eyes sparkled with delight. +</P> + +<P> +Connie was surprised that the girls were pretty, really pretty, with +pink and white skin and polished finger nails, those girls in the silk +blouses and khaki shirts, those girls with the wide sombrero and the +iron muscles, who rode the bucking horses, and raced around the track, +and did a thousand other appalling things that pink-skinned, +shiny-nailed girls were not wont to do back home. They stayed at the +Bijou, a whole crowd of them, and Connie never let them out of her +sight until they closed their bedroom doors for the night. They talked +in brief broken sentences, rather curtly, but their voices were quiet +and low, and they weren't half as slangy as cowgirls, by every literary +precedent, ought to be. They were not like Connie, of course, tall and +slim, with the fine exalted face, with soft pink palms and soft round +arms. And their striking saddle costumes were not half as curious to +Fort Morgan as Connie's lacy waists, and her tailored skirts, and her +frilly little silk gowns. But they were more curious to Connie. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to picture herself in a sombrero like that, with gauntlets on +her hands, and with a fringed leather skirt that reached to her knees, +and with a scarlet silk blouse and a yellow silk belt,—and even her +distinctly literary imagination could not compass such a miracle. But +she was sure if she ever could rig herself up like that, she would look +like a dream, and she really envied the cowgirls, who leaped head first +from the saddle but always landed right side up. +</P> + +<P> +People of another world, well, yes. But there are ways of getting +together. +</P> + +<P> +Connie talked very little that first afternoon. She watched the people +around her, and listened as they discussed the points of the horses, +the cowgirls and the jockeys with equal impartiality. She heard their +bets, their guttural grunts of disapproval with the judges' decisions, +their roars of satisfaction when the right horse won. She watched the +cowgirls, walking unconcernedly about the ring, flapping their +riding-whips against their leather boots. She watched the lithe-limbed +cowboys slouching not ungracefully around the nervous ponies, waving +their hats in greeting to their friends, calling loud jests to their +fellows in the cowboy band. How strange they were, how startlingly +human, and yet how thousand-miles removed. +</P> + +<P> +Connie rebelled against it. They were folks. And so was Connie. The +thousand miles was a barrier, an injustice. In order to handle +literary material, she must get within touching distance of it. All +those notes she had collected so painstakingly were cold, inanimate. +In order to write of folks she must touch them, feel them, must know +they lived and breathed as she did. Why couldn't she get at +them,—folks, plain folks, and so was she. A slow fury rose up in her, +and she watched the great events Of the afternoon with resentful eyes. +Even when a man not entered for racing, swung over the railing into the +center field, and scrambled upon the bare back of King Devil, the wild +horse of the plains which had never yielded to man's bridling hand, and +was tossed and dragged and jerked and twisted, until it seemed there +could be no life left in him, yet who finally pulled the horse almost +by brute force into submission, while the spectators went wild, and +Julia screamed, and Carol sank breathless and white into her seat, and +David stood on the bench and yelled until Carol pulled him down,—even +then Connie could not get the feeling. She wanted to write these +people, to put them on paper, and she couldn't, because they were not +people to her, they were just "Good points." +</P> + +<P> +Afterward, when they slowly made their way to the car, and drove home +to the Bijou again, Connie was still silent. She saw David comfortably +settled in the big chair on the sunny corner of the porch, with Carol +beside him and Julia romping on the lawn. Then she walked up and down +in front of the hotel. Finally she came back to the corner of the +porch. +</P> + +<P> +"David," she said impetuously, "I've got to speak to one of them +myself." She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the fair-grounds. +</P> + +<P> +"One of them?" echoed David. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, one of those riders. I want to see if they can make me feel +anything. I want to find out if they are anything like other folks." +</P> + +<P> +David looked up suddenly, and a smile came to his eyes. Connie turned +quickly, and there, not two feet from her, stood "One of them," the man +who had ridden King Devil. His sombrero was pushed back on his head, +and his hair clung damply to his brown forehead. His lean face was +cynical, sneering. He carried a whip and spurs in one hand, the other +rested on the bulging hip of his khaki riding trousers. +</P> + +<P> +Connie stared, fascinated, into the thin, brown, sneering face. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you do?" he said mockingly. "Isn't it charming weather?" +</P> + +<P> +Connie still looked directly into his eyes. Somehow she felt that back +of the sneer, back of the resentment, there lay a little hurt that she +should have spoken so, classed him with fine horses and cattle, him and +his kind. Connie would make amends, a daughter of the parsonage might +not do ungracious things like that. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, unsmilingly, "I did not mean to +be rude. But the riders did fascinate me. I am spellbound. I only +wished to see if the charm would hold. I have not been in the West +before this." She held out her hand, slender, white, appealing. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-302"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-302.jpg" ALT=""I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, unsmilingly, "I did not mean to be rude."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="412" HEIGHT="627"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, unsmilingly, <BR> +"I did not mean to be rude."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +The man looked at her curiously in turn, then he jerked off his +sombrero and took her hand in his. There was the contact, soft white +skin of the city, hard brown hand of the mountain plains, and human +blood is swift to leap in response to an unwonted touch. +</P> + +<P> +Connie drew her hand away quickly, but his eyes still held hers. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me beg your pardon instead," he said. "Of course you did not mean +it the way it sounded. None of my business, anyhow." +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Prince," called a man from the road, curbing his impatient +horse. But "Prince" waved him away without turning. +</P> + +<P> +This was a wonderful girl. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I write stories," Connie explained hurriedly, to get away from that +searching clasp of glances. "I wanted some literary material, and I +seemed so far away from everything. I thought I needed the personal +touch, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Anything I can tell you?" he offered feverishly. "I know all about +range and ranch life. I can tell you anything you want to know." +</P> + +<P> +"Really? And will you do it? You know writers have just got to get +material. It is absolutely necessary. And I am running very short of +ideas, I have been loafing." +</P> + +<P> +He waited patiently. He was more than willing to tell her everything +he knew, or could make up to please her, but he had not the slightest +idea what she wanted. Whatever it was, he certainly intended to make +the effort of his life to give her. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Constance Starr," said Connie, still more abashed by the +unfaltering presence of this curious creature, who, she fully realized +at last, was quite human enough for any literary purpose. "And this is +my brother-in-law, Mr. Duke, and my sister, Mrs. Duke." +</P> + +<P> +"My name is Prince Ingram." +</P> + +<P> +David shook hands with him cordially, with smiling eyes, and asked him +to sit down so Connie might ask her questions in comfort. They all +took chairs, and Prince waited. Connie racked her brain. Five minutes +ago there had been ten thousand things she yearned to know about this +strange existence. Now, unfairly, she could not think of one. It +seemed to her she knew all there was to know about them. They looked +into each other's eyes, men and women, as men and women do in Chicago. +They touched hands, and the blood quickened, the old Chicago style. +They talked plain English, they liked pretty clothes, they worshiped +good horses, they lived on the boundless plains. What on earth was +there to ask? Quite suddenly, Connie understood them perfectly. +</P> + +<P> +But Prince realized that he was not making good. His one claim to +admission in her presence was his ability to tell her what she wanted +to know. He had got to tell her things,—but what things? My stars, +what did she want to know? How old he was, where he was born, if he +was married,—oh, by George, she didn't think he was married, did she? +</P> + +<P> +"I am not married," he said abruptly. David looked around at him in +surprise, and Carol's eyes opened widely. But Connie, with what must +have been literary intuition, understood. She nodded at him and smiled +as she asked, "Have you always lived out here?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." He straightened his shoulders and drew a deep breath. Here was +a starter, it would be his own fault if he could not keep talking the +rest of the night. "No, I came out from Columbus when I was eighteen. +Came for my health." He squared his shoulders again, and laughed a big +deep laugh which made Connie marvel that there should be such big deep +laughs in the world. +</P> + +<P> +"My father was a doctor. He sent me out, and I got a job punching time +in the mines at Cripple Creek. I met some stock men, and one of them +offered me a job, and I came out and got in with them. Then I got hold +of a bit of land and began gathering up stock for myself. I stayed +with the Sparker outfit six years, and then my father died. I took the +money and got my start, and—why, that is all." He stopped in +astonishment. He had been sure his story would last several hours. He +had begun at the very start, his illness at eighteen, and here he was +right up to the present, and—he rubbed his knee despairingly. There +must be something else. There had to be something else. What under +the sun had he been doing all these fourteen years in the ranges? +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you ever wish to go back?" Connie prompted kindly. +</P> + +<P> +"Back to Columbus? I went twice to see my father. He had a private +sanatorium. My booming voice gave his nervous patients prostrations, +and father thought my clothes were not sanitary because they could not +be sterilized. Are you going to stay here for good?" +</P> + +<P> +It was very risky to ask, he knew, but he had to find out. +</P> + +<P> +"I am visiting my sister in Denver. We just came here for the Frontier +Days," said Connie primly. +</P> + +<P> +"There is another Frontier Week at Sterling," he said eagerly. "A fine +one, better than this. It isn't far over there. You would get more +material at Sterling, I think. Can't you go on up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have been away from Chicago four weeks now," said Connie. "In +exactly two weeks I must be at my desk again." +</P> + +<P> +"Chicago is not a healthy town," he said, in a voice that would have +done credit to his father, the medical man. "Very unhealthy. It is +not literary either. Out west is the place for literature. All the +great writers come west. Western stories are the big sellers. There's +Ralph Connor, and Rex Beach, and Jack London and—and—" +</P> + +<P> +"But I am not a great writer," Connie interrupted modestly. "I am just +a common little filler-in in the ranks of a publishing house. I'm only +a beginner." +</P> + +<P> +"That is because you stick to Chicago," he said eloquently. "You come +out here, out in the open, where things are wide and free, and you can +see a thousand miles at one stretch. You come out here, and you'll be +as great as any of 'em,—greater!" +</P> + +<P> +The loud clamor of the dinner bell interrupted his impassioned outburst +and he relapsed into stricken silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we must go to dinner before the supply runs out," said David, +rising slowly. "Come along, Julia. We are glad to have met you, Mr. +Ingram." He held out his thin, blue-veined hand. "We'll see you +again." +</P> + +<P> +Prince looked hopelessly at Connie's back, for her face was already +turned toward the dining-room. How cold and infinitely distant that +tall, straight, tailored back appeared. +</P> + +<P> +"Ask him to eat with us," Connie hissed, out of one corner of her lip, +in David's direction. +</P> + +<P> +David hesitated, looking at her doubtfully. Connie nudged him with +emphasis. +</P> + +<P> +Well, what could David do? He might wash his hands of the whole +irregular business, and he did. Connie was a writer, she must have +material, but in his opinion Connie was too young to be literary. She +should have been older, or uglier, or married. Literature is not safe +for the young and charming. Connie nudged him again. Plainly if he +did not do as she said, she was going to do it herself. +</P> + +<P> +David turned to the brown-faced, sad-eyed son of the mountain ranges, +and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Come along and have dinner with us, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Carol pursed up her lips warningly, but Prince Ingram, in his +eagerness, nearly picked David up bodily in his hurry to get the little +party settled before some one spoiled it all. +</P> + +<P> +He wanted to handle Connie's chair for her, he knew just how it was +done. But suppose he pushed her clear under the table, or jerked it +entirely from under her, or did something worse than either? A girl +like Connie ought to have those things done for her. Well, he would +let it go this time. So he looked after Julia, and settled her so +comfortably, and was so assiduously attentive to her that he quite won +her heart, and before the meal was over she said he might come and live +with them and be her grandpa, if he wanted. +</P> + +<P> +"Grandpa," he said facetiously. "Do I look as old as that? Can't I be +something better than a grandpa?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, only one papa's the style," said Julia doubtfully. "And you are +too big to be a baby, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Can't I be your uncle?" Then, glancing at Connie with a sudden +realization of the only possible way the uncle-ship could be +accomplished, he blushed. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, an uncle is better," said Connie imperturbably. "You must +remember, Julia dear, that men are very, very sensitive about their +ages, and you must always give them credit for youth." +</P> + +<P> +"I see," said Julia. And Prince wondered how old Connie thought he +was, his hair was a little thin, not from age—always had been that +way—and he was as brown as a Zulu, but it was only sunburn. He'd +figure out a way of letting her know he was only thirty-two before the +evening was over. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going over to the street to-night?" he asked of David, but not +caring half a cent what David did. +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid I can't. I am not very good on my feet any more. I am +sorry, the girls would enjoy it." +</P> + +<P> +"Carol and I might go alone," suggested Connie bravely. "Every one +does out here. We wouldn't mind it." +</P> + +<P> +"I will not go to a street carnival and leave David," protested Carol. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be rather interesting." Connie looked tentatively from the +window. +</P> + +<P> +Prince swallowed in anguish. She ought to go, he told them; she really +needs to go. The evenings are so much fuller of literary material than +day-times. And the dancing— +</P> + +<P> +"I do not dance," said Connie. "My father is a minister." +</P> + +<P> +"You do not dance! Why, that's funny. I don't either. That is, not +exactly,— Oh, once in a while just to fill in." Then the latter part +of her remark reached his inner consciousness. "A minister. By +George!" +</P> + +<P> +"My husband is one, too," said Carol. +</P> + +<P> +Prince looked helplessly about him. Then he said faintly, "I—I am +not. But my father wanted me to be a preacher. He sent me to +Princeton, and I stuck it out nearly ten weeks. That is why they call +me Prince, short for Princeton. I am the only real college man on the +range, they say." +</P> + +<P> +"The street fair must be interesting," Connie went back to the main +idea. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes indeed, the crowds, the side-shows—I mean the exhibits, and the +lotteries, and—I am sure you never saw so much literary material +crowded into two blocks in your life." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well, I don't mind. Maybe some other night we can go." Connie +was sweetly resigned. +</P> + +<P> +"I should be very glad,—if you don't mind,—I haven't anything else to +do,—and I can take good care of you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that is just lovely. And maybe you will give me some more +stories. Isn't that fine, David? It is so kind of you, Mr. Ingram. I +am sure I shall find lots of material." +</P> + +<P> +David kicked Carol warningly beneath the table. "You must go too, +Carol. You have never seen such a thing, and it will do you good. I +am not the selfish brute you try to make me. You girls go along with +Mr. Ingram and I will put Julia to bed and wait for you on the porch." +</P> + +<P> +Well, of course, Mrs. Duke was very nice, and anyhow it was better to +take them both than lose them both, and that preacher had a very set +face in spite of his pallor. So Prince recovered his equanimity and +devoted himself to enjoying the tumultuous evening on the street. He +bought candy and canes and pennants until the girls sternly refused to +carry another bit of rubbish. He bought David a crimson and gold silk +handkerchief, and an Indian bracelet for Julia, and took the girls to +ride on the merry-go-round, and was beside himself with joy. +</P> + +<P> +Suppose his friends of the range did draw back as he passed, and gaze +after him in awe and envy. Suppose the more reckless ones did snicker +like fools, nudging each other, lifting their hats with exaggerated +courtesy,—he should worry. He had lived on the range for fourteen +years and had never had such a chance before. Now he had it, he would +hang on to it if it cost him every sheep he had on the mountains. +Wasn't Connie the smartest girl you ever saw, always saying funny, +bright things, and—the way she stepped along like a goddess, and the +way she smiled! Prince Ingram had forgotten that girls grew like that. +</P> + +<P> +They returned to the hotel early and found David waiting on the porch +as he had promised. He was plainly tired, and Carol said he must go to +bed at once. They all rose and walked to the door, and then, very +surprisingly, Connie thought she would like to sit a while on the quiet +porch, from which every other one had gone to the carnival, and collect +her thoughts. Carol frowned, and David smiled, but what could they do? +They had said they were tired and now they must go to bed perforce. +Prince looked after her, and looked at the door that had closed behind +David and Carol, and rubbed his fingers thoughtfully under his +collar,—and followed Connie back to the porch. +</P> + +<P> +"Will it bother you if I sit here a while? I won't talk if you want to +think." +</P> + +<P> +"It won't bother me a bit," she assured him warmly. "It is nice of you +to keep me company. And I would rather talk than think." +</P> + +<P> +So he put her chair at the proper angle where the street lamp revealed +her clear white features, and he sat as close beside her as he dared. +She did not know it, but his elbow was really on the arm of her chair +instead of his own. He almost held his breath for fear a slight move +would betray him. Wasn't she a wonderful girl? She turned sidewise in +the chair, her head resting against the high back, and smiled at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Now talk," she said. "Let us get acquainted. See if you can make me +love the mountain ranges better than Chicago." +</P> + +<P> +He told her of the clean sweep of the wind around his little cottage +among the pines on the side of the mountain, of the wild animals that +sometimes prowled his way, of the shouting of the boys on the range in +the dark night, the swaying of distant lanterns, the tinkle of sheep +bells. He told her of his father, of the things that he himself had +once planned to be and do. He told her of his friends: of Lily, his +pal, so-called because he used a safety razor every morning of his +life; of Whisker, the finest dog in Colorado; of Ruby, the ruddy brown +horse that would follow him miles through the mountains and always find +the master at the end of the trail. And he told her it was a lonely +life. And it was. Prince Ingram had lived here fourteen years, with +no more consciousness of being alone than the eagle perched solitary on +the mountain crags, but quite suddenly he discovered that it was +lonely, and somehow the discovery took the wonder from that free glad +life, and made him long for the city's bright lights, where there were +others,—not just cowboys, but regular men and women. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," assented Connie rather abruptly, "I suppose it would be nice to +be in a crowd of women, laughing and dancing and singing. I suppose +you do miss it." +</P> + +<P> +"That was not what I meant," said Prince slowly. "I don't care for a +crowd of them. Not many. One is enough." He was appalled at his own +audacity, and despised himself for his cowardice, for why didn't he +look this white fine girl of the city in the eyes and say: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, one,—and you are it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ADVENTURING +</H3> + + +<P> +If Connie truly was in pursuit of literary material, she was +indefatigable in the quest. But sometimes Carol doubted if it was +altogether literary material she was after. And David was very much +concerned,—what would dignified Father Starr, District Superintendent, +say to his youngest daughter, Connie the literary, Connie the proud, +Connie the high, the fine, the perfect, delving so assiduously into the +mysteries of range life as typified in big, brown, rugged Prince Ingram? +To be sure, Prince had risen beyond the cowboy stage and was now a "stock +man," a power on the ranges, a man of money, of influence. But David +felt responsible. +</P> + +<P> +Yet no one could be responsible for Connie. Father Starr himself could +not. If she looked at one serenely and said, "I need to do this," the +rankest foolishness assumed the proportions of dire necessity. So what +could David, sick and weak, do in the face of the manifestly impossible? +</P> + +<P> +Carol scolded her. And Connie laughed. David offered brotherly +suggestions. And Connie laughed again. Julia said Prince was a darling +big grandpa, and Connie kissed her. +</P> + +<P> +The Frontier Days passed on to their uproarious conclusion. Connie saw +everything, heard everything and took copious notes. She was going to +start her book. She had made the acquaintance of some of the cowgirls, +and she studied them with a passionate eagerness that English literature +in the abstract had never aroused in her gentle breast. +</P> + +<P> +Then she became argumentative. She contended that the beautiful lawn at +the Bijou was productive of strength for David, rest for Carol, amusement +for Julia, and literary material for her. Therefore, why not linger +after the noisy crowd had gone,—just idling on the long porches, +strolling under the great trees? And because Connie had a convincing way +about her, it was unanimously agreed that the Bijou lawn could do +everything she claimed for it, and by all means they ought to tarry a +week. +</P> + +<P> +It was all settled before David and Carol learned that Prince Ingram was +tired of Frontier Days and had decided not to go on to Sterling, but +thought he too should linger, gathering up something worth while in Fort +Morgan. Carol looked at Connie reproachfully, but the little baby sister +was as imperturbable as ever. +</P> + +<P> +Prince himself was all right. Carol liked him. David liked him, too. +And Julia was frankly enchanted with him and with his horse. But Connie +and Prince,—that was the puzzle of it,—Connie, fine white, immaculate +in manner, in person and in thought,—Prince, rugged and brown, born of +the plains and the mountains. Carol knew of course that Prince could +move into the city, buy a fine home, join good clubs, dress like common +men and be thoroughly respectable. But to Carol he would always be a +brown streak of perfect horsemanship. Whatever could that awful Connie +be thinking of? +</P> + +<P> +The days passed sweetly and restfully on the Bijou lawn, but one day, +most unaccountably to Connie, Prince had an appointment with his business +partner down at Brush. He would ride Ruby down and be back in time for +dinner at night if it killed him. Connie was cross about that. She +thought he should have asked her to drive him down in the car but since +he did not she couldn't very well offer her services. What did he +suppose she was hanging around that ugly little dead burg for? Take out +the literary material, Fort Morgan had nothing for Connie. And since the +literary material saw fit to absent itself, it was so many hours gone for +nothing. +</P> + +<P> +After he had gone, Connie decided to play a good trick on him. He would +kill himself to get back to dinner with her, would he? Let him. He +could eat it with David and Carol, and the little Julia he so adored. +Connie would take a long drive in the car all by herself, and would not +be home until bedtime. She would teach that refractory Material a lesson. +</P> + +<P> +It was a bright cloudless day, the air cold and penetrating. Connie said +it was just the day for her to collect her thought, and she could do it +best of all in the car. So if they would excuse her,—and they did, of +course. Just as she was getting into the car she said that if she had a +very exceptionally nice time, she might not come back until after dinner. +They were not to worry. She knew the car, she was sure of herself, she +would come home when she got ready. +</P> + +<P> +So off she went, taking a naughty satisfaction in the good trick she was +playing on that poor boy killing himself to get back for dinner with her. +An hour in the open banished her pettishness, and she drove rapidly along +the narrow, twisting, unfamiliar road, finding a wild pleasure in her +reckless speed. She loved this, she loved it, she loved it. She clapped +on a little more gas to show how very dearly she did love it. +</P> + +<P> +After a long time, she found herself far out in a long stretch of gray +prairie where no houses broke the bare line of the plains for many miles. +It had grown bitterly cold, too, and a sudden daub of gray splashed +rapidly across the whole bright sky. Connie drew a rug about her and +laughed at the wind that cut her face. It was glorious,—but—she +glanced at the speedometer. She had come a long way. She would just run +on to the next village and have some luncheon,—mercy, it was three +o'clock. Well, as soon as she had something to eat, she would hurry home +and perhaps if Prince showed himself properly penitent she would not go +right straight to bed. +</P> + +<P> +She pressed down on the accelerator and the car sped forward. Presently +she looked around, sniffing the air suspiciously. The sky looked very +threatening. She stopped the car and got out. The wind sweeping down +from the mountains was a little too suggestive of snow flakes, and the +broad stretch of the plains was brown, bare and forbidding. She was not +hungry anyhow. She would go home without any luncheon. So she turned +the car and started back. +</P> + +<P> +Here and there at frequent intervals intersecting roads crossed the one +she was following. She must keep to the main road, the heaviest track, +she was sure of that. But sometimes it was hard to recognize the +heaviest track. Once or twice, in the sudden darkening of the ground, +she had to leap hurriedly out and examine the tracks closely. Even then +she could not always tell surely. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the snow, stinging bits of glass leaping gaily on the shoulders +of the wind that bore them. Connie set her teeth hard. A little flurry +that was all, she was in no danger, whoever heard of a snow-storm the +first week in October? +</P> + +<P> +But—ah, this was not the main track after all,—no, it was dwindling +away. She must go back. The road was soft here, with deep treacherous +ruts lying under the surface. She turned the car carefully, her eyes +intent on the road before her, leaning over the wheel to watch. Yes, +this was right,—she should have turned to the left. How stupid of her. +Here was the track,—she must go faster, it was getting dark. But was +this the track after all,—it seemed to be fading out as the other had +done? She put on the gas and bumped heavily into a hidden rut. Quickly +she threw the clutch into low, and—more gas— What was that? The wheel +did not grip, the engine would not pull,—the matchless Harmer Six was +helpless. Again and again Connie tried to extricate herself, but it was +useless. She got out and took her bearings. It was early evening, but +darkness was coming fast. The snow was drifting down from the mountains, +and the roads were nearly obliterated. +</P> + +<P> +Connie was stuck, Connie was lost, for once she was unequal to the +emergency. In spite of her imperturbability, her serene confidence in +herself, and in circumstances, and in the final triumph of everything she +wanted and believed, Connie sat down on the step and cried, bitterly, +passionately, like any other young women lost in a snow-storm on the +plains. It did her good, though it was far beneath her dignity. +Presently she wiped her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +She must turn on the lights, every one of them, so if any travelers +happened to come her way the signal would summon them to her aid. Then +she must get warm, one might freeze on a night like this. She put up the +curtains on the car and wrapped herself as best she could in rugs and +rain coats. Even then she doubted her ability to withstand the +penetrating chill. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," she said grimly, "if I freeze I am going to do it with a pleasant +smile on my lips, so they will be sorry when they find me." Tears of +sympathy for herself came into her eyes. She hoped Prince would be quite +heart-broken, and serve him right, too. But it was terrible that poor +dear Carol should have this added sorrow, after all her years of trial. +And it was all Connie's own fault. Would women ever have sense enough to +learn that men must think of business now and then, and that even the +dearest women in the world are nuisances at times? +</P> + +<P> +Well, anyhow, she was paying dearly for her folly, and perhaps other +women could profit by it. And all that literary material wasted. "But +it is a good thing I am not leaving eleven children motherless," she +concluded philosophically. +</P> + +<P> +If men must think of business, and they say they must, there are times +when it is sheer necessity that drives and not at all desire. Prince +Ingram hated Brush that day with a mortal hatred. Only two days more of +Connie, and a few thousand silly sheep were taking him away. Well, he +had paid five hundred dollars for Ruby and he would find out if she was +worth it. He used his spurs so sharply that the high-spirited mare +snorted angrily, and plunged away at her most furious pace. It was not +an unpleasant ride. His time had been so fully occupied with the most +wonderful girl, that he had not had one moment to think how really +wonderful she was. This was his chance and he utilized it fully. +</P> + +<P> +His business partner in Brush was shocked at Prince's lack of interest in +a matter of ten thousand dollars. He wondered if perhaps King Devil had +not bounced him up more than people realized. But Prince was pliant, far +more so than usual, accepted his partner's suggestions without dissent, +and grew really enthusiastic when he said finally: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I guess that is all." +</P> + +<P> +Prince shook hands with him then, seeming almost on the point of kissing +him, and Ruby was whirling down the road in a chariot of dust before the +bewildered partner had time to explain that his wife was expecting Prince +home with them for dinner. +</P> + +<P> +Prince fell from the saddle in front of the Bijou and looked expectantly +at the porch. He was sentimental enough to think it must be splendid to +have a girl waiting on the porch when one got home from any place. +Connie was not there. Well, it was a good thing, he was grimy with dust +and perspiration, and Connie was so alarmingly clean. But Carol called +him before he had time to escape. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it going to storm?" she asked anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +Prince wheeled toward her sharply. "Is Connie out in the car?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Carol, staring off down the road in a vain hope of catching +sight of the naughty little runaway in the gray car. +</P> + +<P> +"When did she go?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"About eleven. She wasn't coming home until after dinner."' +</P> + +<P> +"How far was she going?" +</P> + +<P> +"A long way, she said. She went that direction," Carol pointed out to +the right. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it going to storm?" asked David, coming up. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it is. But don't you worry, Mrs. Duke. I'll get her all right. +If it turns bad, I will take her to some little village or farm-house +where she can stay till morning. We'll be all right, and don't you +worry." +</P> + +<P> +There was something very assuring in the hearty voice, something +consoling in his clear eyes and broad shoulders. Carol followed him out +to his horse. +</P> + +<P> +"Prince," she said, smiling up at him, "you will get her, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I will. You aren't worrying, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not since you got home," said Carol. "I know you will get her. I like +you, Prince." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you?" He was boyishly pleased. "Does—does David?" +</P> + +<P> +Carol laughed. "Yes, and so does Julia," she teased. +</P> + +<P> +Prince laughed, too, shamefacedly, but he dared not ask, "Does Connie?" +</P> + +<P> +He turned his horse quickly and paused to say, "You'd better get your +husband inside. He will chill in spite of the rugs. It is winter, +to-night. Good-by." +</P> + +<P> +"He will get her," said Carol confidently, when she returned to David. +"He is nice, don't you think so? Maybe he would be perfectly all +right—in the city. Connie could straighten him out." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, brush off the dust, and give him an opera hat and a dinner coat and +he would not be half bad." +</P> + +<P> +"He is not half bad now, only—not exactly our kind." +</P> + +<P> +"Women are funny," said David slowly. "I believe Connie likes his kind, +just as he is, and would not have him changed for anything." +</P> + +<P> +At first, Prince had no difficulty in following the wide roll of Connie's +wheels, for no other cars had gone that way. But once or twice he had to +drop from the saddle and examine the tracks closely to make sure of her. +Then came the snow, and the tracks were blurred out. Prince was in +despair. +</P> + +<P> +"Three roads here," he thought rapidly. "If she took that one she will +come to Marker's ranch, and be all right. If she took the middle road +she will make Benton. But this one, it winds and twists, and never gets +any place." +</P> + +<P> +So on the road to the left, that led to no place at all, Prince carefully +guided his weary horse, already beginning to stumble. He sympathized +with every aching step, yet he urged her gently to her best speed. Then +she slipped, struggled to regain her footing, struck a treacherous bit of +ice, and fell, Prince swinging nimbly from the saddle. Plainly she was +unable to carry him farther, so he helped her to her feet and turned her +loose, pushing on as fast as he could on foot. +</P> + +<P> +Anxiously he peered into the gathering darkness, longing for the long +flash of yellow light which meant Connie and the matchless Harmer. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he stopped. From away over the hills to his right, mingling +with the call of the coyotes, came the unmistakable honk of a siren. He +held his breath to listen. It came again, a long continued wail, in +perfect tune with the whining of the coyotes. He turned to the right and +started over the hills in the wake of the call. +</P> + +<P> +Over a steep incline he plunged, and paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank God," he cried aloud, for there he saw a little round yellow glow +in the cloudy white mist,—the Harmer Six, and Connie. +</P> + +<P> +He shouted as he ran, that she might not be left in suspense a moment +longer than need be. And Connie with numbed fingers tugged the curtains +loose and leaned out in the yellow mist to watch him as he came. +</P> + +<P> +We talk of the mountain peaks of life. And poets sing of the snowy crest +of life crises, where we look like angels and speak like gods, where we +live on the summit of ages. This moment should have been a summit, yet +when Prince ran down the hill, breathless, exultant, and nearly +exhausted, Connie, her face showing peaked and white in the yellow glare, +cried, "Hello, Prince, I knew you'd make it." +</P> + +<P> +She held out a half-frozen hand and he took it in his. +</P> + +<P> +"Car's busted," she said laconically. "Won't budge. I drained the water +out of the radiator." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, we'll have to hoof it," he said cheerfully. +</P> + +<P> +He relieved her of the heavier wraps, and they set out silently through +the snow, Prince still holding her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I am awfully glad to see you," she said once, in a polite little voice. +</P> + +<P> +He smiled down upon her. "I am kind o' glad to see you, too, Connie." +</P> + +<P> +After a while she said slowly, "I need wings. My feet are numb." And a +moment later, "I can not walk any farther." +</P> + +<P> +"It is ten miles to a house," he told her gravely. "I couldn't carry you +so far. I'll take you a mile or so, and you will get rested." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not tired, I am cold. And if you carry me I will be colder. You +just run along and tell Carol I am all right—" +</P> + +<P> +"Run along! Why, you would freeze." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that is what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"There is a railroad track half a mile over there. Can you make that?" +</P> + +<P> +Connie looked at him pitifully. "I can not even lift my feet. I am +utterly stuck. I kept stepping along," she mumbled indistinctly, "and +saying, one more,—just one more,—one more,—but the foot would not come +up,—and I knew I was stuck." +</P> + +<P> +Her voice trailed away, and she bundled against him and closed her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Prince gritted his teeth and took her in his arms. Connie was five feet +seven, and very solid. And Prince himself was nearly exhausted with the +day's exertion. Sometimes he staggered and fell to his knees, sometimes +he hardly knew if he was dragging Connie or pushing her, or if they were +both blown along by the wind. Always there was the choke in his throat, +the blur in his eyes, and that almost unbearable drag in every muscle. A +freight train passed—only a few rods away. He thought he could never +climb that bank. "One more—one—more—one more," mumbled Connie in his +ear. +</P> + +<P> +He shook himself angrily. Of course he could make that bank,—if he +could only rest a minute,—he was not cold,—just a minute's rest to get +his breath again—a moment would be enough. God, what was he thinking +of? It was not weariness, it was the chill of the night that demanded a +moment's rest. He strained Connie closer in his arms and struggled up +the bank. +</P> + +<P> +At the top, he dropped her beside the track, and fell with her. For a +moment the fatal languor possessed him. +</P> + +<P> +A freight train rounded the curve and came puffing toward them. Prince, +roused by springing hope, clambered to his feet, pulling the little +pocket flash from his pocket. He waved it imploringly at the train, but +it thundered by them. +</P> + +<P> +Resolutely bestirring himself, he carried Connie to a sheltered place +where the wind could not strike her, and wrapped her as best he could in +his coat and sweater. Then, lowering his head against the driving wind, +he plunged down the track in the face of the storm. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HARBORAGE +</H3> + + +<P> +Less than a mile down the track, Prince came to the tiny signal house +for which he had been looking. The door was locked, and so numb and +clumsy were his fingers that he found it hard to force it open. Once +on the inside, he felt that the struggle was nearly over. This was the +end. Using the railway's private phone, he astonished the telegraph +operator in Fort Morgan by cutting in on him and asking him to run +across to the nearest garage with a call for a service car. +</P> + +<P> +For a long moment the operator was speechless. Did you ever hear of +insolence like that? He told Prince to get off that wire and keep his +hands away from railway property or he would land in the pen. Then he +went back to his work. But Prince cut in on him again. Finally the +operator referred him to the station master and gave him the +connection. But the station master refused to meddle with any such +irregular business. This was against the law, and station masters are +strong for law and order. But Prince was persistent. At last, in +despair, they connected him with the district superintendent. +</P> + +<P> +"Who in thunder are you, and what do you want?" asked the +superintendent in no gentle voice. +</P> + +<P> +"I want some of those sap-heads of yours in Fort Morgan to take a +message to the garage, and they won't do it," yelled Prince. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, what do you think this is? A philanthropic messenger service?" +ejaculated the superintendent. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't got time to talk," cried Prince. "I've got to get at a +garage, and quickly." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we don't run a garage." +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up a minute and listen, will you? There is a woman out here on +the track, half frozen. We are twenty miles from a house. Will you +send that message or not? The woman can't live two hours." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, why didn't you tell what was the matter? I will connect you +with the operator at Fort Morgan and tell him to do whatever you say. +You stay on the wire until he reports they have a car started." +</P> + +<P> +So Prince was flung back to the operator at Fort Morgan, and that +high-souled scion of the railway was sent out like a common delivery +boy to take a message. Prince waited in an agony of suspense for the +report from the garage. It was not favorable. No man in town would go +out on a wild goose chase into the plains on a night like that. +Awfully sorry, nothing doing. +</P> + +<P> +"Take a gun and make them come," said Prince, between set teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not looking for trouble. Your woman would freeze before they got +there anyhow." +</P> + +<P> +"Send the sheriff," begged Prince. +</P> + +<P> +"He couldn't get out there a night like this in time to do you any +good." +</P> + +<P> +This was literally true. For a second Prince was silent. +</P> + +<P> +"Anything else?" asked the operator. "Want me to run out and get you a +cigar, or a bottle of perfume, or anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then there is just one thing to do," said Prince abruptly. "I'll have +to flag the first train and get her aboard." +</P> + +<P> +"What! You can't do it. You don't dare do it. It is against the law +to flag a train on private business." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it. So I am asking you to make it the railroad's business. I +am warning you in advance. Where are the fuses?" +</P> + +<P> +The operator helplessly called up the superintendent once more. +</P> + +<P> +"What the dickens do you want now?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's that nut on the line," explained the operator. "He wants +something else." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I want to know where the fuses are so I can flag the first train +that comes. Or I will just set the tool house afire; that will stop +them." +</P> + +<P> +"The fuses are in the lock box under the phone. Break the lock, or +pick it. Let us know if you get in all right. How the dickens did you +get a woman out there a night like this?" +</P> + +<P> +But Prince had no time to explain. "Thanks, old man, you're pretty +white," he said, and clasped the receiver on to the hook. A little +later, with the precious fuses in his pocket, he was fighting his way +through the snow back to Connie, lying unconscious in the white +blankets which no longer chilled her. +</P> + +<P> +The waiting seemed endlessly weary. Prince dared not sit down, but +must needs keep staggering up and down the track, praying as he had +never prayed in all his life, that God would send a train before Connie +should freeze to death. Stooping over her, he chafed her hands and +ankles, shaking her roughly, but never succeeding in restoring her to +consciousness though doubtless he did much toward keeping the blood in +feeble circulation. +</P> + +<P> +Then, thank God! No heavenly star ever shone half so gloriously bright +as that wide sweep of light that circled around the ragged rocks. +Prince hastily fired the fuse, and a few minutes later a lumbering +freight train pulled up beside him, anxious voices calling inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +With rough but willing hands they pulled the girl on board, and piled +heavy coats on a bench beside the fire where she might lie, and brought +out some hot coffee which Prince swallowed in deep gulps. They even +forced a few drops of it down Connie's throat. Prince was soon himself +again, and sat silently beside Connie as she slept the heavy sleep. +</P> + +<P> +A long lumbering ride it was, the cars creaking and rocking, reeling +from side to side as if they too were drunk with weariness and cold. +</P> + +<P> +At last Connie moved a little and lifted her lashes. She lay very +still a while, looking with puzzled eyes at her strange surroundings, +enjoying the huge fire, wondering at that curious rocking. Then, +glancing at the big brown head beside her, where Prince sat on an +overturned bucket with her hand in his, she closed her eyes again, +still puzzled, but content. +</P> + +<P> +Long minutes afterward she spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you cold, Prince?" +</P> + +<P> +He tightened his clasp on her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"How did you ever make it?" +</P> + +<P> +"The train came along and we got on. Now we are thawing out," he +explained, smiling reassurance. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not remember it. I only remember that I was stuck in the snow, +and that you did not leave me." +</P> + +<P> +"Here comes some more coffee, lady," said the brakeman, coming up. +Connie drank it gratefully and sat up. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are we going?" +</P> + +<P> +"To Fort Morgan." +</P> + +<P> +"Want any more blankets or anything?" asked the brakeman kindly. "Are +you getting warm?" +</P> + +<P> +"Too warm, I will have to move a little." +</P> + +<P> +Prince helped her gently farther from the roaring flames, and again +pulled his bucket close to her side. He placed his hand in her lap and +Connie wriggled her fingers into his. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she leaned forward and looked into his face, noting the steady +steely eyes, the square strong chin, the boyish mouth. Not a handsome +face, like Jerry's, not fine and pure, like David's,—but strong and +kind, a face that somehow spoke wistfully of deep needs and secret +longings. Suddenly Connie felt that she was very happy, and in the +same instant discovered that her eyes were wet. She smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Connie," whispered the big brown man, "are we going to get married, +sometime?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she whispered promptly, "sometime. If you want me." +</P> + +<P> +His hands closed convulsively over hers. +</P> + +<P> +"Make it soon," he begged. "It is terribly lonesome." +</P> + +<P> +"Two years," she suggested, wrinkling her brows. "But if it is too +lonesome, we will make it one." +</P> + +<P> +"You won't go away." Prince was aghast at the thought. +</P> + +<P> +"I have to," she told him, caressing his hand with her fingers. "You +know I believe I have a talent, and it says in the Bible if you do not +use what is given you, all the other nice things you have may be taken +away. So if I don't use that talent, I may lose it and you into the +bargain." +</P> + +<P> +Prince did not understand that, but it sounded reasonable. Whatever +Connie said, of course. She had a talent, all right, a dozen,—a +hundred of them. He thought she had a monopoly on talents. +</P> + +<P> +"I will go back a while and study and work and get ready to use the +talent. I have to finish getting ready first. Then I will come and +live with you and you can help me use it. You won't mind, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want you to use it," he said. "I'm proud of it. I will take you +wherever you wish to go, I will do whatever you want. I'll get a home +in Denver, and just manage the business from the outside. I can live +the way you like to live and do the things you like to have done; +Connie, I know I can." +</P> + +<P> +Connie reached slowly for her hand-bag. From it she took a tiny +note-book and tossed it in the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Literary material," she explained, smiting at him. "I can not write +what I have learned in Fort Morgan. I can only live it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SUNNY SLOPE +</H3> + + +<P> +After Connie's visit, when she had returned to Chicago to finish +learning how to write her knowledge, David and Carol with little Julia +settled down in the cottage among the pines, and the winter came and +the mountains were huge white monuments over the last summer that had +died. Later in the winter a nurse came in to take charge of the little +family, and although Carol was afraid of her, she obeyed with childish +confidence whenever the nurse gave directions. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel fine to-day," David said to her one morning. "I think when +spring comes I shall be stronger again. It is a good thing to be +alive." +</P> + +<P> +He glanced through the window and looked at Carol, buttoning Julia's +gaiters for the fifth time that morning. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a pretty nice world to most of us," said the nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"We each have a world of our own, I guess. Mine is Carol and Julia +now. I have no grouch at life, and I register no complaint against +circumstances, but I should be glad to live in my little world a long, +long time." +</P> + +<P> +One morning when spring had come, when the white monuments melted and +drifted away with the clouds, and when the shadowy canyons and the +yellow rocky peaks stood out bare and bright, David called her to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Look," he said, "the same old sunny slope. We have been climbing it +four years now, a long climb, sometimes pretty rough and rugged for +you." +</P> + +<P> +"It was not, David,—never," she protested quickly. "It was always a +clear bright path. And we've been finding things to laugh at all the +way." +</P> + +<P> +He pulled her into his arm beside him on the bed. "We are going to the +top of the sunny slope together. Look at the mountain there. We are +going up one of those sunny ridges, and sometime, after a while, we +will stand at the top, right on the summit, with the sky above and the +valleys below." +</P> + +<P> +She nodded her head, smiling at him bravely. +</P> + +<P> +"I think it is probably very near to Heaven," he said slowly, in a +dreamy voice. "I think it must be. It is so intensely bright,—see +how it cuts into the blue. Yes, it must be right at the gates of +Heaven. We will stand right there together, won't we?" +</P> + +<P> +"David," she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"This is what I want to say. After that, there will be another way for +you to go, on the other side. Look at the mountains, dear. See, there +are other peaks beyond, with alternating slopes of sunshine and canyons +of shadow. It is much easier to stick to the sunny slopes when there +are two together. It is very easy to stagger off into the shadows, +when one has to travel alone. But, Carol, don't you go into the +shadows. I want to think always that you are staying in the sunshine, +on the slopes, where it is bright, where Julia can laugh and play, +where you can sing and listen to the birds. Stick to the sunny slopes, +dear, even when you are climbing alone." +</P> + +<P> +Carol nodded her head in affirmation, though her face was hidden. +</P> + +<P> +"I will, David. I will run right out of the shadows and find the sunny +slopes." +</P> + +<P> +"And do not try to live by, 'what would David like?' Be happy, dear. +Follow the sunshine. I think it guides us truly, for a pure kind heart +can not mistake fleeting gaiety for lasting joys like you and I have +had. So wherever your journey of joy may take you, follow it and be +assured that I am smiling at you in the sunshine." +</P> + +<P> +Carol stayed with him after that, sitting very quietly, speaking +softly, in the subdued way that had developed from her youthful +buoyance, always quick to smile reassuringly and adoringly when he +looked at her, always ready to look hopefully to the sunny slopes when +his finger pointed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE END +</H3> + + +<P> +In a low hammock beneath the maples Carol lay, pale and slender, +dressed in a soft gown of creamy white, with a pink rose at her belt. +Through an open window she could see her father at his desk up-stairs. +Often he came to the window, waving a friendly greeting that told how +glad he was to have her in the family home again. And she could see +Aunt Grace in the kitchen, energetically whipping cream for the apple +pie for dinner—"Carol always did love apple pie with whipped cream." +Julia was digging a canal through the flower bed a dozen steps away. +And close at her side sat Lark, the sweet, old, precious twin, who +could not attend to the farm a single minute now that Carol was at home +once more. +</P> + +<P> +Carol's hands were clasped under her head, and she was staring up +through the trees at the clear blue sky, flecked like a sea with bits +of foam. +</P> + +<P> +"Mother," cried Julia, running to the hammock and sweeping wildly at +the sky with a knife she was using for a spade, "I looked right up into +Heaven and I saw my daddy, and he did not cough a bit. He smiled at me +and said, 'Hello, little sweetheart. Take good care of Mother.'" +</P> + +<P> +Carol kissed her, softly, regardless of the streaks of earth upon her +chubby face. +</P> + +<P> +"Mother," puzzled Julia, "what is it to be died? I can't think it. +And I lie down and I can't do it. What is it to be died?" +</P> + +<P> +"Death, Julia, you mean death. I think, dear, it is life,—life that +is all made straight; life where one can work and never be laid aside +for illness; life where one can love, and fear no separation; life +where one can do the big things he yearned to do, and be the big man he +yearned to be with no hindrance of little petty things. I think that +death is life, the happy life." +</P> + +<P> +Julia, satisfied, returned to her canal, and Lark, with throbbing pity, +patted Carol's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know, Larkie, I think that death is life on the top of a sunny +slope, clear up on the peak where it touches the sky. Such a big sunny +slope that the canyons of shadow are miles and miles away, out of sight +entirely. I believe that David is living right along on the top of a +sunny slope." +</P> + +<P> +Her father stepped to the window and tapped on the pane, waving down to +them. "I can't keep away from this window," he called. "Whenever you +twins get together I think I have to watch you just as I used to when +you were mobbing the parsonage." +</P> + +<P> +The twins laughed, and when he went back to his desk they turned to +each other with eyes that plainly said, "Isn't he the grandest father +that ever lived?" +</P> + +<P> +Then Carol folded her hands behind her head again and looked dreamily +up through the leafy maples, seeing the broad mesa stretching off miles +away to the mountains, where the dark canyons underlined the sunny +slopes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNNY SLOPES***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 18426-h.txt or 18426-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/4/2/18426">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/2/18426</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Sunny Slopes + + +Author: Ethel Hueston + + + +Release Date: May 20, 2006 [eBook #18426] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNNY SLOPES*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 18426-h.htm or 18426-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/4/2/18426/18426-h/18426-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/4/2/18426/18426-h.zip) + + + + + +SUNNY SLOPES + +by + +ETHEL HUESTON + +Author of +Prudence of the Parsonage, Prudence Says So, Etc. + +Illustrated by Arthur William Brown + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: "A minister's wife! You look more like a little girl's +baby doll."] + + + + +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers -------- New York +Copyright 1917 +The Bobbs-Merrill Company + + + + + This Book + Is Written in Memory of My Husband + Eager in Service, Patient in Illness + Unfaltering in Death, and + Is Dedicated to + The St. Louis Presbytery + To Which I Owe a Debt of Interest + Of Sympathy and of Unfailing Friendship + I Can Ever Hope to Pay + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I THE BEGINNING + II MANSERS + III A BABY IN BUSINESS + IV A WOMAN IN THE CHURCH + V A MINISTER'S SON + VI THE HEAVY YOKE + VII THE FIRST STEP + VIII REACTION + IX UPHEAVAL + X WHERE HEALTH BEGINS + XI THE OLD TEACHER + XII THE LAND O' LUNGERS + XIII OLD HOPES AND NEW + XIV NEPTUNE'S SECOND DAUGHTER + XV THE SECOND STEP + XVI DEPARTED SPIRITS + XVII RUBBING ELBOWS + XVIII QUIESCENT + XIX RE-CREATION + XX LITERARY MATERIAL + XXI ADVENTURING + XXII HARBORAGE + XXIII THE SUNNY SLOPE + XXIV THE END + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + "A minister's wife! You look more + like a little girl's baby doll." . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + + "Silly old goose," she murmured. + + Carol, with an inarticulate sob, + gathered her baby in her arms. + + "I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, + unsmilingly, "I did not mean to be rude." + + + + +SUNNY SLOPES + + +CHAPTER I + +THE BEGINNING + +Back and forth, back and forth, over the net, spun the little white +ball, driven by the quick, sure strokes of the players. There was no +sound save the bounding of the ball against the racquets, and the thud +of rubber soles on the hard ground. Then--a sudden twirl of a supple +wrist, and-- + +"Deuce!" cried the girl, triumphantly brandishing her racquet in the +air. + +The man on the other side of the net laughed as he gathered up the +balls for a new serve. + +Back and forth, back and forth, once more,--close to the net, away back +to the line, now to the right, now to the left,--and then-- + +"Ad out, I am beating you, David," warned the girl, leaping lightly +into the air to catch the ball he tossed her. + +"Here is a beauty," she said, as the ball spun away from her racquet. + +The two, white-clad, nimble figures flashed from side to side of the +court. He sprang into the air to meet her ball, and drove it into the +farthest corner, but she caught it with a backward gesture. Still he +was ready for it, cutting it low across the net,--yes, she was there, +she got it,--but the stroke was hard,--and the ball was light. + +"Was it good?" she gasped, clasping the racquet in both hands and +tilting dangerously forward on tiptoe to look. + +"Good enough,--and your game." + +With one accord they ran forward to the net, pausing a second to glance +about enquiringly, and then, one impulse guiding, kissed each other +ecstatically. + +"The very first time I have beaten you, David," exulted the girl. +"Isn't everything glorious?" she demanded, with all of youth's +enthusiasm. + +"Just glorious," came the ready answer, with all of mature manhood's +response to girlish youth. Clasping the slender hands more tightly, he +added, laughing, "And I kiss the fingers that defeated me." + +"Oh, David," the buoyant voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "I love +you,--I love you,--I--I am just crazy about you." + +"Careful, Carol, remember the manse," he cautioned gaily. + +"But this is honeymooning, and the manse hasn't gloomed on my horizon +yet. I'll be careful when I get installed. I am really a Methodist +yet, and Methodists are expected to shout and be enthusiastic. When we +move into our manse, and the honeymoon is ended, I'll just say, 'I am +very fond of you, Mr. Duke.'" The voice lengthened into prim and prosy +solemnity. + +"But our honeymoon isn't to end. Didn't we promise that it should last +forever?" + +"Of course it will." She dimpled up at him, snuggling herself in the +arm that still encircled her shoulders. "Of course it will." She +balanced her racquet on the top of his head as he bent adoringly over +her. "Of course it will,--unless your grim old Presbyterians manse all +the life out of me." + +"If it ever begins, tell me," he begged, "and we'll join the Salvation +Army. There's life enough even for you." + +"I beat you," she teased, irrelevantly. "I am surprised,--a great big +man like you." + +"And to-morrow we'll be in St. Louis." + +"Yes," she assented, weakening swiftly. "And the mansers will have me +in their deadly clutch." + +"The only manser who will clutch you is myself." He drew her closer in +his arm as he spoke. "And you like it." + +"Yes, I love it. And I like the mansers already. I hope they like me. +I am improving, you know. I am getting more dignified every day. +Maybe they will think I am a born Presbyterian if you don't give me +away. Have you noticed how serious I am getting?" She pinched +thoughtfully at his chin. "David Duke, we have been married two whole +weeks, and it is the most delicious, and breathless, and amazing thing +in the world. It is life--real life--all there is to life, really, +isn't it?" + +"Yes, life is love, they say, so this is life. All the future must be +like this." + +"I never particularly yearned to be dead," she said, wrinkling her +brows thoughtfully, "but I never even dreamed that I could be so happy. +I am awfully glad I didn't die before I found it out." + +"You are happy, aren't you, sweetheart?" + +She turned herself slowly in his arm and lifted puckering lips to his. + +"Hey, wake up, are you playing tennis, or staging Shakespeare? We want +the court if you don't need it." + +Mr. and Mrs. Duke, honeymooners, gazed speechlessly at the group of +young men standing motionless forty feet away, then Carol wheeled about +and ran swiftly across the velvety grass, over the hill and out of +sight, her husband in close pursuit. + +Once she paused. + +"If the mansers could have seen us then!" she ejaculated, with awe in +her voice. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MANSERS + +The introduction of Mrs. David Arnold Duke, nee Methodist, to the +members of her husband's Presbyterian flock, was, for the most part, +consummated with grace and dignity. Only one untoward incident +lingered in her memory to cloud her lovely face with annoyance. + +In honor of his very first honeymoon, hence his first opportunity to +escort a beautiful and blushing bride to the cozy little manse he had +so painstakingly prepared for her reception, the Reverend David +indulged in the unwonted luxury of a taxicab. And happy in the +consciousness of being absolutely correct as to detail, they were +driven slowly down the beautifully shaded avenues of the Heights, one +of the many charming suburbs of St. Louis,--aware of the scrutiny of +interested eyes from the sheltering curtains of many windows. + +Being born and bred in the ministry, Carol acquitted herself properly +before the public eye. But once inside the guarding doors of the +darling manse, secure from the condemning witness of even the least of +the fold, she danced and sang and exulted as the very young, and very +glad, must do to find expression. + +Their first dinner in the manse was more of a social triumph than a +culinary success. The coffee was nectar, though a trifle overboiled. +The gravy was sweet as honey, but rather inclined to be lumpy. And the +steak tasted like fried chicken, though Carol had peppered it twice and +salted it not at all. It wasn't her fault, however, for the salt and +pepper shakers in her "perfectly irresistible" kitchen cabinet were +exactly alike,--and how was she to know she was getting the same one +twice? + +Anyhow, although they started very properly with plates on opposite +sides of the round table, by the time they reached dessert their chairs +were just half way round from where they began the meal, and the salad +dishes were so close together that half the time they ate from one and +half the time from the other. And when it was all over, they pushed +the dishes back and clasped their hands promiscuously together and +talked with youthful passion of what they were going to do, and how +wonderful their opportunity for service was, and what revolutions they +were going to work in the lives of the nice, but no doubt prosy +mansers, and how desperately they loved each other. And it was going +to last forever and ever and ever. + +So far they were just Everybride and Everygroom. Their hearts sang and +the manse was more gorgeous than any mansion on earth, and all the +world was good and sweet, and they couldn't possibly ever make any kind +of a mistake or blunder, for love was guiding them,--and could pure +love lead astray? + +David at last looked at his watch and said, rather hurriedly: + +"By the way, I imagine a few of our young people will drop in to-night +for a first smile from the manse lady." + +Carol leaped from her chair, jerked off the big kitchen apron, and flew +up the stairs with never a word. When David followed more slowly, he +found her already painstakingly dusting her matchless skin with velvety +powder. + +"I got a brand new box of powder, David, the very last thing I did," +she began, as he entered the room. "When this is gone, I'll resort to +cheaper kinds. You see, father's had such a lot of experience with +girls and complexions that he just naturally expects them to be +expensive--and would very likely be confused and hurt if things were +changed. But I can imagine what a shock it would be to you right at +the start." + +David assured her that any powder which added to the wonder of that +most wonderful complexion was well worth any price. But Carol shook +her head sagely. + +"It's a dollar a box, my dear, and very tiny boxes at that. Now don't +talk any more for I must fix my hair and dress, and--I want to look +perfectly darling or they won't like me, and then they will not put +anything in the collections and the heathens and we will starve +together. Oh, will you buckle my slippers? Thanks. Here's half a +kiss for your kindness. Oh, David, dear, do run along and don't bother +me, for suppose some one should get here before I am all fixed, and-- +Shall I wear this little gray thing? It makes me look very, very +sensible, you know, and--er--well, pretty, too. One can be pretty as +well as sensible, and I think it's a Christian duty to do it. David, I +shall never be ready. I can not be talked to, and make myself +beautiful all at once. Dear, please go and say your prayers, and ask +God to make them love me, will you? For it is very important, and-- +If I act old, and dignified, they will think I am appropriate at least, +won't they? Oh, this horrible dress, I never can reach the hooks. +Will you try, David, there's my nice old boy. Oh, are you going down? +Well, I suppose one of us ought to be ready for them,--run along,--it's +lonesome without you,--but I have to powder my face, and-- Oh, that +was just the preliminary. The conclusion is always the same. Bye, +dearest." Then, solemnly, to her mirror, she said, "Isn't he the +blessedest old thing that ever was? My, I am glad Prudence got married +so long ago, or he might have wanted her instead of me. I don't +suppose the mansers could possibly object to a complexion like mine. I +can get a certificate from father to prove it is genuine, if they don't +believe it." + +Then she gave her full attention to tucking up tiny, straying curls +with invisible hair pins, and was quite startled when David called +suddenly: + +"Hurry up, Carol, I am waiting for you." + +"Oh, bless its heart, I forgot all about it. I am coming." + +Gaily she ran down the stairs, parted the curtains into the living-room +and said: + +"Why are you sitting in the dark, David? Headache, or just plain +sentimental? Where are you?" + +"Over here," he said, in a curious, quiet voice. + +She groped her way into the center of the room and clutched his arms. +"David," she said, laughing a little nervously, "here goes the last +gasp of my dear old Methodist fervor." + +"Why, Carol--" he interrupted. + +"Just a minute, honey. After this I am going to be settled and solemn +and when I feel perfectly glorious I'll just say, 'Very good, thank +you,' and--" + +"But, Carol--" + +"Yes, dear, just a second. This is my final gasp, my last explosion, +my dying outburst. Rah, rah, rah, David. Three cheers and a tiger. +Amen! Hallelujah! Hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the stars! +Now it's all over. I am a Presbyterian." + +David's burst of laughter was echoed on every side of the room and the +lights were switched on, and with a sickening weakness Carol faced the +young people of her husband's church. + +"More Presbyterians, dear, a whole houseful of them. They wanted to +surprise you, but you have turned the tables on them. This is my wife, +Mrs. Duke." + +Slowly Carol rallied. She smiled the irresistible smile. + +"I am so glad to meet you," she said, softly, "I know we are going to +like each other. Aren't you glad you got here in time to see me become +Presbyterian? David, why didn't you warn me that surprise parties were +still stylish? I thought they had gone out." + +Carol watched very, very closely all that evening, and she could not +see one particle of difference between these mansers and the young +folks in the Methodist Church in Mount Mark, Iowa. They told funny +stories, and laughed immoderately at them. The young men gave the +latest demonstrations of vaudeville trickery, and the girls applauded +as warmly as if they had not seen the same bits performed in the +original. They asked David if they might dance in the kitchen, and +David smilingly begged them to spare his manse the disgrace, and to +dance themselves home if they couldn't be more restrained. The young +men put in an application for Mrs. Duke as teacher of the Young Men's +Bible Class, and David sternly vetoed the measure. The young ladies +asked Carol what kind of powder she used, and however she got her hair +up in that most marvelous manner. + +And Carol decided it was not going to be such a burden after all, and +thought perhaps she might make a regular pillar in time. + +When, as she later met the elder ones of the church, and was invariably +greeted with a smiling, "How is our little Methodist to-day," she +bitterly swallowed her grief and answered with a brightness all assumed: + +"Turned Presbyterian, thank you." + +But to David she said: + +"I did seriously and religiously ask the Lord to let me get introduced +to the mansers without disgracing myself, and I am just a teeny bit +disappointed because He went back on me in such a crisis." + +But David, wise minister and able exponent of his faith, said quickly: + +"He didn't go back on you, Carol. It was the best kind of an +introduction, and He stood by you right through. They were more afraid +of you than you were of them. You might have been stiff and reserved, +and they would have been cold and self-conscious, and it would have +been ghastly for every one. But your break broke the ice right off. +You were perfectly natural." + +"Hum,--yes--natural enough, I suppose. But it wasn't dignified, and +why do you suppose I have been practising dignity these last ten years?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A BABY IN BUSINESS + +"Centerville, Iowa. + +"Dear Carol and David-- + +"Please do not call me the baby of the family any more. I am in +business, and babies have no business in business. Very good, wasn't +it? I am practising verbosity for the book I am going to write some +day. Verbosity is what I want to say, isn't it? I am never sure +whether it is that or obesity. But you know what I mean. + +"To begin at the beginning, then, you would be surprised how sensible +father is turning out. I can hardly understand it. You remember when +I insisted on studying stenography, Aunt Grace and Prue, yes, and all +the rest of you, were properly shocked and horrified, and thought I +ought to teach school because it is more ministerial. But I knew I +should need the stenography in my writing, and father looked at me, and +thought a while, and came right out on my side. And that settled it. + +"Of course, when I wanted to cut college after my second year so I +could get to work, father talked me out of it. But I am really +convinced he was right that time, even though he wasn't on my side. +But after I finished college, when they offered me the English +Department in the High School in Mount Mark at seventy-five per, and +when I insisted on coming down here to Centerville to take this +stenographic job with Messrs. Nesbitt and Orchard, at eight a week, +well, the serene atmosphere of our quiet home was decidedly murky for a +while. I said I needed the experience, both stenographic and literary, +and this was my opportunity. + +"Aunt Grace was speechless. Prudence wept over me. Fairy laughed at +me. Lark said she just wished you were home to take charge of me and +teach me a few things. But father looked at me again, and thought very +seriously for a while, and said he believed I was right. + +"Consequently, I am at Centerville. + +"Isn't it dear of father? And so surprising. The girls think he needs +medical attention, and honestly I am a little worried over him myself. +It was so unexpected. Really, I half thought he would 'put his foot +down,' as the Ladies Aiders used to want Prudence to do with us. He +was always resigned, father was, about giving the girls up in marriage, +but every one always said he would draw the line there. He is +developing, I guess. + +"Do you remember Nesbitt and Orchard? Mr. Nesbitt was a member of the +church when we lived here, but it was before I was born, so I don't +feel especially well acquainted on that account. But he calls me +Connie and acts very fatherly. + +"He is still a member of the church, and they say around town that he +is not a bit slicker outside the church than he was when father was his +pastor. He hurt me spiritually at first. So I wrote to father about +it. Father wrote back that I must be charitable--must remember that +belonging to church couldn't possibly do Mr. Nesbitt any harm, and for +all we knew to the contrary, might be keeping him out of the electric +chair every day of his life. And Mr. Nesbitt couldn't do the +Christians any harm--the Lord is looking after them. And those outside +who point to the hypocrites inside for excuses would have to think up +something new and original if we eliminated the hypocrites on their +account,--'so be generous, Connie,' wrote father, 'and don't begrudge +Mr. Nesbitt the third seat to the left for he may never get any nearer +Paradise than that.' + +"Father is just splendid, Carol. I keep feeling that the rest of you +don't realize it as hard as I do, but you will laugh at that. + +"Mr. Nesbitt likes me, but he has--well, he has what a minister should +call a 'bad disposition.' I'll tell you more about it in German when I +meet you. German is the only language I know that can do him justice. + +"I have been in trouble of one kind or another ever since I got here. +Mr. Nesbitt owns a lot of houses around town, and we have charge of +their rental. One day he gave me the address of one of his most tumble +down shacks, and promised me a bonus of five dollars if I rented it for +fifteen dollars a month on a year's lease. About ten days later, sure +enough I rented it, family to take possession immediately. Mr. Nesbitt +was out of town, so I took the rent in advance, turned over the keys, +and proceeded to spend the five dollars. I learned that system of +frenzied finance from you twins in the old days in the parsonage. + +"Next morning, full of pride, I told Mr. Nesbitt about it. + +"'Rented 800 Stout,' he roared. 'Why, I rented it myself,--a three +years' lease at eighteen a month,--move in next Monday.' + +"'Mercy,' says I. 'My family paid a month in advance.' + +"'So did mine.' + +"'My family is already in,' says I. That was a clincher. + +"He raved and he roared, and said I got them in and I could get them +out. But when he grew rational and raised my bonus to ten dollars, I +said I would do my best. He agreed to refund the month's rent, to pay +the moving expenses both in and out, to take over their five dollar +deposit for electric lights, and to pay the electric and gas bill +outstanding, which wouldn't be much for two or three days. + +"So off marches the business baby to the conflict. + +"They didn't like it a bit, and talked very crossly indeed, and said +perfectly horrible, but quite true, things about Messrs. Nesbitt and +Orchard. But finally they said they would move out, only they must +have until Friday to find a new house. They would move out on +Saturday, and leave the keys at the office. + +"Mr. Nesbitt was much pleased, and said I had done nicely, gave me the +ten dollars and a box of chocolates and we were as happy as cooing +doves the rest of the day. + +"But my family must have been more indignant than I realized. On +Saturday, at one o'clock, Mr. Nesbitt told me to go around by the house +on my way home to make sure the front door was locked. It was locked +all right, but I noticed that the electric lights were burning. Mr. +Nesbitt had not sent the key with me, as it was an automatic lock, and +it really was none of my business if folks moved out and left the +lights on. Still it seemed irregular, and when I got home I tried to +get Mr. Nesbitt on the phone. But he and Mr. Orchard had left the +office and gone out into the country for the afternoon. +Business,--they never go to the country for pleasure. So I comfortably +forgot all about the electric lights. + +"But Monday afternoon, Mr. Nesbitt happened to remark that his family +would not move in until Wednesday. Then I remembered. + +"I said, 'What is the idea in having the electric lights burning down +there?' + +"'What?' he shouted. He always shouts unless he has a particular +reason for whispering. + +"'Why, the electric lights were burning in the house when I went by +Saturday.' + +"'All of them?' + +"'Looked it from the outside.' + +"'Did you turn them off?' + +"'I should say not. I hadn't the key. Besides I didn't turn them on. +I didn't know who did, nor why. I just left them alone.' + +"That meant a neat little electric bill of about six dollars, and Mr. +Nesbitt talked to me in a very un-neutral way, and I got my hat and +walked off home. He called me up after a while and tried to make +peace, but I said I was ill from the nervous shock and couldn't work +any more that day. So he sent me a box of candy to restore my +shattered nerves, and the next day they were all right. + +"One day I got rather belligerent myself. It was just a week after I +came. One of his new tenants phoned in that Nesbitt must get the +rubbish out of the alley back of his house or he would move out. Mr. +Nesbitt tried to evade a promise, but the man was curt. 'You get that +rubbish out to-day, or I get out to-morrow.' + +"Mr. Nesbitt was just going to court, so he told me to call up a +garbage man and get the rubbish removed. + +"I didn't know the garbage men from the ministers, and they weren't +classified in the directory. So I went to Mr. Orchard, a youngish sort +of man, very pleasant, but slicker than Nesbitt himself. + +"I said, not too amiably, 'Who are the garbage haulers in this town?' + +"He said: 'Search me,' and went on writing. + +"I dropped the directory on his desk, and said, "'Well, if Mr. Nesbitt +loses a good tenant, I should worry.' + +"Then he looked up and said: 'Oh, let's see. There's Jim Green, and +Softy Meadows, and--and--Tully Scott--and--that's enough.' + +"So I called them up. Jim Green was in jail for petty larceny. Softy +Meadows was in bed with a broken leg. Tully Scott would do it for +three fifty. So I gave him the number and told him to do it that +afternoon without fail. + +"Pretty soon Mr. Nesbitt came home. 'How about that rubbish?' + +"'I got Tully Scott to do it for three fifty.' + +"He fairly tore his hair. 'Three fifty! Tully Scott is the biggest +highway robber in town, and everybody knows it! Why didn't you get the +mayor and be done with it? Three fifty! Great Scott! Three fifty! +You call his lordship Tully Scott up and ask him if he'll haul that +rubbish for a dollar and a half, and if he won't you can call off the +deal.' + +"I called him up, quietly, but inwardly raging. + +"'Will you haul that rubbish for a dollar and a half?' + +"'No,' he drawled through his nose, 'I won't haul no rubbish for no +dollar and a half, and you can tell old Skinflint I said so.' + +"He hung up. So did I. + +"'What did he say?' + +"I thought the nasal inflection made it more forceful, so I said, 'No, +I won't haul no rubbish for no dollar and a half, and you can tell old +Skinflint I said so.' + +"Mr. Orchard laughed, and Mr. Nesbitt got red. + +"'Call up Ben Moore and see if he can do it.' + +"I looked him straight in the eye. 'Nothing doing,' I said, with +dignity. 'If you want any more garbage haulers, you can get them.' + +"I sat down to the typewriter. Mr. Orchard nearly shut himself up in a +big law book in his effort to keep from meeting anybody's eye. But +Nesbitt went to the phone and called Ben Moore. Ben Moore had a four +days' job on his hands. Then he called Jim Green, and Softy Meadows, +and finally in despair called the only one left. John Knox,--nice +orthodox name, my dear. John Knox would do it for the modest sum of +five dollars, and not a--well, I'll spare you the details, but he +wouldn't do it for a cent less. Nesbitt raved, and Nesbitt swore, but +John Knox, while he may not be a pillar in the church, certainly stood +like a rock. Nesbitt could pay it or lose his tenant. He paid. + +"Mr. Orchard got up and put on his hat. 'Miss Connie wants some +flowers and some candy and an ice-cream soda, my boy, and I want some +cigars, and a coca cola. It's on you. Will you come along and pay the +bill, or will you give us the money?' + +"'I guess it will be cheaper to come along,' said Nesbitt, looking +bashfully at me, for I was very haughty. But I put on my hat, and it +cost him just one dollar and ninety cents to square himself. + +"But they both like me. In fact, Mr. Orchard suggested that I marry +him so old Nesbitt would have to stop roaring at me, but I tell him +honestly that of the two evils I prefer the roaring. + +"No, Carol, I am not counting on marriage in my scheme of life. Not +yet. Sometimes I think perhaps I do not believe in it. It doesn't +work out right. There is always something wrong somewhere. Look at +Prudence and Jerry,--devoted to each other as ever, but Jerry's +business takes him out among men and women, into the life of the city. +And Prudence's business keeps her at home with the children. He's out, +and she's in, and the only time they have to love each other is in the +evening,--and then Jerry has clubs and meetings, and Prudence is always +sleepy. Look at Fairy and Gene. He is always at the drug store, and +Fairy has nothing but parties and clubs and silly things like that to +think about,--a big, grand girl like Fairy. And she is always looking +covetously at other women's babies and visiting orphans' homes to see +if she can find one she wants to adopt, because she hasn't one of her +own. Always that sorrow behind the twinkle in her eyes! If she hadn't +married, she wouldn't want a baby. Take Larkie and Jim. Always Larkie +was healthy at home, strong, and full of life. But since little Violet +came, Lark is pale and weak, and has no strength at all. Aunt Grace is +staying with her now. Why, I can't look at dear old Larkie without +half crying. + +"Take even you, my precious Carol, perfectly happy, oh, of course, but +all your originality, your uniqueness, the very you-ness of you, will +be absorbed in a round of missionary meetings, and prayer-meetings, and +choir practises, and Sunday-school classes. The hard routine, my dear, +will take the sparkle from you, and give you a sweet, but un-Carol-like +precision and method. Oh, yes, you are happy, but thank you, dear, I +think I'll keep my Self and do my work, and--be an old maid. + +"Mr. Orchard offers himself as an alternative to the roars every now +and then, and I expound this philosophy of mine in answer. He shouts +with laughter at it. He says it is so, so like a baby in business. He +reminds me of the time when gray hairs and crow's-feet will mar my +serenity, and when solitary old age will take the lightness from my +step. But I've never noticed that husbands have a way of banishing +gray hairs and crow's-feet and feeble knees, have you? Babies are +nice, of course, but I think I'll baby myself a little. + +"I do get so homesick for the good old parsonage days, and all the +bunch, and-- Still, it is nice to be a baby in business, and think how +wonderful it will be when I graduate from my baby-hood, and have brains +enough to write books, big books, good books, for all the world to read. + +"Lovingly as always, + +"Baby Con." + + +When Carol read that letter she cried, and rubbed her face against her +husband's shoulder,--regardless of the dollar powder on his black coat. + +"A teeny bit for father," she explained, "for all his girls are gone. +And a little bit for Fairy, but she has Gene. And quite a lot for +Larkie, but she has Jim and Violet." And then, clasping her arm about +his shoulders, which, despite her teasing remonstrance, he allowed to +droop a little, she cried exultantly: "But not one bit for me, for I +have you, and Connie is a poor, poverty-stricken, wretched little waif, +with nothing in the world worth having, only she doesn't know it yet." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A WOMAN IN THE CHURCH + +And there was a woman in the church. + +There always is,--one who stands apart, distinct, different,--in the +community but not with it, in the church but not of it. + +The woman in David's church was of a languorous, sumptuous type, built +on generous proportions, with a mass of dark hair waving low on her +forehead, with dark, straight-gazing, deep-searching eyes, the kind +that impel and hold all truanting glances. She was slow in movement, +suggesting a beautiful and commendable laziness. In public she talked +very little, laughing never, but often smiling,--a curious smile that +curved one corner of her lip and drew down the tip of one eye. She had +been married, but no one knew anything about her husband. She was a +member of the church, attended with most scrupulous regularity, +assisted generously in a financial way, was on good terms with every +one, and had not one friend in the congregation. The women were afraid +of her. So were the men. But for different reasons. + +Those who would ask questions of her, ran directly against the concrete +wall of the crooked smile, and turned away abashed, unsatisfied. + +Carol was very shy with her. She was not used to the type. There had +been women in her father's churches, but they had been of different +kinds. Mrs. Waldemar's straight-staring eyes embarrassed her. She +listened silently when the other women talked of her, half admiringly, +half sneeringly, and she grew more timid. She watched her fascinated +in church, on the street, whenever they were thrown together. But one +deep look from the dark eyes set her a-flush and rendered her +tongue-tied. + +Mrs. Waldemar had paid scant attention to David before the advent of +Carol, except to follow his movements with her eyes in a way of which +he could not remain unconscious. But when Carol came, entered the +demon of mischief. Carol was young, Mrs. Waldemar was forty. Carol +was lovely, Mrs. Waldemar was only unusual. Carol was frank as the +sunshine, Mrs. Waldemar was mysterious. What woman on earth but might +wonder if the devoted groom were immune to luring eyes, and if that +lovely bride were jealous? + +So she talked to him after church. She called him on the telephone for +directions in the Bible study she was taking up. She lounged in her +hammock as he returned home from pastoral calls, and stopped him for +little chats. David was her pastor, she was one of his flock. + +But Carol screwed up her face before the mirror and frowned. + +"David," she said to herself, when a glance from her window revealed +David leaning over Mrs. Waldemar's hammock half a block away, doubtless +in the scriptural act of explaining an intricate passage of Revelation +to the dark-eyed sheep,--"David is as good as an angel, and as innocent +as a baby. Two very good traits of course, but dangerous, +tre-men-dous-ly dangerous. Goodness and innocence make men wax in +women's hands." Carol, for all her youth, had acquired considerable +shrewdness in her life-time acquaintance with the intricacies of +parsonage life. + +She looked from her window again. "There's the--the--the dark-eyed +Jezebel." She glanced fearfully about, to see if David might be near +enough to hear the word. What on earth would he think of the manse +lady calling one of his sheep a Jezebel? "Well, David," she said to +herself decidedly, "God gave you a wife for some purpose, and I'm slick +if I haven't much brains." And she shook a slender fist at her image +in the mirror and went back to setting the table. + +David was talkative that evening. "You haven't seen much of Mrs. +Waldemar, have you, dear? People here don't think much Of her. She is +very advanced,--too advanced, of course. But she is very broad, and +kind. She is well educated, too, and for one who has had no training, +she grasps Bible truths in a most remarkable way. She has never had +the proper guidance, that's the worst of it. With a little wise +direction she will be a great addition to our church and a big help in +many ways." + +Carol lowered her lashes reflectively. She was wondering how much of +this "wise direction" was going to fall to her precious David? + +"I imagine our women are a little jealous of her, and that blinds them +to her many fine qualities." + +Carol agreed, with a certain lack of enthusiasm, and David continued +with evident relish. + +"Some of her ideas are dangerous, but when she is shown the weakness of +her position she will change. She is not one of that narrow school who +holds to a fallacy just because she accepted it in the beginning. The +elders objected to her teaching a class in Sunday-school because they +claimed her opinions would prove menacing to the young and uninformed. +And it is true. She is dangerous company for the young right now. But +she is starting out along better lines and I think will be a different +woman." + +"Dangerous for the young." The words repeated themselves in Carol's +mind. "Dangerous for the young." Carol was young herself. "Dangerous +for the young." + +The next afternoon, Carol arrayed herself in her most girlishly +charming gown, and with a smile on her lips, and trepidation in her +heart, she marched off to call on her Jezebel. The Jezebel was +surprised, no doubt of that. And she was pleased. Every one liked +Carol,--even Jezebels. And Mrs. Waldemar was very much alone. However +much a woman may revel in the admiration of men, there are times when +she craves the confidence of at least one woman. Mrs. Waldemar led +Carol up-stairs to a most seductively attractive little sitting-room, +and Carol sat at her feet, as it were, for two full hours. + +Then she tripped away home, more than ever aware of the wonderful charm +of Mrs. Waldemar, but thanking God she was young. + +When David came in to dinner, a radiant Carol awaited him. In the +ruffly white dress, with its baby blue ribbons, and with a wide band of +the same color in her hair, and tiny curls clustering about her pink +ears, she was a very infant of a minister's wife. + +David took her in his arms appreciatively. "You little baby," he said +adoringly, "you look younger every day. Will you ever grow up? A +minister's wife! You look more like a little girl's baby doll." + +Carol giggled, and rumpled up his hair; When she took her place at the +table she artfully snuggled low in her chair, peeping roguishly at him +from behind the wedding-present coffee urn. + +"David," she began, as soon as he finished the blessing, "I've been +thinking all day of what you said about Mrs. Waldemar, and I've been +ashamed of myself. I really have avoided her. She is so old, and +clever, and I am such a goose, and people said things about her, +and--but after last night I was ashamed. So to-day I went to see her, +all alone by myself, without a gun or anything to protect me." + +David laughed, nodding at her approvingly. "Good for you, Carol," he +cried in approbation. "That was fine. How did you get along?" + +"Just grand. And isn't she interesting? And so kind. I believe she +likes me. She kept me a long time and made me a cup of tea, and begged +me to come again. She nearly hypnotized me, I am really infatuated +with her. Oh, we had a lovely time. She is different from us, but it +does us good to mix with other kinds, don't you think so? I believe +she did me good. I feel very emancipated to-night." + +Carol tossed her blue-ribboned, curly head, and the warm approval in +David's eyes cooled a little. + +"What did she have to say?" he asked curiously. + +"Oh, she talked a lot about being broad, and generous, and not allowing +environment to dwarf one. She thinks it is a shame for a--a--girl of +my--well, she called it my 'divine sparkle,' and she said it was a +compliment,--anyhow, she said it was a shame I should be confined to a +little half-souled bunch of Presbyterians in the Heights. She has a +lot of friends down-town, advanced thinkers, she calls them,--a poet, +and some authors, and artists, and musicians,--folks like that. They +have informal meetings every week or so, and she is going to take me. +She says I will enjoy them and that they will adore me." + +Carol's voice swelled with triumph, and David's approval turned to ice. + +"She must have liked me or she wouldn't have been so friendly. She +laughed at the Heights,--she called it a 'little, money-saving, +heart-squeezing, church-bound neighborhood.' She said I must study new +thoughts and read the new poetry, and run out with her to grip souls +with real people now and then, to keep my star from tarnishing. I +didn't understand all she said, but it sounded irresistible. Oh, she +was lovely to me." + +"She shouldn't have talked to you like that," protested David quickly. +"She is not fair to our people. She can not understand them because +they live sweet, simple lives where home and church are throned. New +thought is not necessary to them because they are full of the old, old +thought of training their babies, and keeping their homes, and +worshiping God. And I know the kind of people she meets down-town,--a +sort of high-class Bohemia where everybody flirts with everybody else +in the name of art. You wouldn't care for it." + +Carol adroitly changed the subject, and David said no more. + +The next day, quite accidentally, she met Mrs. Waldemar on the corner +and they had a soda together at the drug store. That night after +prayer-meeting David had to tarry for a deacons' meeting, and Carol and +Mrs. Waldemar sauntered off alone, arm in arm, and waited in Mrs. +Waldemar's hammock until David appeared. + +And David did not see anything wonderful in the dark, deep eyes at +all,--they looked downright wicked to him. He took Carol away +hurriedly, and questioned her feverishly to find out if Mrs. Waldemar +had put any fresh nonsense into her pretty little head. + +Day after day passed by and David began going around the block to avoid +Mrs. Waldemar's hammock. Her advanced thoughts, expressed to him, old +and settled and quite mature, were only amusing. But when she poured +the vials of her emancipation on little, innocent, trusting Carol,--it +was--well, David called it "pure down meanness." She was trying to +make his wife dissatisfied with her environment, with her life, with +her very husband. David's kindly heart swelled with unaccustomed fury. + +Carol always assured him that she didn't believe the things Mrs. +Waldemar said,--it was interesting, that was all, and curious, and gave +her new things to think about. And minister's families must be broad +enough to make Christian allowance for all. + +But, curiously enough, she grew genuinely fond of Mrs. Waldemar. And +Mrs. Waldemar, in gratitude for the girlish affection of the little +manse lady, left David alone. But one day she took Carol's dimpled +chin in her hand, and turned the face up that she might look directly +into the young blue eyes. + +"Carol," she said, smiling, "you are a girlie, girlie wife, with +dimples and curls and all the baby tricks, but you're a pretty clever +little lady at that. You were not going to let your darling old David +get into trouble, were you? And quite right, my dear, quite right. +And between you and me, I like you far, far better than your husband." +She smiled the crooked smile and pinched Carol's crimson cheek. "The +only way to keep hubby out of danger is to tackle it yourself, isn't +it? Oh, don't blush,--I like you all the better for your little trick." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A MINISTER'S SON + +"Centerville, Iowa. + +"Dear Carol and David: + +"I am getting very, exceptionally wise. I am really appalled at +myself. It seems so unnecessary in one so young. You will remember, +Carol, that I used to say it was unfair that ministers' children should +be denied so much of the worldly experience that other ordinary humans +fall heir to by the natural sequence of things. I resented the +deprivation. I coveted one taste of every species of sweet, satanic or +otherwise. + +"I have changed my mind. I have been convinced that ordinaries may +dabble in forbidden fires, and a little cold ointment will banish every +trace of the flame, but ministers' children stay scarred and charred +forever. I have decided to keep far from the worldly blazes and let +others supply the fanning breezes. For you know, Carol, that the +wickedest fires in the world would die out if there were not some +willing hands to fan them. + +"There is the effect. The cause--Kirke Connor. + +"Carol, has David ever explained to you what fatal fascination a +semi-satanic man has for nice, white women? I have been at father many +times on the subject, and he says, 'Connie, be reasonable, what do I +know about semi-satanics?' Then he goes down-town. See if you can get +anything out of David on the subject and let me know. + +"Kirke is a semi-satanic. Also a minister's son. He has been in +trouble of one kind or another ever since I first met him, when he was +fourteen years old. He fairly seethed his way through college. Mr. +Connor has resigned from the active ministry now and lives in Mount +Mark, and Kirke bought a partnership in Mr. Ives' furniture store and +goes his troubled, riotous way as heretofore. That is, he did until +recently. + +"A few weeks ago I missed my railway connections and had to lay over +for three hours in Fairfield. I checked my suit-case and started out +to look up some of my friends. As I went out one door, I glimpsed the +vanishing point of a man's coat exiting in the opposite direction. I +started to cut across the corner, but a backward glance revealed a +man's hat and one eye peering around the corner of the station. Was I +being detected? I stopped in my tracks, my literary instinct on the +alert. The hat slowly pivoted a head into view. It was Kirke Connor. +He shuffled toward me, glancing back and forth in a curious, furtive +way. His face was harrowed, his eyes blood-shot. He clutched my hand +breathlessly and clung to me as to the proverbial straw. + +"'Have you seen Matters?' he asked. + +"'Matters?' + +"'You know Matters,--the sheriff at Mount Mark.' + +"I looked at him in a way which I trust became the daughter of a +district superintendent of the Methodist Episcopal Church. + +"He mopped his fevered brow. + +"'He has been on my trail for two days.' Then he twinkled, more like +himself. 'It has been a hot trail, too, if I do say it who shouldn't. +If he has had a full breath for the last forty-eight hours, I am +ashamed of myself.' + +"'But what in the world--' + +"'Let's duck into the station a minute. I know the freight agent and +he will hide me in a trunk if need be. I will tell you about it. It +is enough to make your blood run cold.' + +"Honestly, it was running cold already. Here was literature for the +asking. Kirke's wild appearance, his furtive manner, the searching +sheriff--a plot made to order. So I tried to forget the M. E. +Universal, and we slipped into the station and seated ourselves +comfortably on some egg boxes in a shadowy corner where he told his +sad, sad tale. + +"'Connie, you keep a wary eye on the world, the flesh and the devil. I +know whereof I speak. Other earth-born creatures may flirt with sin +and escape unscathed. But the Lord is after the minister's son.' + +"'I thought it was the sheriff after you?' I interrupted. + +"'Well, so it is, technically. And the devil is after the sheriff, but +I think the Lord is touching them both up a little to get even with me. +Anyhow, between the Lord and the devil, with the sheriff thrown in, +this world is no place for a minister's son. And the rule works on +daughters, too. + +"'You know, Connie, I have received the world with open hands, a loving +heart, a receptive soul. And I got gloriously filled up, too, let me +tell you. Connie, shun the little gay-backed cards that bear diamonds +and hearts and spades. Connie, flee from the ice-cold bottles that +bubble to meet your lips. Connie, turn a cold shoulder to the gilded +youths who sing when the night is old.' + +"'For goodness' sake, Kirke, tell me the story before the sheriff gets +you.' + +"'Well, it is a story of bottles on ice.' + +"'Mount Mark is dry.' + +"'Yes, like other towns, Mount Mark is dry for those who want it dry, +but it is wet enough to drown any misguided soul who loves the damp. I +loved it,--but, with the raven, nevermore. Connie, there is one thing +even more fatal to a minister's son than bottles of beer. That thing +is politics. If I had taken my beer straight I might have escaped. +But I tried to dilute it with politics, and behold the result. My +father walking the floor in anguish, my mother in tears, my future +blasted, my hopes shattered.' + +"'Kirke, tell me the story.' + +"'Matters is running for reelection. I do not approve of Matters. He +is a booze fighter and a card shark and a lot of other unscriptural +things. As a Methodist and a minister's son I felt called to battle +his return to office. So I went out electioneering for my friend and +ally, Joe Smithson. You know, Connie, that in spite of my wandering +ways, I have friends in the county and I am a born talker. I took my +faithful steed and I spent many hours, which should have been devoted +to selling furniture, decrying the vices of Matters, extolling the +virtues of Smithson. Matters got his eye on me. + +"'He had the other eye on that office. He saw he must make a strong +bid for county favor. The easiest way to do that in Mount Mark is to +get after a boot-legger. There was Snippy Brown, a poor old harmless +nigger, trying to earn an honest living by selling a surreptitious +bottle from a hole in the ground to a thirsting neighbor in the dead of +night. Plainly Snippy Brown was fairly crying to be raided. Matters +raided him. And he got a couple of hundred of bottles on ice.' + +"'Served him right,' I said, in a Sabbatical voice. + +"'To be sure it did. And Matters put him in jail and made a great fuss +getting ready for his trial. I had a friend at court and he tipped me +off that Matters was going to disgrace the Methodist Church in general +and the Connors in particular by calling me in as a witness, making me +tell where I bought sundry bottles known to have been in my possession. +Picture it to yourself, sweet Connie,--my white-haired mother, my +sad-eyed father, the condemning deacons, the sneering Sunday-school +teachers, the prim-lipped Epworth Leaguers,--it could not be. I left +town. Matters left also,--coming my way. For two days we have been at +it, hot foot, cold foot. We have covered most of southeastern Iowa in +forty-eight hours. He has the papers to serve on me, but he's got to +go some yet.' + +"Kirke stood up and peered about among the trunks. All serene. + +"'I am nearly starved,' he said plaintively. 'Do you suppose we could +sneak into some quiet joint and grab a ham sandwich and a cup of +coffee?' + +"I was willing to risk it, so we sashayed across the Street, I swirling +my skirts as much as possible to help conceal unlucky Kirke. + +"But alas! Kirke had taken just one ravenous gulp at his sandwich when +he stopped abruptly, leaning forward, his coffee cup upraised. I +followed his wide-eyed stare. There outside the window stood Matters, +grinning diabolically. He pushed open the door, Kirke leaped across +the counter and vaulted through the side window, crashing the screen. +Matters dashed around the house in hot pursuit, and I--well, consider +that I was a reporter, seeking a scoop. They did not beat me by six +inches. Only I wish I had dropped the sandwich. I must have looked +funny. + +"Kirke flashed behind a shed, Matters after him, I after Matters. +Kirke zigzagged across a lawn dodging from tree to tree,--Matters and +I. Kirke turned into an alley,--Matters and I. Woe to the erring son +of a minister! It was a blind alley. It ended in a garage and the +garage was locked. + +"Matters pulled out a revolver and yelled, 'Now stop, you fool; stop, +Kirke!' Kirke looked back; I think he was just ready to shin up the +lightning rod but he saw the revolver and stopped. Matters walked up, +laughing, and handed him a paper. Kirke shoved it in his pocket. I +clasped my sandwich in both hands and looked at them tragically,--sob +element. Then Matters turned away and said, 'See you later, Kirke. I +congratulate the county on securing your services. Just the kind of +witness we like, nice, respectable, good family, and all. Makes it +size up big, you know. Be sure and invite your friends.' + +"For a second I thought Kirke would strike him. I shook the sandwich +at him warningly and he answered with a wave of his own,--yes, he had +his sandwich, too. Then he said in a low voice, 'All right, Matters. +But you call me in that trial and I'll get you.' + +"'Oh, oh, Sonny, you must not threaten an officer of the law,' said +Matters, in a hateful, chiding voice. He turned and sauntered away. +Kirke and I watched him silently until he was out of sight. Then we +turned to each other sympathetically. + +"'Let's go back after that coffee,' said Kirke bravely. + +"He took a bite of his sandwich thoughtfully, and I did of mine, trying +to eat the lump in my throat with it. An hour later we went our +separate ways. + +"I heard nothing further for two weeks, then Mr. Nesbitt was called +East on business and said I might go home if I liked. Imagine my +ecstasy. I found the family, as well as all Methodists in general, +quite uplifted over the strange case of Kirke Connor. From a +semi-satanic, he had suddenly evoluted into a regular pillar, as became +the son of his saintly mother and his orthodox father. He attended +church, he sang in the choir, he went to Sunday-school, he was +prominent at prayer-meeting. Every one was full of pious satisfaction +and called him 'dear old Kirke,' and gave him the glad hand and invited +him to help at ice-cream socials. No one could explain it, they +thought he was a Mount Mark edition of Twice Born Men in the flesh. + +"So the first afternoon when he drove around with his speedy little +brown horse and his rubber tired buggy and asked me to go for a drive, +father smiled, and Aunt Grace demurred not. Maybe I could give him a +little more light. I watched him pretty closely the first mile or so. +He had nothing to say until we were a mile out of town. He is a +good-looking fellow, Carol,--you remember, of course, because you never +forget the boys, especially the good-looking ones. His eyes were clear +and slightly humorous, as if he knew a host of funny things if he only +chose to tell. Finally in answer to my reproachful gaze, he said: + +"'Well, I didn't have anything to say about it, did I? I did not ask +to be born a minister's son. It was foreordained, and now I've got to +live up to it in self-defense. There may be forgiveness for other +erring ones, but I tell you our crowd is spotted.' + +"I had nothing to say. + +"'Well, you might at least say, "Good for you, my boy. Here's luck?"' +he complained. + +"I was still silent. + +"'It is good business, too,' he continued belligerently. 'I am selling +lots of furniture. I have burned the black and white cards. I have +broken the ice-cold bottles. I have shunned the gilded youths with +mellow voices. I go to church. I sell furniture. I sleuth Matters.' + +"'You what?' + +"'I am trailing Matters. Turn about. Where he goeth, I goeth. Where +he lodgeth, I lodgeth. His knowledge is my knowledge, and his tricks, +my salvation.' + +"'You make me sick, Kirke. Why don't you talk sense?' + +"'He is crooked, Connie, and everybody knows it. But it is no cinch +catching him at it. Smithson is going to be elected and Matters knows +it. But the only way I can keep out of that trial is to get something +on Matters. So whenever he is out, I am out on the same road. He is +going toward New London this afternoon and so are we. I have got just +five more days and you must be a good little scout and go driving with +me, so he won't catch on that I am sleuthing him. He will think I am +just beauing you around in the approved Mount Mark style.' + +"Sure enough after a while we came across Matters talking to a couple +of farmers on the cross roads, and Kirke and I stopped a quarter of a +mile farther down and ate sandwiches and told stories, and when Matters +passed us a little later he could have sworn we were there just for our +joy in each other's company. But we did not learn anything. + +"The next day we were out again, with no better luck. But the third +day about four in the afternoon, Kirke called me on the telephone. +There was subtle excitement in his voice. + +"'Come for a drive, Connie?' he asked; common words, but there was a +world of hidden invitation, of secret lure, in his voice for me. + +"'Yes, gladly,' I said. Father did not nod approvingly and Aunt Grace +did not smile this time. Three days in succession was a little too +warm even for a newly made pillar, but they said nothing and Kirke and +I set out. + +"'He raided Jack Mott's last night and has about three hundred bottles +to smash this afternoon. The old fellow is pretty fond of the ice-cold +bottles himself and it is common report that he raids just often enough +to keep himself supplied. So I think I'll keep an eye on him to-day. +He started half an hour ago, south road, and he has Gus Waldron with +him,--his boon companion, and the most notoriously ardent devotee of +the bottles in all dear dry Mount Mark. Lovely day for a drive, isn't +it?' + +"'Yes, lovely.' I was very happy. I felt like a princess of old, +riding off into danger, and I felt very warm and friendly toward Kirke. +Remember that he is very good-looking and just bad enough in spite of +his new pillar-hood, to be spell-binding, and--it was lots of fun. +Kirke grabbed my hand and squeezed it chummily, and I smiled at him. + +"'You are a glorious girl,' he said. + +"I suppose I should have reminded him and myself that he was a +semi-satanic, but I did not. I laughed and rubbed the back of his hand +softly with the tips of my nice pink finger nails, and laughed again. + +"Then here came a light wagon,--Matters and Waldron,--going home, and +we realized we had been loitering on the job. Kirke shook his head +impatiently. + +"'You distracted me,' he said. 'I forgot my reputation's salvation in +the smile of your eye.' + +"But we drove on to look the field over. Less than half a mile down +the road we came to a low creek with rocky rugged banks. The banks +were splashed and splattered with bits of glass, and over the glass and +over the rocks ran thin trickling streams of a pale brown liquid that +had a perfectly sickening odor. I sniffed disgustedly as we walked +over to reconnoiter. + +"'I guess he made good all right,' said Kirke in a disappointed voice, +inspecting the glass-splattered banks of the creek. Then he leaped +across and walked lightly up the bank on the opposite side. Stooping +down, he lifted an unbroken bottle and waved it at me, laughing. + +"'They missed one. Never a crack in it and still cold.' He looked at +it curiously, affectionately, then with resignation. 'I am a +minister's son,' he reminded himself sternly. He lifted the bottle +above his head, and with his eye selected a nice rough rock half way +down the bank. 'Watch the bubbles,' he called to me. + +"'Hay, mister,' interposed a voice, 'gimme half a dollar an' I'll show +you a whole pile of 'em that ain't broke.' + +"Slowly we rallied from our stupefaction as we gazed at the slim, +brown, barefooted lad of the farm who was proudly brandishing a +forbidden cigarette of corn-silks. + +"'A whole pile of 'em. On the square?' asked Kirke with glittering +eyes. + +"'Yes, sir. A couple o' fellows come out in a light wagon a while ago +an' had a lot of bottles in boxes. First they throwed one on the +rocks, an' then they throwed one up in the tall grass, one up an' one +down. There's a whole pile of 'em that ain't broke at all. An' the +little dark fellow says, "A good job, Gus. We'll be Johnny-on-the-spot +as soon as it gets dark."' + +"Kirke was standing over him, his eyes bright, his hands clenched. 'On +the level?' he whispered. + +"'Sure, but gimme the half first.' Kirke passed out a silver dollar +without a word and the boy snatched it from him, giggling to himself +with rapture. + +"'Right up there, mister, in that pile of weeds.' + +"Kirke took my hand and we scrambled up the bank, pulling back the tall +grass,--no need to stoop and look. Bottle after bottle, bottle after +bottle, lay there snugly and securely, waiting for the sheriff and his +friend to rescue them after dark. + +"The lad had already disappeared, smoking his corn-silks rapturously, +his dollar snug in the palm of his hand. And Kirke and I, without a +word, began patiently carrying the bottles to the buggy. Again and +again we returned to the clump of weeds, counting the bottles as we +carried them out,--a hundred and fifty of them, even. + +"Then we got into the buggy, feet outside, for the bed of the buggy was +filled and piled high, covered with the robe to discourage prying eyes, +and turned the little brown mare toward town. + +"'Connie, would you seriously object to kissing me just once? I feel +the need of it this minute,--moral stimulus, you know.' + +"'Ministers' daughters have to be very, very careful,' I told him in an +even voice. + +"We were both silent then as we drove into town. When he pulled up in +front of the house he looked me straight in the face, and he uses his +eyes effectively. + +"'You are a darling,' he said. + +"I said 'Thanks,' and went into the house. + +"He told me next morning what happened that evening. Of course he was +there to witness Matters' discomfiture. He did not put in appearance +until the sheriff and his friend were climbing anxiously and sadly into +the light wagon to return home empty-handed. Then he sauntered from +behind a hedge and lifted his hat in his usual debonair manner. + +"'By the way, Mr. Sheriff,' he began in a quiet, ingratiating voice, 'I +hope I am not to be called as a witness in that boot-legging case.' + +"Matters snarled at him. 'Pooh,' he said angrily, 'you can't blackmail +me like that. You can't prove anything on me. I reckon the people +around here will take the word of the sheriff of their county against +the booze fightin' son of a Methodist preacher.' + +"Kirke waved his hand airily. 'Far be it from me to enter into any +defense of my father's son. But a hundred and fifty bottles are pretty +good evidence. And speaking of witnesses, I have a hunch that the +people of this county will fall pretty hard for anything that comes +from the lips of the baby daughter of the district superintendent of +the Methodist Church.' + +"Matters hunched forward in his seat. 'Connie Starr,' he said, in a +hollow voice. + +"Kirke swished the weeds with his cane,--he has all those graceful +affectations. + +"Matters swallowed a few times. 'Old man Starr is too smart a man to +get his family mixed up in politics,' he finally brought out. + +"'Baby Con is of age, I think,' said Kirke lightly. 'And she is very +advanced, you know, something of a reformer, has all kinds of +emancipated notions.' + +"Matters whipped up and disappeared, and Kirke went to prayer-meeting. +Aunt Grace saw him; I wasn't there. + +"The next day, I met Matters on the street. Rather, he met me. + +"'Miss Connie,' he said in a friendly, inviting voice, 'you know there +are a lot of things in politics that girls can't get to the bottom of. +You know my record, I've been a good Methodist since before you were +born. Sure you wouldn't go on the witness stand on circumstantial +evidence to make trouble for a good Methodist, would you?' + +"I looked at him with wide and childish eyes. 'Of course not, Mr. +Matters,' I said quickly. He brightened visibly. 'But if I am called +on a witness stand I have to tell what I have seen and heard, haven't +I, whatever it is?' I asked this very innocently, as one seeking +information only. + +"'Your father wouldn't let a young girl like you get mixed up in any +dirty county scandal,' he protested. + +"'If I was--what do you call it--subpoenaed--is that the word?' He +forgot that I was working in a lawyer's office. 'If I was subpoenaed +as a witness, could father help himself?' + +"Mr. Matters went forlornly on his way and that night Kirke came around +to say that the sheriff had informed him casually that he thought his +services would not be needed on that boot-legging case,--they had +plenty of other witnesses,--and out of regard for the family, etc., etc. + +"Kirke smiled at him. 'Thank you very much. And, Matters, I have a +hundred and fifty nice cold bottles in the basement,--if you get too +warm some summer evening come around and I'll help you cool off.' + +"Matters thanked him incoherently and went away. + +"That day Kirke and I had a confidential conversation. 'Connie Starr, +I believe I am half a preacher right now. You marry me, and I will +study for the ministry.' + +"'Kirke Connor,' I said, 'if any fraction of you is a minister, it +isn't on speaking terms with the rest of you. That's certain. And I +wouldn't marry you if you were a whole Conference. And I don't want to +marry a preacher of all people. And anyhow I am not going to get +married at all.' + +"At breakfast the next morning father said, 'I believe Kirke Connor is +headed straight, for good and all. Now if some nice girl could just +marry him he would be safe enough.' + +"Aunt Grace looked at him warningly. 'But of course no nice girl could +do it, yet,' she interposed quickly. 'It wouldn't be safe. He can't +marry until he is sure of himself.' + +"'Oh, I don't know,' I said thoughtfully. 'Provided the girl were +clever as well as nice, she could handle Kirke easily. Now I may not +be the nicest girl in the world, but no one can deny that I am clever.' + +"Father swallowed helplessly. Then he rallied. 'By the way, Connie, +won't you come down to Burlington with me for a couple of days? I have +a lot of work to do there, and we can have a nice little honeymoon all +by ourselves. What do you say?' + +"'Oh, thank you, father, that is lovely. Let's go on the noon train, +shall we? I can be ready.' + +"'All right, just fine.' He flashed a triumphant glance at Aunt Grace +and she dimpled her approval. + +"'Now don't tell any one we are going, father,' I cautioned him. 'I +want to surprise Kirke Connor. He is going to Burlington on that train +himself, and it will be such a joke on him to find us there ready to be +entertained. He is to be there several days, so he can amuse me while +you are busy. Isn't it lovely? He really needs a little boosting now, +and it is our duty, and--will you press my suit, Auntie? I must fly or +I won't be ready.' + +"Aunt Grace looked reproachfully at father, and father looked +despairingly at Aunt Grace. But we had a splendid time in Burlington, +the three of us, for father never did one second's work all the time, +he was so deathly afraid to leave me alone with Kirke. + +"Isn't it lots of fun to be alive, Carol? So many thrilling and +interesting and happy things come up every day,--I love to dig in and +work hard, and how I love to drop my work at five thirty and run home +and doll up, and play, and flirt--just nice, harmless flirting,--and +sing, and talk,--really, it is a darling little old world, isn't it? + +"Oh, and by the way, Carol, when you want a divorce just write me about +it. Mr. Nesbitt and I specialize on divorces, and I can do the whole +thing myself and save you lots of trouble. Just tell me when, and I +will furnish your motive. + +"Lovingly as always, + +"Connie." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE HEAVY YOKE + +The burden of ministering rested very lightly on Carol's slender +shoulders. The endless procession of missionary meetings, aid +societies, guilds and boards, afforded her a childish delight and did +not sap her enthusiasm to the slightest degree. She went out of her +little manse each new day, laughing, and returned, wearily perhaps, but +still laughing. She sang light-heartedly with the youth of the church, +because she was young and happy with them. She sympathized +passionately with the old and sorry ones, because the richness of her +own content, and the blessed perfection of her own life, made her heart +tender. + +Into her new life she had carried three matchless assets for a +minister's wife,--a supreme confidence in the exaltation of the +ministry, a boundless adoration for her husband, and a natural liking +for people that made people naturally like her. Thus equipped, she +faced the years of aids and missions with profound serenity. + +She was sorry they hadn't more time for the honeymoon business, she and +David. Honeymooning was such tremendously good fun. But they were so +almost unbelievably busy all the time. On Monday David was down-town +all day, attending minister's meeting and Presbytery in the morning, +and looking up new books in the afternoon. Carol always joined him for +lunch and they counted that noon-time hour a little oasis in a week of +work. In the evening there were deacons' meetings, or trustees' +meetings, or the men's Bible class. On Tuesday evening they had a +Bible study class. On Wednesday evening was prayer-meeting. Thursday +night, they, with several of their devoted workers, walked a mile and a +half across country to Happy Hollow where they conducted mad little +mission meetings. Friday night Carol met with the young women's club, +and on Saturday night was a mission study class. + +Carol used to sigh over the impossibility of having a beau night. She +said that she had often heard that husbands couldn't be sweethearts, +but she had never believed it before. Pinned down to facts, however, +she admitted she preferred the husband. + +Mornings Carol was busy with housework, talking to herself without +intermission as she worked. And David spent long hours in his study, +poring over enormous books that Carol insisted made her head ache from +the outside and would probably give her infantile paralysis if she +dared to peep between the covers. Afternoons were the aid societies, +missionary societies, and all the rest of them, and then the endless +calls,--calls on the sick, calls on the healthy, calls on the pillars, +calls on the backsliders, calls on the very sad, calls on the very +happy,--every varying phase of life in a church community merits a call +from the minister and his wife. + +The heavy yoke,--the yoke of dead routine,--dogs the footsteps of every +minister, and even more, of every minister's wife. But Carol thought +of the folks that fitted into the cogs of the routine to drive it round +and round,--the teachers, the doctors' wives, the free-thinkers, the +mothers, the professional women, the cynics, the pillars of the +church,--and thinking of the folks, she forgot the routine. And so to +her, routine could never prove a clog, stagnation. Every meeting +brought her a fresh revelation, they amused her, those people, they +puzzled her, sometimes they made her sad and frightened her, as they +taught her facts of life they had gleaned from wide experience and +often in bitter tears. Still, they were folks, and Carol had always +had a passion for people. + +David worked too hard. It was positively wicked for any human being to +work as he did, and she scolded him roundly, and even went so far as to +shake him, and then kissed him a dozen times to prove how very angry +she was at him for abusing himself so shamefully. + +David did work hard, as hard as every young minister must work to get +things going right, to make his labor count. His face, always thin, +was leaner, more intense than ever. His eyes were clear, far-seeing. +The whiteness of his skin, amounting almost to pallor, gave him that +suggestion of spirituality not infrequently seen in men of passionate +consecration to a high ideal. The few graying hairs at his temples, +and even the half-droop of his shoulders, added to his scholarly +appearance, and Carol was firmly convinced that he was the +finest-looking man in all St. Louis, and every place else for that +matter. + +The mad little mission, so-called because of the riotous nature of the +meetings held there, was in a most flourishing condition. Everything +was going beautifully for the little church in the Heights, and in +their gratitude, and their happiness, Carol and David worked harder +than ever,--and mutually scolded each other for the folly of it. + +"I tell you this, David Arnold Duke," Carol told him sternly, "if you +don't do something to that cold so you can preach without coughing, I +shall do the preaching myself, and then where would you be?" + +"Without a job, of course," he answered. "But you wouldn't do it. The +wind has chafed your darling complexion, and you wouldn't go into the +pulpit with a rough face. Your devotion to your beauty saves me." + +"All very well, but maybe you think a cold-sermon is effective." +Carol stood up and lifted her hand impressively. "My dear brothers +and sisters,--hem-ah-hem-h-hh-em,--let us unite in reading +the--ah-huh-huh-huh. Let us sing--h-h-h-h-hem--well, let us unite in +prayer then--ah-chooo! ah-choooooo!" + +"Where did you put those cough-drops?" he demanded. "But even at that +it is better than you would do. 'Just as soon as I powder my face we +will unite in singing hymn one hundred thirty-six. Oh, excuse me a +minute,--I believe I feel a cold-sore coming,--I have a mirror right +here, and it won't take a minute. Now, I am ready. Let us arise and +sing,--but since I can not sing I will just polish my nails while the +rest of you do it. Ready, go!'" + +Carol laughed at the picture, but marched off for the bottle of cough +medicine and the powder box, and while he carefully measured out a +teaspoonful of the one for himself, she applied the other with gay +devotion. + +"But I truly think you should not go to Happy Hollow to-night," she +said. "Mr. Baldwin will go with me, bless his faithful old pillary +heart. And you ought to stay in. It is very stormy, and that long +walk--" + +"Oh, nonsense, a little cough like this! You are dead tired yourself; +you stay at home to-night, and Baldwin and I will go. You really ought +to, Carol, you are on the jump every minute. Won't you?" + +"Most certainly not. I haven't a cold, have I? Maybe you want to keep +me away so you can flirt with some of the Hollowers while I am out of +sight. Absolutely vetoed. I go." + +"Please, Carol,--won't you? Because I ask it?" + +She snuggled up to him at that and said: "It's too lonesome, Davie, and +I have to go to remind you of your rubbers, and to muffle up your +throat. But--" + +The ring of the telephone disturbed them, and she ran to answer. + +"Mr. Baldwin?--Yes--Oh, that is nice of you. I've been trying to coax +him to stay home myself. David, Mr. Baldwin thinks you should not go +out to-night, with such a cold, and he will take the meeting, and--oh, +please, honey." + +David took the receiver from her hand. + +"Thanks very much, Mr. Baldwin, that is mighty kind of you, but I feel +fine to-night.--Oh, sure, just a little cold. Yes, of course. Come +and go with us, won't you? Yes, be here about seven. Better make it a +quarter earlier, it's bad walking to-night." + +"David, please," coaxed Carol. + +"Goosie! Who but a wife would make an invalid of a man because he +sneezes?" David laughed, and Carol said no more. + +But a few minutes later, as she was carefully arranging a soft fur hat +over her hair and David stood patiently holding her coat, there came a +light tap at the door. + +"It is Mr. Daniels," said Carol. "I know his knock. Come in, Father +Daniels. I knew it was you." + +The old elder from next door, his gray hair standing in every direction +from the wind he had encountered bareheaded, his little gray eyes +twinkling bright, opened the door. + +"You crazy kids aren't going down to that Hollow a night like this," he +protested. + +They nodded, laughing. + +"Well, David can't go," he said decidedly. "That's a bad cold he's +got, and it's been hanging on too long. I can't go myself for I can't +walk, but I'll call up my son-in-law and make him go. So take off your +hat, Parson, and-- No you come over and read the Bible to me while the +young folks go gadding. I need some ministerial attention myself,--I'm +wavering in my faith." + +"You, wavering?" demanded David. "If no one ever wavered any harder +than you do, Daniels, there wouldn't be much of a job for the +preachers. And you say for me to let Carol go with Dick? What are you +thinking of? I tell you when any one goes gadding with Carol, I am the +man." Then he added seriously: "But really, I've got to go to-night. +We're just getting hold of the folks down there and we can't let go. +Otherwise, I should make Carol stay in. But the boys in her class are +so fond of her that I know she is needed as much as I am." + +"But that cough--" + +"Oh, that cough is all right. It will go when spring comes. I just +haven't had a chance to rest my throat. I feel fine to-night. Come on +in, Baldwin. Yes, we are ready. Still snowing? Well, a little snow-- +Here, Carol, you must wear your gaiters. I'll buckle them." + +A little later they set out, the three of them, heads lowered against +the driving snow. There were no cars running across country, and +indeed not even sidewalks, since it was an unfrequented part of the +town with no residences for many blocks until one reached the little, +tumbledown section in the Hollow. Here and there were heavy drifts, +and now and then an unexpected ditch in the path gave Carol a tumble +into the snow, but, laughing and breathless, she was pulled out again +and they plodded heavily on. + +In spite of the inclement weather, the tiny house--called a mission by +grace of speech--was well and noisily filled. Over sixty people were +crowded into the two small rooms, most of them boys between the ages of +twelve and sixteen, laughing, coughing, dragging their feet, shoving +the heavy benches, dropping song-books. They greeted the snow-covered +trio with a royal roar, and a few minutes later were singing, "Yes, +we'll gather at the river," at the tops of their discordant voices. +Carol sat at the wheezy organ, painfully pounding out the rhythmic +notes,--no musician she, but willing to do anything in a pinch. And +although at the pretty little church up in the Heights she never +attempted to lift her voice in song, down at the mission she felt +herself right in her element and sang with gay good-will, happy in the +knowledge that she came as near holding to the tune as half the others. + +Most of the evening was spent in song, David standing in the narrow +doorway between the two rooms, nodding this way, nodding that, in a +futile effort to keep a semblance of time among the boisterous +worshipers. A short reading from the Bible, a very brief prayer, a +short, conversational story-talk from David, and the meeting broke up +in wild clamor. + +Then back through the driving snow they made their way, considering the +evening well worth all the exertion it had required. + +Once inside the cozy manse, David and Carol hastily changed into warm +dressing-gowns and slippers and lounged lazily before the big +fireplace, sipping hot coffee, and talking, always talking of the +work,--what must be done to-morrow, what could be arranged for Sunday, +the young people's meeting, the primary department, the mission study +class. + +And Carol brought out the big bottle and administered the designated +teaspoonful. + +"For you must quit coughing, David," she said. "You ruined two good +points last Sunday by clearing your throat in the middle of a phrase. +And it isn't so easy making points as that." + +"Aren't you tired of hearing me preach, Carol? We've been married a +whole year now. Aren't you finding my sermons monotonous?" + +"David," she said earnestly, resting her head against his shoulder, +partly for weariness, partly for the pleasure of feeling the rise and +fall of his breast,--"when you go up into the pulpit you look so white +and good, like an apostle or a good angel, it almost frightens me. I +think, 'Oh, no, he isn't my husband, not really,--he is just a good +angel God sent to keep me out of mischief.' And while you are +preaching I never think, 'He is mine.' I always think, 'He is God's.'" + +Tears came into her eyes as she spoke, and David drew her close in his +arms. + +"Do you, sweetheart? It seems a terrible thing to stand up there +before a houseful, of people, most of them good, and clean, and full of +faith, and try to direct their steps in the broader road. I sometimes +feel that men are not fit for it. There ought to be angels from +Heaven." + +"But there are angels from Heaven watching over them, David, guiding +them, showing them how. I believe good white angels are guiding every +true minister,--not the bad ones-- Oh, I know a lot about ministers, +honey,--proud, ambitious, selfish, vainglorious, hypocritical, even +amorous, a lot of them,--but there are others, true ones,--you, David, +and some more. They just have to grow together until harvest, and then +the false ones will be dug up and dumped in the garbage." + +For a while they were silent. + +Finally he asked, smiling a little, "Are you getting cramped, Carol? +Are you getting narrow, and settling down to a rut? Have you lost your +enthusiasm and your sparkle?" + +Carol laughed at him. "David, do you remember the first night we were +married, when we knelt down together to say our prayers and you put +your arm around my shoulder, and we prayed there, side by side? +Dearest, that one little fifteen minutes of confidence and humility and +heart-gratitude was worth all the sparkle and fire in the world. But +have I lost it? Seems to me I am as much a shouting Methodist as ever." + +David laughed, coughing a little, and Carol bustled him off to bed, +sure he was catching a brand new cold, and berating herself roundly for +allowing this foolish angel of hers to get a chill right on her very +hands. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FIRST STEP + +It was Sunday night in mid-winter. After church, David remained for a +trustees' meeting, and Carol walked home with some of the younger ones +of the congregation. When they asked if she wished them to wait with +her for David she shook her head, smiling gratefully but with weariness. + +"No, thank you. I am going right straight to bed. I am tired." + +Into the little manse she crept, sinking into the first easy chair that +presented itself. With slow listless fingers she removed her wraps, +dropping them on the floor beside her,--laboriously unbuttoned and +removed her shoes, and in the same lifeless manner loosened her dress +and took the pins from her hair. Then, holding her garments about her, +she went in search of night dress, slippers and negligee. A few +seconds later she returned and curled herself up with some cushions on +the floor before the fireplace. + +"Ought to make some coffee,--David's so hungry after +church,--too--dead--tired--Ummmmm." Her voice trailed off into a +murmur and she closed her eyes. + +David found her so, soundly sleeping, her hair curling about her face. +He knelt down and kissed her. She opened one eye. + +"Coffee?" she queried automatically. + +"I should say not. Go to bed." He sprawled full length on the floor, +his head against her arm. + +"Worn out, aren't you, David?" + +"Well, I'm ready for bed; Such a day! Did you have time for Mrs. +Garder before Endeavor?" + +"Yes, she knew me too. I am glad I went. She had been waiting for me. +They say it is only a few days now. The way of a minister's wife is +hard sometimes. She wanted me to sing _Lead Kindly Light_, and was so +puzzled and confused when I insisted I couldn't sing. She thought +ministers' wives always sang. I know she is disappointed in me now. +If the Lord foreknew that I was going to marry a minister, why didn't +He foreordain that I should sing?" + +David laughed, but attempted no explanation. + +"Did you get along all right at the Old Ladies' Home?" + +"Oh, fine. The girls sang beautifully, and I read the Bible lesson +without mispronouncing a single word. Did the boys miss me at the +Hollow?" + +"Yes, they said they needed you worse than the old ladies. Maybe they +were right. We must save your Sunday afternoons for them after this. +They do need you." + +"Did you have supper with the Baldwins?" + +"Yes. You stayed with Mrs. Norris, didn't you?" + +"Yes. Um, I am sleepy." + +David coughed slightly. + +"Get up off this floor, David Duke," scolded Carol. "Don't you know +that floors are always drafty? I am surprised at you. I wish Prudence +was here to make you soak your feet in hot water and drink peppermint +tea." + +"You work too hard, Carol. You are busy every minute." + +"Yes. I have to be, to keep in hailing distance of you. You usually +do about three things at once." + +"It's been a good year, Carol. You've enjoyed it, spite of everything, +haven't you?" + +"It's been the most wonderful year one could dream of. Even Connie's +literary imagination could not conjure up a sweeter one." + +"Always something to do, something to think of, some one to +see,--always on the alert, to-day crowded full, to-morrow to look +forward to." + +"And best of all, David, always with you, working with you, taking care +of you,--always-- Oh, I am tired, but it is not so bad being tired out +when you've done your level best." + +"Carol, it is fine, labor is, it is life. I can't imagine an existence +without it. Going to bed, worn out with the day, rising in the morning +ready to plunge in over one's ears. It is the only real life there is. +How do people endure a drifting through the days, with never anything +to do and never worn enough to sleep?" + +"I don't know," said Carol promptly. "They aren't alive, that's sure. +But let's go to bed. David, please get off that floor and stop +coughing." + +David obediently got up, lightly dusting his trousers as he did so. +Then he lifted his arms high and breathed deeply. "Anyhow it is better +to be tired than lazy, isn't it?" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +REACTION + +"Will you have this woman?" + +David's clear, low voice sounded over the little church, and the bride +lifted confident, trusting eyes to his face. The people in the pews +leaned forward. They had glanced approvingly at the slender, dark-eyed +girl in her bridal white, but now every eye was centered on the +minister. The hand in which he held the Book was white, blue veined, +the fingers long and thin. His eyes were nervously bright, with faint +circles beneath them. + +David looked sick. + +So the glowing, sweet faced bride was neglected and the groom received +scant attention. The minister cleared his throat slightly, and the +service went smoothly on to the end. + +But the sigh of relief that went up at its conclusion betokened not so +much satisfaction that another young couple were setting forth on the +troubled, tempting waters of matrimony, as that David had finished +another service and all might yet be well. + +Carol, half way back in the church, had heard not one word of the +service. + +"David is an angel, but I do wish he were a little less heavenly," she +thought passionately. "He--makes me nervous." + +The carriage was at the door to take the minister and his wife to the +Daniels home for the bridal reception, but David said, "Tell him to +take us to the manse first, Carol. I've got to rest a minute. I'm +tired to-night." + +In the living-room of the manse he carefully removed the handsome black +coat in which he had been graduated from the Seminary in Chicago, and +in which a little later he had been ordained for the ministry and +installed in his church in the Heights. Still later he had worn it at +his marriage. David hung it over the back of a chair, saying as he did +so: + +"Wearing pretty well, isn't it? It may be called upon to officiate in +other crises for me, so it behooves me to husband it well." + +Then he dropped heavily on the davenport before the fireplace, with +Carol crouching on a cushion beside him, stroking his hand. + +"Let's not go to the reception," she said. "We've congratulated them a +dozen times already." + +"Oh, we've got to go," he answered. "They would be disappointed. +We'll only stay a few minutes. Just as soon as I rest--I am played out +to-night--it is only a step." + +They slipped among the guests at the reception quietly and +unobtrusively, but were instantly surrounded. + +"A good service, David," said Mr. Daniels, eying him keenly. "You make +such a pretty job of it I'd like to try it over myself." + +"Now, Dan," expostulated his anxious little wife. "Don't you pay any +attention to him, Mrs. Duke, he's always talking." + +"I know it," said Carol appreciatively. "I never pay attention." + +"You need a vacation, Mr. Duke," broke in a voice impulsively. + +"I know it," assented David. "We'll take one in the spring,--and you +can help pay the expenses." + +"You'd better take it now," suggested Mrs. Baldwin. "The church can +get along without you, you know." + +But the laugh that went up was not genuine. Many of them, in their +devotion to David, wondered if the church really could get along +without him. + +David gaily waved aside the enormous plate of refreshments that was +passed to him. "I had my dinner, you know," he explained. "Carol +isn't neglecting me." + +"He had it, but he didn't eat it,--and it was fried chicken," said +Carol sadly. + +A few minutes later they were at home again, and before Carol had +finished the solemn task of rubbing cold cream into her pretty skin, +David was sleeping heavily, his face flushed, his hands twitching +nervously at times. + +Carol stood above him, gazing adoringly down upon him for a while. +Then shutting her eyes, she said fervently: + +"Oh, God, do make David less like an angel, and more like other men." + +Early the next morning she was up and had steaming hot coffee ready for +David almost before his eyes were open. + +"To crowd out that mean little cough that spoils your breakfast," she +said. "I shall keep you in bed to-day." + +All morning David lounged around the house, hugging the fireplace, and +complained of feeling cold though it was a warm bright day late in +April, and although the fire was blazing. In the afternoon he took off +his jacket and loosened his collar. + +"It certainly is hot enough now," he declared. "Open the windows, +Carol,--I am roasting." + +"That is fever," she announced ominously. "Do you feel very badly?" + +"Well, nothing extra," he assented grudgingly. + +"David, if you love me, let's call a doctor. You are going to have the +grippe, or pneumonia, or something awful, and--if you love me, David." + +The pleading voice arrested his refusal and he gave the desired +consent, still laughing at the silly notion. + +So Carol sped next door to the home of Mr. Daniels, the fatherly elder. + +"Mr. Daniels," she cried, brightly happy because David had consented to +a doctor, and a doctor meant health and strength and the end of that +hateful little cough. "We are going to have a doctor see David. What +is the name of that man down-town--the one you think is so wonderful?" + +Mr. Daniels gladly gave her the name, warmly approving the move, but he +shook his head a little over David. "I am no pessimist," he said, "but +David is not just exactly right." + +"The doctor will fix him up," cried Carol joyously. "I am so relieved +and comfortable now. Don't try to worry me." + +David looked nervous when Carol gave him the name of the physician she +had called. + +"He is a Catholic,--and some of the members think--" + +"Of course they do, but I am the head of this house," declared Carol, +standing on tiptoe and assuming her most lordly air. "And Doctor +O'Hara is the best in town, and he is coming." + +"Oh, all right, if you feel like that about it. I don't suppose he +would give me strychnine just because I am a Presbyterian minister." + +"Oh, mercy!" ejaculated Carol. "I never thought of that. Do you +suppose he would?" + +But David only laughed at her, as he so often did. + +When Carol met the doctor at the door, she found instant reassurance in +the strong, kind, clever face. + +"It's a cold," she explained, "but it hangs on too long, and he keeps +running down-hill." + +The doctor looked very searchingly into David's pale bright face. And +Carol and David did not know that the extra joke and the extravagant +cheeriness of his voice indicated that things looked badly. They took +great satisfaction in his easy manner, and when, after a brief +examination, he said: + +"Now, into bed you go, Mr. Duke, and there you stay a while. Get a +substitute for Sunday. You've got to make a baby of a bad cold and pet +it a little." + +David and Carol laughed, and when the doctor went away, and David was +safely in bed, Carol perched up beside him and they had a stirring game +of parcheesi. But David soon tired, and lay very quietly all evening, +eating no dinner, and talking very little. Telephone messages from +"the members" came thick and fast, with offers of all kinds of tempting +viands, and callers came streaming to the door. But Father Daniels +next door turned them every one away. + +"He can't talk any more," he said in his abrupt, yet kindly way. "He's +just worn out talking to this bunch,--that's all that ails him." + +Next day the doctor came again, gave another examination, and said +there was some little congestion in the lungs. + +"Just do as I have told you,--keep the windows up, drink a lot of fresh +milk, and eat all the raw eggs you can choke down." + +"He won't eat anything," said Carol. + +"Let him fast then, and he'll soon be begging for raw eggs. I'll see +you again to-morrow." + +When he returned next day there was a little shadow in the kind eyes. +David lay on the cot, smiling, and Carol stood beside him. + +"How do you feel to-day?" + +"Oh, just fine," came the ready answer. + +But the shadow in the doctor's eyes deepened. + +"The meanest part of a doctor's work is handing out death blows to +hope," he said. "But you two are big enough to take a hard knock +without flinching, and I won't need to beat around the bush. Mr. Duke, +you have tuberculosis." + +David winched a little and Carol clutched his hand spasmodically, yet +they smiled quickly, comfortingly into each other's eyes. + +"That does not mean that your life is fanning out, by any means," +continued the doctor in his easy voice. "We've got a grip on the +disease now. You are getting it right at the start and you stand a +splendid chance. Your clean life will help. Your laughing wife will +help. Your confidence in a Divine Doctor will help. Everything is on +your side. If you can, I think I should go out west somewhere,--to New +Mexico, or Arizona. It is low here, and damp,--lots of people chase +the cure here, and find it, but it is easier out there where the air is +light and fine and the temperature is even, and where doctors +specialize on lungs." + +"Yes, yes, indeed, we shall go right away," declared Carol feverishly. +"Yes, indeed." + +"Keep on with my treatment while you are here. And get out as soon as +you can. Stay in bed all the time, and don't bother with many +visitors. I don't need to tell you the minor precautions. You both +have brains. Be sure you use them. Now, don't get blue. You've still +got plenty to laugh at, Mrs. Duke. And I give you fair warning, when +you quit laughing there's the end of the fight. You haven't any other +weapon strong enough to beat the germs." + +It was hard indeed for Carol to see anything to laugh at just that +moment, but she smiled, rather wanly, at the doctor when he went away. + +There was silence between them for a moment. + +At last, she leaned over him and whispered breathlessly, "Maybe it is +really a good thing, David. You did need a vacation, and now you are +bound to get it." + +David smiled at her persistent philosophy of optimism. + +Again there was silence. Finally, with an effort he spoke. "Carol, +I--I could have thanked God for letting us know this two years ago. +Then you would have escaped." + +"David, don't say that. Just this minute I was thanking Him in my +heart because we didn't know until we belonged to each other." + +She lifted her lips to him, as she always did when deeply moved, and +instinctively he lowered his to meet them. But before he touched her +he stopped, stricken by a bitter thought, and pushed her face away +almost roughly. + +"Oh, Carol," he cried, "I can't. I can never kiss you again. I have +loved to touch you, always. I have loved your cool, sweet, powdery +skin, and your lips,--I have always thought of your lips as a crimson +bow in a pale pink cloud,--I--I have loved to touch you. I have always +adored your face, the look of it as well as the feel of it. I have +_loved_ to kiss you." + +Carol slipped an arm beneath his head and strove to pull his hand away +from his face. + +"Go on and do it," she whispered passionately. "I am not afraid. You +kissed me yesterday and it didn't hurt me. Kiss me, David,--I don't +care if I do get it." + +He laughed at her then, uncertainly, brokenly, but he laughed. "Oh, no +you don't, my lady," he said. "You've got to keep strong and well to +take care of me. You want to get sick so you'll get half the petting." + +Like a flash came the revelation of what her future was to be. "Oh, of +course," she cried, in a changed voice. "Of course we must be +careful,--I forgot. I'll have to keep very strong and rugged, won't I? +Indeed, I will be careful." + +Then they sat silent again. + +"Out west," he said at last dreamily. "Out west. I've always wanted +to go west. Not just this way, but--maybe it is our chance, Carol." + +"Of course it is. We'll just rest and play a couple of months, and +then come back better than ever. No, let's get a church out there and +stay forever. That will be Safety First. Isn't it grand we have that +money in the bank, David? Think how solemn it would be now if we were +clear broke, as we were before we decided to economize and start a +bank-account." + +David nodded, smiling, but the smile was grave. The little +bank-account was very fine, but to David, lying there with the wreck of +his life about him, the outlook was solemn in spite of it. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +UPHEAVAL + +"Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, +fifty-three,--for goodness' sake!--fifty-four, fifty-five." Carol +looked helplessly at her dusty hands and mopped her face desperately +with her forearm. + +David, watching her from the bed in the adjoining room, gave way to +silent laughter, and she resumed her solemn count. + +"Forty-six, forty--" + +"Fifty-six," he called. "Don't try any trickery on me." + +"Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty." She sighed +audibly. "Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four--sixty-four +perfectly fresh eggs," she announced, turning to the doorway and +frowning at her husband, who still laughed. "Sixty-four perfectly +fresh eggs, all laid yesterday." + +"Now, I give you fair warning, my dear, I am no cold storage plant, and +you can't make me absorb any sixty-four egg-nogs daily just to even up +the demand with the supply. I drank seven yesterday, but this is too +much. You must seek another warehouse." + +"You are very clever and facetious, Davie, really quite entertaining. +But what am I to do with sixty-four fresh eggs?" + +"And I may as well confess frankly that I consider a minister's wife +distinctly out of her sphere when she tries to corner the fresh egg +market, particularly at the present price of existence. It isn't +scriptural. It isn't orthodox. I am surprised at you, Carol. It must +be some more Methodism cropping out. I never knew a Presbyterian to do +it." + +"And as for milk--" + +"There you go again,--milk. Worse and worse. Yesterday I had milk +toast, and milk custard, and fresh milk, and buttermilk. And here you +come at me again first thing to-day. Milk!" + +"Seven whole quarts have arrived this morning,--bless their darling old +hearts." + +"The cows?" + +"The parishioners," Carol explained patiently. "Ever since the doctor +said fresh milk and eggs, we've been flooded with milk and--" + +"Pelted with eggs. But you can't pelt any sixty-four eggs down me." + +"David," she said reproachfully, "I must confess that you don't sound +very sick. The doctor says, 'Take him west,' and I am taking you if I +ever get rid of these eggs. But I do think it would be more +appropriate to take you to a vaudeville show where you might coin some +of this extravagant humor. There's a market for it, you know." + +"Here comes Mrs. Sater, with a covered basket," announced David, +glancing from the window. "I just wonder if the dear kind woman is +bringing me a few fresh eggs. You know the doctor advised me to eat +fresh eggs, and--" + +Carol clutched her curly head in despair. "Cock-a-doodle-doo," she +crowed. + +"You mean, 'Cut-cut-cut-ca-duck-et,'" reproved David. + +Mrs. Sater paused outside the manse door in blank astonishment. Dear, +precious David so terribly ill, and poor little Carol getting ready to +take him away to a strange and awful country, and the world full of +sadness and weeping and gnashing of teeth, and yet--from the open +windows of the manse came the clear ring of Carol's laughter, followed +closely by David's deeper voice. What in the world was there to laugh +at, since tuberculosis had rapped at the manse door? + +They were young, of course, and they were still in love,--that helped. +And they had the deathless courage of the young and loving. But Mrs. +Sater bet a dollar she wouldn't waste any time laughing if tuberculosis +were stalking through her home. + +"Come in," said Carol, in answer to her second ring. "We saw you from +the window, but I was laughing so I was ashamed to open the door. +David's so silly, Mrs. Sater. Since he isn't obliged to strain his +mental capacity by thinking up sermons, he has developed quite a funny +streak. Oh, did you bring us some nice fresh eggs? How dear of you. +Yes, the doctor said he must eat lots of them." + +"They were just laid yesterday," said Mrs. Sater complacently. "And I +said to myself, 'Nice fresh eggs like these are too good for anybody +less than a preacher.' So I brought them. There's just half a +dozen,--he ought to eat that many in one day." + +"Oh, yes, easily. He is very fond of egg-nog." + +David sputtered feebly among the pillows. "Oh, easily," he echoed +helplessly. + +"I knew a woman that ate eighteen eggs every day," said Mrs. Sater +encouragingly. "She got well and weighed two hundred and thirty +pounds, and then she had apoplexy and died." + +David turned on Carol reproachfully. "There you see! That's what +comes of eating raw eggs." Then he added suspiciously, "Maybe you knew +it before and have been enticing me to raw eggs on purpose." + +Both Carol and David seized this silly pretext to relieve their +feelings, and laughed so heartily that good Mrs. Sater was quite +concerned for them. She had heard it sometimes affected folks like +that,--a great nervous or mental shock. She looked at them very +anxiously indeed. + +"Are you selling your furniture pretty well?" she asked nervously. + +"Oh, just fine. Mr. Barker at the drug store has promised to fumigate +everything after we are gone, so we won't scatter any germs in our +wake." Carol spoke hurriedly, her heart swelling with pity as she saw +the sudden convulsive clutching of David's hands beneath the covers. +"Mr. Daniels has a list of 'who bought what,' and will see that +everything is delivered in good shape. Only, we take the money +ourselves in advance. Now look at this chair, Mrs. Sater,--a lovely +chair," she rattled, thinking wretchedly of that contraction of David's +hands and the darkening of his eyes. "A splendid chair. It isn't sold +yet. It cost us eight seventy-five one year ago, and we are selling it +for the mere pittance of five dollars even,--we make it even because we +haven't any change. A most beautiful chair, an article to grace any +home, a constant reminder of us, a chair in which great men have +sat,--Mr. Daniels, and Mr. Baldwin, and the horrible gas collector who +has made life wretched for every one in the Heights, and--all for five +dollars, Mrs. Sater. Can you resist it?" + +Carol's voice took on a new ring as she saw the shadow leave David's +eyes, and his lips curve into laughter again. + +"Well, I swan, Mrs. Duke, if you don't beat all. Yes, I'll take that +chair. It may not be worth five dollars, but you are." + +Carol ostentatiously collected the five dollars, doubled it carefully +into a tiny bit, and tied it in the corner of her handkerchief. + +"My money, Mr. David Arnold Duke, and I shall buy candy and talcum with +it." + +Then she ran into the adjoining room to answer the telephone. + +Mrs. Sater looked about her hesitatingly and leaned forward. + +"David," she said in a low voice, "Carol ought to go home to her +father. It's dangerous for her to stay with you. Everybody says so. +Make her go home until you are well. She may get it too if she goes +along. They'll take good care of you at the Presbyterian hospital out +there, you a minister and all." + +The laughter, the light, left David's face at the first word. + +"I know it," he said in a heavy voice. "I have told her to go home. +But she won't even talk it over. She gets angry if I mention it. +Every one tells me it is dangerous,--but Carol won't listen." + +"Just until you get well, you know." + +"I shall never get well unless she is with me. But I am trying to send +her away. What can I do? I can't drive her off." His hands closed +and then relaxed, lying helplessly on the covers. + +When Carol returned she looked suspiciously from the stern white face +on the pillow to the disturbed one of her caller. + +"David is tired, Mrs. Sater," she said gently. "Let's go out in the +other room and visit. I have made him laugh too much to-day, and he is +weak. Come along and maybe I can sell you some more furniture." Then +to David, brightly, "It was Mrs. Adams, David, she wanted to know if we +needed any nice fresh eggs." She flashed a smile at him and his lips +answered, but his eyes were mute. Carol looked back at him from the +doorway, questioning, but finally followed Mrs. Sater into the next +room. + +"Mrs. Sater, you will excuse me now, won't you?" she said. "But I have +a feeling that David needs me. He looks so tired. You will come in +again, and--" + +"Certainly, my dear, David first by all means. Run right along. And +if you need any more fresh eggs, just let me know." + +"Yes, thank you, yes." + +"Carol," whispered the kindly woman earnestly, "why don't you go home +and stay with your father until David is better? They will take such +good care of him at the hospital, and he will need you when he is well, +and it isn't safe, Carol, it positively is not safe. Why won't you do +as he tells you?" + +Carol stood up, very straight and very tall. "Mrs. Sater," she said, +"you know I am an old-fashioned Methodist. And I believe that God +wanted David to have me in his illness, when he is idle. If He hadn't, +the illness would have come before our marriage. But I think God +foresaw it coming and thought maybe I could do David good when he was +laid aside. I know I am a silly little goose, but David loves me, and +is happy when I am with him, and enjoys me more than anything else in +the world. I am going with him. I know God expects me to do my part." + +And Mrs. Sater went away, after kissing Carol's cheek, which already +was paling a little with anxiety. + +Carol ran back to David and sat on the floor beside him, pulling his +hand from beneath the cover and kissing the white, blue-veined fingers. +She crooned and gurgled over him as a mother over a little child, but +did not speak until at last he turned to her and said abruptly: + +"Carol, won't you go home until I get well? Please dear, for my sake." + +Carol kissed the thumb once more and frowned at him. "You want to +flirt with the nurses when you get out there, and are trying to get me +out of the road. Every one says nurses are dangerous." + +"Carol, please." + +"Mrs. Sater has been talking to you. Oh, I knew it. She is a nice, +kind, Christian woman, and loves us both, but, David, why doesn't God +teach some people to mind their own business? She is a good Christian, +I know, dear, but I do believe there is still a little work of grace to +be done in her." + +David smiled a little, sadly. + +"Carol, it would break my heart if you got this from me." + +"I won't get it. They will teach us how to be careful and sanitary, +and take proper precautions, and things like that. I am going to be +very, very careful. Why, honey, I won't get it. But, David, I would +rather get it than go away and leave you. I couldn't do that. I +should never be happy again if I left you when you were needing me." + +David turned his face to the wall. "Maybe, dear," he said very gently, +"maybe it would be better if you did go home,--better for me. I need +perfect rest you know, and we talk and laugh so much and have such good +times together. I don't know, possibly I might get well faster--alone." + +For a long moment Carol gazed at him in horror. "David," she gasped. +"Don't say that. Dear, I will go home if it makes you worse to have +me. I will do anything. I only want to help you. But I will be very +nice and quiet, like a mouse, and never say a word, and not laugh once, +if you take me with you. David, do I make you feel sicker? Does my +chatter weary you? I thought I was helping to amuse you." + +"Carol, I can't lie like that even to send you away from me. Maybe I +ought to, but I can't. Why, sweetheart, you are the only thing left in +the world. You are the world to me now. Dear, I said it for your +sake, not for mine, Carol, never for mine." + +Slowly the smiles struggled through the anguish in her face, and she +resumed her kissing of his fingers. + +"Silly old goose," she murmured; "big old silly goose. Just because +he's a preacher he wants to boss all the time. Can't boss me. I won't +be bossed. I like to boss myself. I won't let my beautiful old David +go off out there to flirt with the nurses and Indian girls and whoever +else is out there. I should say not. I'll stick right along, and +whenever a woman turns our way, I'll shout, 'Married! He is mine!'" + +[Illustration: "Silly old goose," she murmured.] + +David laughed at her passionate discussion to herself. + +"Besides, I have been learning a lot of things. I've been talking to +the doctor privately when you couldn't hear." + +"Indeed!" + +"Oh, yes, and we are great friends. He says if we just live clean, +white, sanitary lives, I am safe. I must keep strong and fat, and the +germs can't get a start. And he has been telling me lots of nice +things to do. David, I know I can help you. The doctor said so. He +says I must be happy and gay, and be positively sure you will be well +again in time, and I can do you more good than a tonic. Yes, he said +that very thing, Doctor O'Hara did. Now please beg my pardon, and +maybe I'll forgive you." + +David promptly did, and peace was restored. + +A committee of brotherly ministers was sent out from the Presbytery to +find how things were going in the little manse in the Heights. Very +gently, very tenderly they made their inquiries of Carol, and Carol +answered frankly. + +"With the furniture money we have six hundred dollars," she told them, +rather proudly. + +"That's just fine. It will take you to Albuquerque and keep you +straight for a few months, and by that time we'll have things in hand +back here. You know, Mrs. Duke, you and David belong to us and we are +going to see you through. And then when it is all over we'll get him a +church out there,--why, everything is going splendidly. Now remember, +it may be a few months, or it may be ten years, but we are back of you +and we are going to see you through. Don't ever wonder where next +month's board is to come from. It will come. It isn't charity, Mrs. +Duke. It is just the big brotherhood of the church, that's all. We +are going to be your brothers, and fathers, and--mothers, too, if you +will have us." + +The devoted mansers rallied around them, weeping over them, giving them +good advice along with other more material, but not more helpful, +assistance and declaring they always knew David was too good to live. +And when Carol resentfully assured them that David was still very much +alive, and maybe wasn't as good as they thought, they retaliated by +suggesting that her life was in no danger on that score. + +On the occasion of Doctor O'Hara's last visit, Carol followed him out +to the porch. + +"You haven't presented your bill," she reminded him. "And it's a good +thing for you we are preachers or we might have slipped away in the +night." + +"I haven't any bill against you," he said, smiling kindly down at her. + +Carol flushed. "Doctor," she protested. "We expected to pay you. We +have the money. We don't want you to think we can't afford it. We +knew you were an expensive doctor, but we wanted you anyhow." + +He smiled again. "I know you have the money, but, my dear little girl, +you are going to need every cent of it and more too before you get rid +of this specter. But I couldn't charge David anything if he were a +millionaire. Don't you understand,--this is the only way we doctors +have of showing what we think of the big work these preachers are doing +here and there around the country?" + +"But, doctor," said Carol confusedly, "we are--Presbyterians, you +know--we are Protestants." + +The doctor laughed. "And I am a Catholic. But what is your point? +David is doing good work, not my kind perhaps, and not my way, but I +hope, my dear, we are big enough and broad enough to take off our hats +to a good worker whether he does things just our way or not." + +Carol looked abashed. She caught her under lip between her teeth and +kept her eyes upon the floor for a moment. Finally she faced him +bravely. + +"I wasn't big or broad,--not even a little teensy bit," she said +honestly. "I was a little, shut-in, self-centered goose. But I +believe I am learning things now. You are grand," she said, holding +out her slender hand. + +The doctor took it in his. "Carol, don't forget to laugh when you get +to Albuquerque. You will be sick, and sorry, and there will be sobs in +your heart, and your soul will cry aloud, but--keep laughing, for David +is going to need it." + +Carol went directly to her husband. + +"David, I am learning lots of perfectly wonderful things. If I live to +be a thousand years old,--oh, David, I believe by that time I can love +everybody on earth, and have sympathy for all and condemnation for +none; and I will really know that nearly every one in the world is +_very good_, and those that are not are _pretty_ good." + +David burst into laughter at her words. "Poorly expressed, but finely +meant," he cried. "Are you trying to become the preacher in our +family?" + +"All packed up and ready to start," she said thoughtfully, "and +to-morrow night we leave our darling little manse, and our precious old +mansers and turn cowboy. Aren't you glad you didn't send me home?" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHERE HEALTH BEGINS + +In a little white cottage tent, at the end of a long row of minutely +similar, little white cottage tents, sat David and Carol in the early +evening of a day in May, looking wistfully out at the wide sweep of +gray mesa land, reaching miles away to the mountains, blue and solemn +in the distance. + +"Do--do you feel better yet, David?" Carol asked at last, desperately +determined to break the menacing silence. + +David drew his breath. "I can't seem to notice any difference yet," he +replied honestly. "It doesn't look much like Missouri, does it?" + +"It is pretty,--very pretty," she said resolutely. + +"Carol, be a good Presbyterian and tell the truth. Do you wish you had +gone home, to green and grassy Iowa?" + +"David Duke, I am at home, and here is where I want to be and no place +else in the world. It is big and bleak and bare, but-- You are going +to get well, aren't you, David?" + +"Of course I am, but give me time. Even Miracle Land can't transform +weakness to health in two hours." + +"I must go over to the office. Mrs. Hartley said she wanted to give me +some instructions." + +Carol rose quickly and stepped outside the cottage. + +Crossing the mesa she met three men who stopped her with a gesture. +They were of sadly similar appearance, tall, thin, shoulders stooped, +hair dull and lusterless, eyes dry and bright. Carol thought at first +they were brothers, and so they were,--brothers in the grip of the +great white plague. + +"Are you a lunger?" ejaculated one of them in astonishment, noting the +light in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks. + +"A--lunger?" + +"Yes,--have you got the bugs?" + +"The bugs!" + +"Say, are you chasing the cure?" + +"Of course not," interrupted the oldest of the three impatiently. +"There's nothing the matter with her, except that she's a lunger's +wife. Your husband is the minister from St. Louis, isn't he?" + +"Yes,--I am Mrs. Duke." + +"I am Thompson. I used to be a medical missionary in the Ozarks. How +is your husband?" + +"Oh, he is doing nicely," she said brightly,--the brightness assumed to +hide the fear in her heart that some day David might look like that. + +Thompson laughed disagreeably. "Sure, they always do nicely at first. +But when the bugs get 'em, they're gone. They think they're better, +they say they are getting well,--God!" + +Carol looked at him with questioning reproach in the shadowed eyes. +"It does not hurt us to hope, at least," she said gently. "It does no +harm, and it makes us happier." + +"Oh, yes," came the bitter answer. "Sure it does. But wait a few +years. Bugs eat hope and happiness as well as lungs." + +Carol quivered. "You make me afraid," she said. + +"Thompson is an old croak," interrupted one of the younger men, smiling +encouragement. "Don't waste your time on him,--talk to me. He is such +a grouch that he gives the bugs a regular bed to sleep in. He'd have +been well years ago if he hadn't been such a chronic kicker. Cheer up, +Mrs. Duke. Of course your husband will get along. Got it right at the +start, didn't you?" + +"Oh, yes, right at the very start." + +"That's good. Most people fool around too long and then it's too late, +and all their own fault. Sure, your husband is all right. It's too +bad Thompson can't die, isn't it? He's got too mean a disposition to +keep on living with white folks." + +"Oh, I shouldn't say that," disclaimed Carol quickly. "He--he is just +not quite like the people I have known. I didn't know how to take him. +He was only joking of course." She smiled forgivingly at him, and +Thompson had the grace to flush a little. + +"I am Jimmy Jones," said the second man. "I was a bartender in little +old Chi. Far cry from a missionary to a bartender, but I'll take my +chances on Paradise with Thompson any day." + +"A--a bartender." Carol rubbed her slender fingers in bewilderment. + +"I am Arnold Barrows, formerly a Latin professor. _Amo, mas, mat,_" +said the third man suddenly. "I am looking for my Paradise right here +on earth, and I am sorry you are married. My idea of Paradise is a +girl like you and a man like me, and everything else go hang." + +Carol drew herself up as though poised for flight, a startled bird +taking wing. + +Thompson and Jones laughed at her horrified face, but the professor +maintained his solemn gravity. + +"He is just a fool," said the bartender encouragingly. "Don't bother +about him. It is not you in particular, he is nuts on all the girls. +Cheer up. We're not so bad as we sound. I have a cottage near you. +Tell the parson I'll be in to-morrow to give him the latest light on +the bonfires in perdition. I know all about them. Tell him we'll +organize a combination prayer-meeting; he can lead the prayer and I'll +give advanced lessons in bunny-hugs and fancy-fizzes." + +"Good night,--good night,--good night," gasped Carol. + +Forgetting her errand to the office, she rushed back to David, to +safety, to the sheltering folds of the little white cottage tent. + +He questioned her curiously about her experience, and although she +tried to evade the harsher points, he drew every word from her +reluctant lips. + +"Lunger,--and bugs,--and chasers,--it doesn't sound nice, David." + +"But maybe it is the best thing after all. We are not used to it yet, +but I suppose it is better for them to take it lightly and laugh and be +funny about it. They have to spend a lifetime with the specter, you +know,--maybe the joking takes away some of the grimness." + +Carol shivered a little. + +"Aren't you going to the office?" + +"No, I am not. If Mrs. Hartley wants to see me, she can come here. I +am scared, honestly. Let's do something. Let's go to bed, David." + +It was a two-roomed cottage, a thin canvas wall separating the rooms. +There were window-flaps on every side, and conscientiously Carol left +them every one upraised, although she had goose-flesh every time she +glanced into the black wall of darkness outside the circle of their +lights, a wall only punctuated by the yellow rays of light here and +there, where the more riotous guests of the institution were +dissipating up to the wicked hour of nine o'clock. + +"Good night, David,--you will call me if you want anything, won't you?" +And Carol leaped into bed, desperately afraid a lizard, or a scorpion +or a centipede might lie beneath in wait for unwary pink toes once the +guarding lights were out. + +This was the land where health began,--the land of pure light air, of +clear and penetrating sunshine, the land of ruddy cheeks and bounding +blood. This was the land which would bring color back to the pale face +of David, would restore the vigor to his step, the ring to his voice. +It was the land where health began. + +She must love it, she would love it, she did love it. It was a rich, +beautiful, gracious land,--gray, sandy, barren, but green with promise +to Carol and to David, as it had been to thousands of others who came +that way with a burden of weakness buoyed by hope. + +A shrill shriek sounded outside the tent,--a dangerous rustling in the +sand, a crinkling of dead leaves in the corners of the steps, a ring, a +roar, a wild tumult. Something whirled to the floor in David's room, +papers rattled, curtains flapped, and there was a metallic patter on +the uncarpeted floor of the tent. Carol gave an indistinct murmur of +fear and burrowed beneath the covers. + +It was David who threw back the blankets and turned on the lights. +Just a sand-storm, that was all,--a common sand-storm, without which +New Mexico might be almost any other place on earth. David's Bible had +been whirled from the window-ledge, and fine sand was piling in through +the screens. + +Carol withdrew from the covers most courageously when she heard the +comforting click of the electric switch, and the reassuring squeak of +David's feet on the floor of the room. + +"Everything's all right," he called to her. "Don't get scared. Will +you help me put these flaps down?" + +Carol leaped from her bed at that, and ran to lower the windows. Then +she sat by David's side while the storm raged outside, roaring and +piling sand against the little tent. + +After that, to bed once more, still determinedly in love with the land +of health, and praying fervently for morning. + +Soon David's heavy breathing proclaimed him sound asleep. But sleep +would not come to Carol. She gazed as one hypnotized into the starry +brightness of the black sky as she could see it through the window +beside her. How ominously dark it was. Softly she slipped out of bed +and lowered the flaps of the window. She did not like that darkness. +After the storm, David had insisted the windows must be opened +again,--that was the first law of lungers and chasers. + +She was cold when she got back into bed, for the chill of the mountain +nights was new to her. And an hour later, when she was almost dozing, +footsteps prowled about the tent, loitering in the leaves outside her +western window. David was sleeping, she must not interfere with a +moment of his restoring rest. She clasped her hands beneath the +covers, and moistened her feverish lips. If it were an Indian lurking +there, his deadly tomahawk upraised, she prayed he might strike the +fatal blow at once. But the steps passed, and she climbed on her knees +and lowered the flaps on the side where the steps sounded. + +Later, the sudden tinkle of a bell across the grounds startled her into +sitting posture. No, it wasn't David, after all,--somebody else,--some +other woman's David, likely, ringing for the nurse. Carol sighed. How +could David get well and strong out here, with all these other sick +ones to wring his heart with pity? Were the doctors surely right,--was +this the land of health? + +Again footsteps approached the tent, stirring up the dry sand, and +again Carol held her breath until they had passed. Then she grimly +closed the windows on the third side of her room, and smiled to herself +as she thought, "I'll get them up again before David is awake." + +But she crept into bed and slept at last. + +Early, very early, she was awakened by the sunlight pouring upon the +flaps at the windows. It was five o'clock, and very cold. Carol +wrapped a blanket about her and peeked in upon her husband. + +"Good morning," she greeted him brightly. "Isn't it lovely and bright? +How is my nice old boy? Nearly well?" + +"Just fine. How did you sleep?" + +"Like a top," she declared. + +"Were you afraid?" + +"Um, not exactly," she denied, glancing at him with sudden suspicion. + +"Did the wind blow all your flaps down?" + +"How did you know?" + +"Oh, I was up long ago looking in on you. We'll get a room over in the +Main Building to-day. It costs more, but the accommodations are so +much better. We are directly on the path from the street, so we hear +every passing footstep." + +Carol blushed. "I am not afraid," she insisted. + +"We'll get a room just the same. It will be easier for you all the way +around." + +Carol flung open the door and gazed out upon the land of health. The +long desolate mesa land stretched far away to the mountains, now +showing pink and rosy in the early sunshine. The little white tents +about them were as suggestively pitiful as before. There were no +trees, no flowers, no carpeting grass, to brighten the desolation. + +Bare, bleak, sandy slopes reached to the mountains on every side. +David sat up in bed and looked out with her. + +"Just a long bare slope of sand, isn't it?" she whispered. "Sand and +cactus,--no roses blooming here upon the sandy slopes." + +"Yes, just sandy slopes to the mountains,--but Carol, they are +sunny,--bare and bleak, but still they are sunny for us. Let's not +lose sight of that." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE OLD TEACHER + +"Chicago, Illinois. + +"Dear Carol and David-- + +"It is most remarkable that you two can keep on laughing away out there +by yourselves. It makes me think perhaps there is something fine in +this being married business that sort of makes up for the rest of it. +I think it must take an exceptionally good eyesight to discern sunshine +on the slopes of sickness. If I were traveling that route, I am +convinced I should find it led me through dark valleys and over stony +pathways with storm clouds and thunders and lightnings smashing all +around my head. + +"You admonished me to talk about myself and leave you alone. Well, I +suppose you know more about yourselves than I could possibly tell you, +and since it is your own little baby sister, I am sure you are more +than willing to turn your telescope away from the sunny slopes a while +for a glimpse of my business dabbles. + +"This is Chicago. + +"Aunt Grace was rendered more speechless than ever when I announced my +intention of coming, and Prudence was shocked. But father and I talked +it over, and he looked at me in that funny searching way he has and +then said: + +"'Good for you, Connie, you have the right idea. Chicago isn't big +enough to swallow you, but it won't take you long to eat Chicago +bodily. Of course you ought to go.' + +"I know it is not safe to praise men too highly, they are so easily +convinced of their astounding virtues, but that time I couldn't resist +shaking hands with father and I said, and meant it: + +"'Father, you are the only one in the world. I don't believe even the +Lord could make your duplicate.' + +"'Mr. Nesbitt was very angry because I left them'. He said that after +he took me, a stupid little country ignoramus, and made something out +of me, my desertion was nothing short of rank ingratitude and religious +hypocrisy and treason to the land of my birth. One might have inferred +that he picked me out of the gutter, brushed the dirt off, smoothed my +ragged looks, and seated me royally in his stenographic chair, and made +a business lady out of me. But it didn't work. + +"I came. + +"Mr. Baker, the minister there, is back of it. He met me on the street +one day. + +"'I hear you are literary,' he said. + +"'Well, I think I can write,' I answered modestly. + +"Then he said he had a third-half-nephew by marriage, to whom, ground +under the heel of financial incompetency, he had once loaned the +startling sum of fifty dollars,--I say startling, because it startled +me to know a preacher ever had that much ready cash ahead of his +grocery bill. Anyhow, the third-half-nephew, with the fifty dollars as +a nucleus,--I think Providence must have multiplied it a little, for +our fifty dollars never accomplished miracles like that,--but with that +fifty dollars as a starter he did a little plunging for himself, and is +now owner and editor of a great publishing house in Chicago. + +"And Mr. Baker, the old minister, kept him going and coming, you might +say, by sending him at frequent intervals, bright and budding lights +with which to illuminate his publications. It seems the +third-half-nephew by marriage, in gratitude for the fifty dollars, +never refused a position to any satellite his uncle chose to recommend. +And Mr. Baker glowed with delight that he had been able, from the +unliterary center of Centerville to send so many candles to shine in +the chandelier of Chicago. + +"All I had to do was to come. + +"As I said before, I came. + +"I went out to Mrs. Holly's on Prairie Avenue and the next morning set +out for the Carver Publishing Company, and found it, with the +assistance of most of the policemen and street-car conductors as well +as a large number of ordinary pedestrians encountered between Prairie +on the South Side, and Wilson Avenue on the North. I asked for Mr. +Carver, and handed him Mr. Baker's letter. He shook hands with me in a +melancholy way and said: + +"'When do you want to begin? Where do you live?' + +"'To-morrow. I have a room out on the south side, but I will move over +here to be nearer the office.' + +"'Hum,--you'd better wait a while.' + +"'Isn't it a permanent position?' I asked suspiciously. + +"'Oh, yes, the position is permanent, but you may not be.' + +"'Mr. Baker assured me--' + +"'Oh, sure, he's right. You've got the job. But so far, he has only +sent me nineteen, and the best of them lasted just fourteen days.' + +"'Then you are already counting on firing me before the end of two +weeks,' I said indignantly. + +"'No. I am not counting on it, but I am prepared for the worst.' + +"'What is the job? What am I supposed to do?' + +"'You must study our publications and do a little stenographic work, +and read manuscripts and reject the bum ones,--which is an endless +task,--and accept the fairly decent ones,--which takes about five +minutes a week,--and read exchanges and clip shorts for filling, and +write squibs of a spicy nature, and do various and sundry other things +and you haven't the slightest idea how to start.' + +"'No, I haven't, but you get me started, and I'll keep going all right.' + +"The next morning he asked how long it took me to get to the office +from Prairie, and I said: + +"'I moved last night, I have a room down on Diversey Boulevard now.' + +"He looked me over thoughtfully. Then he said: 'You ought to be a +poet.' + +"'Why? I haven't any poetic ability that I know of.' + +"'Probably not, but you can get along without that. What a poet needs +first of all is nerve.' + +"I didn't think of anything apt to say in return so I got to work. Day +after day he tried me out on something new and watched me when he +thought I didn't notice, and went over my work very carefully. One +morning he asked me to write five hundred words on 'The First Job in a +Big City,' bringing out a country aspirant's sensations on the occasion +of his first interview with a prospective employer. + +"I still felt so strongly about his insolent assurance that I couldn't +hold down his little old job, that I had no trouble at all with the +assignment. He read it slowly and made no comment, but he gave it a +place in the current issue. And then came a blessed day when he said, +'Well, you are on for good, Miss Starr. I now believe in the +scriptural injunction about seventy times seven, and a kind Providence +cut the margin down for me. I forgive Uncle Baker for the nineteen +atrocities at last.' + +"I was very happy about it, for I do love the work and the others in +the office are splendid, so keen and clever, and Mr. Carver is really +wonderful. We are not a large concern, and we have to lend a hand +wherever hands are needed. So I am getting five times my fifteen +dollars a week in experience, and I am singing inside every minute I +feel so good about everything. The workers are all efficient and +enthusiastic, and we are great friends. We gossip affectionately about +whoever is absent, and hold a jubilee at the restaurant down-stairs +when any one gets ahead with an extra story. No other publishers have +come rapping at my door in a mad attempt to steal me away from Mr. +Carver. I have no bulky mail soliciting stories from my facile pen. +But I am making good with Mr. Carver, and that's the thing right now. + +"Have I fallen in love yet? Carol, dear, I always understood that when +folks get married they lose their sentimentality. Are you the proving +exception? My acquaintance with Chicago masculinity is confined to the +office, the Methodist Church, and the boarding-house. The office force +is all married but the office boy. The Methodist congregation is +composed of women, callow youths and bald heads of families. Women are +counted out, of necessity. I am beyond callow youths, and not advanced +to heads of families. Why, I haven't a chance to fall in love,--worse +luck, too, for I need the experience in my business. + +"At the boarding-house I do have a little excitement now and then. The +second night after my installation a man walked into my room without +knocking,--that is, he opened the door. + +"'Gee, the old lady wasn't bluffing,' he said, in a tone of surprise. + +"It was early in the evening and he was properly dressed and looked +harmless, so I wasn't frightened. + +"'Good evening,' I said in my reserved way. + +"'Gave you my room, did she?' he asked. + +"'She gave me this one,--for a consideration.' + +"'Yes, it is mine,' he said sadly. 'She has threatened to do it, lo, +these many years, but I never believed she would. Faith in fickle +human nature,--ah, how futile.' + +"'Yes?' + +"'Yes. You see now and then I go off with the boys, and spend my money +instead of paying my board, and when I come back I expect my room to be +awaiting me. It always has been. The old lady said she would rent it +the next time, but she had said it so many times! Well, well, well. +Broke, too. It is a sad world, isn't it? Did you ever pray for death?' + +"'No, I did not. And if you will excuse me, I think perhaps you had +better fight it out with the landlady. I have paid a month's rent in +advance.' + +"'A month's rent!' He advanced and shook hands with me warmly before I +knew what he was doing. 'A month in advance. It is an honor to touch +your hand. Alas, how many moons have waned since I came in personal +contact with one who could pay a month in advance.' + +"'The landlady--' + +"'Oh, I am going. No room is big enough for two. Lots of fellows room +together to save money, but it is too multum in too parvum; I think I +prefer to spend the money. I have never resorted to it, even in my +brokest days. I didn't leave my pipe here, did I?' + +"'I haven't seen it,' I said very coldly. + +"'Well, all right. Don't get cross about it. Out into the dark and +cold, out into the wintry night, without a cent to have and hold, but +landladies are always right.' + +"He smiled appealingly but I frowned at him with my most ministerial +air. + +"'I am a poet,' he said apologetically. 'I can't help going off like +that. It isn't a mental aberration. I do it for a living.' + +"I had nothing to say. + +"'My card.' He handed it to me with a flourish, a neatly engraved one, +with the word 'advertisement' in the corner. I should have haughtily +spurned it, but I was too curious to know his name. It was William +Canfield Brewer. + +"'Well, good night. May your sleep be undisturbed by my ghost stalking +solitary through your slumbers. May no fumes from my pipe interfere +with the violet de parme you represent. If you want any advertising +done, just call on me, William Canfield Brewer. I write poetry, draw +pictures, make up stories, and prove to the absolute satisfaction of +the most skeptical public that any article is even better than you say +it is. I command a princely salary,--but I can't command it long +enough. Adieu, I go, my lady, fare thee well.' + +"'Good night.' + +"I could hardly wait for breakfast, I was so anxious to ask about him. +I gleaned the following facts. The landlady had packed his belongings +in an old closet and rented me the room in his absence, as he surmised. +He is a darling old idiot who would rather buy the chauffeur a cigar +than pay for his board. He says it is less grubby. He is too good a +fellow to make both ends meet. He is too devoted to his friends to +neglect them for business. He can write the best ads in Chicago and +get the most money for it, but he can't afford the time. Mrs. Gaylord +is a stingy old cat, she always gets her money if she waits long +enough, and he pays three times as much as anything is worth when he +does pay. Mrs. Gaylord's niece is infatuated with him, without +reciprocation, and Mrs. Gaylord wanted her, the niece, to stick to the +grocer's son; she says there is more money in being advertised than +advertising others. Wouldn't Prudence faint if she could hear this +gossip? Don't tell her,--and I wouldn't repeat it for the world. + +"I hoped he would come back for another room,--there is lots of +experience in him, I am sure, but he sent for his things. So that is +over. I found his pipe. And I am keeping it so if he gets smokey and +comes back he may have it. + +"Oh, I tell you, Carol, Experience may teach in a very expensive +school, but she makes the lessons so interesting, it is really worth +the price. + +"Lots of love to you both, + +"From + +"CONNIE." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAND O' LUNGERS + +"Is Mrs. Duke in?" + +David looked up quickly as the door opened. He saw a fair petulant +face, with pouting lips, with discontent in the dark eyes. He did not +know that face. Yet this girl had not the studied cheerfulness of +manner that marks church callers at sanatoriums. She did not look +sick, only cross. Oh, it was the new girl, of course. Carol had said +she was coming. And she was not really sick, just threatened. + +"Mrs. Duke is over at the Main Building, but will be back very soon. +Will you come in and wait?" + +She came in without speaking, pulled a chair from the corner of the +porch, and flounced down among the cushions. David could not restrain +a smile. She looked so babyishly young, and so furiously cross. To +David, youth and crossness were incongruous. + +"I am Nancy Tucker," said the girl at last. + +"And I am Mr. Duke, as you probably surmise from seeing me on Mrs. +Duke's porch. She will be back directly. I hope you are not in a +hurry." + +"Hurry! What's the use of hurrying? I am twenty years old. I've got +a whole lifetime to do nothing in, haven't I?" + +"You've got a lifetime ahead of you all right, but whether you are +going to do nothing or not depends largely on you." + +"It doesn't depend on me at all. It depends on God, and He said, +'Nothing doing. Just get out and rust the rest of your life. We don't +need you.'" + +"That does not sound like God," said David quietly. + +"Well, He gave me the bugs, didn't He?" + +"Oh, the bugs,--you've got them, have you? You don't look like it. I +didn't know it was your health. I thought maybe it was just your +disposition." + +David smiled winningly as he spoke, and the smile took the sting from +the words. + +"The bugs are worse on the disposition than they are on the lungs, +aren't they?" + +"Well, it depends. Carol says they haven't hit mine yet." He lifted +his head with boyish pride. "She ought to know. So I don't argue with +her. I am willing to take her word for it." + +Nancy smiled a little, a transforming smile that swept the discontent +from her face and made her nearly beautiful. But it only lasted a +moment. + +"Oh, go on and smile. It did me good. You can't imagine how much +better I felt directly." + +"There's nothing to make me smile," cried Nancy hotly. + +"You may smile at me," cried Carol gaily, as she ran in. "How do you +do? You are Miss Tucker, aren't you? They were telling me about you +at the office." + +"Yes, I am Miss Tucker. Are you Mrs. Duke? You look too young for a +minister's wife." + +"Yes, I am Mrs. Duke, and I am not a bit too young." + +"I asked them if I should call a doctor, and they said that could wait +a while. First of all, they said, I must come to Room Six and meet the +Dukes." + +Carol looked puzzled. "They didn't tell me that. What did they want +us to do to you?" + +"I don't know. I just said, 'Well, I guess I'd better get a doctor to +come and kill me off,' and they said, 'You go over to Number Six and +meet the Dukes.'" + +"They said lovely things about you," Carol told her, smiling. "And +they say you will be well in a few months,--that you haven't T. B.'s at +all yet, just premonitions." + +The good news brought no answering light to the girl's face. + +"They are nurses. You can't believe a word they say. It is their +business to build up false hopes." + +"When any one tells me David is worse, I think, 'That is a wicked +story'; but when any one says, 'He is better,' I am ready to fall on my +knees and salute them as messengers from Heaven," said Carol. + +One of the sudden dark clouds passed quickly overhead, obscuring the +glare of the sunshine, darkening the yellow sand. + +"I hate this country," said Nancy Tucker. "I hate that yellow hot +sand, and the yellow hot sun, and the lights and shadows on the +mountains. I hate the mountains most of all. They look so abominably +cock-sure, so crowy, standing off there and glaring down on us as if +they were laughing at our silly little fight for health." + +Carol was speechless, but David spoke up quickly. + +"That is strange; Carol and I think it is a beautiful country,--the +broad stretch of the mesa, the blue cloud on the mountains, the shadow +in the canyons, and most of all, the sunshine on the slopes. We think +the fight against T. B.'s is like walking through the dark shade in the +canyons, and then suddenly stepping out on to the sunny slopes." + +"I know you are a preacher. I suppose it is your business to talk like +that." Then when Carol and David only smiled excusingly, she said, +"Excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude. But it is hideous, and--I love +to be happy, and laugh,--" + +"Go on and do it," urged David. "We've just been waiting to hear you +laugh." + +"You should have been at the office with me," said Carol. "We laughed +until we were nearly helpless. It is that silly Mr. Gooding again, +David. He isn't very sick, Miss Tucker,--he just has red rales. I +don't know what red rales are, but when the nurses say that, it means +you aren't very sick and will soon be well. But Gooding is what he +calls 'hipped on himself.' He is always scared to death. He admits +it. Well, last night they had lobster salad, a silly thing to have in +a sanatorium. And Gooding ordered two extra helpings. The waiter +didn't want to give it to him, but Gooding is allowed anything he wants +so the waiter gave in. In the night he had a pain and got scared. He +rang for the nurses, and was sure he was going to die. They had to sit +up with him all night and rub him, and he groaned, and told them what +to tell his mother and said he knew all along he could never pull +through. But the nurse gave him some castor oil, and made him take it, +and finally he went to sleep. And every one is having a grand time +with him this morning." + +Nancy joined, rather grudgingly, in their laughter. + +"Oh, I suppose funny things happen. I know that. But what's the use +of laughing when we are all half dead?" + +"I'm not. Not within a mile of it. You brag about yourself if you +like, but count me out." + +"Hello, Preacher! How are you making it to-day?" + +They all turned to the window, greeting warmly the man who stood +outside, leaning heavily on two canes. + +"Miss Tucker, won't you meet Mr. Nevius?" + +In response to the repeated inquiry, David said, "Just fine this +morning. How are you?" + +"Oh, I am more of an acquisition than ever. I think I have a bug in my +heart." He turned to Miss Tucker cheerfully. "I am really the pride +of the institution. I've got 'em in the lungs and the throat and the +digestive apparatus, and the bones, and the blood, and one doctor +includes the brain. But I flatter myself that I've developed them in a +brand-new place, and I'm trying to get the rest of the chasers to take +up a collection and have me stuffed for a parlor ornament." + +"How does a bug in the heart feel?" + +"Oh, just about like love. I really can't tell any difference myself. +It may be one, it may be the other. But whichever it is I think I +deserve to be stuffed. Hey, Barrows!" he called suddenly, balancing +himself on one cane and waving a summons with the other. "Come across! +New lunger is here, young, good-looking. I saw her first! Hands off!" + +Barrows rushed up as rapidly as circumstances permitted, and looked +eagerly inside. + +"It is my turn," he said reproachfully. "You are not playing fair. I +say we submit this to arbitration. You had first shot at Miss +Landbury, didn't you?" + +"I am not a nigger baby at a county fair, three shots for ten cents," +interrupted Nancy resentfully. But when the others laughed at her +ready sally, she joined in good-naturedly. + +"You don't look like a lunger," said Barrows, eying her critically. + +"Mr. Duke thinks I came out for the benefit of my disposition." + +"Good idea." Nevius jerked a note-book from his pocket and made a +hurried notation. + +"Taking notes for a sermon?" asked Carol. + +"No, for a sickness. That's where I'll get 'em next. I hadn't +thought of the disposition. Thank you, thank you very much. I'll have +it to-morrow. Bugs in the disposition,--sounds medical, doesn't it?" + +"Oh, don't, Mr. Nevius," entreated Carol. "Don't get anything the +matter with your disposition. We don't care where else you collect +them, as long as you keep on making us laugh. But, woodman, spare that +disposition." + +Nevius pulled out the note-book and crossed off the notation. "There +it goes again," he muttered. "Women always were a blot on the +escutcheon of scientific progress. Just to oblige you, I've got to +forego the pleasure of making a medical curiosity of myself. Well, +well. Women are all right for domestic purposes, but they sure are a +check on science." + +"They are a check on your bank-book, too, let me tell you," said +Barrows quickly. "I never cared how much my wife checked me up on +science, but when she checked me out of three bank-accounts I drew the +line." + +"Speaking of death," began Nevius suddenly. + +"Nobody spoke of it, and nobody wants to," said Carol. + +"Miss Tucker suggests it by the forlornity of her attitude. And since +she has started the subject, I must needs continue. I want to tell you +something funny. You weren't here when Reddy Waters croaked, were you, +Duke? He had the cottage next to mine. I was in bed at the time +with--well, I don't remember where I was breaking out at the time, but +I was in bed. You may have noticed that I have what might be called a +classic pallor, and a general resemblance to a corpse." + +Nancy shivered a little and Carol frowned, but Nevius continued +imperturbably. "The undertaker down-town is a lunger, and a nervous +wreck to boot. But he is a good undertaker. He works hard. Maybe he +is practising up so he can do a really artistic job on himself when the +time comes. Anyhow, Reddy died. They always come after them when the +rest of us are in at dinner. It interferes with the appetite to see +the long basket going out. So when the rest were eating, old Bennett +comes driving up after Reddy. It was just about dark, that dusky, +spooky time when the shadows come down from the mountains and cover up +the sunny slopes you preachers rave about. So up comes Bennett, and he +got into the wrong cottage. First thing I knew, some one softly pushed +open the door, and in walked Bennett at the front end of the long +basket, the assistant trailing him in the rear. I felt kind of weak, +so I just laid there until Bennett got beside me. Then I slowly rose +up and put out one cold clammy hand and touched his. Bennett choked +and the assistant yelled, and they dropped the basket and fled. I rang +the bell and told the nurse to make that crazy undertaker come and get +the right corpse that was patiently waiting for him, and she called him +on the telephone. Nothing doing. A corpse that didn't have any better +judgment than that could stay in bed until doomsday for all of him. So +they had to get another undertaker. But Bennett told her to get the +basket and he would send the assistant after it. But I held it for +ransom, and Bennett had to pay me two dollars for it." + +His auditors wiped their eyes, half ashamed of their laughter. + +"It is funny," said Nancy Tucker, "but it seems awful to laugh at such +things." + +"Awful! Not a bit of it," declared Barrows. "It's religious. Doesn't +it say in the Bible, 'Laugh and the world laughs with you, Die and the +world laughs on'?" + +"I laugh,--but I am ashamed of myself," confessed Carol. + +"What do women want to spoil a good story for?" protested Nevius. +"That's a funny story, and it is true. It is supposed to be laughed +at. And Reddy is better off. He had so many bugs you couldn't tell +which was bugs and which was Reddy. He was an ugly guy, too, and he +was stuck on a girl and she turned him down. She said Reddy was all +right, but no one could raise a eugenical family with a father as ugly +as Reddy. He didn't care if he died. Every night he used to flip up a +coin to see if he would live till morning. He said if he got off ahead +of us he was coming back to haunt us. But I told him he'd better fly +while the flying was good, for I sure would show him a lively race up +to the rosy clouds if I ever caught up. I knew if he got there first +he'd pick out the best harp and leave me a wheezy mouth organ. He +always wanted the best of everything." + +Just then the nurse opened the door. + +"Barrows and Nevius," she said sternly. "This is the rest hour, and +you are both under orders. Please go home at once and go to bed, or I +shall report to Mrs. Hartley." When they had gone, she looked +searchingly into the face of the brand-new chaser. "How are you +feeling now?" she asked. + +"Oh, pretty well." And then she added honestly, "It really isn't as +bad as I had expected. I think I can stand it a while." + +"Have you caught a glimpse of the sunny slopes yet?" + +Instinctively they turned their eyes to the distant mountains, with the +white crown of snow at the top, and beneath, long radiating lines of +alternating light and shadow, stretching down to the mesa. + +"The shadows look pretty dark," she said, "but the sunny slopes are +there all right. But I was happy at home; I had hopes and plans--" + +"Yes, we all did," interrupted David quickly. "We were all happy, and +had hopes and plans, and-- But since we are here and have to stay, +isn't it God's blessing that there is sunshine for us on the slopes?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +OLD HOPES AND NEW + +Along toward the middle of the summer Carol began eating her meals on +the porch with David, and they fixed up a small table with doilies and +flowers, and said they were keeping house all over again. Sometimes, +when David was sleeping, Carol slipped noiselessly into the room to +turn over with loving fingers the soft woolen petticoats, and bandages, +and bonnets, and daintily embroidered dresses,--gifts of the women of +their church back in the Heights in St. Louis. + +About David the doctors had been frank with Carol. + +"He may live a long time and be comfortable, and enjoy himself. But he +will never be able to do a man's work again." + +"Are you sure?" Carol had taken the blow without flinching. + +"Oh, yes. There is no doubt about that." + +"What shall I do?" + +"Just be happy that he is here, and not suffering. Love him, and amuse +him, and enjoy him as much as you can. That is all you can do." + +"Let's not tell him," she suggested. "It would make him so sorry." + +"That is a good idea. Keep him in the dark. It is lots easier to be +happy when hope goes with it." + +But long before this, David had looked his future in the face. "I have +been set aside for good," he thought. "I know it, I feel it. But +Carol is so sure I will be well again! She shall never know the truth +from me." + +When Carol intensely told him he was stronger, he agreed promptly, and +said he thought so, himself. + +"Oh, blessed old David, I'm so glad you don't know about it," thought +Carol. + +"My sweet little Carol, I hope you never find out until it is over," +thought David. + +Sometimes Carol stood at the window when David was sleeping, and looked +out over the long mesa to the mountains. Her gaze rested on the dark +heavy shadows of the canyons. To her, those dark valleys in the +mountains represented a buried vision,--the vision of David strong and +sturdy again, springing lightly across a tennis court, walking briskly +through mud and snow to conduct a little mission in the Hollow, +standing tall and straight and sunburned in the pulpit swaying the +people with his fervor. It was a buried hope, a shadowy canyon. Then +she looked up to the sunny slopes, stretching bright and golden above +the shadows up to the snowy crest of the mountain peaks. Sunny +slopes,--a new hope rising out of the old and towering above it. And +then she always went back to the chest in the corner of the room and +fingered the tiny garments, waiting there for service, with tender +fingers. + +And once in a while, not very often, David would say, smiling, "Who +knows, Carol, but you two may some day do the things we two had hoped +to do?" + +A few weeks later Aunt Grace came out from Mount Mark, and in her usual +soft, gentle way drifted into the life of the chasers in the +sanatorium. She told of the home, of William's work and tireless zeal, +of Lark and Jim, of Fairy and Babbie, of Prudence and Jerry. She +talked most of all of Connie. + +"That Connie! She is a whole family all by herself. She is entirely +different from the rest of you. She is unique. She doesn't really +live at all, she just looks on. She watches life with the cool +critical eyes of a philosopher and a stoic and an epicure all rolled +into one. She comes, she sees, she draws conclusions. William and I +hold our breath. She may set the world on fire with her talent, or she +may become a demure little old maid crocheting jabots and feeding +kittens. No one can foretell Connie." + +And Carol, in a beautiful, heavenly relief at having this blessed +outlet for her pent-up feelings, reclined in a big rocker on the porch, +and smiled at Aunt Grace, and glowed at David, and declared the sunny +slopes were so brilliant they dazzled her eyes. + +There came a day when she packed a suitcase, and petted David a little +and gave him very strict instructions as to how he was to conduct +himself in her absence, and went away over to the other building, and +settled down in a pleasant up-stairs room with Aunt Grace in charge. +For several days she lounged there quietly content, gazing for hours +out upon the marvelous mesa land, answering with a cheery wave the gay +greetings shouted up to her from chasers loitering beneath her windows. + +But one morning, she watched with weary throbbing eyes as Aunt Grace +and a nurse and a chamber maid carefully wrapped up a tiny pink flannel +roll for a visit to Room Number Six in the McCormick Building. + +"Tell him I am just fine, and it is a lucky thing that he likes girls +better than boys, and we think she is going to look like me. And be +particularly sure to tell him she is very, very pretty, the doctor and +the nurse both say she is,--David might overlook it if his attention +were not especially called to it." + +Three weeks later, the suit-case was packed once more, and Carol was +moved back across the grounds to Number Six and David, where already +little Julia was in full control. + +"Aren't you glad she is pretty, David?" demanded Carol promptly. "I +was so relieved. Most of them are so red and frowsy, you know. I've +seen lots of new ones in my day, but this is my first experience with a +pretty one." + +The doctor and the nurse had the temerity to laugh at that, even with +Julia, pink and dimply, right before them. "Oh, that old, old story," +said the doctor. "I'm looking for a woman who can class her baby with +the others. I intend to use my fortune erecting a monument to her if I +find her,--but the fortune is safe. Every woman's baby is the only +pretty one she ever saw in her life." + +Carol and David were a little indignant at first, but finally they +decided to make allowances for the doctor,--he was old, and of course +he must be tired of babies, he had ushered in so many. They would try +and apply their Christian charity to him, though it was a great strain +on their religion. + +But what should be done with Julia? David was so ill, Carol so weak, +the baby so tender. Was it safe to keep her there? But could they let +that little rosebud go? + +"Why, I will just take her home with me," said Aunt Grace gently. "And +we'll keep her until you are ready. Oh, it won't be a bit of trouble. +We want her." + +That settled it. The baby was to go. + +"For once in my life I have made a sacrifice," said Carol grimly. "I +think I must be improving. I have allowed myself to be hurt, and +crushed, and torn to shreds, for the good of some one else. I +certainly must be improving." + +Later she thought, "She will know all her aunties before she knows me. +She will love them better. When I go home, she will not know me, and +will cry for Aunt Grace. She will be afraid of me. Really, some +things are very hard." But to David she said that of course the +doctors were right, and she and David were so old and sensible that it +would be quite easy to do as they were bid. And they were so used to +having just themselves that things would go on as they always had. + +But more nights than one she cried herself to sleep, craving the touch +of the little rosebud baby learning of motherhood from some one else. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +NEPTUNE'S SECOND DAUGHTER + +"Chicago, Illinois. + +"Dearest Carol and David-- + +"Carol, dear, an awful thing has happened. Do you remember the +millionaire's son who discovered me up the cherry tree years ago when I +was an infant? He comes to see me now and then. He is very nice and +attentive, and all of my friends have selected the color schemes for +their boudoirs in my forthcoming palatial home. One night he +telephoned and said his mother was in town with him, and they should +like to come right up if I did not mind. I did not know he was in +town, I hardly knew he had a mother, and I was in the act of shampooing +my hair. Phyllis was making candy, and Gladys was reading aloud to us +both. Imagine the mother of a millionaire's son coming right up, and I +in a shampoo. + +"'Oh,' I wailed, 'I haven't anything to wear, and I am not used to +millionaires' sons' mothers, and I won't know what to say to her.' + +"'Leave it to us, Connie!' cried my friends valiantly. + +"Gladys whirled the magazine under the bed, and Phyllis turned out the +electricity under the chafing-dish and put the candy in the window to +finish at a later date. + +"Did I tell you about our housekeeping venture? Gladys is a private +secretary to something down-town and gets an enormous salary, thirty a +week. Phyllis is an artist and has a studio somewhere, and we are +great friends. So we took a cunning little apartment for three months, +and we all live together and cook our meals in the baby kitchenette +when we feel domestic, and dine out like princesses when we feel +lordly. We have the kitchenette, and a bathroom with two kinds of +showers, and a bedroom apiece, though mine is really a closet, and two +sitting-rooms, so two of us can have beaus the same night. If we feel +the need of an extra sitting-room--that is, three beaus a night--we +draw cuts to see who has to resort to the park, or a movie, or the +ice-cream parlor, or the kitchenette. Our time is up next week and we +shall return modestly to our boarding-houses. It is great fun, but it +is expensive, and we are so busy. + +"We have lovely times. The girls are--not like me. They are really +society buds, and wear startling evening gowns and go places in taxis, +and are quite the height of fashion. It is a wonder they put up with +me at all. Still every establishment must have at least one +Cinderella. But let me admit honestly and Methodistically that I do +less Cinderelling than either of them. Gladys darns my stockings, and +Phyllis makes my bed fully half the time. + +"Anyhow, when Andrew Hedges, millionaire's son, telephoned that his +mother was coming up, they fell upon me, and one rubbed and one fanned, +and they both talked at once, and in the end I agreed to leave myself +in their hands. They knew all about millionaires' sons' mothers, it +seemed, and would fix me up just exactly O. K. right. Gladys and I are +the same size, and she has an exquisite semi-evening gown of Nile green +and honest-to-goodness lace which I have long admired humbly from my +corner among the ashes. Just the thing. I should wear it, and make +the millionaire's son's mother look like twenty cents. + +"Wickedly and wilfully I agreed. So when the hair was dry enough to +manage, they marched me into Gladys' room--the only one of the three +capable of accommodating three of us--and turned the mirrors to the +wall. I protested at that. I wanted to see my progress under their +skilful fingers. + +"'No,' said Phyllis sagely. 'It looks horrible while it is going on. +You must wait until you are finished, and then burst upon your own +enraptured vision. You will enchant yourself.' + +"Gladys seconded her and I assented weakly. I know I am not naturally +weak, Carol, but the thought of a millionaire's son's mother affected +me very strangely. It took all the starch out of my knees, and the +spine out of my backbone. + +"By this time I was established in Gladys' green slippers with +rhinestone buckles, and Gladys was putting all of her own and Phyllis' +rings on my fingers, and Phyllis was using a crimping iron on my curls. +I was too curly already, but Phyllis said natural curliness was not the +thing any more. Then Gladys began dabbing funny sticky stuff all over +my fingers, and scratching my eyebrows, and powdering about twenty +layers on my face and throat. After that, she rubbed my finger nails +until I could almost see what they were doing to me. I never thought I +had much hair, but when Phyllis got through with me I could hardly +carry it. The ladies in Hawaii who carry bushel baskets on their heads +will tell you how I felt. And whenever I moved it wabbled. But they +both clapped their hands and said I looked like a dream, and of course +I would have acquired another bushel had they advised it. + +"I trusted them because they look so wonderful when they are +finished,--just right,--never too much so. + +"Our bell rang then, and Phyllis answered and said, 'Tell them Miss +Starr will be in in a moment.' + +"There is a general apartment maid, and when we wish to be very +perfectly fine, we borrow her,--for a quarter. + +"When I knew they had arrived, I leaped up, panic-stricken, and dived +head first into that pile of Nile green silk and real lace. They +rescued me tenderly, and pushed me in, and hooked me here, and buttoned +me there, both panting and gasping, I madly hurrying them on, because I +can't get over that silly old parsonage notion that it isn't good form +to keep folks waiting. + +"'There you are,' cried Gladys. + +"'Fly,' shouted Phyllis. + +"Out I dashed, recollected myself in the bathroom, and--yes, I did that +foolish thing, Carol. Your vanity would have saved you such a blunder. +But I tore myself from their blood-stained hands, and went in to meet a +millionaire's son's mother without looking myself over in the mirror. + +"When I parted the curtains, Andy leaped to his feet with his usual +quick eagerness, but he stopped abruptly and his lips as well as his +eyes widened. + +"'How do you do?' I said, moistening my lips which already felt too +wet, only I didn't know what was the matter with them. I held out my +hand, unwontedly white, and he took it flabbily, instead of briskly and +warmly as he usually did. + +"'Mother,' he said, 'I want you to meet Miss Starr.' + +"She wasn't at all the kind of millionaire's son's mother we have read +about. She had no lorgnette, and she did not look me over +superciliously. But she had turned my way as though confident of being +pleased, and her soft eyes clouded a little, though she smiled sweetly. +Her hair was silver white and curled over her forehead and around her +ears. She had dimples, and she stuck her chin up like a girl when she +laughed. She wore the softest, sweetest kind of a wistaria colored +silk. I was charmed with her. It could not have been mutual. + +"She held out her hand, smiling so gently, still with the cloud in her +eyes, and we all sat down. She did not look me over, though she must +have yearned to do so. But Andy looked me over thoroughly, +questioningly, from the rhinestone pin at the top of the swaying hair, +to the tips of my Nile green shoes. I tried to talk, but my hair +wabbled so, and little invisible hair pins kept visibleing themselves +and sliding into my lap and down my neck, and my lips felt so moist and +sticky, and my skin didn't fit like skin, and--still I was determined +to live up to my part, and I talked on and on, and--then, quite +suddenly, I happened to glance into a mirror beside me. There was some +one else in the room. Some one in a marvelous dress, with a +white-washed throat, with lips too red, and cheeks too pink, and brows +too black, some one with an unbelievable quantity of curls on top of +her, and--I turned around to see whom it might be. Nobody there. I +looked back to the mirror. I was not dreaming,--of course there was +some one in the room. No, the room was empty save we three. I turned +suspiciously to Mrs. Hedges. She was still in her place, a smiling +study in wistaria and silver gray. I looked at Andy, immaculate in +black and white. Then--sickening realization. + +"I stood up abruptly. The atrocity in the mirror rose also. + +"'That isn't I,' I cried imploringly. + +"Mrs. Hedges looked startled, but Andy came to my side at once. + +"'No, it certainly isn't,' he said heartily. 'What on earth have you +been doing to yourself, Connie?' + +"I went close to the mirror, inspecting myself, grimly, piteously. I +do not understand it to this day. The girls do the same things to +themselves and they look wonderful,--never like that. + +"I rubbed my lips with my fingers, and understood the moisture. I +examined my brows, and knew what the scratching meant. I shook the +pile of hair, and a shower of invisible hair pins rewarded me. I +brushed my fingers across my throat, and a cloud of powder wafted +outward. + +"What does it say in the Bible about the way of the unrighteous? Well, +I know just as much about the subject as the Bible does, I think. For +a time I was speechless. I did not wish to blame my friends. But I +could not bear to think that any one should carry away such a vision of +one of father's daughters. + +"'Take a good look at me please,' I said, laughing, at last, 'for you +will never see me again. I am Neptune's second daughter. I stepped +full-grown into the world to-night from the hands of my faithless +friends. Another step into my own room, and the lovely lady is gone +forever.' + +"Andy understands me, and he laughed. But his mother still smiled the +clouded smile. + +"I hurled myself into the depths of self-abasement. I spared no harsh +details. I told of the shampoo, and the candy on the window-ledge, the +magazine under the bed. Religiously I itemized every article on my +person, giving every one her proper due. Then I excused myself and +went up-stairs. I sneaked into my own room, removed the dream of Nile +green and lace and jumped up and down on it a few times, in stocking +feet, so the girls would not hear,--and relieved my feelings somewhat. +I think I had to resort to gold dust to resurrect my own +complexion,--not the best in the world perhaps, but mine, and I am for +it. I combed my hair. I donned my simple blue dress,--cost four-fifty +and Aunt Grace made it.' I wore my white kid slippers and stockings. +My re-debut--ever hear the word?--was worth the exertion. Andy's face +shone as he came to meet me. His mother did not know me. + +"'I am Miss Starr,' I said. 'The one and only.' + +"'Why, you sweet little thing,' she said, smiling, without the cloud. + +"We went for a long drive, and had supper down-town at eleven o'clock, +and she kept me with her at the hotel all night. It was Saturday. I +slept with her and used all of her night things and toilet articles. I +told her about the magnificent stories I am going to write sometime, +and she told me what a darling Andy was when he was a baby, and between +you and me, I doubt if they have a million dollars to their name. +Honestly, Carol, they are just as nice as we are. + +"They stayed in Chicago three days, and she admitted she came on +purpose to get acquainted with me. She made me promise to spend a week +with them in Cleveland when I can get away, and she gave me the dearest +little pearl ring to remember her by. But I wonder--I wonder-- Anyhow +I can't tell him until he asks me, can I? And he has never said a +word. You know yourself, Carol, you can't blurt things out at a man +until he gives you a chance. So my conscience is quite free. And she +certainly is adorable. Think of a mother-in-law like that, pink and +gray, with dimples. Yes, she is my ideal of a mother-in-law. I +haven't met 'father' yet, but he doesn't need to be very nice. A man +can hide a hundred faults in one fold of a pocketbook the size of his. + +"Lots of love to you both,--and you write to Larkie oftener than you do +to me, which isn't fair, for she has a husband and a baby and is within +reaching distance of father, and I am an orphan, and a widow, and a +stranger in a strange land. + +"But I love you anyhow. + +"Connie." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE SECOND STEP + +They sat on canvas chairs on the sand outside the porch of the +sanatorium, warmly wrapped in rugs, for the summer evenings in New +Mexico are cold, and watched the shadows of evening tarnish the gold of +the mesa. Like children, they held hands under the protecting shelter +of the rug. They talked of little Julia off in Mount Mark, how she was +growing, the color of her eyes, the shape of her fingers. They talked +of her possible talents, and how they could best be developed, judging +as well as they could in advance by the assembled qualities of all her +relatives. David suggested that they might be prejudiced in her favor +a little, for as far as they could determine there was no avenue of +ability closed to her, but Carol stanchly refused to admit the +impeachment. They talked of the schools best qualified to train her, +of the teachers she must have, of the ministers they must demand for +her spiritual guidance. They talked of the thousand bad habits of +other little girls, and planned how Julia should be led surely, sweetly +by them. + +Then they were silent, thinking of the little pink rosebud baby as she +had left them. + +The darkness swept down from the mountains almost as sand-storms come, +and Carol leaned her head against David's shoulder. She was happy. +David was so much better. The horrible temperature was below +ninety-nine at last, and David was allowed to walk about the mesa, and +his appetite was ravenous. Maybe the doctors were wrong after all. He +was certainly on the high-road to health now. She was so glad David +had not known how near the dark valley he had passed. + +David was rejoicing that he had never told Carol how really ill he had +been. She would have been so frightened and sorry. He pictured Carol +with the light dying out in her eyes, with pallor eating the roses in +her cheeks, with languor in her step, and dullness in her voice,--the +Carol she would surely have been had she known that David was walking +under the shadow of death. David was very happy. He was so much +better, of course he would soon be himself. Things looked very bright. +Somehow to-night he did not yearn so much for work. It was Carol that +counted most, Carol and the little Julia who was theirs, and would some +day be with them. The big thing now was getting Julia ready for the +life that was to come to her. + +He was richly satisfied. + +"Carol, this is the most wonderful thing in the world, companionship +like this, being together, thinking in harmony, hoping the same hopes, +sharing the same worries, planning the same future. Companionship is +life to me now. There is nothing like it in all the world." + +Carol snuggled against his shoulder happily. + +"Love is wonderful," he went on, "but companionship is broader, for it +is love, and more beyond. It is the development of love. It is the +full blossom of the seed that has been planted in the heart. Service +is splendid, too. But after all, it takes companionship to perfect +service. One can not work alone. You are the completion of my desire +to work, and you are the inspiration of my ability to work. Yes, +companionship is life,--bigger than love and bigger than service, for +companionship includes them both." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +DEPARTED SPIRITS + +As the evenings grew colder, the camp chairs on the mesa were deserted, +and the chattering "chasers" gathered indoors, sometimes in one or +another of the airy tent cottages, sometimes before the cheerful blaze +of the logs in the fireplace of the parlors, but oftenest of all they +flocked into Number Six of McCormick Building, where David was confined +to his cot. Always there was laughter in Number Six, merry jesting, +ready repartee. So it became the mecca of those, who, even more +assiduously than they chased the cure, sought after laughter and joy. +In the parlors the guests played cards, but in Number Six, deferring +silently to David's calling, they pulled out checkers and parcheesi, +and fought desperate battles over the boards. But sometimes they +fingered the dice and the checkers idly, leaning back in their chairs, +and talked of temperatures, and hypodermics, and doctors, and war, and +ghosts. + +"I know this happened," said the big Canadian one night. "It was in my +own home and I was there. So I can swear to every word of it. We came +out from Scotland, and took up a big homestead in Saskatchewan. We +threw up a log house and began living in it before it was half done. +Evenings, the men came in from the ranches around, and we sat by the +fire in the kitchen and smoked and told stories. Joined on to the +kitchen there was a shed, which was intended for a summer kitchen. But +just then we had half a dozen cots in it, and the hands slept there. +One night one of the boys said he had a headache, and to escape the +smoke in the kitchen which was too thick to breathe, he went into the +shed and lay down on a cot. It was still unfinished, the shed was, and +there were three or four wide boards laid across the rafters at the top +to keep them from warping in the damp. Baldy lay on his back and +stared up at the roof. Suddenly he leaped off the bed,--we all saw +him; there was no door between the rooms. He leaped off and dashed +through the kitchen. + +"'What's the matter?' we asked him. + +"'Let me alone, I want to get out of here,' he said, and shot through +the door. + +"We caught just one glimpse of his face. It was ashen. We went on +smoking. 'He's a crazy Frenchman,' we said, and let it go. But my +brother was out in the barn and he corralled him going by. + +"'I am going to die, Don,' he said. 'I was lying on the bed, looking +up at the rafters, and I saw the men come in and take the big white +board and make it into a coffin for me. I am going home, I want to be +with my folks.' + +"Don came in scared stiff, and told us, and we said 'Pooh, pooh,' and +went on smoking. But about eleven o'clock a couple of fellows from +another ranch came over and said their boss had died that afternoon and +they could not find the right sized boards for the coffin. They wanted +a good straight one about six feet six by fourteen inches. We looked +in the barns and the sheds, and could not find what they wanted. Then +we went into the lean-to, where there were some loose boards in the +corner, but they wouldn't do. + +"'Say,' said one of them, 'how about that white board up there in the +rafters? About right, huh?' + +"We pulled it down, and it was just the size. They were tickled to get +it, for they hated to drive twelve miles to town through snowdrifts +over their heads. + +"'That's the big white board that Baldy saw,' said Don suddenly. Yes, +by George! We sent for Baldy that night to make sure, and it was just +what he had seen, and the very men that came for the board. Baldy was +mighty glad he wasn't the corpse." + +"Mercy," said Carol, twitching her shoulders. "Are you sure it is +true?" + +"Gospel truth. I was right there. I took down the board." + +"I know one that beats that," said the Scotchman promptly. "They have +a sayin' over in my country, that if you have a dream, or a vision, of +men comin' toward you carryin' a coffin, you will be in a coffin inside +of three days. One night a neighbor of mine, next farm, was comin' +home late, piped as usual, and as he came zigzaggin' down a dark lane, +he looked up suddenly and saw four men marchin' solemnly toward him, +carryin' a coffin. McDougall clutched his head. 'God help me,' he +cried. 'It is the vision.' Then he turned in his tracks and shot over +a hedge and up the bank, screamin' like mad. The spirits carryin' the +coffin yelled at him and, droppin' the coffin, started up the hill +after him. But McDougall only yelled louder and ran faster, and +finally they lost him in the hills. So they went back. They were not +spirits at all, and it was a real coffin. A woman had died, and they +were takin' her in to town ready for the funeral next day. But the +next day we found McDougall lyin' face down on the grass ten miles +away, stone dead." + +The girls shivered, and Carol shuffled her chair closer to David's bed. + +"Ran himself to death?" suggested David. + +"Well, he died," said the Scotchman. + +"Is it true?" asked Carol, glancing fearfully through the screen of the +porch into the black shadows on the mesa. + +"Absolutely true," declared the Scotchman. "I was in the searchin' +party that found him." + +"I--I don't believe in spirits,--I mean haunting spirits," said Carol, +stiffening her courage and her backbone by a strong effort. + +"How about the ghosts that drove the men out into the graveyards in the +Bible and made them cut up all kinds of funny capers, and finally +haunted the pigs and drove 'em into the lake?" said Barrows slyly. + +"They were not ghosts," protested Carol quickly. "Just evil spirits. +They got drowned, you know,--ghosts don't drown." + +"It does not say they got drowned," contradicted Barrows. "My Bible +does not say it. The pigs got drowned. And that is what ghosts +are,--evil spirits, very evil. They were too slick to get drowned +themselves; they just chased the pigs in and then went off haunting +somebody else." + +Carol turned to David for proof, and David smiled a little. + +"Well," he said thoughtfully, "perhaps it does not particularly say the +ghosts were drowned. It says they went into the pigs, and the pigs +were drowned. It does not say anything about the spirits coming out in +advance, though." + +Carol and Barrows mutually triumphed over each other, claiming personal +vindication. + +"Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Duke?" asked Miss Tucker in a soft +respectful voice, as if resolved not to antagonize any chance spirits +that might be prowling near. + +"Call them psychic phenomena, and I may say that I do," said David. + +"How do you explain it, then?" she persisted. + +"I explain it by saying it is a phenomenon which can not be explained," +he evaded cleverly. + +"But that doesn't get us anywhere, does it?" she protested vaguely. +"Does it--does it explain anything?" + +"It does not get us anywhere," he agreed; "but it gets me out of the +difficulty very nicely." + +"I know a good ghost story myself," said Nevius. "It is a dandy. It +will make your blood run cold. Once there was a--" + +"I do not believe in telling ghost stories," said Miss Landbury. +"There may not be any such thing, and I do not believe there is, but if +there should happen to be any, it must annoy them to be talked about." + +"You shouldn't say you don't believe in them," said Miss Tucker. "At +least not on such a dark night. Some self-respecting ghost may resent +it and try to get even with you." + +Miss Landbury swallowed convulsively, and put her arm around Carol's +waist. The sudden wail of a pack of coyotes wafted in to them, and the +girls crouched close together. + +"Once there was a man--" + +"It is your play, Mr. Barrows," said Miss Landbury. "Let's finish the +game. I am ahead, you remember." + +"Wait till I finish my story," said Nevius, grinning wickedly. "It is +too good to miss, about curdling blood, and clammy hands, and--" + +"Mr. Duke, do you think it is religious to talk about ghosts? Doesn't +it say something in the Bible about avoiding such things, and fighting +shy of spirits and soothsayers and things like that?" + +"Yes, it does," agreed Nevius, before David could speak. "That's why I +want to tell this story. I think it is my Christian duty. You will +sure fight shy of ghosts after you hear this. You won't even have +nerve enough to dream about 'em. Once there was a man--" + +Carol deliberately removed Miss Landbury's arm from her waist, and +climbed up on the bed beside David. Miss Landbury shuffled as close to +the bed as propriety would at all admit, and clutched the blanket with +desperate fingers. Miss Tucker got a firm grip on one of Carol's +hands, and after a hesitating pause, ensconced her elbow snugly against +David's Bible lying on the table. Gooding said he felt a draft, and +sat on the foot of the cot. + +"Once there was a man, and he was in love with two women--oh, yes, Mrs. +Duke, it can be done all right. I have done it myself--yes, two at the +same time. Ask any man; they can all do it. Oh, women can't. They +aren't broad-minded enough. It takes a man,--his heart can hold them +all." The girls sniffed, but Nevius would not be side-tracked from his +story. "Well, this man loved them both, and they were both worth +loving--young, and fair, and wealthy. He loved them distractedly. He +loved one because she was soft and sweet and adorable, and he called +her Precious. He loved the other because she was talented and +brilliant, a queen among women, the center of every throng, and he +called her Glory. He loved to kiss the one, and he loved to be proud +of the other. They did not know about each other, they lived in +different towns. One night the queenly one was giving a toast at a +banquet, and the revelers were leaning toward her, drinking in every +word of her rich musical voice, marveling at her brilliancy, when +suddenly she saw a tiny figure perch on the table in front of her +fiance,--yes, he was fianceing them both. The little figure on the +table had a sweet, round, dimply face, and wooing lips, and loving +eyes. The fiance took her in his arms, and stroked the round pink +cheek, and kissed the curls on her forehead. Glory faltered, and tried +to brush the mist from before her eyes. She was dreaming,--there was +no tiny figure on the table. There could not be. Lover--they both +called him Lover; he had a fancy for the name--Lover was gazing up at +her with eyes full of pride and admiration. She finished hurriedly and +sat down, wiping the moisture from her white brow. 'Such a strange +thing, Lover,' she whispered. 'I saw a tiny figure come tripping up to +you, and she caressed and kissed you, and ran her fingers over your +lips so childishly and--so adoringly, and--' Lover looked startled. +'What!' he ejaculated. For little Precious had tricks like that. +'Yes, and she had one tiny curl over her left ear, and you kissed it.' +'You saw that?' 'Yes, just now.' She looked at him; he was pale and +disturbed. 'Have you ever been married, Lover?' she asked. 'Never,' +he denied quickly. But he was strangely silent the rest of the +evening. The next morning Glory was ill. When he called, they took +him up to her room, and he sat beside her and held her hand. 'Another +strange thing happened,' she said. 'The little beauty who kissed you +at the banquet came up to my bed, and put her arms around me and +caressed and fondled me and said she loved me because I was so +beautiful, and her little white arms seemed to choke me, and I +struggled for breath and floundered out of bed, and she kissed me and +said I was a darling and tripped away, and--I fainted.'" + +"Mr. Nevius, that isn't nice," protested Miss Landbury. + +"Lover said urgent business called him out of town. He would go to +Precious. Glory was getting freakish, queer. Precious never had +visions. She was not notionate. She just loved him and was content. +So he went to her. She dimpled at him adoringly, and led him out to +her bower of roses, and sat on his knee and stroked his eyes with her +pink finger tips, and he kissed the little curl over her left ear and +thought she was worth a dozen tempestuous Glories. But suddenly she +caught her breath and leaned forward. He spoke to her, but she did not +hear. Her face was colorless and her white lips were parted fearfully. +For she saw a lovely, radiant, queenly woman, magnificently gowned, the +center of a throng of people, and Lover was beside her, his face +flushed with pride, his eyes shining with admiration. Her fine voice, +like music, held every one spellbound. Precious clasped her tiny hands +over her rose-bud ears and shivered. She shut her eyes hard and opened +them and--what nonsense! There was no queenly lady, there was no loud, +clear, ringing voice. But her ears were tingling. She turned to +Lover, trembling. + +"'How--how--how funny,' she said. 'I saw a radiant woman talking, and +she fascinated all the world, and you were with her, adoring her. Her +voice was like music, but so loud, too loud; it crashed in my ears, it +deafened me.' + +"Lover's brows puckered thoughtfully. 'How did she look?' he asked. + +"'Tall and white, with crimson lips, and black hair massed high on her +head. And her voice was just like music.' + +"The next morning Precious was ill. When Lover went to her she clung +to him and cried. 'The lovely lady,' she said,' 'she came when I was +alone, and she said I was a beautiful little doll and she would give me +music, music, a world full of music. And her voice was like a bell, +and it grew louder and louder, and I thought the world was crashing +into the stars, and I screamed and fell on the floor, and when I awoke +the music was gone, and--I was so weak and sick.' + +"Lover decided to go back to Glory until Precious got over this silly +whim. But he had no peace. Glory was constantly tormented by the +loving Precious. And when he returned to Precious, the splendor of +Glory's voice was with her day and night. He lost his appetite. He +could not sleep. So he went off into the woods alone, to fish and hunt +a while. But one night as he sat in his tent, he heard a faint, +far-off whisper of music,--Glory's voice. It came nearer and nearer, +grew louder and louder, until it crashed in his ears like the clamor of +worlds banging into stars, as Precious had said. And then he felt a +tender caressing finger on his eyes, and soft warm arms encircled his +neck, and soft red lips pressed upon his. Closer drew the encircling +arms, more breathlessly the red lips pressed his. He struggled for +breath, and fought to tear away the dimpled arms. The music of Glory's +voice rose into unspeakable tumult, the warm pressure of Precious' arms +rendered him powerless. He fell insensible, and two days later they +found him,--dead." + +There was a brief eloquent silence when Nevius finished his story. The +girls shivered. + +"A true story?" queried David, smiling. + +"A true story," said Nevius decidedly. + +"Um-hum. Lover was alone in the woods, wasn't he? How did his friends +find out about those midnight spirits that came and killed him?" + +The girls brightened. "Yes, of course," chirped Carol. "How did +folks find out?' + +"Say, be reasonable," begged Nevius. "Spoiling another good story. I +say it is a true tale, and I ought to know. I," he shouted +triumphantly, "I was Lover." + +Hooting laughter greeted him. + +"But just the same," contended Barrows, "regardless of the feeble +fabrications of senile minds, there are ghosts none the less. The +night before we got word of my father's death, my sister woke up in the +night and saw a white shadow in her window,--and a voice,--father's +voice,--said, 'Stay with me, Flossie; I don't want to be alone.' She +told about it at breakfast, and said it was just five minutes to two +o'clock. And an hour later we got a message that father had died at +two that night, a thousand miles away." + +"Honestly?" + +"Yes, honestly." + +"I knew a woman in Chicago," said Miss Landbury, "and she said the +night before her mother died she lay down on the cot to rest, and a +white shadow came and hovered over the bed, and she saw in it, like a +dream, all the details of her mother's death just as it happened the +very next day. She swore it was true." + +"Don't talk any more about white shadows," said Carol. "They make me +nervous." + +"Wouldn't it be ghastly to wake up alone in a little wind-blown canvas +tent in the dead of night, and find it shut off from the world by a +white shadow, and hear a low voice whisper, 'Come,' and feel yourself +drawn slowly into the shadow by invisible clammy fingers--" + +"Don't," cried Miss Landbury. + +"That's not nice," said Carol. + +"Don't scare the girls, Barrows. Carol will sleep under the bed +to-night." + +"I am with the girls myself," said Gooding. "There isn't any sense +getting yourself all worked up talking about spirits and ghosts and +things that never happened in the world." + +"Oh, they didn't, didn't they? Just the same, when you reach out for a +cough-drop and get hold of a bunch of clinging fingers that aren't +yours, and are not connected with anybody that belongs there,--well, I +for one don't take any chances with ghosts." + +A sudden brisk tap on the door drew a startled movement from the men +and a frightened cry from the girls. The door opened and the head +nurse stood before them. + +"Ten-fifteen," she said curtly. "Please go to your cottages at once. +Mr. Duke, why don't you send your company home at ten o'clock?" + +"Bad manners. Ministers need hospitality more than religion nowadays, +they tell us." + +"Oh, Miss David," cried Miss Tucker, "won't you go out to my tent with +me? I feel so nervous to-night." + +"What is the matter?" asked the nurse suspiciously, looking from one to +another of the flushed faces and noting the restless hands and the +fearful eyes. + +"Nothing, nothing at all, but my head aches and I feel lonesome." + +The nurse contracted her lips curiously. "Of course I will go," she +said. + +"Let me come too," said Miss Landbury, rising with alacrity. "I have a +headache myself." + +Huddled together in an anxious group they set forth, and the nurse, +like a good shepherd, led her little flock to shelter. But as she +walked back to her room, her brows were knitted curiously. + +"What in the world were the silly things talking about?" she wondered. + +"David Duke," Carol was informing her husband, as she stood over him, +in negligee ready to "hop in," "I shall let the light burn all night, +or I shall sleep in the cot with you. I won't run any risk of white +shadows sitting on me in the dark." + +"Why, Carol--" + +"Take your pick, my boy," she interrupted briskly. "The light burns, +or I sleep with you." + +"This cot is hardly big enough for one," he argued. "And neither of us +can sleep with that bright light burning." + +"David," she wailed, "I have looked under the bed three times already, +but I know something will get me between the electric switch and the +bed." + +David laughed at her, but said obligingly, "Well, jump in and cover up +your head with a pillow, and get yourself settled, and I will turn off +the lights myself." + +"It is a sin and a shame and I am a selfish little coward," Carol +condemned herself, but just the same she was glad to avail herself of +the privilege. + +A little later the white colony on the mesa was in darkness. But Carol +could not sleep. The blankets over her head lent a semblance of +protection, but most distracting visions came to her wide and burning +eyes. + +"Are you asleep, David?" she would call at frequent intervals, and +David's "Yes, sound asleep," gave her momentary comfort. + +But finally he was awakened from a light sleep by a soft pressure +against his foot. Even David started nervously, and "Ghosts" flashed +into his logical and well-ordered brain. But no, it was only the soft +and shivering form of his wife, curling herself noiselessly into a ball +on the foot of his cot. David watched her, shaking with silent +laughter. Surreptitiously she slipped an arm beneath his feet, and +circled them in a deadly grip. If the ghosts got her, they would get +David's feet, and in her girlish mind ran a half acknowledged belief +that the Lord wouldn't let the ghosts get as good a man as David. + +Wretchedly uncomfortable as to position, but blissfully assured in her +mind, she fell into a doze, from which she was brought violently by a +low whisper in the room: + +"Mrs. Duke." + +"Oooooooo," moaned Carol, diving deep beneath the covers. + +David sat up quickly. + +"Who is there?" + +"It is I, Miss Landbury," came a frightened whisper. "Can't I stay +with you a while? I can't go to sleep to save me,--and honestly, I am +scared to death." + +This brought Carol forth, and with warm and sympathetic hospitality she +turned back the covers at the foot of the bed and said: + +"Yes, come right in." + +David nudged her remindingly with his foot. "Since there are two of +you to protect each other," he said, laughing, "suppose you go in to +Carol's bed, and leave me my cot in peace." + +This Carol flatly refused to do. If Miss Landbury was willing to share +the foot of David's cot, she was more than welcome. But if she meant +to stand on ceremony and go into that awful big black room without a +minister, she could go by herself, that was all. Carol lay down +decidedly, and considered the subject closed. + +"I don't want to sleep," said Miss Landbury unhappily. "I am not +sleepy. I just want a place to sit, where I--I won't keep seeing +things." + +"Turn on the light, Carol," said David. "You ought to be ashamed of +yourselves, both of you." + +"That's all right," defended Carol. "You are a preacher, and ghosts +don't bother--" + +"Don't say ghosts," chattered Miss Landbury. + +"Well, what is the plan of procedure?" inquired David patiently. "Are +you going to turn my cot into a boarding-house? You girls stay here, +and I will go in to Carol's bed. Give me my bath robe, honey, and--" + +"Oh, please," gasped Miss Landbury. + +"And leave us on this porch with nothing but screen around us?" +exclaimed Carol. "I am surprised at you, David." + +David turned his face to the wall. "Well, make yourselves comfortable. +Good night, girls." + +The girls stared at each other in the darkness, helplessly, resignedly. +Wasn't that just like a man? + +"I tell you what," said Carol hopefully, "let's bring the mattress and +the blankets from my bed and put them on the floor here beside David, +and we can all sleep nicely right together." + +"Oh, that's lovely," cried Miss Landbury. "You are the dearest thing, +Mrs. Duke." + +Hurriedly, and with bated breath, they raided Carol's bed, tugging the +heavy mattress between them, quietly ignoring the shaking of David's +cot which spoke so loudly of amusement. + +"I'll crawl right in then," said Miss Landbury comfortably. + +"I sleep next to David, if you please," said Carol with quiet dignity. + +Miss Landbury obediently rolled over, and Carol scrambled in beside her. + +"Turn off the light," suggested David. + +"Oh, yes, Miss Landbury, turn it off, will you?" said Carol pleasantly. + +"Who, me?" came the startled voice. "Indeed I won't." + +"David, dearest," pleaded Carol weakly. + +"Go on parade in my pajamas, dear?" he questioned promptly. + +"Let's both go then," compromised Carol, and she and Miss Landbury, +hand in hand, marched like Trojans to the switch in the other room, +Carol clicked the button, and then came a wild and inglorious rush back +to the mattress on the floor. + +"Good night, girls." + +"Good night, David." + +"Good night, Mr. Duke." + +"Good night, Miss Landbury." + +"Good night, Mrs. Duke." + +Then sweet and blessed silence, which lasted for at least five minutes +before there sounded a distinct, persistent rapping on their door. + +Carol and Miss Landbury rushed to the protection of each other's arms, +and before David had time to call, the door opened, the switch clicked +once more, and Gooding, his hair sticking out in every possible +direction, his bath robe flapping ungracefully about his knees, +confronted them. + +"This is a shame," he began ingratiatingly. "I know it. But I've got +to have some one to talk to. I can't go to sleep and-- Heavens, +what's that on the floor?" + +"It is I and my friend, Miss Landbury," said Carol quietly. "We are +having a slumber party." + +"Yes, all party and no slumber," muttered David. + +"Well, I am glad I happened in. I was lonesome off there by myself. +You know you do get sick of being alone all the time. Shove over, old +man, and I'll join the party." + +David looked at him in astonishment. + +"Nothing doing," he said. "This cot isn't big enough for two. Go in +and use Carol's bed if you like." + +"It's too far off," objected Gooding. "Be sociable, Duke." + +"There isn't any mattress there anyhow," said Carol. + +They looked at one another in a quandary. + +"Go on back to bed, Gooding," said David, at last. "This is no time +for conversation." + +Gooding would not hear of it. "Here I am and here I stay," he said +with finality. "I've been seeing white shadows and feeling clammy +fingers all night." + +"Well, what are you going to do? We've got a full house, you can see +that." + +"Go and get your own mattress and blankets and use them on my bed," +urged Carol. + +Miss Landbury turned on her side and closed her eyes. She was taken +care of, she should worry over Mr. Gooding! + +"I don't want to stay in there by myself," said Gooding again. "Isn't +there room out here?" + +"Do you see any?" + +"Well, I'll move in the room with you," volunteered David. + +Miss Landbury sat up abruptly. + +"We won't stay here without you, David," said Carol. + +"I tell you what," said Gooding brightly, "we'll get my mattress and +put it in the room for me, and we'll move David's mattress on Carol's +bed for David, and then we'll move the girls' mattress in on the floor +for them." + +No one offered objections to this arrangement. "Hurry up, then, and +get your mattress," begged Carol. "I am so sleepy." + +"I can't carry them alone through those long dark halls," Gooding +insisted. Miss Landbury would not accompany him without a third party, +Carol flatly refused to leave dear sick David alone in that porch, and +at last in despair David donned his bath robe and the four of them +crossed the wide parlor, traversed the dark hall to Gooding's room and +returned with mattress, pillows and blankets. After a great deal of +panting and pulling, the little party was settled for sleep. + +It must have been an hour later when they were startled into sitting +posture, their hearts in their throats, by piercing screams which rang +out over the mesa, one after another in quick succession. + +"David, David, David," gasped Carol. + +"I'm right here, Carol; we're all right," he assured her quickly. + +Miss Landbury swayed dizzily and fell back, half-conscious, upon the +pillows. Gooding, with one bound, landed on David's bed, nearly +crushing the breath out of that feeble hero of the darkness. + +Lights flashed quickly from tent to tent on the mesa, frightened voices +called for nurses, doors slammed, bells rang, and nurses and porters +rushed to the rescue. + +"Who was it?" "Where was it?" "What is it?" + +"Over here, I think," shouted a man. "Miss Tucker. I called to her +and she did not answer." + +A low indistinct sound, half groan, half sobbing, came from the open +windows of the little tent. And as they drew near, their feet rattling +the dry sand, there came a warning call. + +"A light, a light, a light," begged Miss Tucker. The nurses hesitated, +half frightened, and as they paused they heard a low drip, drip, inside +the tent, each drop emphasized by Miss Tucker's sobs. + +The porter flashed a pocket-light, and they opened the door. Miss +Tucker lay in a huddled heap on her bed, her hands over her face, her +shoulders rising and falling. The nurses shook her sternly. + +"What is the matter with you?" they demanded. + +Finally, she was persuaded to lift her face and mumble an explanation. +"I was asleep, and I heard my name called, and I looked up. There was +a white shadow on the door. I seized my pillow and threw it with all +my might, and there was a loud crash and a roar, and then began that +drip, drip, drip,--oh-h-h!" + +"You silly thing," said Miss Alien. "Of course there was a crash. You +knocked the chimney off your lamp,--that made a crash all right. And +the lamp upset, and it is the kerosene drip, dripping from the table to +the floor. Girls who must have kerosene lamps to heat their curlers +must look for trouble." + +"The white shadow--" protested the girl. + +"Moonshine, of course. Look." Miss Alien pulled the girl to her feet. +"The whole mesa is in white shadow. Run around to the tents, girls," +she said to her assistants, "and tell them Miss Tucker had a bad +dream,--nothing wrong. We will have a dozen bed patients from this +night's foolishness." + +Miss Tucker refused to be left alone and a nurse was detailed to spend +the night with her. + +When the nurses on their rounds reached Miss Landbury's room in the +McCormick Building, they had another fright. The room was empty. The +bed was cold,--had not been occupied for hours, likely. They rushed to +the head nurse, and a wild search was instituted. + +The Dukes' room, Number Six, McCormick, was wrapped in darkness. + +"Don't go near them," Miss Alien said. "Perhaps they did not hear the +noise, and Mr. Duke should not be disturbed." + +So the wild search went on. + +But after a time, a Mexican porter, with a lantern, seeking every nook +and corner, plodded stealthily around a corner of the McCormick. + +He heard a gasp beside him, and turning his lantern he looked directly +into the window, where four white, tense faces peered at him with +staring eyes. He returned their stare, speechlessly. Then he saw Miss +Landbury. + +"Ain't you lost?" he ejaculated. + +Miss Landbury, frightened out of her senses, and not recognizing the +porter in the darkness, shot into her bed on the floor, and David +answered the man's questions. A moment later an outraged matron, +flanked by two nurses, marched in upon them. + +"What is the meaning of this?" they demanded. + +"Search me," said David pleasantly. "Our friends and neighbors got +lonesome in the night and refused to sleep alone and let us rest in +contentment. So they moved in, and here we are." + +Both Gooding and Miss Landbury positively declined to go home alone, +and other nurses were appointed to guard them during the brief +remaining hours of the night. At four o'clock came sleep and silence +and serenity, with Carol on the floor, clutching David's hand, which +even in sleep she did not resign. + +The next morning a huge notice was posted on the bulletin board. + + +"Any one who tells a ghost story, or discusses departed spirits, in +this institution or on the grounds thereof, shall have all privileges +suspended for a period of six weeks. + +"By order of the Superintendent." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +RUBBING ELBOWS + +"Chicago, Illinois. + +"Dearly Beloveds: + +"Nearly I am converted to matrimony as a life career. Almost I feel it +is worth the sacrifice of independence, the death of originality, the +banishment of special friendship, and the monotonous bondage of rigid +routine. + +"I have just come back from Mount Mark, where I had my second visit +with little Julia. She is worth the giving up of anything, and the +enduring of everything. She is marvelous. + +"When I first saw her, just after Aunt Grace brought her home,--I think +I told you that I went without a new pair of lovely gray shoes at ten +dollars a pair in order to go to Mount Mark to meet her,--she was very +sweet, and all that, but when they are so rosily new they are more like +scientific curiosities than literary inspirations. But I have met her +again, and I am everlastingly converted to the domestic enslavement of +women. One little Julia is worth it. So as soon as I find the +husband, I am going to cultivate my eleven children. You remember that +was the career I picked out in the days of my tender youth. + +"Her face is big and round and white, and her eyes are bluer than any +summer sky the poets could rave about. Her lips are the original +Cupid's bow,--in fact, Julia's lips have about convinced me that Cupid +must have been a woman, certainly he could ask no more deadly weapon +for shattering the hearts of men. Her hair is comical. It is yellow +gold, but it sticks straight out in every direction. It is the most +aggravatingly, irresistibly defiant hair you ever saw in your life. It +makes you kiss it, and brush it, and soak it in water, and shake Julia +for having it, and then fall in love with her all over again. + +"She is just beginning to talk. When I arrived the whole family was +assembled to do me honor, Prudence and Fairy, Lark and all the babies. +Julia seemed to resent her temporary eclipse in the limelight. She +crowed in a compelling way, and when I advanced to bow reverently +before her, she pointed a fat, accusing finger at me, and said, 'Who is +'at?' Her very first word,--and no presidential message ever provoked +half the storm of approval her little phrase called forth. We laughed, +and kissed each other, and begged her to say it again, and Prudence +said 'Oh, if Carol could have heard that,' and then we all rushed off +and cried and scolded each other for being so silly, and Julia +screamed. Oh, it was a formal afternoon reception all right. + +"And I am putting a little three-line ad in the morning _Tribune_. +'Young, accomplished, attractive lady without means, of strong domestic +tendencies, desires a husband, eugenic, rich, good looking. Object +matrimony.' + +"Of course I know that I repeat myself. But if you don't say 'Object +matrimony,' some men wouldn't catch the point. + +"And so you are out of the San and keeping house again. A brand-new +honeymoon, of course, and cooing doves, and chiming bells, and all the +rest of it. When the rest of us back here write to each other, we say +at the end, 'Carol is well and David is better.' It conveys the idea +of a Thanksgiving service and a hallelujah chorus. It means Good +night, God bless you, and Merry Christmas, all in one. + +"By the way, do you remember William Canfield Brewer, the original +advertiser who got moved out when I moved in? Well, between you and +me, almost for a while I did begin to see some charms in matrimony. He +came again, and was properly introduced. And took me for a drive,--it +seems he had just collected his salary,--and he came again, and we went +to the park, and he came again. And that was when I began to see the +halo around the wedding bells. One night he was telling me his +experiences in saving money,--uproariously funny, my dear, for he never +could save more than five dollars a month, and ran in debt fifteen +dollars to encompass it. He said: + +"'My wife used to say it was harder work for me to carry my salary home +from the office than to earn it right at the start.' + +"I laughed,--I thought of course it was a joke. I guess the laugh was +revealing, for he turned around suddenly and said: + +"'You knew I was married, didn't you, Connie?' First time he ever +called me Connie. + +"Well, the halo vanished like a flash and hasn't got back yet. + +"I said, 'No, I didn't know it.' + +"'Why, everybody knows it,' he expostulated. + +"'I did not.' + +"'We are devoted to each other,' he said, laughing lightly, 'but we +find our devotion wears better at long distance. So she lives wherever +I do not, and we get along like birdies in their little nest. I +haven't seen her for two years.' + +"Then he went on with his financial experiences, evidently calling the +subject closed. + +"When he started home, he said, 'Well, what shall we do Sunday?' + +"'Nothing, together. You are married.' + +"'Well, I don't get any fun out of it, do I?' + +"'No, maybe not. But I have a hunch I won't get much fun out of it, +either.' + +"'I forgot about the parsonage.' He considered a moment. 'All right, +I'll hunt her up and have her get a divorce,' he volunteered cheerfully. + +"He was very puzzled and perplexed when I vetoed that. He says I can't +have the true artistic temperament, I am so ghastly religious. At any +rate, I have not seen him since, and have not answered his notes. Now, +don't weep over me, Carol, and think my young affections were trifled +with. They weren't--because they didn't have time. But I am not +taking any chances. + +"Henceforth I get my sentiment second hand. + +"The girl at our table, Emily Jarvis, who is a spherist, attributes all +the good fortune that has come to you and David to the fact that at +heart you are in harmony with the spheres. You don't know what a +spherist is, and neither do I. But it includes a lot of musical terms, +and metaphors, and is something like Christian Science and New Thought, +only more so. Spherists believe in a life of harmony, and somehow or +other they get the spheres back of it, and believe in immaterial +matter, and that all physical manifestations are negative, and the only +positive, or affirmative, is 'harmony.' + +"Emily is very, very pretty, and that sort of excuses her for digging +into the intricacies of spheral harmonies. Even such unmitigated +nonsense as sphere control, spirit harmony, and mental submission, +assumes a semblance of dignity when expounded by her cherry-red lips. +She speaks vacuously of being under world-dominance, and has absolutely +no physical consciousness. She says so herself. If she ignores her +tempting curves and matchless softness, she is the only one in the +house who does. In fact, it is only the attraction of her very +physical being, which she denies, that lends a species of sense to her +harmonious converse. She and I are great friends. She says I am a +harmonizer on the inside. + +"She is engaged to a man across the hall, Rodney Carter. She has the +room next to mine. His voice is deep and carrying, hers is clear and +ringing, and the walls are thin. So I have benefited by most of their +courtship. But the course of true love, you know. She has tried +spiritually and harmoniously to convert him to immaterialism, but +Rodney is very conscious of his physical, muscular, material being, and +he hoots at her derisively, but tenderly. + +"'Oh, cut it out, Emily,' he said, one evening. 'We can only afford +one spirit in the family. One of us has got to earn a living. +Spirits, it seems, require plenty of steak and potatoes to keep them in +harmony. I could not conscientiously lead you to the altar, even a +spheral altar, if I were not prepared to pay house rent and coal bills. +One's enough, you can be our luxury.' + +"'But, Rod, if you are in harmony you can earn our living so much more +easily. You must get above this notion of material necessities. There +are no such things.' + +"'I don't believe it,' he interrupted coldly. 'There are material +necessities. You are one of them. The most necessary in the world. +You may be harmonious, but you are material, too. That is why I love +you. I couldn't be crazy about a melodious breath of air ghosting +around the back yard. And I am not strong for disembodied minds, +either. They make me nervous. They sound like skulls and cross-bones, +and whitening skeletons to me. I love you, your arms, your face, all +of you. It may not be proper to talk about it, but I love it. Can you +imagine our minds embracing each other, thrilling at the contact,--oh, +it's tommyrot. A fool--' + +"'It may be tommyrot to you, Rod,' said Emily haughtily. 'But the +inspiration of the matchless minds of the mystic men of the Orient--' + +"'Inspiration of idiocy. What do mystic men of the Orient know about +warm-blooded Americans, dead in love? I might kiss the air until I was +blue in the face,--nothing to it,--but let me kiss you, and we are both +aquiver, and--' + +"'Rodney Carter, don't you dare say such things,' she cried furiously. +'It is insulting. Besides it has nothing to do with it. It isn't so +anyhow. And what is more--' + +"'There's nothing mysterious about us. Let the old Chinesers pad +around in their bare feet and naked souls if they want to. We are +children of light, we are, creatures of earth, earthly. We're--' + +"'Oh, I can't argue with you, Rod,' she began confusedly. + +"'I don't want you to. Kiss me. One kiss, Emily mine, will confound +the whole united order of Maudlin Mystics. I am willing to risk all +the anathemas contained in an inharmonious sphere for one touch of your +lips. Go ahead with your sacred doctrine of universal and spiritual +imbecility, but soften its harshness with worldly, physical, +sin-suggesting kisses, and I am in tune with the infinite.' + +"Then Emily broke the engagement, and Rodney, after relieving himself +of more heretical opinions of spiritual simplicity and mystic madness, +stalked unmelodiously away, slamming her door, and his own after it. + +"What I didn't hear of it myself, Emily told me afterward, for we are +very confidential. + +"The whole house was intensely interested in the denouement. Rodney +sat stolidly at his table, crunching his food, gazing reproachfully and +adoringly at Emily's proudly lifted head. Emily, for all her +unconsciousness of physical necessity, lost her appetite, and grew +pale. The mental and physical may have nothing in harmony, as she +says, but certainly her mental upheaval resulting from the lack of +Rodney's demonstrations of love, affected her physical appetite as well +as her complexion. + +"When Rodney met Emily in the halls, he made her life miserable. + +"'Good morning, Long Sin Coo.' 'Hello, Ghostie.' 'Hey, Spirit, may I +borrow a nip of brandy to make an ethereal cocktail for my imaginary +nightcap?' + +"And he opened his transom and took to talking to himself out loud. So +Emily decided to close her transom. It stuck. She asked my +assistance, and we balanced a chair on a box and I held it steady while +she got up to oil the transom. But first she would lose her balance, +then she would drop the oil can, then the box would slip. She couldn't +reach the joints, or whatever you call them, and when she stood on +tiptoe she lost her balance. Then she got her finger in the joint and +pinched it, emitting a most material squeal as she did so. Happening +to glance through the transom, she saw Rodney standing below in the +hall, grinning at her with inharmonious, unspiritual, unsentimental +glee, and she tugged viciously at the transom, banging herself off the +box, upsetting the chair, and squirting oil all over me as she fell. + +"Rodney rushed to the rescue, but Emily was already scrambling into +sitting posture, scared, bruised and furious. She had torn her dress, +twisted her ankle, bumped her head and scratched her face. And Rodney +had seen it. + +"Ignoring me, Rodney sat down on the box and looked her over with cold +professional eyes. + +"'My little seeker after truth,' he said, 'you are a mystic combination +of spirit and mind. You are in tune with the infinite spheres. You +are a breath in a universal breeze. Therefore you feel no +inconvenience. Get up, my child, and waltz an Oriental hesitation down +the hall and convince yourself everlastingly that you are in truth only +a mysterious unit in a universe of harmonic chords.' + +"Emily dropped her head on the oil can, lifted up her voice and wept. +And Rodney, with an exclamation that a minister's daughter can not +repeat, took the unhappy mystic into his arms. + +"'Sweetheart, forgive me. I am a brute, I know. Knock me on the head +with the oil can, won't you? Don't cry, sweetheart,--Emily, don't.' + +"Finally Emily spoke. 'You are as mean and hateful as you can be, +Rodney Carter,' she said, burrowing more deeply into his shoulder. +'And I despise you. And I am going to marry you, too, just to get even +with you. Give me back my engagement ring.' Rodney ecstatically did. +The touch of her lovely, material body must have thrilled him, for he +kissed her all over the top of the head, her face being hidden. + +"I stood my ground. I was looking for literary material since I never +have a chance to make romance for myself. Emily spoke again. + +"'I know now that the Vast Infinite intends us for each other. I have +been dwelling in Perfect Harmony the last four days, trusting the All +Perfection to bring us together again. So I know that our union was +decreed from the foundation by the Universal sphere. I tell you, Rod, +you can't get ahead of the Infinite.' + +"Then I went to my own room, and they never knew when I left,--they +didn't even remember I had been there. But as I came back from +answering the phone at eleven o'clock, I met Rod in the hall. He had +some books in his hand. He ducked them behind him when he saw me. I +reached for them sternly, and he pulled them out rather sheepishly. I +read the titles, 'Spheral Mentality,' 'Infinite Spheres,' 'Spheral +Harmony.' + +"'Made me promise to read 'em, too,' he confided in a whisper. 'And by +George, she is worth it.' + +"Oh, I tell you, Carol, these boarding-houses are chuck full of +literary material. Really, I am developing. I know it. I feel it +every day. I rub elbows with every one I meet, and I like it. I don't +care if they aren't 'My Kind' at all. I am learning to reach down to +the same old human nature back of all the different kinds. Isn't that +growth? + +"You asked about the millionaire's son. He still comes to see me every +once in a while. He says he can't promise to let me spend all of his +millions for missions if I marry him,--says he has too much fun +spending them on himself,--but he insists that I may do whatever I like +with him. Isn't it too bad I can't feel called upon to take him in +hand? + +"Anyhow, if I had a million dollars do you know what I would do? Buy +an orphans' home, and dump 'em all in a big ship and go sailing, +sailing over the bounding main. I'd kidnap Julia and take her along. + +"He was here last week, and sent his love to you, and best wishes to +David. He told me to ask particularly how your complexion gets along +out in the sunny mesa land. + +"I want to see you. I am saving up my pennies religiously, and when +they have multiplied sufficiently I am coming. Thanks for the +invitation. + +"Lovingly as always, + +"Connie." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +QUIESCENT + +Long but not dreary weeks followed one after the other. In the little +'dobe cottage, situated far up the hill on the mesa, Carol and David +lived a life of passionless routine. Carol was busy, hence she had the +easier part. David's breakfast on a tray at seven, nourishment at +nine, luncheon at twelve, nourishment at three, dinner at six, +nourishment at nine,--with medicines to be administered, temperatures +to be taken, alcohol rubs to be given at frequent intervals,--this was +Carol's day. And at odd hours the house must be kept clean and +sanitary, dishes washed, letters written. And whenever the moment +came, David was waiting for her to come and read aloud to him. + +When a man of action, of energy, of boundless enthusiasm is tossed +aside, strapped with iron bands to a little white cot on a screened +porch with a view of a sunburned mesa reaching off to the mountains, +unless he is of the biggest, and finest, his personality can not +survive. David's did. Months of helplessness lay behind him, a life +of inaction lay before him. He could walk a half block or so, he could +go driving with kind neighbors who invited him, but every avenue of +service was closed, every form of expression denied him. He had hoped +to live a full, good, glowing life. And there he lay. + +It is not work which tells the caliber of man, but idleness. + +Month followed month, now there were bitter winds and blinding snows, +now the hot sun scorched the yellow sand of the mesa, now the mountains +were high white clouds of snow, now the fields of green alfalfa showed +on a few distant foothills, and the canyons were green with pines. +Otherwise there was no change. + +But the summers in New Mexico were crushingly, killingly hot, and so +the sturdy-hearted health chasers left the 'dobe cottage, packed their +few possessions and moved up into Colorado. And while David waited +patiently in the hotel, Carol set forth alone and found a small cottage +with sleeping porch, cleanly and nicely furnished, rent reasonable, no +objections to health seekers. And she and David moved into their new +home. + +And the old life of Albuquerque began again, meals, nourishments and +medicines alternating through the days. + +In the summer of the third year, Carol wrote to Connie: + + +"Haven't you been saving up long enough? We do so want to see you, and +Colorado is beautiful. We haven't the long mesa stretching up to the +sunny slopes as it was in New Mexico, but from our tiny cottage we can +look right over the city to the mountains on the other side, and the +sunny slopes are there. So please count your pennies. They give +summer rates you know." + + +Connie went down to Mount Mark the night she received that letter, +spending half the night in the train, and talked it over with the +family. Without a dissenting voice, they said she ought to go. Ten +days later, Carol and David were exulting over Connie's letter. + + +"Yes, thank you, I am coming. In fact, I was only waiting for the word +from you. So I shall start on Monday next, C., B. & Q., reaching +Denver Tuesday afternoon at 2:30. Be sure and meet me. + +"I nearly lost my job, too. I went to Mr. Carver and said I wanted a +vacation. He said 'All right, when and how long?' I said, 'Beginning +next Monday.' He nodded. 'To continue six weeks.' He nearly died. +He asked what kind of an institution for the feeble-minded I thought +this was. I said I hadn't solved it yet. He reminded me that I have +already had one week's vacation, and three days on two different +occasions. He said he hired people to work, not to visit their +relatives at his expense. He said I had one week of vacation coming. +And I interrupted to say I didn't expect any salary during that time, I +just wanted him to hold my position for me. He said he was astonished +I didn't ask him to discontinue publication during my absence. Finally +he said I might have one week on full pay, and one week without pay, +and that was enough for a senator. + +"So I went to my machine and wrote out a very literary resignation +which I handed to him. I know the business now, and I have met a lot +of publishers, so I was safe in resigning. I knew I could get another +position in three days. He tore the resignation up, and said he wished +I could outgrow my childishness. + +"Before luncheon, he said he had a good idea. We were away behind in +clippings for filling and he suggested that I take a big bundle of +exchanges with me, and clip while I vacated. Also I could doubtless +find the time to write a thousand or so words a week and send it in, +and then I might go on full pay for six weeks. Figuratively I fell +upon his neck and kissed him,--purely figuratively, for his wife has a +most annoying way of dropping in at unexpected hours,--and I am getting +the most charming new clothes made up, so David will think I am +prettier than you. Now don't withdraw the invitation, for I shall come +anyhow." + + +Carol considered herself well schooled in the art of emotional +restraint, but when she finished reading those blessed words--which to +her ears, so hungry for the voices of home, sounded like an extract +from the beatitudes--she put her head on the back of David's hand and +gulped audibly. And she admitted that she must certainly have cried, +save for the restraining influence of the knowledge that crying made +her nose red. + +In the meantime, back in Iowa, the Starrs in their separate households, +were running riot. Never was there to be such a wonderful visit for +anybody in the world. Jerry and Prudence bundled up their family, and +got into a Harmer Six and drove down to Mount Mark, where they +ensconced themselves in the family home and announced their intention +of staying until Connie had gone. As soon as Fairy heard that, she +hastened home too, full of the glad tiding that she had found a boy she +wanted to adopt at last. Lark and Jim neglected the farm shamefully, +and all the women of the neighborhood were busy making endless little +odds and ends of dainty clothing for Carol, who had lived ready-made +during the three years of their domicile in the shadowland of sunshine. + +A hurried letter was despatched to David's doctor, asking endless +questions, pledging him to secrecy, and urging him to wire an answer C. +O. D. Little Julia was instructed as to her mother's charms and her +father's virtues far beyond the point of her comprehension. And Jerry +spent long hours with Connie in the car, explaining its mechanism, and +making her a really proficient driver, although she had been very +skilful behind the wheel before. Also, he wrote long letters to his +dealer in Denver, giving him such a host of minute instructions that +the bewildered agent thought the "old gent in Des Moines had gone daft." + +Carol wrote every day, pitifully, jubilantly, begging Connie to hurry +and get started, admonishing her to take a complete line of snapshots +of every separate Starr, to count each additional gray hair in darling +father's head, and to locate every separate dimple in Julia's fat +little body. And every letter was answered by every one of the family, +who interrupted themselves to urge everybody else not to give anything +away, and to be careful what they said. And they all cried over Julia, +and over Carol's letters, and even cried over the beautiful assortment +of clothes they had accumulated for Carol, using Lark as a sewing model. + +Twenty minutes after the train left Mount Mark, came a telegram from +Carol: "Did she get off all right? Did anything happen? Wire +immediately." And the whole family rushed off to separate rooms to +weep all over again. + +But Aunt Grace walked slowly about the house, gathering up blocks, and +headless dolls, and tailless dogs, and laying them carefully away in a +drawer until little Julia should return to visit the family in Mount +Mark. + +For the doctor had said it was all right to restore the baby to her +heart-hungering parents in the mountain land. Carol was fairly strong, +David was fairly well. The baby being healthy, and the parents being +sanitary, the danger to its tiny lungs was minimized,--and by all means +send them the baby. + +So Julia was arrayed in matchless garments destined to charm the eyes +of the parents, who, in their happiness, would never realize it had any +clothes on at all, and Connie set out upon her journey with the little +girl in her charge. + +On Tuesday morning, Carol was a mental wreck. She forgot to salt +David's eggs, and gave him codeine for his cough instead of tonic +tablets for his appetite. She put no soda in the hot cakes, and made +his egg-nog of buttermilk. She laughed out loud when David was asking +the blessing, and when he wondered how tall Julia was she burst out +crying, and then broke two glasses in her energetic haste to cover up +the emotional outbreak. Altogether it was a most trying morning. She +was ready to meet the train exactly two hours and a half before it was +due, and she combed David's hair three times, and whenever she couldn't +sit still another minute she got up and dusted the railing around the +porch, brushed off his lounging jacket, and rearranged the roses in the +vase on his table. + +"David, I honestly believe I was homesick. I didn't know it before. I +got along all right before I knew she was coming, but now I want to +jump up and down and shout. Why on earth didn't she take an earlier +train and save me this agony?" + +At last, in self-defense, David insisted that she should start, and, +too impatient to wait for cars and to endure their stopping at every +corner, she walked the two miles to the station, arriving breathless, +perspiring and flushed. Even then she was thirty minutes ahead of +time, but finally the announcer called the train, and Carol stationed +herself at the exit close to the gate to watch the long line of +travelers coming up from the subway. No one noticed the slender woman +standing so motionless in the front of the waiting line, but the angels +in Heaven must have marked the tumult throbbing in her heart, and the +happiness stinging in her bright eyes. + +Then--she leaned forward. That was Connie of course,--she caught her +breath, and tears started to her eyes. Yes, that was Connie, that tall +slim girl with the shining face,--and oh, kind and merciful Providence, +that must be her own little Julia trudging along beside her, the fat +white face turning eagerly from side to side, confident she was going +to know that mother on sight, just because they had told her a mother +was what most belonged to her. + +Carol twisted her hands together, wringing her gloves into a shred. +She moistened her dry lips, and blinked desperately to crowd away those +tears. Yes, it was Connie, the little baby sister she used to tease so +mercilessly, and Julia, the little rosebud baby she had wanted so many +nights. She could not bear to let those ugly tears dim her sight for +one minute, she dare not miss one second of that feast to her hungering +eyes. + +The two sisters who had not seen each other for nearly four years, +looked into each other's faces, Carol's so pleadingly hungry for the +vision of one of her own, Connie's so strongly sweet and reassuring. +Instinctively the others drew away, and the little group, the +red-capped attendant trailing in the rear, stood alone. + +"Julia, this is your mama," said Connie, and the wide blue eyes were +lifted wonderingly into those other wide blue eyes so like them,--the +mother eyes that little Julia had never known. Carol, with an +inarticulate sob dropped on her knees and gathered her baby into her +arms. + +[Illustration: Carol, with an inarticulate sob, gathered her baby in +her arms.] + +Julia, who had been told it was to be a time of laughter, or rejoicing, +of utter gaiety, marveled at the pain in the face of this mother and +patted away the tears with chubby hands, laughing with excitement. By +the time Carol could be drawn from her wild caressing of the rosebud +baby, she was practically helpless. It was Connie who marshaled them +outside, tipped the red-capped attendant, waved a hand to the driver +waiting across the street, directed him about the baggage, and saw to +getting Carol inside and seated. + +Only once Carol came back to earth, "Mercy, Connie, taxis cost a +fortune out here." + +"This isn't a taxi," said Connie, "it is just a car." + +But Carol did not even hear her answer, for Julia, enchanted at being +so lavishly enthroned in the attention of any one, lifted her lips for +another noisy kiss, and Carol was deaf to the rest of the world. + +Her one idea now was to get this precious, wonderful, matchless +creature home to David as quickly as possible. + +"Hurry, hurry," she begged. "Make him go faster, Connie." + +"He can't," said Connie, laughing. "Do you want to get us pinched for +speeding the first thing?" + +And Julia, catching the word, immediately pinched both her auntie and +her mama, to show them she knew what they were talking about. And +Carol was stricken dumb at the wonderful, unbelievable cleverness of +this remarkable infant. + +When the car stopped before her cottage, she forgot her manners as +hostess, she forgot the baggage, and the driver, and even sister +Connie. She just grabbed Julia in her arms and rushed into the +cottage, back through the kitchen to the sleeping porch in the rear, +and stood gloating over her husband. + +"Look, look, look," she chanted. "It is Julia, she is ours, she is +here." David sat up in bed, his breath coming quickly. + +Carol, like a goddess of plenty dispensing royal favors, dumped the +smiling child on the bed and David promptly seized her. + +By this time Connie had made her arrangements with the driver, and +escorted herself calmly into the house, trailing the family to the +porch, gently readjusting Julia who was nearly turned upside down by +the fervor of her papa and mama, and informed David that she wanted to +shake hands. Thus recalled, David did shake hands, and looked pleased +when she commented on how well he was looking. But in her heart, +Connie, the young, untouched by sorrow, alive with the passion for +work, was crying out in resentment. Big, buoyant, active David reduced +to this. Carol, radiant, glowing, gleaming Carol,--this subdued gentle +woman with the thin face and dark circles beneath her eyes. "Oh, it is +wrong," thought Connie,--though she still smiled, for hearts are +marvelous creations, holding such sorrow, and hiding it well. + +When their wraps were removed, Julia sat on David's table, with David's +hand squeezing her knees, and Carol clutching her feet, and with +Connie, big and bright, sitting back and watching quietly, and telling +them startling and imaginary tales of the horrors she had encountered +on the train. David was entranced, and Carol was enchanted. This was +their baby, this brilliant, talented, beautiful little fairy,--and +Carol alternately nudged David's arm and tapped his shoulder to remind +him of the dignity of his fatherhood. + +But in one little hour, she remembered that after all, David was her +job, and even crowy, charming little Julia must not crowd him aside, +and she hastened to prepare the endless egg-nog. Then from the kitchen +window she saw the auto, still standing before their door. + +"Oh, my gracious!" she gasped. "We forgot that driver." + +She got her purse and hurried outside, but the driver was gone, and +only the car remained. Carol was too ignorant of motor-cars to observe +that it was a Harmer Six, she only wondered how on earth he could go +off and forget his car. She carried the puzzle to David, and he could +not solve it. + +"Are you able to walk at all, David?" asked Connie. + +"Yes, indeed," he said, sitting up proudly, "I can walk half a block if +there are no steps to climb." + +"Come out in front and we'll investigate," she suggested. + +When they reached the car, and it took time for David walked but +slowly, he promptly looked at the name plate. + +"Harmer Six," he read. "Why this is Jerry's kind of car." + +"Yes, it is his kind," explained Connie. "He and Prudence sent this +one out for you and Carol and Julia. They have just established an +agency here, and he has made arrangements with the dealer to take +entire care of it for you, sending it up when you want it, calling for +it when you are through, keeping it in repair, and providing gas and +oil,--and the bill goes to Jerry in Des Moines." + +One would have thought enough happiness had come to the health seekers +for one day. Carol would have sworn she could not possibly be one +little bit gladder than she had been before, with David sick, of +course. And now came this! How David would love it. She looked at +her husband, happily pottering around the engine, turning bolts and +buttons as men will do, and she looked at Julia, proudly viewing her +own physical beauties in the shining body of the car, and she looked at +Connie with the charm and glory of the parsonage life clinging about +her like a halo. Then she turned and walked into the house without a +word. Understandingly, David and Connie allowed her to pass inside +without comment. + +"Connie," said David when they were alone, "I believe God will give you +a whole chest of stars for your crown for the sweetness that brought +you out here. Carol was sick for something of home. I wanted her to +go back for a visit but she would not leave me. But she was sick. She +needed some outside life. I can give her nothing, I take my life from +her. And she needed fresh inspiration, and you have brought it." +David was silent a moment. "Connie, whenever things do get shadowy for +us, the clouds are pulled back so we may see the sun shining on the +slopes more brilliantly than ever." + +Turning quickly she followed his gaze, and a softness came into her +eyes as she looked. Truly the darkness of the canyons seemed only to +emphasize the brightness of the ridges above them. + +She laid her hand on David's arm, that strong, shapely, capable hand, +and whispered, "David, if I might have what you and Carol have, if I +could be happy in the way that you are, I think I should be willing to +lose the sunshine on the slopes and dwell entirely in the darkness of +the canyons. But I haven't got it, I don't know how to get it." Then +she added slowly, "But I suppose, having what you two have, one could +not lose the sunshine on the slopes." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +RE-CREATION + +Were you ever wakened in the early morning by the clear whistle of a +meadow-lark over your head, with the rich scent of the mountain pines +coming to you on the pure light air of a new day, with the sun wrapping +the earth in misty blue, and staining the mountains with rose? To +David, lying on his cot in the open air, every dawning morning was a +new creation, a brand new promise of hope. To be sure, the enchantment +was like to be broken in a moment, still the call of the morning had +fired his blood, and given him a new impetus,--impetus, not for work, +not for ambition, not for activity, just an impetus to lie quietly on +his cot and be happy. + +The birds were shortly rivaled by the sweeter, dearer, not less +heavenly voice of little Julia, calling an imaginary dog, counting her +mother's eyes, or singing to herself an original improvise upon the +exalted subject of two brown bugs. And a moment later, came the sound +of rapturous kissing, and Carol was awake. And before the smile of +content left his face, she stood in the doorway, her face flushed with +sleep, her hair tumbling about her face, a warm bath robe drawn about +her. Always her greeting was the same. + +"Good morning, David. Another glorious day, isn't it?" + +Then Julia came splashing out in Aunt Connie's new rose-colored boudoir +slippers, with Connie in hot barefooted pursuit. And the new day had +begun, the riotous, delirious day, with Julia at the helm. + +Connie had amusing merry tales to tell of her work, and her friends, +and the family back home. And time had to be crowded a little to make +room for long drives in the Harmer Six. Carol promptly learned to +drive it herself, and David, tentatively at first, talked of trying his +own hand on it. And finally he did, and took a boyish satisfaction in +his ability to manipulate the gears. Oh, perhaps it made him a little +more short of breath, and he found that his nerves were more highly +keyed than in the old time days,--anyhow he came home tired, hungry, +ready to sleep. + +Even the occasional windy or cloudy days, when the Harmer Six was left +wickedly wasting in the garage, had their attractions. How the girls +did talk! Sometimes, when they had finished the dishes, Carol, intent +on Connie's story, stood patiently rubbing the dish pan a hundred, a +thousand times, until David would call pleadingly, "Girls, come out +here and talk." Then, recalled in a flash, they rushed out to him, +afraid the endless chatter would tire him, but happy that he liked to +hear it. + +"Speaking of lovers," Connie would begin brightly,--for like so many of +the very charming girls who see no charm in matrimony, most of Connie's +conversation dealt with that very subject. And it was what her +auditors liked best of all to hear. Why, sometimes Carol would +interrupt right in the middle of some account of her success on the +papers, to ask if a certain man was married, or young, or good looking. +After all, getting married was the thing. And Connie was not +sufficiently enthusiastic about that. Writing stories was very well, +and poems and books had their place no doubt, but Shakespeare himself +never turned out a masterpiece to compare with Julia sitting plump and +happy in the puddle of mud to the left of the kitchen door, her round +pink face streaked and stained and grimy. + +"I really did decide to get married once," Connie began confidentially, +when they were comfortably settled on the porch by David's cot. "It +was when I was in Mount Mark one time. Julia was so sweet I thought I +could not possibly wait another minute. I kept thinking over the men +in my mind, and finally I decided to apply my business training to the +problem. Do you remember Dan Brooks?" + +Carol nodded instantly. She remembered all the family beaus from the +very beginning. "A doctor now, isn't he? Lives next door to the folks +in Mount Mark. I used to think you would marry him, Connie. He is +well off, and nice, too. And a doctor is very dignified." + +Connie agreed warmly, and David laughed. All the Starrs had been so +sensible in discussing the proper qualifications for lovers, and all +had impulsively married whenever the heart dictated. + +"Yes, that's Dan. Did you ever notice that cluster of lilac bushes +outside our dining-room window? Maybe you used it in your own beau +days. It is a lovely place to sit, very effective, for Dan's study +overlooks it from the up-stairs, and their dining-room from +down-stairs. So whenever I want to lure Dan I sit under the lilacs. +He can't miss me. + +"One day I planted myself out there with a little red note-book and the +telephone directory. Dan and his mother were eating luncheon. I was +absorbed in my work, but just the same I had a wary eye on Dan. He +shoved back his chair, and got up. Then he kissed his mother lightly +and came out the side door, whistling. I looked up, closed the +directory, snapped the lock on my note-book, and took the pencil out of +my mouth. I said, 'Hello, Danny.' Then I shoved the books behind me. + +"'Hello, Connie.--No, I wouldn't invite Fred Arnold if I were you. It +would just encourage him to try, try again, and it would mean an +additional wound in the heart for him. Leave him out.' + +"I frowned at him. 'I am not doing a party,' I said coldly. + +"'No? Then why the directory? You are not reading it for amusement, +are you? You are not--' + +"'Never mind, Dan. It is my directory, and if I wish to look up my +friends--' + +"'Look up your friends!' Dan was plainly puzzled. 'None of my +business, of course, but it is a queer notion. And why the tablet? +Are you taking notes?' He reached for the notebook with the easy +familiarity that people use when they have known you all your life. I +shoved it away and flushed a little. I can flush at a second's notice, +Carol. It is very effective in a crisis. I'll teach you, if you like. +It only requires a little imagination." + +Carol hugged her knees and beamed at Connie. "Go on," she begged. +"How did it turn out?" + +"'Well,' he said, 'you must be writing a book. Are you looking up +heroes? Mount Mark isn't tremendously rich in hero material. But here +am I, tall, handsome, courageous.' + +"I sniffed, then I smiled, then I giggled. 'Yes,' I agreed, 'I was +looking up heroes, but not for a book.' + +"'What for then?' + +"'For me.' + +"'For you?' + +"'Yes, for me. I want a hero of my own. Dan,' I said in an earnest +impressive manner, 'you may think this is very queer, and not very +modest, but I need a confidant, and Aunt Grace would think I am crazy. +Cross your heart you'll never tell?' + +"Dan obediently crossed, and I drew out the books. + +"'I am going to get married.' + +"Dan pulled his long members together with a jerk and sat up. He was +speechless. + +"I nodded affirmatively. 'Yes. Does it surprise you?' + +"'Who to?' he demanded furiously and ungrammatically. + +"'I haven't just decided,' I vouchsafed reluctantly. + +"'You haven't--great Scott, are they coming around in droves like +that?' He glanced down the street as if he expected to see a galaxy of +admirers heaving into view. 'I knew there were a few hanging around, +but there aren't many fellows in Mount Mark.' + +"'No, not many, and they aren't coming in droves. I am going after +them.' + +"Having known me almost since my toothless days, Dan knew he could only +wait. + +"'I am getting pretty old, you know.' + +"He looked at me critically and gave my age a smile. + +"'I am very much in favor of marriage, and families, and such things. +I want one myself. And if I don't hurry up, I'll have to adopt it. +There's an age limit, you know.'" + +"'Age limit,' he exploded. + +"'I think I shall have a winter wedding, a white one, along in January. +Not in December, it might interfere with my Christmas presents.' + +"'Connie--' + +"'I am going to be very systematic about it. In this note-book I am +making a list of all the nice Mount Markers. I couldn't think of any +myself right offhand, so I had to resort to the directory. Now I shall +go through the list and grade them. Some are black-marked right at the +start. Those that sound reasonable, I shall try out. The one that +makes good, I shall marry. I've got to hurry, too. My vacation only +lasts a week, and I have to work on my trousseau a little. It's lots +of fun. I am perfectly fascinated with it.' + +"Dan had nothing to say. He looked at me with that blankness of +incomprehension that must be maddening in a man after you are married +to him." + +Carol squeezed David's hand and gurgled rapturously. This was her +great delight, to get Connie talking, so cleverly, of her variegated +and cosmopolitan love-affairs. + +"'I suppose you are surprised,' I said kindly, 'and naturally you think +it rather queer. You mustn't let any one know. Mount Mark could never +comprehend such modernity. I feel very advanced, myself. I want to +spring up and shout, "Votes for Women" or "Up with the Red Flag," or +"Villa Forever," or something else outspoken and bloody.'" + +Carol and David shook with laughter, silently, not to interrupt the +story. + +"'How about love, Connie?' suggested Dan, meekly. + +"'I believe in love, absolutely. That is my strongest point. As soon +as I find a champion, I am going to concentrate all my energy and all +my talent on falling dead in love with him.' + +"'Have you found any eligibles yet?' + +"'Yes, Harvey Grath, and Robert Ingersoll, and Cal Keith, and Doctor +Meredith.' + +"'Where do I come in?' + +"'Oh, we know each other too well,' I said with discouraging +promptness. 'The real fascination in getting married is the novelty of +it. There wouldn't be any novelty in marrying you. I know as much +about you as your mother does. Eggs fried over, meat well done, no +gravy, breakfast in bed Sunday morning, sporting pages first,--it would +be like marrying father. Now I must get to work, Danny, so you'd +better trot along and not bother me. And you must keep away evenings +unless you have a date in advance. You might interrupt something if +you bob in unannounced.' + +"'May I have a date this evening?' he asked with high hauteur. + +"'So sorry, Danny, I have a date with Cal Keith.' I consulted the +note-book. 'To-morrow night Doctor Meredith. Thursday night, Buddy +Johnson.' + +"'Friday then?' + +"'Yes, Friday.' + +"The next time he saw me, he said first thing, which proved he had been +thinking seriously, 'I suppose it will be the end of my hanging around +here if you get married.' + +"Evidently he thought I would contradict him. But I didn't. + +"'I am afraid so,' I admitted. 'My husband will be so fearfully +jealous! He will be so crazy about me that he won't allow another man +to come within a mile of me.' + +"Dan snorted. 'You don't know how crazy he'll be about you.' + +"'Oh, yes, I do, for when I pick him out, I'll see to that part of it. +That will be easy. It is picking him out that is hard.' + +"You know how Dan is, Carol. He is very fond of the girls, especially +me, and he makes love in a sort of semi-fashion, but he never really +wanted to get married. He liked to be a bachelor. He noticed how +other men ran down after marriage, and he didn't want to run down. He +saw how so many girls went to seed after marriage, and he didn't want +them to belong to him. 'Let well enough alone, you fool,' was his +philosophy. I knew it. He had told me about it often, and I always +said it was sound good sense. + +"The second afternoon I told him I was going to wear white lace to be +married in, and had picked out my bridesmaids. I asked him where would +be a nice place to go for a honeymoon, and he flung himself home in a +huff, and said it was none of his business where I went but he +suggested New London or Danville. I showed no annoyance when he left +so abruptly. I was too busy. I drew my feet up under me and went on +making notes in my red book. He looked out from behind the windows of +the dining-room, carefully concealed of course, but I saw him. I could +hear him nearly having apoplexy when he saw me utterly and blissfully +absorbed in my book." + +Carol chuckled in ecstasy. She foresaw that Connie was practically +engaged to Dan, a prince of a fellow, and she was so glad. That little +scamp of a Connie, to keep it secret so long. + +"Oh," she cried, "I always thought you loved each other." + +"So?" asked Connie coolly. "Dan admitted he was surprised that my +plans worked so easily. Before that he had been my escort on every +occasion, and the town accepted it blandly. Now I had a regular series +of attendants, and Dan was relegated to a few spare moments under the +lilacs now and then. He couldn't see how I got hold of the fellows. +He said they were perfect miffs to be nosed around like that. Why +didn't they show some manhood? Boneless, brainless jelly fishes, +jumping head first because a little snip of a girl said jump. + +"The third day I called him on the phone. + +"'Dan, come over quick. I have the loveliest thing to show you.' + +"He did not wait for a hat. He dashed out and over the hedge, and I +had the door open for him. + +"'Oh, look,' I gurgled. I am not a very good gurgler, but sometimes +you just have to do it. + +"Dan looked. 'Nothing but silverware, is it?' + +"I was hurt. 'Nothing but silverware? Why, it is my silverware, for +my own little house. It cost a terribly, criminally lot, but I +couldn't resist it. I really feel much more settled since I bought it. +There is something very final about silverware. See these pretty +doilies I am making. Aunt Grace is crocheting a bedspread for me, too. +Those are guest towels,--they were given to me.' + +"Dan's lips curled scornfully. He turned the lovely linens roughly, +and wiped his hands on a dainty guest towel. + +"'Connie, this is downright immodest. Furnishing your house before you +have a lover!' + +"'Do you think so?' I kissed a circular hand-embroidered table-cloth. +'If I had known it was such fun furnishing my house, I'd have had the +lover years ago and don't you forgit it.' + +"'I am disappointed in you.' + +"'I am sorry,' I said lightly. 'But I am so excited over getting +married, that I can't bother much about what mere friends think any +more. My husband's opinions--' + +"'Mere friends,' he shouted. 'Mere friends! I am no mere friend, +Connie Starr. I'M--I'M--' + +"'Yes, what are you?' + +"Well, I am your pal, your chum, your old schoolmate, your best +friend,--' + +"'Oh, that was before I was engaged.' + +"'Engaged?' Dan was staggered. 'Are you really engaged then? Have +you found the right one?' + +"'Being engaged alters the situation. You must see that.' + +"'Who is it?' + +"'Oh, don't be so silly. I haven't found the right one yet. But the +principle is just the same. With marriage just ahead of me, all the +rest of the world must stand back to give place to my fiance.' + +"Dan sneered. 'Yeh, look at the world standing back and gazing with +envy on this moonbeam fiance. Look!' + +"'Oh, Dan it is the most fascinating thing in the world. In four +months I may be standing at the altar, dressed in filmy white,--I +bought the veil yesterday,--promising to love, honor and obey,--with +reservations,--for the rest of my life. A little home of my own, a +husband to pet, and chum with,--I am awfully happy, Dan, honestly I am.' + +"And Carol I did enjoy it. It was fun. I was simply hypnotized with +the idea of having a house and a husband and a lot of little Julias. +Dan glared at me in disgust. Then he went home, snarling about my +mushiness. But he thought it was becoming to me. He said I got +prettier every day. I would not even let him touch my hand any more. +You know Dan and I were pretty good pals for a long time, and he was +allowed little privileges like that. Now it was all off. Dan might +rave and Dan might storm, but I stood firm. He could not touch my +hands! I was consecrated to my future husband. + +"'It may not be wicked, Dan, I do not say it is. But it makes me +shiver to think what would happen if my husband caught you doing it. +He might kill you on the spot.' + +"'You haven't got a husband,' Dan would snap. + +"'The principle is just the same.' Then I would dimple up at him. I +am not the dimply type of girl, I know, but there are times when one +has simply got to dimple at a man, and by wrinkling my face properly I +can give the dimple effect. I have practised it weary hours before the +mirror. I have often prayed for a dimpled skin like yours, Carol, but +I guess the Lord could not figure out how to manage it since my skin +was practically finished before I began to pray. 'I keep wondering +what he will like for breakfast,' I said to Dan. 'Isn't that silly? I +hope he does not want fried potatoes. It seems so horrible to have +potatoes for breakfast.' Then I added loyally, 'But he will probably +be a very strong character, original, and unique, and men like that +always have a few idiosyncrasies, so if he wants fried potatoes for +breakfast he shall have them.' + +"Dan sniffed again. He was becoming a chronic sniffer in these days of +my engagement. + +"'Yeh, he'll want fried potatoes all right, and postum, and left-over +pumpkin pie. I have a picture of the big mutt in my mind now. +"Constance," he'll say, "for pity's sake put more lard in the potatoes +when you fry them. They are too dry. Take them back and cook them +over." He will want his potatoes swimming in grease, he is bound to, +that's just the kind of man he is. He will want everything greasy. +Oh, you're going to have a sweet time with that big stiff.' + +"I shook my fist at him. 'He will not!' I cried. 'Don't you dare make +fun of my husband. He--he--' Then I stopped and laughed. 'Isn't it +funny how women always rush to defend their husbands when outsiders +speak against them? We may get cross at them ourselves, but no one +else shall ridicule them.' + +"'Yes, you are one loving little wife all right. You sure are. You +won't let any one say a mean word against your sweet little +snookie-ookums. Oh, no. Wait till you get to darning his socks, you +won't be so crazy about him then.' + +"'I do get a little cross when I darn his socks,' I confessed. 'I +don't mind embroidering monograms on his silk shirts, but I can't say +that so far I really enjoy darning his socks. Still, since they are +his, it is not quite so bad. I wouldn't darn anybody else's, not even +my own.' + +"'Are you doing it already?' Dan gasped. He found it very hard to keep +me and my husband straight in his mind. + +"'I am just pretending. I practise on father's. I want to be a very +efficient darner, so my patches won't make his poor dear feet sore.' + +"'Lord help us,' cried Dan, springing to his feet and flinging himself +through the hedge and slamming the door until it shook the house. He +went away angry every time. He simply couldn't be rational. One day +he said he guessed he would have to be the goat and marry me himself +just to keep me out of trouble. Then he blushed, and went home and +forgot his hat. + +"Came down to the last day. 'It has simmered down to Harvey Grath and +Buddy Johnson,' I told him. 'Harvey Grath,--Buddy Johnson,--Harvey +Grath,--Buddy Johnson. Do run away, Danny, and don't be a nuisance. +Harvey Grath,--Buddy Johnson.' + +"Dan neglected his patients until it is a wonder they did not all +die,--or get well, or something. He sat up-stairs in his study +watching an endless procession of Harvey Graths and Buddy Johnsons, +coming, lingering, going. + +"That night, regardless of the illuminating moon, I took Buddy Johnson +to the lilac corner. Dan was up-stairs smoking in front of his window. +Buddy didn't know about that window, but I did. He took my hand, and I +let him. I leaned my head against his shoulder,--not truly against, +just near enough so Dan could not tell the difference. Buddy tried to +kiss me, and nearly did it. I wasn't expecting it just at that minute. +Dan sprang from his chair before the conclusion, so he did not know if +the kiss was a fact, or not. Then I moved two feet away. Dan came out +and marched across to the lilacs. + +"'Connie,' he said, 'I am sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you +a few minutes. It is a matter of business.' To Buddy he said, 'You +know Connie always helps me out when I get stuck. Can you give me a +minute, Connie?' + +"I said, 'Of course I can. You'll excuse me won't you, Buddy? It is +getting late anyhow.' + +"So Buddy went away and Dan marched we up on the porch where it was +dark and shady. + +"'Are you engaged to Buddy Johnson?' + +"'No.' + +"'Thank Heaven.' + +"Dan kissed me, regardless of the accusing eyes of my husband in the +background." + +Carol breathed loudly in her relief. He kissed her. Connie did not +care. They were engaged. + +"Dan breathlessly took back everything he ever said about getting +married, and being a bachelor, and so forth. He said he was crazy to +be married, always had been, but didn't find it out before. He said he +had always adored me. And I drew out my note-book, and showed him the +first page,--Doctor Daniel Brooks, O. K. And every other name in the +book was checked off. + +"Dan was jubilant." Connie's voice trailed away slowly, and her +earnest fine eyes were cloudy. + +"An engagement," cried Carol, springing up. + +"No," said Connie slowly, "a blunder." + +"A blunder," faltered Carol, falling back. "You did it on purpose to +make him propose, didn't you?" + +"Yes, and he proposed, and we were engaged. But it was just a blunder. +It was not Dan I wanted. Carol, every woman feels like that at times. +She is full of that great magnificent ideal of home, and husband, and +little children. It seems the finest thing in the world, the only +flawless life. She can't resist it, for the time being. She feels +that work is silly, that success is tawdry, that ambition is wicked. +It is dangerous, Carol, for if she gets the opportunity, or if she can +make the opportunity, she is pretty sure to seize it. I believe that +is why so many marriages are unhappy,--girls mistake that natural +woman-wish for love, and they get married, and then--shipwreck." + +Carol sat silent. + +"Yes," said David sympathetically, "I think you are right. You were +lucky to escape." + +"I knew that evening, that one little evening of our engagement, that +having a home and a husband, and even a little child like Julia, would +never be enough. Something else had to come first. And it had not +come. I went to bed and cried all night, so sorry for Dan for I knew +he loved me,--but not sorry enough to make me do him such a cruel +injustice. The next morning I told him, and that afternoon I returned +to Chicago. + +"I have thought a whole lot more of my job since then." + +"But why couldn't you love him?" asked Carol impatiently. "It seems +unreasonable, Connie. He is nice enough for anybody, and you were just +ripe and ready for it." + +Connie shrugged her shoulders. "Why didn't you love somebody else +besides David?" she asked, and laughed at the quick resentment that +flashed to Carol's eyes. + +"Well," concluded Connie, "God certainly wanted a few old maids to +leaven the earth, and I think I have the making for a good leavener. +So I write stories, and let other women wash the little Julias' faces," +she added, laughing, as Julia, unrecognizably dirty, entered with a +soup can full of medicine she had painstakingly concocted to make her +daddy well. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +LITERARY MATERIAL + +Connie wanted to see something out of the ordinary. What was the use +of coming to the wild and woolly if one never saw anything wilder than +a movie of New York society life, or woollier than miles of properly +garbed motorists driving under the guidance of blue-coated policemen as +safely and sanely as could be done in Chicago. + +It was Julia who came to the rescue. She discovered, on a neighbor's +porch, and with admirable socialistic tendencies appropriated, a +glaring poster, with slim-legged horses balancing themselves in the +air, not at all inconveniencing their sunburned riders in varicolored +silk shirts. + +"Look at the horses jump over the moon," she exulted, kissing a scarlet +shirt in rapture. + +Upon investigation it turned out to be an irresistible advertisement of +the annual Frontier Days, at Fort Morgan. Carol explained the pictures +to Julia, while Connie looked over her shoulder. + +"Do they do all it says?" she asked. + +Carol did not know. She had never attended any Frontier Days, but she +imagined they were even more wonderful than the quite impossible +poster. Carol's early determination to adore the Westland had become +fixed habit at last. It was capable of any miracles, to her. + +"How far is it up there?" pursued Connie, for Connie had a very +inartistic way of sticking to her subject. + +"I do not know. About a hundred miles, I believe." + +"A nice drive for the Harmer," said Connie thoughtfully. "How are the +roads?" + +"I do not know, but I think all the roads are good in Colorado. +Certainly no road is impassable for a Harmer Six with you at the wheel." + +"I have a notion to drive up and see them," said Connie. "Literary +material, you know." + +"I want to see the horsies fly, too," cried Julia quickly. + +Carol thought it might do David good, and David was sure Carol needed a +vacation. They would think it over. + +Connie immediately went down-town and returned with a road guide, and +her arm full of literature about frontier days in general. Then it was +practically settled. A little distance of a hundred miles, a splendid +car, a driver like Connie! It was nothing. And Carol was so excited +getting ready for their first outing in the years of David's illness, +that she forgot his medicine three times in succession, and David +maliciously refused to remind her. + +They all talked at once, and agreed that it was very silly and +dangerous and unwise, but insisted it was the most alluring, appealing +madness in the world. David, for over three years limited to the +orderly, methodical, unstimulating confines of a screened porch, felt +quite the old-time throbbing of his pulse and quickening of his blood. +Even the doctor waxed enthusiastic. He looked into David's tired face +and said: + +"I think it will do him good. It can not do him harm." + +In the excitement of getting ready for something unusual, he developed +an unnatural strength and simply could not be kept in bed at all. He +slept soundly, ate heartily, and looked forward to the trip in the car +so anxiously that to the girls it was really pitiful. + +Then came a glorious day in September when the Harmer Six stood early +at their door, the lunch basket, and suit-cases were carefully +arranged, and they were off,--off in the beautiful Harmer,--off to the +country,--to the mountains and canyons,--to climb one of the sunny +slopes that had beckoned to them so enticingly. Almost they held their +breath at first, afraid the first creak of the car would waken them +from the unbelievable dream. + +Always as they climbed a long hill, Carol reminded them that they were +climbing a sunny slope that would lead to a city of gold at the top, a +city where everything was happy and bright, and there was no sickness, +no sorrow, no want. And looking ahead to the spires of a little +village, nestling cloudy and blue on the plains, she vowed it was a +golden city, and they leaned forward to catch the first sparkle of the +diamond-studded streets. And when they reached the city itself, +little, ugly, sordid,--a city of gold, perhaps, to those who had made a +fortune there, but not by any means a golden city of dreams to the +Arcady travelers,--Carol shook herself and said it was a mistake, she +meant the next one. + +Rooms had been engaged in advance at the Bijou, on the ground floor, +for the sake of David's softened muscles, and they reached the town +ahead of the regular Frontier Day crowds, allowing themselves plenty of +time to get rested and to see the whole thing start. + +Julia frolicked on the wide velvety lawn with all the dogs and cats and +children that could be drawn from the surrounding neighborhood. David +sat on the porch in a big chair, enjoying the soft breezes sweeping +down over the plains, looking through half closed lids out upon the +quiet shaded street. Carol crouched excitedly in another chair beside +him, squeezing his hand to call attention to every sunburned +picturesque son of the plains that galloped down that way. But Connie, +with the lustful eyes of a fortune-hunter walked up and down the +corridors, peering here and peeking there, listening avidly to every +unaccustomed word that was spoken,--getting material. + +Quickly the hotels were filled to capacity, and overflowed to cots in +the hall, rugs on the porches, and piles of straw in the stables. The +street so quietly peaceful on Sunday, by Wednesday was a throbbing +thoroughfare, with autos, wagons and horses whirling by in clouds of +dust The main street, a block away, was a noisy, active, flourishing, +carnival city, with fortune-tellers, two-headed dogs, snake-charmers, +minstrels and all the other street-fair habitues in full possession. A +dance platform was erected on a prominent corner, and bands were +brought in from all the neighboring towns on the plains. + +Connie was convinced she could get enough material to last a lifetime. +No detective was hotter on the scent of a trail than she. Never two +cowboys met in a secluded corner in the lobby to divide their hardly +earned coins, but Connie sauntered slowly by, catching every word, +noting the size of every coin that changed possession. No gaily garbed +horseman could signal to a girl of his admiration, but Connie caught +the motion first, and was taking mental notes for future coinage. They +were not people to her, just material. She loved them, she reveled in +them, she dreamed of them, just as a collector of curios gloats over +the treasures he amasses. She classified them in a literary note-book +for her own use, and kept them on file for instant reference. + +When they went to the fair-grounds, early, in order to secure a +comfortable seat for David where he should not miss one twist of a +rider's supple body, they were as delighted as children truanting from +school. It was the most exhilarating thing in the world,--this clever +little trick on the sleeping porch and the white cot, on egg-nogs and +beef juice and buttermilk. No wonder their faces tingled with +excitement and their eyes sparkled with delight. + +Connie was surprised that the girls were pretty, really pretty, with +pink and white skin and polished finger nails, those girls in the silk +blouses and khaki shirts, those girls with the wide sombrero and the +iron muscles, who rode the bucking horses, and raced around the track, +and did a thousand other appalling things that pink-skinned, +shiny-nailed girls were not wont to do back home. They stayed at the +Bijou, a whole crowd of them, and Connie never let them out of her +sight until they closed their bedroom doors for the night. They talked +in brief broken sentences, rather curtly, but their voices were quiet +and low, and they weren't half as slangy as cowgirls, by every literary +precedent, ought to be. They were not like Connie, of course, tall and +slim, with the fine exalted face, with soft pink palms and soft round +arms. And their striking saddle costumes were not half as curious to +Fort Morgan as Connie's lacy waists, and her tailored skirts, and her +frilly little silk gowns. But they were more curious to Connie. + +She tried to picture herself in a sombrero like that, with gauntlets on +her hands, and with a fringed leather skirt that reached to her knees, +and with a scarlet silk blouse and a yellow silk belt,--and even her +distinctly literary imagination could not compass such a miracle. But +she was sure if she ever could rig herself up like that, she would look +like a dream, and she really envied the cowgirls, who leaped head first +from the saddle but always landed right side up. + +People of another world, well, yes. But there are ways of getting +together. + +Connie talked very little that first afternoon. She watched the people +around her, and listened as they discussed the points of the horses, +the cowgirls and the jockeys with equal impartiality. She heard their +bets, their guttural grunts of disapproval with the judges' decisions, +their roars of satisfaction when the right horse won. She watched the +cowgirls, walking unconcernedly about the ring, flapping their +riding-whips against their leather boots. She watched the lithe-limbed +cowboys slouching not ungracefully around the nervous ponies, waving +their hats in greeting to their friends, calling loud jests to their +fellows in the cowboy band. How strange they were, how startlingly +human, and yet how thousand-miles removed. + +Connie rebelled against it. They were folks. And so was Connie. The +thousand miles was a barrier, an injustice. In order to handle +literary material, she must get within touching distance of it. All +those notes she had collected so painstakingly were cold, inanimate. +In order to write of folks she must touch them, feel them, must know +they lived and breathed as she did. Why couldn't she get at +them,--folks, plain folks, and so was she. A slow fury rose up in her, +and she watched the great events Of the afternoon with resentful eyes. +Even when a man not entered for racing, swung over the railing into the +center field, and scrambled upon the bare back of King Devil, the wild +horse of the plains which had never yielded to man's bridling hand, and +was tossed and dragged and jerked and twisted, until it seemed there +could be no life left in him, yet who finally pulled the horse almost +by brute force into submission, while the spectators went wild, and +Julia screamed, and Carol sank breathless and white into her seat, and +David stood on the bench and yelled until Carol pulled him down,--even +then Connie could not get the feeling. She wanted to write these +people, to put them on paper, and she couldn't, because they were not +people to her, they were just "Good points." + +Afterward, when they slowly made their way to the car, and drove home +to the Bijou again, Connie was still silent. She saw David comfortably +settled in the big chair on the sunny corner of the porch, with Carol +beside him and Julia romping on the lawn. Then she walked up and down +in front of the hotel. Finally she came back to the corner of the +porch. + +"David," she said impetuously, "I've got to speak to one of them +myself." She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the fair-grounds. + +"One of them?" echoed David. + +"Yes, one of those riders. I want to see if they can make me feel +anything. I want to find out if they are anything like other folks." + +David looked up suddenly, and a smile came to his eyes. Connie turned +quickly, and there, not two feet from her, stood "One of them," the man +who had ridden King Devil. His sombrero was pushed back on his head, +and his hair clung damply to his brown forehead. His lean face was +cynical, sneering. He carried a whip and spurs in one hand, the other +rested on the bulging hip of his khaki riding trousers. + +Connie stared, fascinated, into the thin, brown, sneering face. + +"How do you do?" he said mockingly. "Isn't it charming weather?" + +Connie still looked directly into his eyes. Somehow she felt that back +of the sneer, back of the resentment, there lay a little hurt that she +should have spoken so, classed him with fine horses and cattle, him and +his kind. Connie would make amends, a daughter of the parsonage might +not do ungracious things like that. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, unsmilingly, "I did not mean to +be rude. But the riders did fascinate me. I am spellbound. I only +wished to see if the charm would hold. I have not been in the West +before this." She held out her hand, slender, white, appealing. + +[Illustration: "I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, unsmilingly, "I +did not mean to be rude."] + +The man looked at her curiously in turn, then he jerked off his +sombrero and took her hand in his. There was the contact, soft white +skin of the city, hard brown hand of the mountain plains, and human +blood is swift to leap in response to an unwonted touch. + +Connie drew her hand away quickly, but his eyes still held hers. + +"Let me beg your pardon instead," he said. "Of course you did not mean +it the way it sounded. None of my business, anyhow." + +"Come on, Prince," called a man from the road, curbing his impatient +horse. But "Prince" waved him away without turning. + +This was a wonderful girl. + +"I--I write stories," Connie explained hurriedly, to get away from that +searching clasp of glances. "I wanted some literary material, and I +seemed so far away from everything. I thought I needed the personal +touch, you know." + +"Anything I can tell you?" he offered feverishly. "I know all about +range and ranch life. I can tell you anything you want to know." + +"Really? And will you do it? You know writers have just got to get +material. It is absolutely necessary. And I am running very short of +ideas, I have been loafing." + +He waited patiently. He was more than willing to tell her everything +he knew, or could make up to please her, but he had not the slightest +idea what she wanted. Whatever it was, he certainly intended to make +the effort of his life to give her. + +"I am Constance Starr," said Connie, still more abashed by the +unfaltering presence of this curious creature, who, she fully realized +at last, was quite human enough for any literary purpose. "And this is +my brother-in-law, Mr. Duke, and my sister, Mrs. Duke." + +"My name is Prince Ingram." + +David shook hands with him cordially, with smiling eyes, and asked him +to sit down so Connie might ask her questions in comfort. They all +took chairs, and Prince waited. Connie racked her brain. Five minutes +ago there had been ten thousand things she yearned to know about this +strange existence. Now, unfairly, she could not think of one. It +seemed to her she knew all there was to know about them. They looked +into each other's eyes, men and women, as men and women do in Chicago. +They touched hands, and the blood quickened, the old Chicago style. +They talked plain English, they liked pretty clothes, they worshiped +good horses, they lived on the boundless plains. What on earth was +there to ask? Quite suddenly, Connie understood them perfectly. + +But Prince realized that he was not making good. His one claim to +admission in her presence was his ability to tell her what she wanted +to know. He had got to tell her things,--but what things? My stars, +what did she want to know? How old he was, where he was born, if he +was married,--oh, by George, she didn't think he was married, did she? + +"I am not married," he said abruptly. David looked around at him in +surprise, and Carol's eyes opened widely. But Connie, with what must +have been literary intuition, understood. She nodded at him and smiled +as she asked, "Have you always lived out here?" + +"No." He straightened his shoulders and drew a deep breath. Here was +a starter, it would be his own fault if he could not keep talking the +rest of the night. "No, I came out from Columbus when I was eighteen. +Came for my health." He squared his shoulders again, and laughed a big +deep laugh which made Connie marvel that there should be such big deep +laughs in the world. + +"My father was a doctor. He sent me out, and I got a job punching time +in the mines at Cripple Creek. I met some stock men, and one of them +offered me a job, and I came out and got in with them. Then I got hold +of a bit of land and began gathering up stock for myself. I stayed +with the Sparker outfit six years, and then my father died. I took the +money and got my start, and--why, that is all." He stopped in +astonishment. He had been sure his story would last several hours. He +had begun at the very start, his illness at eighteen, and here he was +right up to the present, and--he rubbed his knee despairingly. There +must be something else. There had to be something else. What under +the sun had he been doing all these fourteen years in the ranges? + +"Don't you ever wish to go back?" Connie prompted kindly. + +"Back to Columbus? I went twice to see my father. He had a private +sanatorium. My booming voice gave his nervous patients prostrations, +and father thought my clothes were not sanitary because they could not +be sterilized. Are you going to stay here for good?" + +It was very risky to ask, he knew, but he had to find out. + +"I am visiting my sister in Denver. We just came here for the Frontier +Days," said Connie primly. + +"There is another Frontier Week at Sterling," he said eagerly. "A fine +one, better than this. It isn't far over there. You would get more +material at Sterling, I think. Can't you go on up?" + +"I have been away from Chicago four weeks now," said Connie. "In +exactly two weeks I must be at my desk again." + +"Chicago is not a healthy town," he said, in a voice that would have +done credit to his father, the medical man. "Very unhealthy. It is +not literary either. Out west is the place for literature. All the +great writers come west. Western stories are the big sellers. There's +Ralph Connor, and Rex Beach, and Jack London and--and--" + +"But I am not a great writer," Connie interrupted modestly. "I am just +a common little filler-in in the ranks of a publishing house. I'm only +a beginner." + +"That is because you stick to Chicago," he said eloquently. "You come +out here, out in the open, where things are wide and free, and you can +see a thousand miles at one stretch. You come out here, and you'll be +as great as any of 'em,--greater!" + +The loud clamor of the dinner bell interrupted his impassioned outburst +and he relapsed into stricken silence. + +"Well, we must go to dinner before the supply runs out," said David, +rising slowly. "Come along, Julia. We are glad to have met you, Mr. +Ingram." He held out his thin, blue-veined hand. "We'll see you +again." + +Prince looked hopelessly at Connie's back, for her face was already +turned toward the dining-room. How cold and infinitely distant that +tall, straight, tailored back appeared. + +"Ask him to eat with us," Connie hissed, out of one corner of her lip, +in David's direction. + +David hesitated, looking at her doubtfully. Connie nudged him with +emphasis. + +Well, what could David do? He might wash his hands of the whole +irregular business, and he did. Connie was a writer, she must have +material, but in his opinion Connie was too young to be literary. She +should have been older, or uglier, or married. Literature is not safe +for the young and charming. Connie nudged him again. Plainly if he +did not do as she said, she was going to do it herself. + +David turned to the brown-faced, sad-eyed son of the mountain ranges, +and said: + +"Come along and have dinner with us, won't you?" + +Carol pursed up her lips warningly, but Prince Ingram, in his +eagerness, nearly picked David up bodily in his hurry to get the little +party settled before some one spoiled it all. + +He wanted to handle Connie's chair for her, he knew just how it was +done. But suppose he pushed her clear under the table, or jerked it +entirely from under her, or did something worse than either? A girl +like Connie ought to have those things done for her. Well, he would +let it go this time. So he looked after Julia, and settled her so +comfortably, and was so assiduously attentive to her that he quite won +her heart, and before the meal was over she said he might come and live +with them and be her grandpa, if he wanted. + +"Grandpa," he said facetiously. "Do I look as old as that? Can't I be +something better than a grandpa?" + +"Well, only one papa's the style," said Julia doubtfully. "And you are +too big to be a baby, and--" + +"Can't I be your uncle?" Then, glancing at Connie with a sudden +realization of the only possible way the uncle-ship could be +accomplished, he blushed. + +"Yes, an uncle is better," said Connie imperturbably. "You must +remember, Julia dear, that men are very, very sensitive about their +ages, and you must always give them credit for youth." + +"I see," said Julia. And Prince wondered how old Connie thought he +was, his hair was a little thin, not from age--always had been that +way--and he was as brown as a Zulu, but it was only sunburn. He'd +figure out a way of letting her know he was only thirty-two before the +evening was over. + +"Are you going over to the street to-night?" he asked of David, but not +caring half a cent what David did. + +"I am afraid I can't. I am not very good on my feet any more. I am +sorry, the girls would enjoy it." + +"Carol and I might go alone," suggested Connie bravely. "Every one +does out here. We wouldn't mind it." + +"I will not go to a street carnival and leave David," protested Carol. + +"It would be rather interesting." Connie looked tentatively from the +window. + +Prince swallowed in anguish. She ought to go, he told them; she really +needs to go. The evenings are so much fuller of literary material than +day-times. And the dancing-- + +"I do not dance," said Connie. "My father is a minister." + +"You do not dance! Why, that's funny. I don't either. That is, not +exactly,-- Oh, once in a while just to fill in." Then the latter part +of her remark reached his inner consciousness. "A minister. By +George!" + +"My husband is one, too," said Carol. + +Prince looked helplessly about him. Then he said faintly, "I--I am +not. But my father wanted me to be a preacher. He sent me to +Princeton, and I stuck it out nearly ten weeks. That is why they call +me Prince, short for Princeton. I am the only real college man on the +range, they say." + +"The street fair must be interesting," Connie went back to the main +idea. + +"Yes indeed, the crowds, the side-shows--I mean the exhibits, and the +lotteries, and--I am sure you never saw so much literary material +crowded into two blocks in your life." + +"Oh, well, I don't mind. Maybe some other night we can go." Connie +was sweetly resigned. + +"I should be very glad,--if you don't mind,--I haven't anything else to +do,--and I can take good care of you." + +"Oh, that is just lovely. And maybe you will give me some more +stories. Isn't that fine, David? It is so kind of you, Mr. Ingram. I +am sure I shall find lots of material." + +David kicked Carol warningly beneath the table. "You must go too, +Carol. You have never seen such a thing, and it will do you good. I +am not the selfish brute you try to make me. You girls go along with +Mr. Ingram and I will put Julia to bed and wait for you on the porch." + +Well, of course, Mrs. Duke was very nice, and anyhow it was better to +take them both than lose them both, and that preacher had a very set +face in spite of his pallor. So Prince recovered his equanimity and +devoted himself to enjoying the tumultuous evening on the street. He +bought candy and canes and pennants until the girls sternly refused to +carry another bit of rubbish. He bought David a crimson and gold silk +handkerchief, and an Indian bracelet for Julia, and took the girls to +ride on the merry-go-round, and was beside himself with joy. + +Suppose his friends of the range did draw back as he passed, and gaze +after him in awe and envy. Suppose the more reckless ones did snicker +like fools, nudging each other, lifting their hats with exaggerated +courtesy,--he should worry. He had lived on the range for fourteen +years and had never had such a chance before. Now he had it, he would +hang on to it if it cost him every sheep he had on the mountains. +Wasn't Connie the smartest girl you ever saw, always saying funny, +bright things, and--the way she stepped along like a goddess, and the +way she smiled! Prince Ingram had forgotten that girls grew like that. + +They returned to the hotel early and found David waiting on the porch +as he had promised. He was plainly tired, and Carol said he must go to +bed at once. They all rose and walked to the door, and then, very +surprisingly, Connie thought she would like to sit a while on the quiet +porch, from which every other one had gone to the carnival, and collect +her thoughts. Carol frowned, and David smiled, but what could they do? +They had said they were tired and now they must go to bed perforce. +Prince looked after her, and looked at the door that had closed behind +David and Carol, and rubbed his fingers thoughtfully under his +collar,--and followed Connie back to the porch. + +"Will it bother you if I sit here a while? I won't talk if you want to +think." + +"It won't bother me a bit," she assured him warmly. "It is nice of you +to keep me company. And I would rather talk than think." + +So he put her chair at the proper angle where the street lamp revealed +her clear white features, and he sat as close beside her as he dared. +She did not know it, but his elbow was really on the arm of her chair +instead of his own. He almost held his breath for fear a slight move +would betray him. Wasn't she a wonderful girl? She turned sidewise in +the chair, her head resting against the high back, and smiled at him. + +"Now talk," she said. "Let us get acquainted. See if you can make me +love the mountain ranges better than Chicago." + +He told her of the clean sweep of the wind around his little cottage +among the pines on the side of the mountain, of the wild animals that +sometimes prowled his way, of the shouting of the boys on the range in +the dark night, the swaying of distant lanterns, the tinkle of sheep +bells. He told her of his father, of the things that he himself had +once planned to be and do. He told her of his friends: of Lily, his +pal, so-called because he used a safety razor every morning of his +life; of Whisker, the finest dog in Colorado; of Ruby, the ruddy brown +horse that would follow him miles through the mountains and always find +the master at the end of the trail. And he told her it was a lonely +life. And it was. Prince Ingram had lived here fourteen years, with +no more consciousness of being alone than the eagle perched solitary on +the mountain crags, but quite suddenly he discovered that it was +lonely, and somehow the discovery took the wonder from that free glad +life, and made him long for the city's bright lights, where there were +others,--not just cowboys, but regular men and women. + +"Yes," assented Connie rather abruptly, "I suppose it would be nice to +be in a crowd of women, laughing and dancing and singing. I suppose +you do miss it." + +"That was not what I meant," said Prince slowly. "I don't care for a +crowd of them. Not many. One is enough." He was appalled at his own +audacity, and despised himself for his cowardice, for why didn't he +look this white fine girl of the city in the eyes and say: + +"Yes, one,--and you are it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ADVENTURING + +If Connie truly was in pursuit of literary material, she was +indefatigable in the quest. But sometimes Carol doubted if it was +altogether literary material she was after. And David was very much +concerned,--what would dignified Father Starr, District Superintendent, +say to his youngest daughter, Connie the literary, Connie the proud, +Connie the high, the fine, the perfect, delving so assiduously into the +mysteries of range life as typified in big, brown, rugged Prince Ingram? +To be sure, Prince had risen beyond the cowboy stage and was now a "stock +man," a power on the ranges, a man of money, of influence. But David +felt responsible. + +Yet no one could be responsible for Connie. Father Starr himself could +not. If she looked at one serenely and said, "I need to do this," the +rankest foolishness assumed the proportions of dire necessity. So what +could David, sick and weak, do in the face of the manifestly impossible? + +Carol scolded her. And Connie laughed. David offered brotherly +suggestions. And Connie laughed again. Julia said Prince was a darling +big grandpa, and Connie kissed her. + +The Frontier Days passed on to their uproarious conclusion. Connie saw +everything, heard everything and took copious notes. She was going to +start her book. She had made the acquaintance of some of the cowgirls, +and she studied them with a passionate eagerness that English literature +in the abstract had never aroused in her gentle breast. + +Then she became argumentative. She contended that the beautiful lawn at +the Bijou was productive of strength for David, rest for Carol, amusement +for Julia, and literary material for her. Therefore, why not linger +after the noisy crowd had gone,--just idling on the long porches, +strolling under the great trees? And because Connie had a convincing way +about her, it was unanimously agreed that the Bijou lawn could do +everything she claimed for it, and by all means they ought to tarry a +week. + +It was all settled before David and Carol learned that Prince Ingram was +tired of Frontier Days and had decided not to go on to Sterling, but +thought he too should linger, gathering up something worth while in Fort +Morgan. Carol looked at Connie reproachfully, but the little baby sister +was as imperturbable as ever. + +Prince himself was all right. Carol liked him. David liked him, too. +And Julia was frankly enchanted with him and with his horse. But Connie +and Prince,--that was the puzzle of it,--Connie, fine white, immaculate +in manner, in person and in thought,--Prince, rugged and brown, born of +the plains and the mountains. Carol knew of course that Prince could +move into the city, buy a fine home, join good clubs, dress like common +men and be thoroughly respectable. But to Carol he would always be a +brown streak of perfect horsemanship. Whatever could that awful Connie +be thinking of? + +The days passed sweetly and restfully on the Bijou lawn, but one day, +most unaccountably to Connie, Prince had an appointment with his business +partner down at Brush. He would ride Ruby down and be back in time for +dinner at night if it killed him. Connie was cross about that. She +thought he should have asked her to drive him down in the car but since +he did not she couldn't very well offer her services. What did he +suppose she was hanging around that ugly little dead burg for? Take out +the literary material, Fort Morgan had nothing for Connie. And since the +literary material saw fit to absent itself, it was so many hours gone for +nothing. + +After he had gone, Connie decided to play a good trick on him. He would +kill himself to get back to dinner with her, would he? Let him. He +could eat it with David and Carol, and the little Julia he so adored. +Connie would take a long drive in the car all by herself, and would not +be home until bedtime. She would teach that refractory Material a lesson. + +It was a bright cloudless day, the air cold and penetrating. Connie said +it was just the day for her to collect her thought, and she could do it +best of all in the car. So if they would excuse her,--and they did, of +course. Just as she was getting into the car she said that if she had a +very exceptionally nice time, she might not come back until after dinner. +They were not to worry. She knew the car, she was sure of herself, she +would come home when she got ready. + +So off she went, taking a naughty satisfaction in the good trick she was +playing on that poor boy killing himself to get back for dinner with her. +An hour in the open banished her pettishness, and she drove rapidly along +the narrow, twisting, unfamiliar road, finding a wild pleasure in her +reckless speed. She loved this, she loved it, she loved it. She clapped +on a little more gas to show how very dearly she did love it. + +After a long time, she found herself far out in a long stretch of gray +prairie where no houses broke the bare line of the plains for many miles. +It had grown bitterly cold, too, and a sudden daub of gray splashed +rapidly across the whole bright sky. Connie drew a rug about her and +laughed at the wind that cut her face. It was glorious,--but--she +glanced at the speedometer. She had come a long way. She would just run +on to the next village and have some luncheon,--mercy, it was three +o'clock. Well, as soon as she had something to eat, she would hurry home +and perhaps if Prince showed himself properly penitent she would not go +right straight to bed. + +She pressed down on the accelerator and the car sped forward. Presently +she looked around, sniffing the air suspiciously. The sky looked very +threatening. She stopped the car and got out. The wind sweeping down +from the mountains was a little too suggestive of snow flakes, and the +broad stretch of the plains was brown, bare and forbidding. She was not +hungry anyhow. She would go home without any luncheon. So she turned +the car and started back. + +Here and there at frequent intervals intersecting roads crossed the one +she was following. She must keep to the main road, the heaviest track, +she was sure of that. But sometimes it was hard to recognize the +heaviest track. Once or twice, in the sudden darkening of the ground, +she had to leap hurriedly out and examine the tracks closely. Even then +she could not always tell surely. + +Then came the snow, stinging bits of glass leaping gaily on the shoulders +of the wind that bore them. Connie set her teeth hard. A little flurry +that was all, she was in no danger, whoever heard of a snow-storm the +first week in October? + +But--ah, this was not the main track after all,--no, it was dwindling +away. She must go back. The road was soft here, with deep treacherous +ruts lying under the surface. She turned the car carefully, her eyes +intent on the road before her, leaning over the wheel to watch. Yes, +this was right,--she should have turned to the left. How stupid of her. +Here was the track,--she must go faster, it was getting dark. But was +this the track after all,--it seemed to be fading out as the other had +done? She put on the gas and bumped heavily into a hidden rut. Quickly +she threw the clutch into low, and--more gas-- What was that? The wheel +did not grip, the engine would not pull,--the matchless Harmer Six was +helpless. Again and again Connie tried to extricate herself, but it was +useless. She got out and took her bearings. It was early evening, but +darkness was coming fast. The snow was drifting down from the mountains, +and the roads were nearly obliterated. + +Connie was stuck, Connie was lost, for once she was unequal to the +emergency. In spite of her imperturbability, her serene confidence in +herself, and in circumstances, and in the final triumph of everything she +wanted and believed, Connie sat down on the step and cried, bitterly, +passionately, like any other young women lost in a snow-storm on the +plains. It did her good, though it was far beneath her dignity. +Presently she wiped her eyes. + +She must turn on the lights, every one of them, so if any travelers +happened to come her way the signal would summon them to her aid. Then +she must get warm, one might freeze on a night like this. She put up the +curtains on the car and wrapped herself as best she could in rugs and +rain coats. Even then she doubted her ability to withstand the +penetrating chill. + +"Well," she said grimly, "if I freeze I am going to do it with a pleasant +smile on my lips, so they will be sorry when they find me." Tears of +sympathy for herself came into her eyes. She hoped Prince would be quite +heart-broken, and serve him right, too. But it was terrible that poor +dear Carol should have this added sorrow, after all her years of trial. +And it was all Connie's own fault. Would women ever have sense enough to +learn that men must think of business now and then, and that even the +dearest women in the world are nuisances at times? + +Well, anyhow, she was paying dearly for her folly, and perhaps other +women could profit by it. And all that literary material wasted. "But +it is a good thing I am not leaving eleven children motherless," she +concluded philosophically. + +If men must think of business, and they say they must, there are times +when it is sheer necessity that drives and not at all desire. Prince +Ingram hated Brush that day with a mortal hatred. Only two days more of +Connie, and a few thousand silly sheep were taking him away. Well, he +had paid five hundred dollars for Ruby and he would find out if she was +worth it. He used his spurs so sharply that the high-spirited mare +snorted angrily, and plunged away at her most furious pace. It was not +an unpleasant ride. His time had been so fully occupied with the most +wonderful girl, that he had not had one moment to think how really +wonderful she was. This was his chance and he utilized it fully. + +His business partner in Brush was shocked at Prince's lack of interest in +a matter of ten thousand dollars. He wondered if perhaps King Devil had +not bounced him up more than people realized. But Prince was pliant, far +more so than usual, accepted his partner's suggestions without dissent, +and grew really enthusiastic when he said finally: + +"Well, I guess that is all." + +Prince shook hands with him then, seeming almost on the point of kissing +him, and Ruby was whirling down the road in a chariot of dust before the +bewildered partner had time to explain that his wife was expecting Prince +home with them for dinner. + +Prince fell from the saddle in front of the Bijou and looked expectantly +at the porch. He was sentimental enough to think it must be splendid to +have a girl waiting on the porch when one got home from any place. +Connie was not there. Well, it was a good thing, he was grimy with dust +and perspiration, and Connie was so alarmingly clean. But Carol called +him before he had time to escape. + +"Is it going to storm?" she asked anxiously. + +Prince wheeled toward her sharply. "Is Connie out in the car?" + +"Yes," said Carol, staring off down the road in a vain hope of catching +sight of the naughty little runaway in the gray car. + +"When did she go?" he asked. + +"About eleven. She wasn't coming home until after dinner."' + +"How far was she going?" + +"A long way, she said. She went that direction," Carol pointed out to +the right. + +"Is it going to storm?" asked David, coming up. + +"Yes, it is. But don't you worry, Mrs. Duke. I'll get her all right. +If it turns bad, I will take her to some little village or farm-house +where she can stay till morning. We'll be all right, and don't you +worry." + +There was something very assuring in the hearty voice, something +consoling in his clear eyes and broad shoulders. Carol followed him out +to his horse. + +"Prince," she said, smiling up at him, "you will get her, won't you?" + +"Of course I will. You aren't worrying, are you?" + +"Not since you got home," said Carol. "I know you will get her. I like +you, Prince." + +"Do you?" He was boyishly pleased. "Does--does David?" + +Carol laughed. "Yes, and so does Julia," she teased. + +Prince laughed, too, shamefacedly, but he dared not ask, "Does Connie?" + +He turned his horse quickly and paused to say, "You'd better get your +husband inside. He will chill in spite of the rugs. It is winter, +to-night. Good-by." + +"He will get her," said Carol confidently, when she returned to David. +"He is nice, don't you think so? Maybe he would be perfectly all +right--in the city. Connie could straighten him out." + +"Yes, brush off the dust, and give him an opera hat and a dinner coat and +he would not be half bad." + +"He is not half bad now, only--not exactly our kind." + +"Women are funny," said David slowly. "I believe Connie likes his kind, +just as he is, and would not have him changed for anything." + +At first, Prince had no difficulty in following the wide roll of Connie's +wheels, for no other cars had gone that way. But once or twice he had to +drop from the saddle and examine the tracks closely to make sure of her. +Then came the snow, and the tracks were blurred out. Prince was in +despair. + +"Three roads here," he thought rapidly. "If she took that one she will +come to Marker's ranch, and be all right. If she took the middle road +she will make Benton. But this one, it winds and twists, and never gets +any place." + +So on the road to the left, that led to no place at all, Prince carefully +guided his weary horse, already beginning to stumble. He sympathized +with every aching step, yet he urged her gently to her best speed. Then +she slipped, struggled to regain her footing, struck a treacherous bit of +ice, and fell, Prince swinging nimbly from the saddle. Plainly she was +unable to carry him farther, so he helped her to her feet and turned her +loose, pushing on as fast as he could on foot. + +Anxiously he peered into the gathering darkness, longing for the long +flash of yellow light which meant Connie and the matchless Harmer. + +Suddenly he stopped. From away over the hills to his right, mingling +with the call of the coyotes, came the unmistakable honk of a siren. He +held his breath to listen. It came again, a long continued wail, in +perfect tune with the whining of the coyotes. He turned to the right and +started over the hills in the wake of the call. + +Over a steep incline he plunged, and paused. + +"Thank God," he cried aloud, for there he saw a little round yellow glow +in the cloudy white mist,--the Harmer Six, and Connie. + +He shouted as he ran, that she might not be left in suspense a moment +longer than need be. And Connie with numbed fingers tugged the curtains +loose and leaned out in the yellow mist to watch him as he came. + +We talk of the mountain peaks of life. And poets sing of the snowy crest +of life crises, where we look like angels and speak like gods, where we +live on the summit of ages. This moment should have been a summit, yet +when Prince ran down the hill, breathless, exultant, and nearly +exhausted, Connie, her face showing peaked and white in the yellow glare, +cried, "Hello, Prince, I knew you'd make it." + +She held out a half-frozen hand and he took it in his. + +"Car's busted," she said laconically. "Won't budge. I drained the water +out of the radiator." + +"All right, we'll have to hoof it," he said cheerfully. + +He relieved her of the heavier wraps, and they set out silently through +the snow, Prince still holding her hand. + +"I am awfully glad to see you," she said once, in a polite little voice. + +He smiled down upon her. "I am kind o' glad to see you, too, Connie." + +After a while she said slowly, "I need wings. My feet are numb." And a +moment later, "I can not walk any farther." + +"It is ten miles to a house," he told her gravely. "I couldn't carry you +so far. I'll take you a mile or so, and you will get rested." + +"I am not tired, I am cold. And if you carry me I will be colder. You +just run along and tell Carol I am all right--" + +"Run along! Why, you would freeze." + +"Yes, that is what I mean." + +"There is a railroad track half a mile over there. Can you make that?" + +Connie looked at him pitifully. "I can not even lift my feet. I am +utterly stuck. I kept stepping along," she mumbled indistinctly, "and +saying, one more,--just one more,--one more,--but the foot would not come +up,--and I knew I was stuck." + +Her voice trailed away, and she bundled against him and closed her eyes. + +Prince gritted his teeth and took her in his arms. Connie was five feet +seven, and very solid. And Prince himself was nearly exhausted with the +day's exertion. Sometimes he staggered and fell to his knees, sometimes +he hardly knew if he was dragging Connie or pushing her, or if they were +both blown along by the wind. Always there was the choke in his throat, +the blur in his eyes, and that almost unbearable drag in every muscle. A +freight train passed--only a few rods away. He thought he could never +climb that bank. "One more--one--more--one more," mumbled Connie in his +ear. + +He shook himself angrily. Of course he could make that bank,--if he +could only rest a minute,--he was not cold,--just a minute's rest to get +his breath again--a moment would be enough. God, what was he thinking +of? It was not weariness, it was the chill of the night that demanded a +moment's rest. He strained Connie closer in his arms and struggled up +the bank. + +At the top, he dropped her beside the track, and fell with her. For a +moment the fatal languor possessed him. + +A freight train rounded the curve and came puffing toward them. Prince, +roused by springing hope, clambered to his feet, pulling the little +pocket flash from his pocket. He waved it imploringly at the train, but +it thundered by them. + +Resolutely bestirring himself, he carried Connie to a sheltered place +where the wind could not strike her, and wrapped her as best he could in +his coat and sweater. Then, lowering his head against the driving wind, +he plunged down the track in the face of the storm. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +HARBORAGE + +Less than a mile down the track, Prince came to the tiny signal house +for which he had been looking. The door was locked, and so numb and +clumsy were his fingers that he found it hard to force it open. Once +on the inside, he felt that the struggle was nearly over. This was the +end. Using the railway's private phone, he astonished the telegraph +operator in Fort Morgan by cutting in on him and asking him to run +across to the nearest garage with a call for a service car. + +For a long moment the operator was speechless. Did you ever hear of +insolence like that? He told Prince to get off that wire and keep his +hands away from railway property or he would land in the pen. Then he +went back to his work. But Prince cut in on him again. Finally the +operator referred him to the station master and gave him the +connection. But the station master refused to meddle with any such +irregular business. This was against the law, and station masters are +strong for law and order. But Prince was persistent. At last, in +despair, they connected him with the district superintendent. + +"Who in thunder are you, and what do you want?" asked the +superintendent in no gentle voice. + +"I want some of those sap-heads of yours in Fort Morgan to take a +message to the garage, and they won't do it," yelled Prince. + +"Say, what do you think this is? A philanthropic messenger service?" +ejaculated the superintendent. + +"I haven't got time to talk," cried Prince. "I've got to get at a +garage, and quickly." + +"Well, we don't run a garage." + +"Shut up a minute and listen, will you? There is a woman out here on +the track, half frozen. We are twenty miles from a house. Will you +send that message or not? The woman can't live two hours." + +"Well, why didn't you tell what was the matter? I will connect you +with the operator at Fort Morgan and tell him to do whatever you say. +You stay on the wire until he reports they have a car started." + +So Prince was flung back to the operator at Fort Morgan, and that +high-souled scion of the railway was sent out like a common delivery +boy to take a message. Prince waited in an agony of suspense for the +report from the garage. It was not favorable. No man in town would go +out on a wild goose chase into the plains on a night like that. +Awfully sorry, nothing doing. + +"Take a gun and make them come," said Prince, between set teeth. + +"I'm not looking for trouble. Your woman would freeze before they got +there anyhow." + +"Send the sheriff," begged Prince. + +"He couldn't get out there a night like this in time to do you any +good." + +This was literally true. For a second Prince was silent. + +"Anything else?" asked the operator. "Want me to run out and get you a +cigar, or a bottle of perfume, or anything?" + +"Then there is just one thing to do," said Prince abruptly. "I'll have +to flag the first train and get her aboard." + +"What! You can't do it. You don't dare do it. It is against the law +to flag a train on private business." + +"I know it. So I am asking you to make it the railroad's business. I +am warning you in advance. Where are the fuses?" + +The operator helplessly called up the superintendent once more. + +"What the dickens do you want now?" + +"It's that nut on the line," explained the operator. "He wants +something else." + +"Yes, I want to know where the fuses are so I can flag the first train +that comes. Or I will just set the tool house afire; that will stop +them." + +"The fuses are in the lock box under the phone. Break the lock, or +pick it. Let us know if you get in all right. How the dickens did you +get a woman out there a night like this?" + +But Prince had no time to explain. "Thanks, old man, you're pretty +white," he said, and clasped the receiver on to the hook. A little +later, with the precious fuses in his pocket, he was fighting his way +through the snow back to Connie, lying unconscious in the white +blankets which no longer chilled her. + +The waiting seemed endlessly weary. Prince dared not sit down, but +must needs keep staggering up and down the track, praying as he had +never prayed in all his life, that God would send a train before Connie +should freeze to death. Stooping over her, he chafed her hands and +ankles, shaking her roughly, but never succeeding in restoring her to +consciousness though doubtless he did much toward keeping the blood in +feeble circulation. + +Then, thank God! No heavenly star ever shone half so gloriously bright +as that wide sweep of light that circled around the ragged rocks. +Prince hastily fired the fuse, and a few minutes later a lumbering +freight train pulled up beside him, anxious voices calling inquiry. + +With rough but willing hands they pulled the girl on board, and piled +heavy coats on a bench beside the fire where she might lie, and brought +out some hot coffee which Prince swallowed in deep gulps. They even +forced a few drops of it down Connie's throat. Prince was soon himself +again, and sat silently beside Connie as she slept the heavy sleep. + +A long lumbering ride it was, the cars creaking and rocking, reeling +from side to side as if they too were drunk with weariness and cold. + +At last Connie moved a little and lifted her lashes. She lay very +still a while, looking with puzzled eyes at her strange surroundings, +enjoying the huge fire, wondering at that curious rocking. Then, +glancing at the big brown head beside her, where Prince sat on an +overturned bucket with her hand in his, she closed her eyes again, +still puzzled, but content. + +Long minutes afterward she spoke. + +"Are you cold, Prince?" + +He tightened his clasp on her hand. + +"No." + +"How did you ever make it?" + +"The train came along and we got on. Now we are thawing out," he +explained, smiling reassurance. + +"I do not remember it. I only remember that I was stuck in the snow, +and that you did not leave me." + +"Here comes some more coffee, lady," said the brakeman, coming up. +Connie drank it gratefully and sat up. + +"Where are we going?" + +"To Fort Morgan." + +"Want any more blankets or anything?" asked the brakeman kindly. "Are +you getting warm?" + +"Too warm, I will have to move a little." + +Prince helped her gently farther from the roaring flames, and again +pulled his bucket close to her side. He placed his hand in her lap and +Connie wriggled her fingers into his. + +Suddenly she leaned forward and looked into his face, noting the steady +steely eyes, the square strong chin, the boyish mouth. Not a handsome +face, like Jerry's, not fine and pure, like David's,--but strong and +kind, a face that somehow spoke wistfully of deep needs and secret +longings. Suddenly Connie felt that she was very happy, and in the +same instant discovered that her eyes were wet. She smiled. + +"Connie," whispered the big brown man, "are we going to get married, +sometime?" + +"Yes," she whispered promptly, "sometime. If you want me." + +His hands closed convulsively over hers. + +"Make it soon," he begged. "It is terribly lonesome." + +"Two years," she suggested, wrinkling her brows. "But if it is too +lonesome, we will make it one." + +"You won't go away." Prince was aghast at the thought. + +"I have to," she told him, caressing his hand with her fingers. "You +know I believe I have a talent, and it says in the Bible if you do not +use what is given you, all the other nice things you have may be taken +away. So if I don't use that talent, I may lose it and you into the +bargain." + +Prince did not understand that, but it sounded reasonable. Whatever +Connie said, of course. She had a talent, all right, a dozen,--a +hundred of them. He thought she had a monopoly on talents. + +"I will go back a while and study and work and get ready to use the +talent. I have to finish getting ready first. Then I will come and +live with you and you can help me use it. You won't mind, will you?" + +"I want you to use it," he said. "I'm proud of it. I will take you +wherever you wish to go, I will do whatever you want. I'll get a home +in Denver, and just manage the business from the outside. I can live +the way you like to live and do the things you like to have done; +Connie, I know I can." + +Connie reached slowly for her hand-bag. From it she took a tiny +note-book and tossed it in the fire. + +"Literary material," she explained, smiting at him. "I can not write +what I have learned in Fort Morgan. I can only live it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE SUNNY SLOPE + +After Connie's visit, when she had returned to Chicago to finish +learning how to write her knowledge, David and Carol with little Julia +settled down in the cottage among the pines, and the winter came and +the mountains were huge white monuments over the last summer that had +died. Later in the winter a nurse came in to take charge of the little +family, and although Carol was afraid of her, she obeyed with childish +confidence whenever the nurse gave directions. + +"I feel fine to-day," David said to her one morning. "I think when +spring comes I shall be stronger again. It is a good thing to be +alive." + +He glanced through the window and looked at Carol, buttoning Julia's +gaiters for the fifth time that morning. + +"It is a pretty nice world to most of us," said the nurse. + +"We each have a world of our own, I guess. Mine is Carol and Julia +now. I have no grouch at life, and I register no complaint against +circumstances, but I should be glad to live in my little world a long, +long time." + +One morning when spring had come, when the white monuments melted and +drifted away with the clouds, and when the shadowy canyons and the +yellow rocky peaks stood out bare and bright, David called her to him. + +"Look," he said, "the same old sunny slope. We have been climbing it +four years now, a long climb, sometimes pretty rough and rugged for +you." + +"It was not, David,--never," she protested quickly. "It was always a +clear bright path. And we've been finding things to laugh at all the +way." + +He pulled her into his arm beside him on the bed. "We are going to the +top of the sunny slope together. Look at the mountain there. We are +going up one of those sunny ridges, and sometime, after a while, we +will stand at the top, right on the summit, with the sky above and the +valleys below." + +She nodded her head, smiling at him bravely. + +"I think it is probably very near to Heaven," he said slowly, in a +dreamy voice. "I think it must be. It is so intensely bright,--see +how it cuts into the blue. Yes, it must be right at the gates of +Heaven. We will stand right there together, won't we?" + +"David," she whispered. + +"This is what I want to say. After that, there will be another way for +you to go, on the other side. Look at the mountains, dear. See, there +are other peaks beyond, with alternating slopes of sunshine and canyons +of shadow. It is much easier to stick to the sunny slopes when there +are two together. It is very easy to stagger off into the shadows, +when one has to travel alone. But, Carol, don't you go into the +shadows. I want to think always that you are staying in the sunshine, +on the slopes, where it is bright, where Julia can laugh and play, +where you can sing and listen to the birds. Stick to the sunny slopes, +dear, even when you are climbing alone." + +Carol nodded her head in affirmation, though her face was hidden. + +"I will, David. I will run right out of the shadows and find the sunny +slopes." + +"And do not try to live by, 'what would David like?' Be happy, dear. +Follow the sunshine. I think it guides us truly, for a pure kind heart +can not mistake fleeting gaiety for lasting joys like you and I have +had. So wherever your journey of joy may take you, follow it and be +assured that I am smiling at you in the sunshine." + +Carol stayed with him after that, sitting very quietly, speaking +softly, in the subdued way that had developed from her youthful +buoyance, always quick to smile reassuringly and adoringly when he +looked at her, always ready to look hopefully to the sunny slopes when +his finger pointed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE END + +In a low hammock beneath the maples Carol lay, pale and slender, +dressed in a soft gown of creamy white, with a pink rose at her belt. +Through an open window she could see her father at his desk up-stairs. +Often he came to the window, waving a friendly greeting that told how +glad he was to have her in the family home again. And she could see +Aunt Grace in the kitchen, energetically whipping cream for the apple +pie for dinner--"Carol always did love apple pie with whipped cream." +Julia was digging a canal through the flower bed a dozen steps away. +And close at her side sat Lark, the sweet, old, precious twin, who +could not attend to the farm a single minute now that Carol was at home +once more. + +Carol's hands were clasped under her head, and she was staring up +through the trees at the clear blue sky, flecked like a sea with bits +of foam. + +"Mother," cried Julia, running to the hammock and sweeping wildly at +the sky with a knife she was using for a spade, "I looked right up into +Heaven and I saw my daddy, and he did not cough a bit. He smiled at me +and said, 'Hello, little sweetheart. Take good care of Mother.'" + +Carol kissed her, softly, regardless of the streaks of earth upon her +chubby face. + +"Mother," puzzled Julia, "what is it to be died? I can't think it. +And I lie down and I can't do it. What is it to be died?" + +"Death, Julia, you mean death. I think, dear, it is life,--life that +is all made straight; life where one can work and never be laid aside +for illness; life where one can love, and fear no separation; life +where one can do the big things he yearned to do, and be the big man he +yearned to be with no hindrance of little petty things. I think that +death is life, the happy life." + +Julia, satisfied, returned to her canal, and Lark, with throbbing pity, +patted Carol's arm. + +"Do you know, Larkie, I think that death is life on the top of a sunny +slope, clear up on the peak where it touches the sky. Such a big sunny +slope that the canyons of shadow are miles and miles away, out of sight +entirely. I believe that David is living right along on the top of a +sunny slope." + +Her father stepped to the window and tapped on the pane, waving down to +them. "I can't keep away from this window," he called. "Whenever you +twins get together I think I have to watch you just as I used to when +you were mobbing the parsonage." + +The twins laughed, and when he went back to his desk they turned to +each other with eyes that plainly said, "Isn't he the grandest father +that ever lived?" + +Then Carol folded her hands behind her head again and looked dreamily +up through the leafy maples, seeing the broad mesa stretching off miles +away to the mountains, where the dark canyons underlined the sunny +slopes. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNNY SLOPES*** + + +******* This file should be named 18426.txt or 18426.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/4/2/18426 + + + +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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