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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Depot Master, by Joseph C. Lincoln
+
+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: The Depot Master
+
+Author: Joseph C. Lincoln
+
+Release Date: May 16, 2006 [EBook #2307]
+Last Updated: March 5, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEPOT MASTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Donald Lainson
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DEPOT MASTER
+
+By Joseph C. Lincoln
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+I.--   AT THE DEPOT
+
+II.--  SUPPLY AND DEMAND
+
+III.-- “STINGY GABE”
+
+IV.--  THE MAJOR
+
+V.--   A BABY AND A ROBBERY
+
+VI.--  AVIATION AND AVARICE
+
+VII.-- CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE
+
+VIII.--THE OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN
+
+IX.--  THE WIDOW BASSETT
+
+X.--   CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES
+
+XI.--  THE GREAT METROPOLIS
+
+XII.-- A VISION SENT
+
+XIII.--DUSENBERRY'S BIRTHDAY
+
+XIV.-- EFFIE'S FATE
+
+XV.--  THE “HERO” AND THE COWBOY
+
+XVI.-- THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR
+
+XVII.--ISSY'S REVENGE
+
+XVIII. THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMET
+
+
+
+
+THE DEPOT MASTER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+AT THE DEPOT
+
+
+Mr. Simeon Phinney emerged from the side door of his residence and
+paused a moment to light his pipe in the lee of the lilac bushes. Mr.
+Phinney was a man of various and sundry occupations, and his sign,
+nailed to the big silver-leaf in the front yard, enumerated a few of
+them. “Carpenter, Well Driver, Building Mover, Cranberry Bogs Seen to
+with Care and Dispatch, etc., etc.,” so read the sign. The house was
+situated in “Phinney's Lane,” the crooked little byway off “Cross
+Street,” between the “Shore Road” at the foot of the slope and the “Hill
+Boulevard”--formerly “Higgins's Roost”--at the top. From the Phinney
+gate the view was extensive and, for the most part, wet. The hill
+descended sharply, past the “Shore Road,” over the barren fields and
+knolls covered with bayberry bushes and “poverty grass,” to the yellow
+sand of the beach and the gray, weather-beaten fish-houses scattered
+along it. Beyond was the bay, a glimmer in the sunset light.
+
+Mrs. Phinney, in the kitchen, was busy with the supper dishes. Her
+husband, wheezing comfortably at his musical pipe, drew an ancient
+silver watch from his pocket and looked at its dial. Quarter past six.
+Time to be getting down to the depot and the post office. At least a
+dozen male citizens of East Harniss were thinking that very thing at
+that very moment. It was a community habit of long standing to see the
+train come in and go after the mail. The facts that the train bore no
+passengers in whom you were intimately interested, and that you expected
+no mail made little difference. If you were a man of thirty or older,
+you went to the depot or the “club,” just as your wife or sisters went
+to the sewing circle, for sociability and mild excitement. If you were
+a single young man you went to the post office for the same reason that
+you attended prayer meeting. If you were a single young lady you went
+to the post office and prayer meeting to furnish a reason for the young
+man.
+
+Mr. Phinney, replacing his watch in his pocket, meandered to the
+sidewalk and looked down the hill and along the length of the “Shore
+Road.” Beside the latter highway stood a little house, painted a
+spotless white, its window blinds a vivid green. In that house dwelt,
+and dwelt alone, Captain Solomon Berry, Sim Phinney's particular
+friend. Captain Sol was the East Harniss depot master and, from long
+acquaintance, Mr. Phinney knew that he should be through supper and
+ready to return to the depot, by this time. The pair usually walked
+thither together when the evening meal was over.
+
+But, except for the smoke curling lazily from the kitchen chimney,
+there was no sign of life about the Berry house. Either Captain Sol had
+already gone, or he was not yet ready to go. So Mr. Phinney decided that
+waiting was chancey, and set out alone.
+
+He climbed Cross Street to where the “Hill Boulevard,” abiding place of
+East Harniss's summer aristocracy, bisected it, and there, standing on
+the corner, and consciously patronizing the spot where he so stood, was
+Mr. Ogden Hapworth Williams, no less.
+
+Mr. Williams was the village millionaire, patron, and, in a gentlemanly
+way, “boomer.” His estate on the Boulevard was the finest in the county,
+and he, more than any one else, was responsible for the “buying up”
+ by wealthy people from the city of the town's best building sites, the
+spots commanding “fine marine sea views,” to quote from Abner Payne,
+local real estate and insurance agent. His own estate was fine enough to
+be talked about from one end of the Cape to the other and he had bought
+the empty lot opposite and made it into a miniature park, with flower
+beds and gravel walks, though no one but he or his might pick the
+flowers or tread the walks. He had brought on a wealthy friend from New
+York and a cousin from Chicago, and they, too, had bought acres on the
+Boulevard and erected palatial “cottages” where once were the houses of
+country people. Local cynics suggested that the sign on the East Harniss
+railroad station should be changed to read “Williamsburg.” “He owns the
+place, body and soul,” said they.
+
+As Sim Phinney climbed the hill the magnate, pompous, portly, and
+imposing, held up a signaling finger. “Just as if he was hailin' a horse
+car,” described Simeon afterward.
+
+“Phinney,” he said, “come here, I want to speak to you.”
+
+The man of many trades obediently approached.
+
+“Good evenin', Mr. Williams,” he ventured.
+
+“Phinney,” went on the great man briskly, “I want you to give me your
+figures on a house moving deal. I have bought a house on the Shore Road,
+the one that used to belong to the--er--Smalleys, I believe.”
+
+Simeon was surprised. “What, the old Smalley house?” he exclaimed. “You
+don't tell me!”
+
+“Yes, it's a fine specimen--so my wife says--of the pure Colonial,
+whatever that is, and I intend moving it to the Boulevard. I want your
+figures for the job.”
+
+The building mover looked puzzled. “To the Boulevard?” he said. “Why, I
+didn't know there was a vacant lot on the Boulevard, Mr. Williams.”
+
+“There isn't now, but there will be soon. I have got hold of the hundred
+feet left from the old Seabury estate.”
+
+Mr. Phinney drew a long breath. “Why!” he stammered, “that's where Olive
+Edwards--her that was Olive Seabury--lives, ain't it?”
+
+“Yes,” was the rather impatient answer. “She has been living there. But
+the place was mortgaged up to the handle and--ahem--the mortgage is mine
+now.”
+
+For an instant Simeon did not reply. He was gazing, not up the Boulevard
+in the direction of the “Seabury place” but across the slope of the
+hill toward the home of Captain Sol Berry, the depot master. There was a
+troubled look on his face.
+
+“Well?” inquired Williams briskly, “when can you give me the figures?
+They must be low, mind. No country skin games, you understand.”
+
+“Hey?” Phinney came out of his momentary trance. “Yes, yes, Mr.
+Williams. They'll be low enough. Times is kind of dull now and I'd
+like a movin' job first-rate. I'll give 'em to you to-morrer. But--but
+Olive'll have to move, won't she? And where's she goin'?”
+
+“She'll have to move, sure. And the eyesore on that lot now will come
+down.”
+
+The “eyesore” was the four room building, combined dwelling and shop of
+Mrs. Olive Edwards, widow of “Bill Edwards,” once a promising young man,
+later town drunkard and ne'er-do-well, dead these five years, luckily
+for himself and luckier--in a way--for the wife who had stuck by him
+while he wasted her inheritance in a losing battle with John Barleycorn.
+At his death the fine old Seabury place had dwindled to a lone hundred
+feet of land, the little house, and a mortgage on both. Olive had opened
+a “notion store” in her front parlor and had fought on, proudly refusing
+aid and trying to earn a living. She had failed. Again Phinney stared
+thoughtfully at the distant house of Captain Sol.
+
+“But Olive,” he said, slowly. “She ain't got no folks, has she? What'll
+become of her? Where'll she move to?”
+
+“That,” said Mr. Williams, with a wave of a fat hand, “is not my
+business. I am sorry for her, if she's hard up. But I can't be
+responsible if men will drink up their wives' money. Look out for number
+one; that's business. I sha'n't be unreasonable with her. She can stay
+where she is until the new house I've bought is moved to that lot. Then
+she must clear out. I've told her that. She knows all about it. Well,
+good-by, Phinney. I shall expect your bid to-morrow. And, mind, don't
+try to get the best of me, because you can't do it.”
+
+He turned and strutted back up the Boulevard. Sim Phinney, pondering
+deeply and very grave, continued on his way, down Cross Street
+to Main--naming the village roads was another of the Williams'
+“improvements”--and along that to the crossing, East Harniss's business
+and social center at train times.
+
+The station--everyone called it “deepo,” of course--was then a small red
+building, old and out of date, but scrupulously neat because of Captain
+Berry's rigid surveillance. Close beside it was the “Boston Grocery,
+Dry Goods and General Store,” Mr. Beriah Higgins, proprietor. Beriah
+was postmaster and the post office was in his store. The male citizen
+of middle age or over, seeking opportunity for companionship and chat,
+usually went first to the depot, sat about in the waiting room until the
+train came in, superintended that function, then sojourned to the post
+office until the mail was sorted, returning later, if he happened to be
+a particular friend of the depot master, to sit and smoke and yarn until
+Captain Sol announced that it was time to “turn in.”
+
+When Mr. Phinney entered the little waiting room he found it already
+tenanted. Captain Sol had not yet arrived, but official authority was
+represented by “Issy” McKay--his full name was Issachar Ulysses Grant
+McKay--a long-legged, freckled-faced, tow-headed youth of twenty, who,
+as usual, was sprawled along the settee by the wall, engrossed in
+a paper covered dime novel. “Issy” was a lover of certain kinds of
+literature and reveled in lurid fiction. As a youngster he had, at
+the age of thirteen, after a course of reading in the “Deadwood Dick
+Library,” started on a pedestrian journey to the Far West, where,
+being armed with home-made tomahawk and scalping knife, he contemplated
+extermination of the noble red man. A wrathful pursuing parent had
+collared the exterminator at the Bayport station, to the huge delight of
+East Harniss, young and old. Since this adventure Issy had been famous,
+in a way.
+
+He was Captain Sol Berry's assistant at the depot. Why an assistant
+was needed was a much discussed question. Why Captain Sol, a retired
+seafaring man with money in the bank, should care to be depot master
+at ten dollars a week was another. The Captain himself said he took the
+place because he wanted to do something that was “half way between a
+loaf and a job.” He employed an assistant at his own expense because
+he “might want to stretch the loafin' half.” And he hired Issy
+because--well, because “most folks in East Harniss are alike and you can
+always tell about what they'll say or do. Now Issy's different. The Lord
+only knows what HE'S likely to do, and that makes him interestin' as a
+conundrum, to guess at. He kind of keeps my sense of responsibility from
+gettin' mossy, Issy does.”
+
+“Issy,” hailed Mr. Phinney, “has the Cap'n got here yet?”
+
+Issy answered not. The villainous floorwalker had just proffered
+matrimony or summary discharge to “Flora, the Beautiful Shop Girl,” and
+pending her answer, the McKay mind had no room for trifles.
+
+“Issy!” shouted Simeon. “I say, Is', Wake up, you foolhead! Has Cap'n
+Sol--”
+
+“No, he ain't, Sim,” volunteered Ed Crocker. He and his chum, Cornelius
+Rowe, were seated in two of the waiting room chairs, their feet on two
+others. “He ain't got here yet. We was just talkin' about him. You've
+heard about Olive Edwards, I s'pose likely, ain't you?”
+
+Phinney nodded gloomily.
+
+“Yes,” he said, “I've heard.”
+
+“Well, it's too bad,” continued Crocker. “But, after all, it's Olive's
+own fault. She'd ought to have married Sol Berry when she had the
+chance. What she ever gave him the go-by for, after the years they was
+keepin' comp'ny, is more'n I can understand.”
+
+Cornelius Rowe shook his head, with an air of wisdom. Captain Sol,
+himself, remarked once: “I wonder sometimes the Almighty ain't jealous
+of Cornelius, he knows so much and is so responsible for the runnin' of
+all creation.”
+
+“Humph!” grunted Mr. Rowe. “There's more to that business than you folks
+think. Olive didn't notice Bill Edwards till Sol went off to sea and
+stayed two years and over. How do you know she shook Sol? You might just
+as well say he shook her. He always was stubborn as an off ox and cranky
+as a windlass. I wonder how he feels now, when she's lost her last red
+and is goin' to be drove out of house and home. And all on account of
+that fool 'mountain and Mahomet' business.”
+
+“WHICH?” asked Mr. Crocker.
+
+“Never mind that, Cornelius,” put in Phinney, sharply. “Why don't you
+let other folks' affairs alone? That was a secret that Olive told your
+sister and you've got no right to go blabbin'.”
+
+“Aw, hush up, Sim! I ain't tellin' no secrets to anybody but Ed here,
+and he ain't lived in East Harniss long or he'd know it already. The
+mountain and Mahomet? Why, them was the last words Sol and Olive had.
+'Twas Sol's stubbornness that was most to blame. That was his one bad
+fault. He would have his own way and he wouldn't change. Olive had set
+her heart on goin' to Washin'ton for their weddin' tower. Sol wanted
+to go to Niagara. They argued a long time, and finally Olive says, 'No,
+Solomon, I'm not goin' to give in this time. I have all the others, but
+it's not fair and it's not right, and no married life can be happy where
+one does all the sacrificin'. If you care for me you'll do as I want
+now.'
+
+“And he laughs and says, 'All right, I'll sacrifice after this, but you
+and me must see Niagara.' And she was sot and he was sotter, and at last
+they quarreled. He marches out of the door and says: 'Very good. When
+you're ready to be sensible and change your mind, you can come to me.
+And says Olive, pretty white but firm: 'No, Solomon, I'm right and
+you're not. I'm afraid this time the mountain must come to Mahomet.'
+That ended it. He went away and never come back, and after a long spell
+she give in to her dad and married Bill Edwards. Foolish? 'Well, now,
+WA'N'T it!”
+
+“Humph!” grunted Crocker. “She must have been a born gump to let a smart
+man like him get away just for that.”
+
+“There's a good many born gumps not so far from here as her house,”
+ interjected Phinney. “You remember that next time you look in the glass,
+Ed Crocker. And--and--well, there's no better friend of Sol Berry's on
+earth than I am, but, so fur as their quarrel was concerned, if you ask
+me I'd have to say Olive was pretty nigh right.”
+
+“Maybe--maybe,” declared the allwise Cornelius, “but just the same if I
+was Sol Berry, and knew my old girl was likely to go to the poorhouse,
+I'll bet my conscience--”
+
+“S-ssh!” hissed Crocker, frantically. Cornelius stopped in the middle
+of his sentence, whirled in his chair, and looked up. Behind him in the
+doorway of the station stood Captain Sol himself. The blue cap he always
+wore was set back on his head, a cigar tipped upward from the corner
+of his mouth, and there was a grim look in his eye and about the smooth
+shaven lips above the short, grayish-brown beard.
+
+“Issy” sprang from his settee and jammed the paper novel into his
+pocket. Ed Crocker's sunburned face turned redder yet. Sim Phinney
+grinned at Mr. Rowe, who was very much embarrassed.
+
+“Er--er--evenin', Cap'n Sol,” he stammered. “Nice, seasonable weather,
+ain't it? Been a nice day.”
+
+“Um,” grunted the depot master, knocking the ashes from his cigar.
+
+“Just right for workin' outdoor,” continued Cornelius.
+
+“I guess it must be. I saw your wife rakin' the yard this mornin'.”
+
+Phinney doubled up with a chuckle. Mr. Rowe swallowed hard. “I--I TOLD
+her I'd rake it myself soon's I got time,” he sputtered.
+
+“Um. Well, I s'pose she realized your time was precious. Evenin', Sim,
+glad to see you.”
+
+He held out his hand and Phinney grasped it.
+
+“Issy,” said Captain Sol, “you'd better get busy with the broom, hadn't
+you. It's standin' over in that corner and I wouldn't wonder if it
+needed exercise. Sim, the train ain't due for twenty minutes yet. That
+gives us at least three quarters of an hour afore it gets here. Come
+outside a spell. I want to talk to you.”
+
+He led the way to the platform, around the corner of the station, and
+seated himself on the baggage truck. That side of the building, being
+furthest from the street, was out of view from the post office and
+“general store.”
+
+“What was it you wanted to talk about, Sol?” asked Simeon, sitting down
+beside his friend on the truck.
+
+The Captain smoked in silence for a moment. Then he asked a question in
+return.
+
+“Sim,” he said, “have you heard anything about Williams buying the
+Smalley house? Is it true?”
+
+Phinney nodded. “Yup,” he answered, “it's true. Williams was just
+talkin' to me and I know all about his buyin' it and where it's goin'.”
+
+He repeated the conversation with the great man. Captain Sol did
+not interrupt. He smoked on, and a frown gathered and deepened as he
+listened.
+
+“Humph!” he said, when his friend had concluded. “Humph! Sim, do you
+have any idea what--what Olive Seabury will do when she has to go?”
+
+Phinney glanced at him. It was the first time in twenty years that he
+had heard Solomon Berry mention the name of his former sweetheart. And
+even now he did not call her by her married name, the name of her late
+husband.
+
+“No,” replied Simeon. “No, Sol, I ain't got the least idea. Poor thing!”
+
+Another interval. Then: “Well, Sim, find out if you can, and let me
+know. And,” turning his head and speaking quietly but firmly, “don't let
+anybody ELSE know I asked.”
+
+“Course I won't, Sol, you know that. But don't it seem awful mean
+turnin' her out so? I wouldn't think Mr. Williams would do such a
+thing.”
+
+His companion smiled grimly; “I would,” he said. “'Business is
+business,' that's his motto. That and 'Look out for number one.'”
+
+“Yes, he said somethin' to me about lookin' out for number one.”
+
+“Did he? Humph!” The Captain's smile lost a little of its bitterness
+and broadened. He seemed to be thinking and to find amusement in the
+process.
+
+“What you grinnin' at?” demanded Phinney.
+
+“Oh, I was just rememberin' how he looked out for number one the
+first--no, the second time I met him. I don't believe he's forgot it.
+Maybe that's why he ain't quite so high and mighty to me as he is to the
+rest of you fellers. Ha! ha! He tried to patronize me when I first came
+back here and took this depot and I just smiled and asked him what the
+market price of johnny-cake was these days. He got red clear up to the
+brim of his tall hat. Humph! 'TWAS funny.”
+
+“The market price of JOHNNY-CAKE! He must have thought you was loony.”
+
+“No. I'm the last man he'd think was loony. You see I met him a fore he
+came here to live at all.”
+
+“You did? Where?”
+
+“Oh, over to Wellmouth. 'Twas the year afore I come back to East
+Harniss, myself, after my long stretch away from it. I never intended to
+see the Cape again, but I couldn't stay away somehow. I've told you
+that much--how I went over to Wellmouth and boarded a spell, got sick
+of that, and, just to be doin' somethin' and not for the money, bought
+a catboat and took out sailin' parties from Wixon and Wingate's summer
+hotel.”
+
+“And you met Mr. Williams? Well, I snum! Was he at the hotel?”
+
+“No, not exactly. I met him sort of casual this second time.”
+
+“SECOND time? Had you met him afore that?”
+
+“Don't get ahead of the yarn, Sim. It happened this way: You see, I was
+comin' along the road between East Wellmouth and the Center when I run
+afoul of him. He was fat and shiny, and drivin' a skittish horse hitched
+to a fancy buggy. When he sighted me he hove to and hailed.
+
+“'Here you!' says he, in a voice as fat as the rest of him. 'Your name's
+Berry, ain't it.'
+
+“'Yup,' says I.
+
+“'Methusalum Berry or Jehoshaphat Berry or Sheba Berry, or somethin'
+like that? Hey?' he says.
+
+“'Well,' says I, 'the last shot you fired comes nighest the bull's eye.
+They christened me Solomon, but 'twa'n't my fault; I was young at the
+time and they took advantage.'
+
+“He grinned a kind of lopsided grin, like he had a lemon in his mouth,
+and commenced to cuss the horse for tryin' to climb a pine tree.
+
+“'I knew 'twas some Bible outrage or other,' he says. 'There's more
+Bible names in this forsaken sand heap than there is Christians, a good
+sight. When I meet a man with a Bible name and chin whiskers I hang on
+to my watch. The feller that sets out to do me has got to have a better
+make up than that, you bet your life. 'Well, see here, King Sol; can you
+run a gasoline launch?'
+
+“'Why, yes, I guess I can run 'most any of the everyday kinds,' says
+I, pullin' thoughtful at my own chin whiskers. This fat man had got me
+interested. He was so polite and folksy in his remarks. Didn't seem to
+stand on no ceremony, as you might say. Likewise there was a kind of
+familiar somethin' about his face. I knew mighty well I'd never met him
+afore, and yet I seemed to have a floatin' memory of him, same as a chap
+remembers the taste of the senna and salts his ma made him take when he
+was little.
+
+“'All right,' says he, sharp. 'Then you come around to my landin'
+to-morrer mornin' at eight o'clock prompt and take me out in my launch
+to the cod-fishin' grounds. I'll give you ten dollars to take me out
+there and back.'
+
+“'Well,' says I, 'ten dollars is a good price enough. Do I furnish--'
+
+“'You furnish nothin' except your grub,' he interrupts. 'The launch'll
+be ready and the lines and hooks and bait'll be ready. My own man was to
+do the job, but he and I had a heart-to-heart talk just now and I told
+him where he could go and go quick. No smart Alec gets the best of me,
+even if he has got a month's contract. You run that launch and put me on
+the fishin' grounds. I pay you for that and bringin' me back again. And
+I furnish my own extras and you can furnish yours. I don't want any of
+your Yankee bargainin'. See?'
+
+“I saw. There wa'n't no real reason why I couldn't take the job. 'Twas
+well along into September; the hotel was closed for the season; and
+about all I had on my hands just then was time.
+
+“'All right,' says I, 'it's a deal. If you'll guarantee to have your
+launch ready, I--'
+
+“'That's my business,' he says. 'It'll be ready. If it ain't you'll get
+your pay just the same. To-morrer mornin' at eight o'clock. And don't
+you forget and be late. Gid-dap, you blackguard!' says he to the horse.
+
+“'Hold on, just a minute,' I hollers, runnin' after him. 'I don't want
+to be curious nor nosey, you understand, but seems 's if it might help
+me to be on time if I knew where your launch was goin' to be and what
+your name was.'
+
+“He pulled up then. 'Humph!' he says, 'if you don't know my name and
+more about my private affairs than I do myself, you're the only one in
+this county that don't. My name's Williams, and I live in what you folks
+call the Lathrop place over here toward Trumet. The launch is at my
+landin' down in front of the house.'
+
+“He drove off then and I walked along thinkin'. I knew who he was
+now, of course. There was consider'ble talk when the Lathrop place was
+rented, and I gathered that the feller who hired it answered to the hail
+of Williams and was a retired banker, sufferin' from an enlarged income
+and the diseases that go along with it. He lived alone up there in the
+big house, except for a cranky housekeeper and two or three servants.
+This was afore he got married, Sim; his wife's tamed him a little. Then
+the yarns about his temper and language would have filled a log book.
+
+“But all this was way to one side of the mark-buoy, so fur as I was
+concerned. I'd cruised with cranks afore and I thought I could stand
+this one--ten dollars' worth of him, anyhow. Bluster and big talk may
+scare some folks, but to me they're like Aunt Hepsy Parker's false
+teeth, the further off you be from 'em the more real they look. So the
+next mornin' I was up bright and early and on my way over to the Lathrop
+landin'.
+
+“The launch was there, made fast alongside the little wharf. Nice,
+slick-lookin' craft she was, too, all varnish and gilt gorgeousness. I'd
+liked her better if she'd carried a sail, for it's my experience that
+canvas is a handy thing to have aboard in case of need; but she looked
+seaworthy enough and built for speed.
+
+“While I was standin' on the pier lookin' down at her I heard footsteps
+and brisk remarks from behind the bushes on the bank, and here comes
+Williams, puffin' and blowin', followed by a sulky-lookin' hired man
+totin' a deckload of sweaters and ileskins, with a lunch basket on top.
+Williams himself wan't carryin' anything but his temper, but he hadn't
+forgot none of that.
+
+“'Hello, Berry,' says he to me. 'You are on time, ain't you. Blessed if
+it ain't a comfort to find somebody who'll do what I tell 'em. Now you,'
+he says to the servant, 'put them things aboard and clear out as quick
+as you've a mind to. You and I are through; understand? Don't let me
+find you hangin' around the place when I get back. Cast off, Sol.'
+
+“The man dumped the dunnage into the launch, pretty average ugly, and me
+and the boss climbed aboard. I cast off.
+
+“'Mr. Williams,' says the man, kind of pleadin', 'ain't you goin' to pay
+me the rest of my month's wages?'
+
+“Williams told him he wa'n't, and added trimmin's to make it emphatic.
+
+“I started the engine and we moved out at a good clip. All at once that
+hired man runs to the end of the wharf and calls after us.
+
+“'All right for you, you fat-head!' he yells. 'You'll be sorry for what
+you done to me.'
+
+“I cal'late the boss would have liked to go back and lick him, but I
+was hired to go a-fishin', not to watch a one-sided prize fight, and I
+thought 'twas high time we started.
+
+“The name of that launch was the Shootin' Star, and she certainly
+lived up to it. 'Twas one of them slick, greasy days, with no sea worth
+mentionin' and we biled along fine. We had to, because the cod ledge is
+a good many mile away, 'round Sandy P'int out to sea, and, judgin' by
+what I'd seen of Fatty so fur, I wa'n't hankerin' to spend more time
+with him than was necessary. More'n that, there was fog signs showin'.
+
+“'When was you figgerin' on gettin' back, Mr. Williams?' I asked him.
+
+“'When I've caught as many fish as I want to,' he says. 'I told that
+housekeeper of mine that I'd be back when I got good and ready; it might
+be to-night and it might be ten days from now. “If I ain't back in a
+week you can hunt me up,” I told her; “but not before. And that goes.”
+ I've got HER trained all right. She knows me. It's a pity if a man can't
+be independent of females.'
+
+“I knew consider'ble many men that was subjects for pity, 'cordin' to
+that rule. But I wa'n't in for no week's cruise, and I told him so. He
+said of course not; we'd be home that evenin'.
+
+“The Shootin' Star kept slippin' along. 'Twas a beautiful mornin' and,
+after a spell, it had its effect, even on a crippled disposition like
+that banker man's. He lit up a cigar and begun to get more sociable, in
+his way. Commenced to ask me questions about myself.
+
+“By and by he says: 'Berry, I suppose you figger that it's a smart thing
+to get ten dollars out of me for a trip like this, hey?'
+
+“'Not if it's to last a week, I don't,' says I.
+
+“'It's your lookout if it does,' he says prompt. 'You get ten for takin'
+me out and back. If you ain't back on time 'tain't my fault.'
+
+“'Unless this craft breaks down,' I says.
+
+“''Twon't break down. I looked after that. My motto is to look out for
+number one every time, and it's a mighty good motto. At any rate, it's
+made my money for me.'
+
+“He went on, preachin' about business shrewdness and how it paid, and
+how mean and tricky in little deals we Rubes was, and yet we didn't
+appreciate how to manage big things, till I got kind of sick of it.
+
+“'Look here, Mr. Williams,' says I, 'you know how I make my money--what
+little I do make--or you say you do. Now, if it ain't a sassy question,
+how did you make yours?'
+
+“Well, he made his by bein' shrewd and careful and always lookin' out
+for number one. 'Number one' was his hobby. I gathered that the heft of
+his spare change had come from dickers in stocks and bonds.
+
+“'Humph!' says I. 'Well, speakin' of tricks and meanness, I've allers
+heard tell that there was some of them things hitched to the tail of
+the stock market. What makes the stock market price of--well, of wheat,
+we'll say?'
+
+“That was regulated, so he said, by the law of supply and demand. If a
+feller had all the wheat there was and another chap had to have some or
+starve, why, the first one had a right to gouge t'other chap's last cent
+away from him afore he let it go.
+
+“'That's legitimate,' he says. 'That's cornerin' the market. Law of
+supply and demand exemplified.'
+
+“''Cordin' to that law,' says I, 'when you was so set on fishin' to-day
+and hunted me up to run your boat here--'cause I was about the only chap
+who could run it and wa'n't otherwise busy--I'd ought to have charged
+you twenty dollars instead of ten.'
+
+“'Sure you had,' he says, grinnin'. 'But you weren't shrewd enough to
+grasp the situation and do it. Now the deal's closed and it's too late.'
+
+“He went on talkin' about 'pools' and deals' and such. How prices of
+this stock and that was shoved up a-purpose till a lot of folks had
+put their money in it and then was smashed flat so's all hands but the
+'poolers' would be what he called 'squeezed out,' and the gang would get
+their cash. That was legitimate, too--'high finance,' he said.
+
+“'But how about the poor folks that had their savin's in them stocks,'
+I asks, 'and don't know high financin'? Where's the law of supply and
+demand come in for them?'
+
+“He laughed. 'They supply the suckers and the demand for money,' says
+he.
+
+“By eleven we was well out toward the fishin' grounds. 'Twas the bad
+season now; the big fish had struck off still further and there wa'n't
+another boat in sight. The land was just a yeller and green smooch along
+the sky line and the waves was runnin' bigger. The Shootin' Star was
+seaworthy, though, and I wa'n't worried about her. The only thing that
+troubled me was the fog, and that was pilin' up to wind'ard. I'd called
+Fatty's attention to it when we fust started, but he said he didn't care
+a red for fog. Well, I didn't much care nuther, for we had a compass
+aboard and the engine was runnin' fine. What wind there was was blowin'
+offshore.
+
+“And then, all to once, the engine STOPPED runnin'. I give the wheel a
+whirl, but she only coughed, consumptive-like, and quit again. I went
+for'ard to inspect, and, if you'll believe it, there wa'n't a drop of
+gasoline left in the tank. The spare cans had ought to have been full,
+and they was--but 'twas water they was filled with.
+
+“'Is THIS the way you have your boat ready for me?' I remarks,
+sarcastic.
+
+“'That--that man of mine told me he had everything filled,' he stammers,
+lookin' scart.
+
+“'Yes,' says I, 'and I heard him hint likewise that he was goin' to make
+you sorry. I guess he's done it.'
+
+“Well, sir! the brimstone names that Fatty called that man was somethin'
+surprisin' to hear. When he'd used up all he had in stock he invented
+new ones. When the praise service was over he turns to me and says: 'But
+what are we goin' to do?'
+
+“'Do?' says I. 'That's easy. We're goin' to drift.'
+
+“And that's what we done. I tried to anchor, but we wa'n't over the
+ledge and the iron wouldn't reach bottom by a mile, more or less. I
+rigged up a sail out of the oar and the canvas spray shield, but there
+wa'n't wind enough to give us steerageway. So we drifted and drifted,
+out to sea. And by and by the fog come down and shut us in, and that
+fixed what little hope I had of bein' seen by the life patrol on shore.
+
+“The breeze died out flat about three o'clock. In one way this was a
+good thing. In another it wa'n't, because we was well out in deep water,
+and when the wind did come it was likely to come harder'n we needed.
+However, there wa'n't nothin' to do but wait and hope for the best, as
+the feller said when his wife's mother was sick.
+
+“It was gettin' pretty well along toward the edge of the evenin' when
+I smelt the wind a-comin'. It came in puffs at fust, and every puff was
+healthier than the one previous. Inside of ten minutes it was blowin'
+hard, and the seas were beginnin' to kick up. I got up my jury rig--the
+oar and the spray shield--and took the helm. There wa'n't nothin' to
+do but run afore it, and the land knows where we would fetch up. At any
+rate, if the compass was right, we was drivin' back into the bay again,
+for the wind had hauled clear around.
+
+“The Shootin' Star jumped and sloshed. Fatty had on all the ileskins and
+sweaters, but he was shakin' like a custard pie.
+
+“'Oh, oh, heavens!' he chatters. 'What will we do? Will we drown?'
+
+“'Don't know,' says I, tuggin' at the wheel and tryin' to sight the
+compass. 'You've got the best chance of the two of us, if it's true that
+fat floats.'
+
+“I thought that might cheer him up some, but it didn't. A big wave
+heeled us over then and a keg or two of salt water poured over the
+gunwale. He give a yell and jumped up.
+
+“'My Lord!' he screams. 'We're sinkin'. Help! help!'
+
+“'Set down!' I roared. 'Thought you knew how to act in a boat. Set down!
+d'you hear me? SET DOWN AND SET STILL!'
+
+“He set. Likewise he shivered and groaned. It got darker all the time
+and the wind freshened every minute. I expected to see that jury mast go
+by the board at any time. Lucky for us it held.
+
+“No use tellin' about the next couple of hours. 'Cordin' to my reckonin'
+they was years and we'd ought to have sailed plumb through the broadside
+of the Cape, and be makin' a quick run for Africy. But at last we got
+into smoother water, and then, right acrost our bows, showed up a white
+strip. The fog had pretty well blowed clear and I could see it.
+
+“'Land, ho!' I yells. 'Stand by! WE'RE goin' to bump.'”
+
+Captain Sol stopped short and listened. Mr. Phinney grasped his arm.
+
+“For the dear land sakes, Sol,” he exclaimed, “don't leave me hangin' in
+them breakers no longer'n you can help! Heave ahead! DID you bump?”
+
+The depot master chuckled.
+
+“DID we?” he repeated. “Well, I'll tell you that by and by. Here comes
+the train and I better take charge of the ship. Anything so responsible
+as seein' the cars come in without me to help would give Issy the
+jumpin' heart disease.”
+
+He sprang from the truck and hastened toward the door of the station.
+Phinney, rising to follow him, saw, over the dark green of the swamp
+cedars at the head of the track, an advancing column of smoke. A whistle
+sounded. The train was coming in.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+SUPPLY AND DEMAND
+
+
+And now life in East Harniss became temporarily fevered. Issy McKay
+dashed out of the station and rushed importantly up and down the
+platform. Ed Crocker and Cornelius Rowe emerged and draped themselves
+in statuesque attitudes against the side of the building. Obed Gott came
+hurrying from his paint and oil shop, which was next to the “general
+store.” Mr. Higgins, proprietor of the latter, sauntered easily across
+to receive, in his official capacity as postmaster, the mail bag. Ten or
+more citizens, of both sexes, and of various ages, gathered in groups to
+inspect and supervise.
+
+The locomotive pulled its string of cars, a “baggage,” a “smoker,”
+ and two “passengers,” alongside the platform. The sliding door of the
+baggage car was pushed back and the baggage master appeared in the
+opening. “Hi! Cap'n!” he shouted. “Hi, Cap'n Sol! Here's some express
+for you.”
+
+But unfortunately the Captain was in conversation with the conductor at
+the other end of the train. Issy, willing and officious, sprang forward.
+“I'll take it, Bill,” he volunteered. “Here, give it to me.”
+
+The baggage master handed down the package, a good sized one marked
+“Glass. With Care.” Issy received it, clutched it to his bosom, turned
+and saw Gertie Higgins, pretty daughter of Beriah Higgins, stepping from
+the first car to the platform. Gertie had been staying with an aunt in
+Trumet and was now returning home for a day or two.
+
+Issy stopped short and gazed at her. He saw her meet and kiss her
+father, and the sight roused turbulent emotions in his bosom. He saw her
+nod and smile at acquaintances whom she passed. She approached, noticed
+him, and--oh, rapture!--said laughingly, “Hello, Is.” Before he could
+recover his senses and remember to do more than grin she had disappeared
+around the corner of the station. Therefore he did not see the young man
+who stepped forward to shake her hand and whisper in her ear. This young
+man was Sam Bartlett, and, as a “city dude,” Issy loathed and hated him.
+
+No, Issy did not see the hurried and brief meeting between Bartlett and
+Gertie Higgins, but he had seen enough to cause forgetfulness of mundane
+things. For an instant he stared after the vanished vision. Then he
+stepped blindly forward, tripped over something--“his off hind leg,” so
+Captain Sol afterwards vowed--and fell sprawling, the express package
+beneath him.
+
+The crash of glass reached the ears of the depot master. He broke away
+from the conductor and ran toward his prostrate “assistant.” Pushing
+aside the delighted and uproarious bystanders, he forcibly helped the
+young man to rise.
+
+“What in time?” he demanded.
+
+Issy agonizingly held the package to his ear and shook it.
+
+“I--I'm afraid somethin's cracked,” he faltered.
+
+The crowd set up a whoop. Ed Crocker appeared to be in danger of
+strangling.
+
+“Cracked!” repeated Captain Sol. “Cracked!” he smiled, in spite of
+himself. “Yes, somethin's cracked. It's that head of yours, Issy. Here,
+let's see!”
+
+He snatched the package from the McKay hands and inspected it.
+
+“Smashed to thunder!” he declared. “Who's the lucky one it belongs to?
+Humph!” He read the inscription aloud, “Major Cuthbertson S. Hardee. The
+Major, hey! . . . Well, Is, you take the remains inside and you and I'll
+hold services over it later.”
+
+“I--I didn't go to do it,” protested the frightened Issy.
+
+“Course you didn't. If you had you wouldn't. You're like the feller
+in Scriptur', you leave undone the things you ought to do and do them
+that--All right, Jim! Let her go! Cast off!”
+
+The conductor waved his hand, the engine puffed, the bell rang, and
+the train moved onward. For another twelve hours East Harniss was left
+marooned by the outside world.
+
+Beriah Higgins and the mail bag were already in the post office. Thither
+went the crowd to await the sorting and ultimate distribution. A short,
+fat little man lingered and, walking up to the depot master, extended
+his hand.
+
+“Hello, Sol!” he said, smiling. “Thought I'd stop long enough to say
+'Howdy,' anyhow.”
+
+“Why, Bailey Stitt!” cried the Captain. “How are you? Glad to see you.
+Thought you was down to South Orham, takin' out seasick parties for the
+Ocean House, same kind of a job I used to have in Wellmouth.”
+
+“I am,” replied Captain Stitt. “That is, I was. Just now I've run over
+here to see about contractin' for a supply of clams and quahaugs for our
+boarders. You never see such a gang to eat as them summer folks, in your
+life. Barzilla Wingate, he says the same about his crowd. He's comin' on
+the mornin' train from Wellmouth.”
+
+“You don't tell me. I ain't seen Barzilla for a long spell. Where you
+stoppin'? Come up to the house, won't you?”
+
+“Can't. I'm goin' to put up over to Obed Gott's. His sister, Polena
+Ginn, is a relation of mine by marriage. So long! Obed's gone on ahead
+to tell Polena to put the kettle on. Maybe Obed and I'll be back again
+after I've had supper.”
+
+“Do. I'll be round here for two or three hours yet.”
+
+He entered the depot. Except the forlorn Issy, who sat in a corner,
+holding the express package in his lap, Simeon Phinney was the only
+person in the waiting room.
+
+“Come on now, Sol!” pleaded Sim. “I want to hear the rest of that about
+you and Williams. You left off in the most ticklish place possible,
+out of spite, I do believe. I'm hangin' on to that boat in the breakers
+until I declare I believe I'm catchin' cold just from imagination.”
+
+“Wait a minute, Sim,” said the depot master. Then he turned to his
+assistant.
+
+“Issy,” he said, “this is about the nineteenth time you've done just
+this sort of thing. You're no earthly use and I ought to give you your
+clearance papers. But I can't, you're too--well--ornamental. You've
+got to be punished somehow and I guess the best way will be to send you
+right up to Major Hardee's and let you give him the remnants. He'll
+want to know how it happened, and you tell him the truth. The TRUTH,
+understand? If you invent any fairy tales out of those novels of yours
+I'll know it by and by and--well, YOU'LL know I know. No remarks,
+please. Git!”
+
+Issy hesitated, seemed about to speak, thought better of it, took up
+package and cap, and “got.”
+
+“Let's see,” said the Captain, sitting down in one of the station chairs
+and lighting a fresh cigar; “where was Williams and I in that yarn of
+mine? Oh, yes, I could see land and cal'lated we was goin' to bump.
+Well, we did. Steerin' anyways but dead ahead was out of the question,
+and all I could do was set my teeth and trust in my bein' a member
+of the church. The Shootin' Star hit that beach like she was the real
+article. Overboard went oar and canvas and grub pails, and everything
+else that wa'n't nailed down, includin' Fatty and me. I grabbed him by
+the collar and wallowed ashore.
+
+“'Awk! hawk!' he gasps, chokin', 'I'm drownded.'
+
+“I let him BE drownded, for the minute. I had the launch to think of,
+and somehow or 'nother I got hold of her rodin' and hauled the anchor up
+above tide mark. Then I attended to my passenger.
+
+“'Where are we?' he asks.
+
+“I looked around. Close by was nothin' but beach-grass and seaweed and
+sand. A little ways off was a clump of scrub pines and bayberry bushes
+that looked sort of familiar. And back of them was a little board shanty
+that looked more familiar still. I rubbed the salt out of my eyes.
+
+“'WELL!' says I. 'I swan to man!'
+
+“'What is it?' he says. 'Do you know where we are? Whose house is that?'
+
+“I looked hard at the shanty.
+
+“'Humph!' I grunted. 'I do declare! Talk about a feller's comin' back to
+his own. Whose shanty is that? Well, it's mine, if you want to know.
+The power that looks out for the lame and the lazy has hove us ashore on
+Woodchuck Island, and that's a piece of real estate I own.'
+
+“It sounds crazy enough, that's a fact; but it was true. Woodchuck
+Island is a little mite of a sand heap off in the bay, two mile from
+shore and ten from the nighest town. I'd bought it and put up a shanty
+for a gunnin' shack; took city gunners down there, once in a while,
+the fall before. That summer I'd leased it to a friend of mine, name of
+Darius Baker, who used it while he was lobsterin'. The gale had driven
+us straight in from sea, 'way past Sandy P'int and on to the island.
+'Twas like hittin' a nail head in a board fence, but we'd done it. Shows
+what Providence can do when it sets out.
+
+“I explained some of this to Williams as we waded through the sand to
+the shanty.
+
+“'But is this Baker chap here now?' he asks.
+
+“'I'm afraid not,' says I. 'The lobster season's about over, and he was
+goin' South on a yacht this week. Still, he wa'n't to go till Saturday
+and perhaps--'
+
+“But the shanty was empty when we got there. I fumbled around in the tin
+matchbox and lit the kerosene lamp in the bracket on the wall. Then I
+turned to Williams.
+
+“'Well,' says I, 'we're lucky for once in--'
+
+“Then I stopped. When he went overboard the water had washed off
+his hat. Likewise it had washed off his long black hair--which was a
+wig--and his head was all round and shiny and bald, like a gull's egg
+out in a rain storm.”
+
+“I knew he wore a wig,” interrupted Phinney.
+
+“Of course you do. Everybody does now. But he wa'n't such a prophet in
+Israel then as he's come to be since, and folks wa'n't acquainted with
+his personal beauties.
+
+“'What are you starin' at?' he asks.
+
+“I fetched a long breath. 'Nothin',' says I. 'Nothin'.'
+
+“But for the rest of that next ha'f hour I went around in a kind of
+daze, as if MY wig had gone and part of my head with it. When a feller
+has been doin' a puzzle it kind of satisfies him to find out the answer.
+And I'd done my puzzle.
+
+“I knew where I'd met Mr. Williams afore.”
+
+“You did?” cried Simeon.
+
+“Um-hm. Wait a while. Well, Fatty went to bed, in one of the hay bunks,
+pretty soon after that. He stripped to his underclothes and turned in
+under the patchwork comforters. He was too beat out to want any supper,
+even if there'd been any in sight. I built a fire in the rusty cook
+stove and dried his duds and mine. Then I set down in the busted chair
+and begun to think. After a spell I got up and took account of stock, as
+you might say, of the eatables in the shanty. Darius had carted off his
+own grub and what there was on hand was mine, left over from the gunnin'
+season--a hunk of salt pork in the pickle tub, some corn meal in a tin
+pail, some musty white flour in another pail, a little coffee, a little
+sugar and salt, and a can of condensed milk. I took these things out of
+the locker they was in, looked 'em over, put 'em back again and sprung
+the padlock. Then I put the key into my pocket and went back to my chair
+to do some more thinkin'.
+
+“Next mornin' I was up early and when the banker turned out I was fryin'
+a couple of slices of the pork and had some coffee b'ilin'. Likewise
+there was a pan of johnnycake in the oven. The wind had gone down
+consider'ble, but 'twas foggy and thick again, which was a pleasin'
+state of things for yours truly.
+
+“Williams smelt the cookin' almost afore he got his eyes open.
+
+“'Hurry up with that breakfast,' he says to me. 'I'm hungry as a wolf.'
+
+“I didn't say nothin' then; just went ahead with my cookin'. He got into
+his clothes and went outdoor. Pretty soon he comes back, cussin' the
+weather.
+
+“'See here, Mr. Williams,' says I, 'how about them orders to your
+housekeeper? Are they straight? Won't she have you hunted up for a
+week?'
+
+“He colored pretty red, but from what he said I made out that she
+wouldn't. I gathered that him and the old lady wa'n't real chummy. She
+give him his grub and her services, and he give her the Old Harry and
+her wages. She wouldn't hunt for him, not until she was ordered to.
+She'd be only too glad to have him out of the way.
+
+“'Humph!' says I. 'Then I cal'late we'll enjoy the scenery on this
+garden spot of creation until the week's up.'
+
+“'What do you mean?' says he.
+
+“'Well,' I says, 'the launch is out of commission, unless it should
+rain gasoline, and at this time of year there ain't likely to be a boat
+within hailin' distance of this island; 'specially if the weather holds
+bad.'
+
+“He swore a blue streak, payin' partic'lar attention to the housekeeper
+for her general stupidness and to me because I'd got him, so he said,
+into this scrape. I didn't say nothin'; set the table, with one plate
+and one cup and sasser and knife and fork, hauled up a chair and set
+down to my breakfast. He hauled up a box and set down, too.
+
+“'Pass me that corn bread,' says he. 'And why didn't you fry more pork?'
+
+“He was reachin' out for the johnnycake, but I pulled it out of his way.
+
+“'Wait a minute, Mr. Williams,' says I. 'While you was snoozin' last
+night I made out a kind of manifest of the vittles aboard this shanty.
+'Cordin' to my figgerin' here's scursely enough to last one husky man
+a week, let along two husky ones. I paid consider'ble attention to your
+preachin' yesterday and the text seemed to be to look out for number
+one. Now in this case I'm the one and I've got to look out for myself.
+This is my shanty, my island, and my grub. So please keep your hands off
+that johnnycake.'
+
+“For a minute or so he set still and stared at me. Didn't seem to sense
+the situation, as you might say. Then the red biled up in his face and
+over his bald head like a Fundy tide.
+
+“'Why, you dummed villain!' he shouts. 'Do you mean to starve me?'
+
+“'You won't starve in a week,' says I, helpin' myself to pork. 'A feller
+named Tanner, that I read about years ago, lived for forty days on cold
+water and nothin' else. There's the pump right over in the corner. It's
+my pump, but I'll stretch a p'int and not charge for it this time.'
+
+“'You--you--' he stammers, shakin' all over, he was so mad. 'Didn't I
+hire you--'
+
+“'You hired me to take you out to the fishin' grounds and back, provided
+the launch was made ready by YOU. It wa'n't ready, so THAT contract's
+busted. And you was to furnish your extrys and I was to furnish mine.
+Here they be and I need 'em. It's as legitimate a deal as ever I see;
+perfect case of supply and demand--supply for one and demand for two. As
+I said afore, I'm the one.'
+
+“'By thunder!' he growls, standin' up, 'I'll show you--'
+
+“I stood up, too. He was fat and flabby and I was thin and wiry. We
+looked each other over.
+
+“'I wouldn't,' says I. 'You're under the doctor's care, you know.'
+
+“So he set down again, not havin' strength even to swear, and watched me
+eat my breakfast. And I ate it slow.
+
+“'Say,' he says, finally, 'you think you're mighty smart, don't you.
+Well, I'm It, I guess, for this time. I suppose you'll have no objection
+to SELLIN' me a breakfast?'
+
+“'No--o,' says I, 'not a mite of objection. I'll sell you a couple of
+slices of pork for five dollars a slice and--'
+
+“'FIVE DOLLARS a--!' His mouth dropped open like a main hatch.
+
+“'Sartin,' I says. 'And two slabs of johnnycake at five dollars a slab.
+And a cup of coffee at five dollars a cup. And--'
+
+“'You're crazy!' he sputters, jumpin' up.
+
+“'Not much, I ain't. I've been settin' at your feet larnin' high
+finance, that's all. You don't seem to be onto the real inwardness of
+this deal. I've got the grub market cornered, that's all. The market
+price of necessaries is five dollars each now; it's likely to rise at
+any time, but now it's five.'
+
+“He looked at me steady for at least two more minutes. Then he got up
+and banged out of that shanty. A little later I see him down at the end
+of the sand spit starin' out into the fog; lookin' for a sail, I presume
+likely.
+
+“I finished my breakfast and washed up the dishes. He come in by and by.
+He hadn't had no dinner nor supper, you see, and the salt air gives most
+folks an almighty appetite.
+
+“'Say,' he says, 'I've been thinkin'. It's usual in the stock and
+provision market to deal on a margin. Suppose I pay you a one per cent
+margin now and--'
+
+“'All right,' says I, cheerful. 'Then I'll give you a slip of paper
+sayin' that you've bought such and such slices of pork and hunks of
+johnnycake and I'm carryin' 'em for you on a margin. Of course there
+ain't no delivery of the goods now because--'
+
+“'Humph!' he interrupts, sour. 'You seem to know more'n I thought you
+did. Now are you goin' to be decent and make me a fair price or ain't
+you?'
+
+“'Can't sell under the latest quotations,' says I. 'That's five now; and
+spot cash.'
+
+“'But hang it all!' he says, 'I haven't got money enough with me. Think
+I carry a national bank around in my clothes?'
+
+“'You carry a Wellmouth Bank check book,' says I, 'because I see it in
+your jacket pocket last night when I was dryin' your duds. I'll take a
+check.'
+
+“He started to say somethin' and then stopped. After a spell he seemed
+to give in all to once.
+
+“'Very good,' he says. 'You get my breakfast ready and I'll make out the
+check.'
+
+“That breakfast cost him twenty-five dollars; thirty really, because he
+added another five for an extry cup of coffee. I told him to make the
+check payable to 'Bearer,' as 'twas quicker to write than 'Solomon.'
+
+“He had two more meals that day and at bedtime I had his checks
+amountin' to ninety-five dollars. The fog stayed with us all the time
+and nobody come to pick us up. And the next mornin's outlook was just as
+bad, bein' a drizzlin' rain and a high wind. The mainland beach was in
+sight but that's all except salt water and rain.
+
+“He was surprisin'ly cheerful all that day, eatin' like a horse
+and givin' up his meal checks without a whimper. If things had been
+different from what they was I'd have felt like a mean sneak thief.
+BEIN' as they was, I counted up the hundred and ten I'd made that day
+without a pinch of conscience.
+
+“This was a Wednesday. On Thursday, the third day of our Robinson
+Crusoe business, the weather was still thick, though there was signs of
+clearin'. Fatty come to me after breakfast--which cost him thirty-five,
+payable, as usual, to 'Bearer'--with almost a grin on his big face.
+
+“'Berry,' he says, 'I owe you an apology. I thought you was a green
+Rube, like the rest down here, but you're as sharp as they make 'em. I
+ain't the man to squeal when I get let in on a bad deal, and the chap
+who can work me for a sucker is entitled to all he can make. But this
+pay-as-you-go business is too slow and troublesome. What'll you take for
+the rest of the grub in the locker there, spot cash? Be white, and make
+a fair price.'
+
+“I'd been expectin' somethin' like this, and I was ready for him.
+
+“'Two hundred and sixty-five dollars,' says I, prompt.
+
+“He done a little figgerin'. 'Well, allowin' that I have to put up on
+this heap of desolation for the better part of four days more, that's
+cheap, accordin' to your former rates,' he says. 'I'll go you. But why
+not make it two fifty, even?'
+
+“'Two hundred and sixty-five's my price,' says I. So he handed over
+another 'Bearer' check, and his board bill was paid for a week.
+
+“Friday was a fine day, clear as a bell. Me and Williams had a real
+picnicky, sociable time. Livin' outdoor this way had made him forget his
+diseases and the doctor, and he showed signs of bein' ha'fway decent. We
+loafed around and talked and dug clams to help out the pork--that is, I
+dug 'em and Fatty superintended. We see no less'n three sailin' craft
+go by down the bay and tried our best to signal 'em, but they didn't pay
+attention--thought we was gunners or somethin', I presume likely.
+
+“At breakfast on Saturday, Williams begun to ask questions again.
+
+“'Sol,' says he, 'it surprised me to find that you knew what a “margin”
+ was. You didn't get that from anything I said. Where did you get it?'
+
+“I leaned back on my box seat.
+
+“'Mr. Williams,' says I, 'I cal'late I'll tell you a little story, if
+you want to hear it. 'Tain't much of a yarn, as yarns go, but maybe
+it'll interest you. The start of it goes back to consider'ble many year
+ago, when I was poorer'n I be now, and a mighty sight younger. At that
+time me and another feller, a partner of mine, had a fish weir out in
+the bay here. The mackerel struck in and we done well, unusual well.
+At the end of the season, not countin' what we'd spent for livin' and
+expenses, we had a balance owin' us at our fish dealer's up to Boston
+of five hundred dollars--two fifty apiece. My partner was goin' to
+be married in the spring and was cal'latin' to use his share to buy
+furniture for the new house with. So we decided we'd take a trip up
+to Boston and collect the money, stick it into some savin's bank where
+'twould draw interest until spring and then haul it out and use it.
+'Twas about every cent we had in the world.
+
+“'So to Boston we went, collected our money, got the address of a safe
+bank and started out to find it. But on the way my partner's hat blowed
+off and the bank address, which was on a slip of paper inside of it, got
+lost. So we see a sign on a buildin', along with a lot of others, that
+kind of suggested bankin', and so we stepped into the buildin' and went
+upstairs to ask the way again.
+
+“'The place wa'n't very big, but 'twas fixed up fancy and there was a
+kind of blackboard along the end of the room where a boy was markin' up
+figgers in chalk. A nice, smilin' lookin' man met us and, when we told
+him what we wanted, he asked us to set down. Then, afore we knowed it
+almost, we'd told him the whole story--about the five hundred and all.
+The feller said to hold on a spell and he'd go along with us and show us
+where the savin's bank was himself.
+
+“'So we waited and all the time the figgers kept goin' up on the board,
+under signs of “Pork” and “Wheat” and “Cotton” and such, and we'd hear
+how so and so's account was makin' a thousand a day, and the like of
+that. After a while the nice man, who it turned out was one of the
+bosses of the concern, told us what it meant. Seemed there was a big
+“rise” in the market and them that bought now was bound to get rich
+quick. Consequent we said we wished we could buy and get rich, too. And
+the smilin' chap says, “Let's go have some lunch.”'
+
+“Williams laughed. 'Ho, ho!' says he. 'Expensive lunch, was it?'
+
+“'Most extravagant meal of vittles ever I got away with,' I says. 'Cost
+me and my partner two hundred and fifty apiece, that lunch did. We
+stayed in Boston two days, and on the afternoon of the second day we
+was on our way back totin' a couple of neat but expensive slips of paper
+signifyin' that we'd bought December and May wheat on a one per cent
+margin. We was a hundred ahead already, 'cordin' to the blackboard, and
+was figgerin' what sort of palaces we'd build when we cashed in.'
+
+“'Ain't no use preachin' a long sermon over the remains. 'Twas a simple
+funeral and nobody sent flowers. Inside of a month we was cleaned
+out and the wheat place had gone out of business--failed, busted, you
+understand. Our fish dealer friend asked some questions, and found out
+the shebang wa'n't a real stock dealer's at all. 'Twas what they call
+a “bucket shop,” and we'd bought nothin' but air, and paid a commission
+for buyin' it. And the smilin', nice man that run the swindle had been
+hangin' on the edge of bust for a long while and knowed 'twas comin'.
+Our five hundred had helped pay his way to a healthier climate, that's
+all.'
+
+“'Hold on a minute,' says Fatty, lookin' more interested. 'What was the
+name of the firm that took you greenhorns in?'
+
+“''Twas the Empire Bond, Stock and Grain Exchange,' says I. 'And 'twas
+on Derbyshire Street.'
+
+“He give a little jump. Then he says, slow, Hu-u-m! I--see.'
+
+“'Yes,' says I. 'I thought you would. You had a mustache then and your
+name was diff'rent, but you seemed familiar just the same. When your
+false hair got washed off I knew you right away.'
+
+“He took out his pocket pen and his check book and done a little
+figgerin'.
+
+“'Humph!' he says, again. 'You lost five hundred and I've paid you five
+hundred and five. What's the five for?'
+
+“'That's my commission on the sales,' I says.
+
+“And just then comes a hail from outside the shanty. Out we bolted
+and there was Sam Davis, just steppin' ashore from his power boat.
+Williams's housekeeper had strained a p'int and had shaded her orders by
+a couple of days.
+
+“Williams and Sam started for home right off. I followed in the Shootin'
+Star, havin' borrered gasoline enough for the run. I reached the dock
+ha'f an hour after they did, and there was Fatty waitin' for me.
+
+“'Berry,' says he, 'I've got a word or two to say to you. I ain't
+kickin' at your givin' me tit for tat, or tryin' to. Turn about's fair
+play, if you can call the turn. But it's against my principles to allow
+anybody to beat me on a business deal. Do you suppose,' he says, 'that
+I'd have paid your robber's prices without a word if I hadn't had
+somethin' up my sleeve? Why, man,' says he, 'I gave you my CHECKS, not
+cash. And I've just telephoned to the Wellmouth Bank to stop payment
+on those checks. They're no earthly use to you; see? There's one or two
+things about high finance that you don't know even yet. Ho, ho!'
+
+“And he rocked back and forth on his heels and laughed.
+
+“I held up my hand. 'Wait a jiffy, Mr. Williams,' says I. 'I guess these
+checks are all right. When we fust landed on Woodchuck, I judged by the
+looks of the shanty that Baker hadn't left it for good. I cal'lated
+he'd be back. And sure enough he come back, in his catboat, on Thursday
+evenin', after you'd turned in. Them checks was payable to “Bearer,”
+ you remember, so I give 'em to him. He was to cash 'em in the fust thing
+Friday mornin', and I guess you'll find he's done it.'”
+
+“Well, I swan to MAN!” interrupted the astonished and delighted Phinney.
+“So you had him after all! And I was scart you'd lost every cent.”
+
+Captain Sol chuckled. “Yes,” he went on, “I had him, and his eyes and
+mouth opened together.
+
+“'WHAT?' he bellers. 'Do you mean to say that a boat stopped at that
+dummed island and DIDN'T TAKE US OFF?'
+
+“'Oh,' says I, 'Darius didn't feel called on to take you off, not after
+I told him who you was. You see, Mr. Williams,' I says, 'Darius Baker
+was my partner in that wheat speculation I was tellin' you about.'”
+
+The Captain drew a long breath and re-lit his cigar, which had gone out.
+His friend pounded the settee ecstatically.
+
+“There!” he cried. “I knew the name 'Darius Baker' wa'n't so strange to
+me. When was you and him in partners, Sol?”
+
+“Oh, 'way back in the old days, afore I went to sea at all, and afore
+mother died. You wouldn't remember much about it. Mother and I was
+livin' in Trumet then and our house here was shut up. I was only a kid,
+or not much more, and Williams was young, too.”
+
+“And that's the way he made his money! HIM! Why, he's the most respected
+man in this neighborhood, and goes to church, and--”
+
+“Yes. Well, if you make money ENOUGH you can always be respected--by
+some kinds of people--and find some church that'll take you in. Ain't
+that so, Bailey?”
+
+Captain Stitt and his cousin, Obed Gott, the paint dealer, were standing
+in the doorway of the station. They now entered.
+
+“I guess it's so,” replied Stitt, pulling up a chair, “though I don't
+know what you was talkin' about. However, it's a pretty average safe bet
+that what you say is so, Sol, 'most any time. What's the special 'so,'
+this time?”
+
+“We was talkin' about Mr. Williams,” began Phinney.
+
+“The Grand Panjandrum of East Harniss,” broke in the depot master. “East
+Harniss is blessed with a great man, Bailey, and, like consider'ble many
+blessin's he ain't entirely unmixed.”
+
+Obed and Simeon looked puzzled, but Captain Stitt bounced in his chair
+like a good-natured rubber ball. “Ho! ho!” he chuckled, “you don't
+surprise me, Sol. We had a great man over to South Orham three years ago
+and he begun by blessin's and ended with--with t'other thing. Ho! ho!”
+
+“What do you mean?” demanded Sim.
+
+“Why, I mean Stingy Gabe. You've heard of Stingy Gabe, ain't you?”
+
+“I guess we've all heard somethin' about him,” laughed Captain Sol; “but
+we're willin' to hear more. He was a reformer, wa'n't he?”
+
+“He sartin was! Ho! ho!”
+
+“For the land sakes, tell it, Bailey,” demanded Mr. Gott impatiently.
+“Don't sit there bouncin' and gurglin' and gettin' purple in the face.
+Tell it, or you'll bust tryin' to keep it in.”
+
+“Oh, it's a great, long--” began Captain Bailey protestingly.
+
+“Go on,” urged Phinney. “We've got more time than anything else, the
+most of us. Who was this Stingy Gabe?”
+
+“Yes,” urged Gott, “and what did he reform?”
+
+Captain Stitt held up a compelling hand. “It's all of a piece,” he
+interrupted. “It takes in everything, like an eatin'-house stew. And,
+as usual in them cases, the feller that ordered it didn't know what was
+comin' to him.
+
+“Stingy Gabe was that feller. His Sunday name was Gabriel Atkinson
+Holway, and his dad used to peddle fish from Orham to Denboro and back.
+The old man was christened Gabriel, likewise. He owed 'most everybody,
+and, besides, was so mean that he kept the scales and trimmin's of the
+fish he sold to make chowder for himself and family. All hands called
+him 'Stingy Gabe,' and the boy inherited the name along with the
+fifteen hundred dollars that the old man left when he died. He cleared
+out--young Gabe did--soon as the will was settled and afore the
+outstandin' debts was, and nobody in this latitude see hide nor hair of
+him till three years ago this comin' spring.
+
+“Then, lo and behold you! he drops off the parlor car at the Orham
+station and cruises down to South Orham, bald-headed and bay-windowed,
+sufferin' from pomp and prosperity. Seems he'd been spendin' his life
+cornerin' copper out West and then copperin' the corners in Wall Street.
+The folks in his State couldn't put him in jail, so they sent him to
+Congress. Now, as the Honorable Atkinson Holway, he'd come back to the
+Cape to rest his wrist, which had writer's cramp from signin' stock
+certificates, and to ease his eyes with a sight of the dear old home of
+his boyhood.
+
+“Bill Nickerson comes postin' down to me with the news.
+
+“'Bailey,' says he, 'what do you think's happened? Stingy Gabe's struck
+the town.'
+
+“'For how much?' I asks, anxious. 'Don't let him have it, whatever
+'tis.'
+
+“Then he went on to explain. Gabe was rich as all get out, and 'twas
+his intention to buy back his old man's house and fix it up for a summer
+home. He was delighted to find how little change there was in South
+Orham.
+
+“'No matter if 'tain't but fifteen cents he'll get it, if the s'lectmen
+don't watch him,' I says; and the bills, too. I know HIS tribe.'
+
+“'You don't understand,' says Nickerson. 'He ain't no thief. He's rich,
+I tell you, and he's cal'latin' to do the town good.'
+
+“'Course he is,' I says. 'It runs in the family. His dad done it good,
+too--good as 'twas ever done, I guess.'
+
+“But next day Gabe himself happens along, and I see right off that I'd
+made a mistake in my reckonin'. The Honorable Atkinson Holway wa'n't
+figgerin' to borrow nothin'. When a chap has been skinnin' halibut,
+minnows are too small for him to bother with. Gabe was full of fried
+clams and philanthropy.
+
+“'By Jove! Stitt,' he says, 'livin' here has been the dream of my life.'
+
+“'You'll be glad to wake up, won't you?' says I. 'I wish I could.'
+
+“'I tell you,' he says, 'this little old village is all right! All it
+needs is a public-spirited resident to help it along. I propose to be
+the P. S. R.'
+
+“And on that program he started right in. Fust off he bought his dad's
+old place, built it over into the eight-sided palace that's there now,
+fetched down a small army of servants skippered by an old housekeeper,
+and commenced to live simple but complicated. Then, havin' provided
+the needful charity for himself, he's ready to scatter manna for the
+starvin' native.
+
+“He had a dozen schemes laid out. One was to build a free but expensive
+library; another was to pave the main road with brick; third was to give
+stained-glass windows and velvet cushions to the meetin' house, so's
+the congregation could sleep comfortable in a subdued light. The
+stained-glass idee put him in close touch with the minister, Reverend
+Edwin Fisher, and the minister suggested the men's club. And he took to
+that men's club scheme like an old maid to strong tea; the rest of the
+improvements went into dry dock to refit while Admiral Gabe got his
+men's club off the ways.
+
+“'Twas the billiard room that made the minister hanker for a men's club.
+That billiard room was the worry of his life. Old man Jotham Gale run
+it and had run it sence the Concord fight, in a way of speakin'. You
+remember his sign, maybe: 'Jotham W. Gale. Billiard, Pool, and Sipio
+Saloon. Cigars and Tobacco. Tonics and Pipes. Minors under Ten Years of
+Age not Admitted.' Jotham's customers was called, by the outsiders, 'the
+billiard-room gang.'
+
+“The billiard room gang wa'n't the best folks in town, I'll own right up
+to that. Still, they wa'n't so turrible wicked. Jotham never sold rum,
+and he'd never allow no rows in his place. But, just the same, his
+saloon was reckoned a bad influence. Young men hadn't ought to go
+there--most of us said that. If there was a nicer place TO go, argues
+the minister, 'twould help the moral tone of the community consider'ble.
+'Why not,' says he to Stingy Gabe, 'start a free club for men that'll
+make the billiard room look like the tail boat in a race?' And says
+Gabe: 'Bully! I'll do it.'”
+
+Captain Stitt paused long enough to enjoy a chuckle all by himself.
+Before he had quite finished his laugh, slow and reluctant steps were
+heard on the back platform and Issy appeared on the threshold. He was
+without the package, but did not look happy.
+
+“Well, Is,” inquired the depot master, “did you give the remains to the
+Major?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” answered Issy.
+
+“Did you tell him how the shockin' fatality happened? How the thing got
+broken?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I told him.”
+
+“What did he say? Didn't let his angry passions rise, did he?”
+
+“No-o; no, sir, he didn't rise nothin'. He didn't get mad neither. But
+you could see he felt pretty bad. Talked about 'old family glass' and
+'priceless airloons' or some such. Said much as he regretted to, he
+should feel it no more'n justice to have somebody pay damages.”
+
+“Humph!” Captain Sol looked very grave. “Issy, I can see your finish.
+You'll have to pay for somethin' that's priceless, and how are you goin'
+to do that? 'Old family glass,' hey? Hum! And I thought I saw the label
+of a Boston store on that package.”
+
+Obed Gott leaned forward eagerly.
+
+“Is that Major Hardee you're talkin' about?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, sir. He's the only Major we've got. Cap'ns are plenty as June
+bugs, but Majors and Gen'rals are scarce. Why?”
+
+“Oh, nothin'. Only--” Mr. Gott muttered the remainder of the sentence
+under his breath. However, the depot master heard it and his eye
+twinkled.
+
+“You're glad of it!” he exclaimed. “Why, Obed! Major Cuthbertson Scott
+Hardee! I'm surprised. Better not let the women folks hear you say
+that.”
+
+“Look here!” cried Captain Stitt, rather tartly, “am I goin' to finish
+that yarn of mine or don't you want to hear it?”
+
+“BEG your pardon, Bailey. Go on. The last thing you said was what Stingy
+Gabe said, and that was--”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+“STINGY GABE”
+
+
+“And that,” said Captain Bailey, mollified by the renewed interest of
+his listeners, “was, 'Bully! I'll do it!'
+
+“So he calls a meetin' of everybody interested, at his new house. About
+every respectable man in town was there, includin' me. Most of the
+billiard-room gang was there, likewise. Jotham, of course, wa'n't
+invited.
+
+“Gabe calls the meetin' to order and the minister makes a speech tellin'
+about the scheme. 'Our generous and public-spirited citizen, Honorable
+Atkinson Holway,' had offered to build a suitable clubhouse, fix it up,
+and donate it to the club, them and their heirs forever, Amen. 'Twas to
+belong to the members to do what they pleased with--no strings tied to
+it at all. Dues would be merely nominal, a dollar a year or some such
+matter. Now, who favored such a club as that?
+
+“Well, 'most everybody did. Daniel Bassett, chronic politician, justice
+of the peace, and head of the 'Conservatives' at town meetin', he made
+a talk, and in comes him and his crew. Gaius Ellis, another chronic, who
+is postmaster and skipper of the 'Progressives,' had been fidgetin'
+in his seat, and now up he bobs and says he's for it; then every
+'Progressive' jines immediate. But the billiard-roomers; they didn't
+jine. They looked sort of sheepish, and set still. When Mr. Fisher begun
+to hint p'inted in their direction, they got up and slid outdoor. And
+right then I'd ought to have smelt trouble, but I didn't; had a cold in
+my head, I guess likely.
+
+“Next thing was to build the new clubhouse, and Gabe went at it hammer
+and tongs. He had a big passel of carpenters down from the city, and
+inside of three months the buildin' was up, and she was a daisy, now I
+tell you. There was a readin' room and a meetin' room and an 'amusement
+room.' The amusements was crokinole and parchesi and checkers and the
+like of that. Also there was a gymnasium and a place where you could
+play the pianner and sing--till the sufferin' got acute and somebody
+come along and abated you.
+
+“When I fust went inside that clubhouse I see 'twas bound to be
+'Good-by, Bill,' for Jotham. His customers would shake his ratty old
+shanty for sartin, soon's they see them elegant new rooms. I swan, if I
+didn't feel sorry for the old reprobate, and, thinks I, I'll drop around
+and sympathize a little. Sympathy don't cost nothin', and Jotham's
+pretty good company.
+
+“I found him settin' alongside the peanut roaster, watchin' a couple of
+patients cruelize the pool table.
+
+“'Hello, Bailey!' says he. 'You surprise me. Ain't you 'fraid of
+catchin' somethin' in this ha'nt of sin? Have a chair, anyhow. And a
+cigar, won't you?'
+
+“I took the chair, but I steered off from the cigar, havin' had
+experience. Told him I guessed I'd use my pipe. He chuckled.
+
+“'Fur be it from me to find fault with your judgment,' he says.
+'Terbacker does smoke better'n anything else, don't it.'
+
+“We set there and puffed for five minutes or so. Then he sort of jumped.
+
+“'What's up?' says I.
+
+“'Oh, nothin'!' he says. 'Bije Simmons got a ball in the pocket, that's
+all. Don't do that too often, Bije; I got a weak heart. Well, Bailey,'
+he adds, turnin' to me, 'Gabe's club's fixed up pretty fine, ain't it?'
+
+“'Why, yes,' I says; ''tis.'
+
+“'Finest ever I see,' says he. 'I told him so when I was in there.'
+
+“'What?' says I. 'You don't mean to say YOU'VE been in that clubroom?'
+
+“'Sartin. Why not? I want to take in all the shows there is--'specially
+the free ones. Make a good billiard room, that clubhouse would.'
+
+“I whistled. 'Whew!' says I. 'Didn't tell Gabe THAT, did you?'
+
+“He nodded. 'Yup,' says he. 'I told him.'
+
+“I whistled again. 'What answer did he make?' I asked.
+
+“'Oh, he wa'n't enthusiastic. Seemed to cal'late I'd better shut up my
+head and my shop along with it, afore he knocked off one and his club
+knocked out t'other.'
+
+“I pitied the old rascal; I couldn't help it.
+
+“'Jotham,' says I, 'I ain't the wust friend you've got in South Orham,
+even if I don't play pool much. If I was you I'd clear out of here and
+start somewheres else. You can't fight all the best folks in town.'
+
+“He didn't make no answer. Just kept on a-puffin'. I got up to go. Then
+he laid his hand on my sleeve.
+
+“'Bailey,' says he, 'when Betsy Mayo was ailin', her sister's tribe was
+all for the Faith Cure and her husband's relations was high for patent
+medicine. When the Faith Curists got to workin', in would come some of
+the patent mediciners and give 'em the bounce. And when THEY went home
+for the night, the Faithers would smash all the bottles. Finally they
+got so busy fightin' 'mong themselves that Betsy see she was gettin' no
+better fast, and sent for the reg'lar doctor. HE done the curin', and
+got the pay.'
+
+“'Well,' says I, 'what of it?'
+
+“'Nothin',' says he. 'Only I've been practisin' a considerable spell. So
+long. Come in again some time when it's dark and the respectable element
+can't see you.'
+
+“I went away thinkin' hard. And next mornin' I hunted up Gabe, and says
+I:
+
+“'Mr. Holway,' I says, 'what puzzles me is how you're goin' to elect the
+officers for the new club. Put up a Conservative and the Progressives
+resign. H'ist the Progressive ensign and the Conservatives'll mutiny. As
+for the billiard-roomers--providin' any jine--they've never been known
+to vote for anybody but themselves. I can't see no light yet--nothin'
+but fog.'
+
+“He winks, sly and profound. 'That's all right,' says he. 'Fisher and I
+have planned that. You watch!'
+
+“Sure enough, they had. The minister was mighty popular, so, when 'twas
+out that he was candidate to be fust president of the club, all hands
+was satisfied. Two vice presidents was named--one bein' Bassett and
+t'other Ellis. Secretary was a leadin' Conservative; treasurer a head
+Progressive. Officers and crew was happy and mutiny sunk ten fathoms.
+ONLY none of the billiard-room gang had jined, and they was the fish we
+was really tryin' for.
+
+“'Twas next March afore one of 'em did come into the net, though we'd
+have on all kinds of bait--suppers and free ice cream Saturday nights,
+and the like of that. And meantime things had been happenin'.
+
+“The fust thing of importance was Gabe's leavin' town. Our Cape winter
+weather was what fixed him. He stood the no'theasters and Scotch
+drizzles till January, and then he heads for Key West and comfort.
+Said his heart still beat warm for his native village, but his feet was
+froze--or words similar. He cal'lated to be back in the spring. Then
+the Reverend Fisher got a call to somewheres in York State, and felt
+he couldn't afford not to hear it. Nobody blamed him; the salary paid
+a minister in South Orham is enough to make any feller buy patent ear
+drums. But that left our men's club without either skipper or pilot, as
+you might say.
+
+“One week after the farewell sermon, Daniel Bassett drops in casual on
+me. He was passin' around smoking material lavish and regardless.
+
+“'Stitt,' says he, 'you've always voted for Conservatism in our local
+affairs, haven't you?'
+
+“'Well,' says I, 'I didn't vote to roof the town hall with a new
+mortgage, if that's what you mean.'
+
+“'Exactly,' he says. 'Now, our men's club, while not as yet the success
+we hoped for, has come to be a power for good in our community. It needs
+for its president a conservative, thoughtful man. Bailey,' he says, 'it
+has come to my ears that Gaius Ellis intends to run for that office. You
+know him. As a taxpayer, as a sober, thoughtful citizen, my gorge rises
+at such insolence. I protest, sir! I protest against--'
+
+“He was standin' up, makin' gestures with both arms, and he had his
+town-meetin' voice iled and runnin'. I was too busy to hanker for a
+stump speech, so I cut across his bows.
+
+“'All right, all right,' says I. 'I'll vote for you, Dan.'
+
+“He fetched a long breath. 'Thank you,' says he. 'Thank you. That makes
+ten. Ellis can count on no more than nine. My election is assured.'
+
+“Seein' that there wa'n't but nineteen reg'lar voters who come to the
+club meetin's, if Bassett had ten of 'em it sartin did look as if he'd
+get in. But on election night what does Gaius Ellis do but send a wagon
+after old man Solomon Peavey, who'd been dry docked with rheumatiz
+for three months, and Sol's vote evened her up. 'Twas ten to ten, a
+deadlock, and the election was postponed for another week.
+
+“This was of a Tuesday. On Wednesday I met Bije Simmons, the chap who
+was playin' pool at Jotham's.
+
+“'Hey, Bailey!' says he. 'Shake hands with a brother. I'm goin' to jine
+the men's club.'
+
+“'You BE?' says I, surprised enough, for Simmons was a billiard-roomer
+from 'way back.
+
+“'Yup,' he says. 'I'll be voted in at next meetin', sure. I'm studyin'
+up on parchesi now.'
+
+“'Hum!' I says, thinkin'. 'How you goin to vote?'
+
+“'Me?' says he. 'Me? Why, man, I wonder at you! Can't you see the
+fires of Conservatism blazin' in my eyes? I'm Conservative bred and
+Conservative born, and when I'm dead there'll be a Conservative gone.
+By, by. See you Tuesday night.'
+
+“He went off, stoppin' everybody he met to tell 'em the news. And on
+Thursday Ed Barnes dropped in to pay me the seventy-five cents he'd
+borrowed two years ago come Fourth of July. When I'd got over the
+fust shock and had counted the money three times, I commenced to ask
+questions.
+
+“'Somebody die and will you a million, Ed?' I wanted to know.
+
+“'No,' says he. 'It's the reward of virtue. I'm goin' to be a better
+man. I'm jinin' the men's club.'
+
+“'NO!' says I, for Ed was as strong a billiard-roomer as Bije.
+
+“'Sure!' he answers. 'I'm filled full of desires for crokinole and
+progressiveness. See you Tuesday night at the meetin'.'
+
+“And, would you b'lieve it, at that meetin' no less'n six confirmed
+members of the billiard-room gang was voted into the men's club. 'Twas
+a hallelujah gatherin'. I couldn't help thinkin' how glad and proud
+Gabe and Mr. Fisher would have been to see their dreams comin' true.
+But Bassett and Ellis looked more worried than glad, and when the votin'
+took place I understood the reason. Them new members had divided even,
+and the ballots stood Bassett thirteen and Ellis thirteen. The tie was
+still on and the election was put off for another week.
+
+“In that week, surprisin' as it may seem, two more billiard-roomers seen
+a light and jined with us. However, one was for Bassett and t'other for
+Ellis, so the deadlock wa'n't broken. Jotham had only a couple of his
+reg'lars left, and I swan to man if THEY didn't catch the disease inside
+of the follerin' fortni't and hand in their names. The 'Billiard, Pool,
+and Sipio Saloon,' from bein' the liveliest place in town, was now the
+deadest. Through the window you could see poor Jotham mopin' lonesome
+among his peanuts and cigars. The sayin' concernin' the hardness of
+the transgressor's sleddin' was workin' out for HIM, all right. But the
+conversions had come so sudden that I couldn't understand it, though I
+did have some suspicions.
+
+“'Look here, Dan,' says I to Bassett, 'are you goin' to keep this up
+till judgment? There ain't but thirty votin' names in this place--except
+the chaps off fishin', and they won't be back till fall. Fifteen is for
+you and fifteen for Gaius. Most astonishin' agreement of difference ever
+I see. We'll never have a president, at this rate.'
+
+“He winked. 'Won't, hey?' he says. 'Sure you've counted right? I make it
+thirty-one.'
+
+“'I don't see how,' says I, puzzled. 'Nobody's left outside the club but
+Jotham himself, and he--'
+
+“'That's all right,' he interrupts, winkin' again. 'You be on hand next
+Tuesday night. You can't always tell, maybe somethin'll happen.'
+
+“I was on hand, all right, and somethin' did happen, two somethin's, in
+fact. We hadn't much more'n got in our seats afore the door opened,
+and in walked Gaius Ellis, arm in arm with a man; and the man was the
+Honorable Stingy Gabe Atkinson Holway.
+
+“'Gentlemen,' sings out Gaius, bubblin' over with joy, 'I propose three
+cheers for our founder, who has returned to us after his long absence.'
+
+“We give the cheers--that is, some of the folks did. Bassett and our
+gang wa'n't cheerin' much; they looked as if somebody had passed 'em
+a counterfeit note. You see, Gabe Holway was one of the hide-boundest
+Progressives afloat, and a blind man could see who'd got him back again
+and which way he'd vote. It sartinly looked bad for Bassett now.
+
+“Gaius proposes that, out of compliment, as founder of the club, Mr.
+Holway be asked to preside. So he was asked, though the Conservatives
+wa'n't very enthusiastic. Gabe took the chair, preached a little sermon
+about bein' glad to see his native home once more, and raps for order.
+
+“'If there's no other business afore the meetin',' says he, 'we will
+proceed to ballot for president.'
+
+“But it turned out that there was other business. Dan Bassett riz to his
+feet and commenced one of the most feelin' addresses ever I listened to.
+
+“Fust he congratulated all hands upon the success of Mr. Holway's
+philanthropic scheme for the betterment of South Orham's male citizens.
+Jeered at at fust by the unregenerate, it had gone on, winnin' its way
+into the hearts of the people, until one by one the said unregenerate
+had regenerated, and now the club numbered thirty souls and the
+Honorable Atkinson.
+
+“'But,' says Dan, wavin' his arms, 'one man yet remains outside. One
+lone man! The chief sinner, you say? Yes, I admit it. But, gentlemen,
+a repentant sinner. Alone he sits amid the wreck of his business--a
+business wrecked by us, gentlemen--without a customer, without a friend.
+Shall it be said that the free and open-handed men's club of South Orham
+turned its back upon one man, merely because he HAS been what he was?
+Gentlemen, I have talked with Jotham Gale; he is old, he is friendless,
+he no longer has a means of livelihood--we have taken it from him. We
+have turned his followers' steps to better paths. Shall we not turn
+his, also? Gentlemen and friends, Jotham Gale is repentant, he feels
+his ostrichism'--whatever he meant by that--'he desires to become
+self-respecting, and he asks us to help him. He wishes to join this
+club. Gentlemen, I propose for membership in our association the name of
+Jotham W. Gale.'
+
+“He set down and mopped his face. And the powwow that broke loose was
+somethin' tremendous. Of course 'twas plain enough what Dan's game was.
+This was the 'somethin'' that was goin' to happen.
+
+“Ellis see the way the land lay, and he bounces up to protest. 'Twas
+an outrage; a scandal; ridiculous; and so forth, and so on. Poor Gabe
+didn't know what to do, and so he didn't do nothin'. A head Conservative
+seconds Jotham's nomination. 'Twas put to a vote and carried easy. Dan's
+speech had had its effect and a good many folks voted out of sympathy.
+How did I vote? I'LL never tell you.
+
+“And then Bassett gets up, smilin', goes to the outside door, opens it,
+and leads in the new member. He'd been waitin' on the steps, it turned
+out. Jotham looked mighty quiet and meek. I pitied the poor old codger
+more'n ever. Snaked in, he was, out of the wet, like a yeller dog, by
+the club that had kicked him out of his own shop.
+
+“Chairman Gabe pounds for order, and suggests that the votin' can go on.
+But Ellis jumps up, and says he:
+
+“'What's the sense of votin' now?' he asks sarcastic. 'Will the lost
+lamb we've just yanked into the fold have the face to stand up and bleat
+that he hasn't promised to vote Conservative? Dan Bassett, of all the
+contemptible tricks that ever--'
+
+“Bassett's face was redder'n a ripe tomatter. He shakes his fist in
+Gaius's face and yells opinions and comments.
+
+“'Don't you talk to me about tricks, you ward-heeler!' he hollers.
+'Why did you fetch Mr. Holway back home? Why did you, hey? That was the
+trickiest trick that I--'
+
+“Gabe pretty nigh broke his mallet thumpin'.
+
+“'Gentlemen! gentlemen!' says he. 'This is most unseemly. Sit down,
+if you PLEASE. Mr. Ellis, when the purpose of this association is
+considered, it seems to me very wrong to find fault because the chief of
+our former antagonists has seen the error of his ways and become one of
+us. Mr. Bassett, I do not understand your intimation concernin' myself.
+I shall adjourn this meetin' until next Friday evenin', gentlemen.
+Meanwhile, let us remember that we ARE gentlemen.'
+
+“He thumped the desk once, and parades out of the buildin', dignified
+as Julius Caesar. The rest of us toddled along after him, all talkin' at
+once. Bassett and Ellis glowered at each other and hove out hints about
+what would happen afore they got through. 'Twas half-past ten afore I
+got to bed that night, and Sarah J.--that's Mrs. Stitt--kept me awake
+another hour explainin' whys and wherefores.
+
+“For the next three days nobody done anything but knock off work and
+talk club politics. You'd see 'em on the corners and in the post office
+and camped on the meetin'-house steps, arguin' and jawin'. Dan and Gaius
+was hurryin' around, moppin' their foreheads and lookin' worried. On
+Thursday there was all sorts of rumors afloat. Finally they all simmered
+down to one, and that one was what made me stop Stingy Gabe on the
+street and ask for my bearin's.
+
+“'Mr. Holway,' says I, 'is it true that Dan and Gaius have resigned and
+agreed to vote for somebody else?'
+
+“He nodded, grand and complacent.
+
+“'Then who's the somebody?' says I. 'For the land sakes! tell me. It's
+as big a miracle as the prodigal son.'
+
+“I remember now that the prodigal son ain't a miracle, but I was excited
+then.
+
+“'Stitt,' says he, 'I am the “somebody,” as you call it. I have decided
+to let my own wishes and inclinations count for nothin' in this affair,
+and to accept the office of president myself. It will be announced at
+the meetin'.'
+
+“I whistled. 'By gum!' says I. 'You've got a great head, Mr. Holway, and
+I give you public credit for it. It's the only course that ain't full of
+breakers. Did you think of it yourself?'
+
+“He colored up a little. 'Why, no, not exactly,' he says. 'The fact is,
+the credit belongs to our new member, Mr. Gale.'
+
+“'To JOTHAM?' says I, astonished.
+
+“'Yes. He suggested my candidacy, as a compromise. Said that he, for
+one, would be proud to vote for me. Mr. Gale seems thoroughly repentant,
+a changed man. I am counting on him for great things in the future.'
+
+“So the fuss seemed settled, thanks to the last person on earth you'd
+expect would be peacemaker. But that afternoon I met Darius Tompkins,
+Bassett's right-hand man.
+
+“'Bailey,' says he, 'you're a Conservative, ain't you? You're for Dan
+through thick and thin?'
+
+“'Why!' says I, 'I understand Dan and Gaius are both out of it now, and
+it's settled on Holway. Dan's promised to vote for him.'
+
+“'HE has,' says Tompkins, with a wink, 'but the rest of us ain't. We
+pledged our votes to Dan Bassett, and we ain't the kind to go back on
+our word. Dan himself'll vote for Gabe; so'll Gaius and his reg'lar
+tribe. That'll make twelve, countin' Holway's own.'
+
+“'Make seventeen, you mean,' says I. 'Gaius and his crowd's fifteen and
+Dan's sixteen and Gabe's seven--'
+
+“He winked again, and interrupted me. 'You're countin' wrong, my boy,'
+says he. 'Five of Gaius's folks come from the old billiard-room gang.
+Just suppose somethin' happened to make that five vote, on the quiet,
+for Bassett. Then--'
+
+“A customer come in then, and Tompkins had to leave; but afore he went
+he got me to one side and whispers:
+
+“'Keep mum, old man, and vote straight for Dan. We'll show old Holway
+that we can't be led around by the nose.'
+
+“'Tompkins,' says I, 'I know your head well enough to be sartin that it
+didn't work this out by itself. And why are you so sure of the billiard
+roomers? Who put you up to this?'
+
+“He rapped the side of his nose. 'The smartest politician in this
+town,' says he, 'and the oldest--J. W. Gale, Esq.! S-s-sh-h! Don't say
+nothin'.'
+
+“I didn't say nothin'. I was past talk. And that evenin' as I went past
+the billiard room on my way home, who should come out of it but Gaius
+Ellis, and HE looked as happy as Tompkins had.
+
+“Friday night that clubroom was filled. Every member was there, and most
+of 'em had fetched their wives and families along to see the fun. There
+was whisperin' and secrecy everywheres. Honorable Gabe took the chair
+and makes announcements that the shebang is open for business.
+
+“Up gets Dave Bassett and all but sheds tears. He says that he made up
+his mind to vote, not for himself, but for the founder and patron of
+the club, the Honorable Atkinson Holway. He spread it over Gabe thick
+as sugar on a youngster's cake. And when he set down all hands applauded
+like fury. But I noticed that he hadn't spoke for nary Conservative but
+himself.
+
+“Then Gaius Ellis rises and sobs similar. He's stopped votin' for
+himself, too. His ballot is for that grand and good man, Gabriel
+Atkinson Holway, Esq. More applause and hurrahs.
+
+“And then who should get up but Jotham Gale. He talks humble, like a
+has-been that knows he's a back number, but he says it's his privilege
+to cast his fust vote in that club for Mr. Holway, South Orham's pride.
+Nobody was expectin' him to say anything, and the cheers pretty nigh
+broke the winders.
+
+“Gabe was turrible affected by the soft soap, you could see that. He
+fairly sobbed as he sprinkled gratitude and acceptances. When the agony
+was over, he says the votin' can begin.
+
+“I cal'lated he expected somebody'd move to make it unanimous, but they
+didn't. So the blank ballots was handed around, and the pencils got
+busy. Gabe app'ints three tellers, Bassett and Ellis, of course, for
+two--and the third, Jotham Gale.
+
+“'As a compliment to our newest member,' says the chairman, smilin'
+philanthropic.
+
+“When the votes was in the hat, the tellers retired to the amusement
+room to count up. It took a long time. I see the Conservatives and
+Progressives nudgin' each other and winkin' back and forth. Five
+minutes, then ten, then fifteen.
+
+“And all of a sudden the biggest row bu'st loose in that amusement room
+that ever you heard. Rattlety--bang! Biff! Smash! The door flew open,
+and in rolled Bassett and Ellis, all legs and arms. Gabe and some of the
+rest hauled 'em apart and held 'em so, but the language them two hove at
+each other was enough to bring down a judgment.
+
+“'Gentlemen! gentlemen!' hollers poor Gabe. 'What in the world? I am
+astounded! I--'
+
+“'You miserable traitor!' shrieks Gaius, wavin' a fist at Dan.
+
+“'You low-down hound!' whoops Dan back at him.
+
+“'Silence!' bellers Gabe, poundin' thunder storms on the desk. 'Will
+some one explain why these maniacs are--Ah, Mr. Gale--thank goodness,
+YOU at least are sane!'
+
+“Jotham walks to the front of the platform. He was holdin' the hat and a
+slip of paper with the result set down on it.
+
+“'Ladies and feller members,' says he, 'there's been some surprisin'
+votin' done in this election. Things ain't gone as we cal'lated they
+would, somehow. Mr. Holway, your election wa'n't unanimous, after all.'
+
+“The way he said it made most everybody think Gabe was elected, anyhow,
+and I guess Holway thought so himself, for he smiled forgivin' and says:
+
+“'Never mind, Mr. Gale,' says he. 'A unanimous vote was perhaps too much
+to expect. Go on.'
+
+“'Yes,' says Jotham. 'Well, here's the way it stands. I'll read it to
+you.'
+
+“He fixes his specs and reads like this:
+
+“'Number of votes cast, 32.'
+
+“'Honorable Atkinson Holway has 4.'
+
+“'WHAT?' gasps Stingy Gabe, fallin' into his chair.
+
+“'Yes, sir,' says Jotham. 'It's a shame, I know, but it looks as nobody
+voted for you, Mr. Holway, but yourself and me and Dan and Gaius. To
+proceed:
+
+“'Daniel Bassett has 9.'
+
+“The Conservatives and their women folks fairly groaned out loud.
+Tompkins jumped to his feet, but Jotham held up a hand.
+
+“'Just a moment, D'rius,' he says. 'I ain't through yet.'
+
+“'Gaius Ellis has 9.'
+
+“Then 'twas the Progressives' turn to groan. The racket and hubbub was
+gettin' louder all the time.
+
+“'There's ten votes left,' goes on Jotham, 'and they bear the name
+of Jotham W. Gale. I can't understand it, but it does appear that I'm
+elected president of this 'ere club. Gentlemen, I thank you for the
+honor, which is as great as 'tis unexpected.'
+
+“Gabe and the Progressives and the Conservatives set and looked at each
+other. And up jumps 'Bije Simmons, and calls for three cheers for the
+new president.
+
+“Nobody jined in them cheers but the old billiard room gang; they did,
+though, every one of 'em, and Jotham smiled fatherly down on his flock.
+
+“I s'pose there ain't no need of explainin'. Jotham had worked it all,
+from the very fust. When the tie business begun and Gaius and Dan was
+bribin' the billiard roomers to jine the club, 'twas him that fixed how
+they should vote so's to keep the deadlock goin'. 'Twas him that put
+Bassett up to proposin' him as a member. 'Twas him that suggested Gabe's
+comin' back to Gaius. 'Twas him that--But what's the use? 'Twas him all
+along. He was IT.
+
+“That night everybody but the billiard-room gang sent in their
+resignation to that club. We refused to be bossed by such people. Gabe
+resigned, too. He was disgusted with East Harniss and all hands in it.
+He'd have took back the clubhouse, but he couldn't, as the deed of gift
+was free and clear. But he swore he'd never give it another cent.
+
+“Folks thought that would end the thing, because it wouldn't be
+self-supportin', but Jotham had different idees. He simply moved his
+pool tables and truck up from the old shop, and now he's got the finest
+place of the kind on the Cape, rent free.
+
+“'I told you 'twould make a good billiard saloon, didn't I, Bailey?' he
+says, chucklin'.
+
+“'Jotham,' says I, 'of your kind you're a perfect wonder.'
+
+“'Well,' says he, 'I diagnosed that men's club as sufferin' from acute
+politics. I've been doctorin' that disease for a long time. The trouble
+with you reformers,' he adds, solemn, 'is that, when it comes to
+political doin's, you ain't practical.'
+
+“As for Stingy Gabe, he shut up his fine house and moved to New York.
+Said he was through with helpin' the moral tone.
+
+“'When I die,' he says to me, 'if I go to the bad place I may start in
+reformin' that. It don't need it no more'n South Orham does, but 'twill
+be enough sight easier job.'
+
+“And,” concluded Captain Stitt, as soon as he could be heard above the
+“Haw! haws!” caused by the Honorable Holway's final summing-up of his
+native town, “I ain't so sure that he was greatly mistook. What do you
+think, Sol?”
+
+The depot master shook his head. “Don't know, Bailey,” he answered,
+dryly. “I'll have to visit both places 'fore I give an opinion. I HAVE
+been to South Orham, but the neighborhood that your friend Gabe compared
+it to I ain't seen--yet. I put on that 'yet,'” he added, with a wink,
+“'cause I knew Sim Phinney would if I didn't.”
+
+Captain Bailey rose and covered a yawn with a plump hand.
+
+“I believe I'll go over to Obed's and turn in,” he said. “I'm sleepy as
+a minister's horse tonight. You don't mind, do you, Obed?”
+
+“No-o,” replied Mr. Gott, slowly. “No, I don't, 'special. I kind of
+thought I'd run into the club a few minutes and see some of the other
+fellers. But it ain't important--not very.”
+
+The “club” was one of the rooms over Mr. Higgins's store and post
+office. It had been recently fitted up with chairs and tables from
+its members' garrets and, when the depot and store were closed, was a
+favorite gathering place of those reckless ones who cared to “set up
+late”--that is, until eleven o'clock. Most of the men in town belonged,
+but many, Captain Berry among them, visited the room but seldom.
+
+“Checkers,” said the depot master, referring to the “club's” favorite
+game, “is too deliberately excitin' for me. To watch Beriah Higgins and
+Ezra Weeks fightin' out a game of checkers is like gettin' your feet
+froze in January and waitin' for spring to come and thaw 'em out. It's a
+numbin' kind of dissipation.”
+
+But Obed Gott was a regular attendant at the “club,” and to-night he
+had a particular reason for wishing to be there. His cousin noticed his
+hesitation and made haste to relieve his mind.
+
+“That's all right, Obed,” he said, “go to the club, by all means. I
+ain't such a stranger at your house that I can't find my way to bed
+without help. Good-night, Sim. Good-night, Issy. Cheer up; maybe the
+Major's glassware IS priceless. So long, Cap'n Sol. See you again some
+time tomorrer.”
+
+He and Mr. Gott departed. The depot master rose from his chair. “Issy,”
+ he commanded, “shut up shop.”
+
+Issy obeyed, closing the windows and locking the front door. Captain
+Sol himself locked the ticket case and put the cash till into the small
+safe.
+
+“That'll do, Is,” said the Captain. “Good-night. Don't worry too much
+over the Major's glass. I'll talk with him, myself. You dream about
+pleasanter things--your girl, if you've got one.”
+
+That was a chance shot, but it struck Issy in the heart. Even during
+his melancholy progress to and from Major Hardee's, the vision of Gertie
+Higgins had danced before his greenish-blue eyes. His freckles were
+engulfed in a surge of blushes as, with a stammered “Night, Cap'n
+Berry,” he hurried out into the moonlight.
+
+The depot master blew out the lamps. “Come on, Sim,” he said, briefly.
+“Goin' to walk up with me, or was YOU goin' to the club?”
+
+“Cal'late I'll trot along with you, if you don't mind. I'd just as soon
+get home early and wrastle with the figures on that Williams movin'
+job.”
+
+They left the depot, locked and dark, passed the “general store,” where
+Mr. Higgins was putting out his lights prior to adjournment to the
+“club” overhead, walked up Main Street to Cross Street, turned and began
+climbing the hill. Simeon spoke several times but his friend did not
+answer. A sudden change had come over him. The good spirits with which
+he told of his adventure with Williams and which had remained during
+Phinney's stay at the depot, were gone, apparently. His face, in the
+moonlight, was grave and he strode on, his hands in his pockets.
+
+At the crest of the hill he stopped.
+
+“Good-night, Sim,” he said, shortly, and, turning, walked off.
+
+The building mover gazed after him in surprise. The nearest way to the
+Berry home was straight down Cross Street, on the other side of the
+hill, to the Shore Road, and thence along that road for an eighth of
+a mile. The Captain's usual course was just that. But to-night he had
+taken the long route, the Hill Boulevard, which made a wide curve before
+it descended to the road below.
+
+Sim, who had had a shrewd suspicion concerning his friend's silence and
+evident mental disturbance, stood still, looking and wondering. Olive
+Edwards, Captain Berry's old sweetheart, lived on the Boulevard. She
+was in trouble and the Captain knew it. He had asked, that very evening,
+what she was going to do when forced to move. Phinney could not tell
+him. Had he gone to find out for himself? Was the mountain at last
+coming to Mohammed?
+
+For some minutes Simeon remained where he was, thinking and surmising.
+Then he, too, turned and walked cautiously up the Boulevard. He
+passed the Williams mansion, its library windows ablaze. He passed
+the twenty-five room “cottage” of the gentleman from Chicago. Then
+he halted. Opposite him was the little Edwards dwelling and shop. The
+curtains were up and there was a lamp burning on the small counter.
+Beside the lamp, in a rocking chair, sat Olive Edwards, the widow,
+sewing. As he gazed she dropped the sewing in her lap, and raised her
+head.
+
+Phinney saw how worn and sad she looked. And yet, how young, considering
+her forty years and all she had endured and must endure. She put her
+hand over her eyes, then removed it wearily. A lump came in Simeon's
+throat. If he might only help her; if SOME ONE might help her in her
+lonely misery.
+
+And then, from where he stood in the shadow of the Chicago gentleman's
+hedge, he saw a figure step from the shadows fifty feet farther on.
+It was Captain Solomon Berry. He walked to the middle of the road
+and halted, looking in at Olive. Phinney's heart gave a jump. Was the
+Captain going into that house, going to HER, after all these years? WAS
+the mountain--
+
+But no. For a full minute the depot master stood, looking in at the
+woman by the lamp. Then he jammed his hands into his pockets, wheeled,
+and tramped rapidly off toward his home. Simeon Phinney went home, also,
+but it was with a heavy heart that he sat down to figure the cost of
+moving the Williams “pure Colonial” to its destined location.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE MAJOR
+
+
+The depot master and his friend, Mr. Phinney, were not the only ones
+whose souls were troubled that evening. Obed Gott, as he stood at the
+foot of the stairs leading to the meeting place of the “club,” was vexed
+and worried. His cousin, Captain Stitt, had gone into the house and up
+to his room, and Obed, after seeing him safely on his way, had returned
+to the club. But, instead of entering immediately, he stood in the
+Higgins doorway, thinking, and frowning as he thought. And the subject
+of his thought was the idol of feminine East Harniss, the “old-school
+gentleman,” Major Cuthbertson Scott Hardee.
+
+The Major first came to East Harniss one balmy morning in March--came,
+and created an immediate sensation. “Redny” Blount, who drives the
+“depot wagon,” was wrestling with a sample trunk belonging to the
+traveling representative of Messrs. Braid & Gimp, of Boston, when he
+heard a voice--and such a voice--saying:
+
+“Pardon me, my dear sir, but may I trouble you for one moment?”
+
+Now “Redny” was not used to being addressed as “my dear sir.” He turned
+wonderingly, and saw the Major, in all his glory, standing beside him.
+“Redny's” gaze took in the tall, slim figure in the frock coat tightly
+buttoned; took in the white hair, worn just long enough to touch
+the collar of the frock coat; the long, drooping white mustache and
+imperial; the old-fashioned stock and open collar; the black and white
+checked trousers; the gaiters; and, last of all, the flat brimmed,
+carefully brushed, old-fashioned silk hat. Mr. Blount gasped.
+
+“Huh?” he said.
+
+“Pardon me, my dear sir,” repeated the Major, blandly, smoothly, and
+with an air of--well, not condescension, but gracious familiarity. “Will
+you be so extremely kind as to inform me concerning the most direct
+route to the hotel or boarding house?”
+
+The word “hotel” was the only part of this speech that struck home to
+“Redny's” awed mind.
+
+“Hotel?” he repeated, slowly. “Why, yes, sir. I'm goin' right that way.
+If you'll git right into my barge I'll fetch you there in ten minutes.”
+
+There was enough in this reply, and the manner in which it was
+delivered, to have furnished the station idlers, in the ordinary course
+of events, with matter for gossip and discussion for a week. Mr. Blount
+had not addressed a person as “sir” since he went to school. But no
+one thought of this; all were too much overcome by the splendor of the
+Major's presence.
+
+“Thank you,” replied the Major. “Thank you. I am obliged to you, sir.
+Augustus, you may place the baggage in this gentleman's conveyance.”
+
+Augustus was an elderly negro, very black as to face and a trifle shabby
+as to clothes, but with a shadow of his master's gentility, like a
+reflected luster, pervading his person. He bowed low, departed, and
+returned dragging a large, old style trunk, and carrying a plump valise.
+
+“Augustus,” said the Major, “you may sit upon the seat with the driver.
+That is,” he added, courteously, “if Mr.--Mr.--”
+
+“Blount,” prompted the gratified “Redny.”
+
+“If Mr. Blount will be good enough to permit you to do so.”
+
+“Why, sartin. Jump right up. Giddap, you!”
+
+There was but one passenger, besides the Major and Augustus, in the
+“depot wagon” that morning. This passenger was Mrs. Polena Ginn, who had
+been to Brockton on a visit. To Mrs. Polena the Major, raising his hat
+in a manner that no native of East Harniss could acquire by a lifetime
+of teaching, observed that it was a beautiful morning. The flustered
+widow replied that it “was so.” This was the beginning of a conversation
+that lasted until the “Central House” was reached, a conversation that
+left Polena impressed with the idea that her new acquaintance was as
+near the pink of perfection as mortal could be.
+
+“It wa'n't his clothes, nuther,” she told her brother, Obed Gott, as
+they sat at the dinner table. “I don't know what 'twas, but you could
+jest see that he was a gentleman all over. I wouldn't wonder if he was
+one of them New York millionaires, like Mr. Williams--but SO different.
+'Redny' Blount says he see his name onto the hotel register and 'twas
+'Cuthbertson Scott Hardee.' Ain't that a tony name for you? And his
+darky man called him 'Major.' I never see sech manners on a livin' soul!
+Obed, I DO wish you'd stop eatin' pie with a knife.”
+
+Under these pleasing circumstances did Major Cuthbertson Scott Hardee
+make his first appearance in East Harniss, and the reputation spread
+abroad by Mr. Blount and Mrs. Ginn was confirmed as other prominent
+citizens met him, and fell under the spell. In two short weeks he
+was the most popular and respected man in the village. The Methodist
+minister said, at the Thursday evening sociable, that “Major Hardee is
+a true type of the old-school gentleman,” whereupon Beriah Higgins, who
+was running for selectman, and therefore felt obliged to be interested
+in all educational matters, asked whereabouts that school was located,
+and who was teaching it now.
+
+It was a treat to see the Major stroll down Main Street to the post
+office every pleasant spring morning. Coat buttoned tight, silk hat the
+veriest trifle on one side, one glove on and its mate carried with
+the cane in the other hand, and the buttonhole bouquet--always the
+bouquet--as fresh and bright and jaunty as its wearer himself.
+
+It seemed that every housekeeper whose dwelling happened to be situated
+along that portion of the main road had business in the front yard at
+the time of the Major's passing. There were steps to be swept, or rugs
+to be shaken, or doorknobs to be polished just at that particular time.
+Dialogues like the following interrupted the triumphal progress at three
+minute intervals:
+
+“Good-morning, Mrs. Sogberry. GOOD-morning. A delightful morning. Busy
+as the proverbial bee once more, I see. I can never cease to admire the
+industry and model neatness of the Massachusetts housekeeper. And how is
+your charming daughter this morning? Better, I trust?”
+
+“Well, now, Major Hardee, I don't know. Abbie ain't so well's I wish she
+was. She set up a spell yesterday, but the doctor says she ain't gittin'
+along the way she'd ought to. I says to him, s'I, 'Abbie ain't never
+what you'd call a reel hearty eater, but, my land! when she don't eat
+NOTHIN',' I says--”
+
+And so on and so on, with the Major always willing to listen, always
+sympathetic, and always so charmingly courteous.
+
+The Central House, East Harniss's sole hotel, and a very small one at
+that, closed its doors on April 10th. Mr. Godfrey, its proprietor,
+had come to the country for his health. He had been inveigled, by an
+advertisement in a Boston paper, into buying the Central House at East
+Harniss. It would afford him, so he reasoned, light employment and a
+living. The employment was light enough, but the living was lighter. He
+kept the Central House for a year. Then he gave it up as a bad job and
+returned to the city. “I might keep my health if I stayed,” he admitted,
+in explaining his position to Captain Berry, “but if I want to keep
+to what little money I have left, I'd better go. Might as well die of
+disease as starvation.”
+
+Everyone expected that the “gentleman of the old school” would go also,
+but one evening Abner Payne, whose business is “real estate, fire and
+life insurance, justice of the peace, and houses to let and for sale,”
+ rushed into the post office to announce that the Major had leased the
+“Gorham place,” furnished, and intended to make East Harniss his home.
+
+“He likes the village so well he's goin' to stay here always,” explained
+Abner. “Says he's been all 'round the world, but he never see a place he
+liked so well's he does East Harniss. How's that for high, hey? And you
+callin' it a one-horse town, Obed Gott!”
+
+The Major moved into the “Gorham place” the next morning. It--the
+“place”--was an old-fashioned house on the hill, though not on Mr.
+Williams' “Boulevard.” It had been one of the finest mansions in town
+once on a time, but had deteriorated rapidly since old Captain Elijah
+Gorham died. Augustus carried the Major's baggage from the hotel to
+the house. This was done very early and none of the natives saw the
+transfer. There was some speculation as to how the darky managed to
+carry the big trunk single-handed; one of two persons asked Augustus
+this very question, but they received no satisfactory answer. Augustus
+was habitually close-mouthed. Mr. Godfrey left town that same morning on
+the first train.
+
+The Major christened his new home “Silver-leaf Hall,” because of two
+great “silver-leaf” trees that stood by the front door. He had some
+repairing, paper hanging and painting done, ordered a big stock of
+groceries from the local dealer, and showed by his every action that
+his stay in East Harniss was to be a lengthy one. He hired a pew in the
+Methodist church, and joined the “club.” Augustus did the marketing for
+“Silver-leaf Hall,” and had evidently been promoted to the position of
+housekeeper.
+
+The Major moved in April. It was now the third week in June and
+his popularity was, if possible, more pronounced than ever. On this
+particular, the evening of Captain Bailey Stitt's unexpected arrival,
+Obed had been sitting by the tea table in his dining room after supper,
+going over the account books of his paint, paper, and oil store. His
+sister, Mrs. Polena Ginn, was washing dishes in the kitchen.
+
+“Wat's that letter you're readin', Obed?” she called from her post by
+the sink.
+
+“Nothin',” said her brother, gruffly, crumpling up the sheet of note
+paper and jamming it into his pocket.
+
+“My sakes! you're shorter'n pie crust to-night. What's the matter?
+Anything gone wrong at the store?”
+
+“No.”
+
+Silence again, only broken by the clatter of dishes. Then Polena said:
+
+“Obed, when are you goin' to take me up to the clubroom so's I can see
+that picture of Major Hardee that he presented the club with? Everybody
+says it's just lovely. Sarah T. says it's perfectly elegant, only not
+quite so handsome as the Major reelly is. She says it don't flatter him
+none.”
+
+“Humph! Anybody'd think Hardee was some kind of a wonder, the way you
+women folks go on 'bout him. How do you know but what he might be a
+reg'lar fraud? Looks ain't everything.”
+
+“Well, I never! Obed Gott, I should think you'd be 'shamed of yourself,
+talkin' that way. I shan't speak another word to you to-night. I never
+see you act so unlikely. An old fraud! The idea! That grand, noble man!”
+
+Obed tried to make some sort of half-hearted apology, but his sister
+wouldn't listen to it. Polena's dignity was touched. She was a woman of
+consequence in East Harniss, was Polena. Her husband had, at his death,
+left her ten thousand dollars in her own right, and she owned bonds
+and had money in the Wellmouth Bank. Nobody, not even her brother, was
+allowed to talk to her in that fashion.
+
+To tell the truth, Obed was sorry he had offended his sister. He had
+been throwing out hints of late as to the necessity of building an
+addition to the paint and oil store, and had cast a longing look upon
+a portion of Polena's ten thousand. The lady had not promised to extend
+the financial aid, but she had gone so far as to say she would think
+about it. So Obed regretted his insinuations against the Major's
+integrity.
+
+After a while he threw the account books upon the top of the chest of
+drawers, put on his hat and coat and announced that he was going over
+to the depot for a “spell.” Polena did not deign to reply, so, after
+repeating the observation, he went out and slammed the door.
+
+Now, two hours later, as he stood in the doorway of the club, he was
+debating what he should do in a certain matter. That matter concerned
+Major Hardee and was, therefore, an extremely delicate one. At length
+Mr. Gott climbed the narrow stairs and entered the clubroom. It was blue
+with tobacco smoke.
+
+The six or eight members present hailed him absently and went on with
+their games of checkers or “seven-up.” He attempted a game of checkers
+and lost, which did not tend to make his temper any sweeter. His ill
+nature was so apparent that Beriah Higgins, who suffered from dyspepsia
+and consequent ill temper, finally commented upon it.
+
+“What's the matter with you, Obed?” he asked tartly. “Too much of
+P'lena's mince pie?”
+
+“No,” grunted Mr. Gott shortly.
+
+“What is it, then? Ain't paint sellin' well?”
+
+“Sellin' well 'nough. I could sell a hundred ton of paint to-morrow,
+more'n likely, but when it come to gittin' the money for it, that would
+be another story. If folks would pay their bills there wouldn't be no
+trouble.”
+
+“Who's stuck you now?”
+
+“I don't s'pose anybody has, but it's just as bad when they don't
+pay up. I've got to have money to keep a-goin' with. It don't make
+no diff'rence if it's as good a customer as Major Hardee; he ought to
+remember that we ain't all rich like him and--”
+
+A general movement among all the club members interrupted him. The
+checker players left their boards and came over; the “seven-up” devotees
+dropped their cards and joined the circle.
+
+“What was that you said?” asked Higgins, uneasily. “The Major owin' you
+money, was it?”
+
+“Oh, course I know he's all right and a fine man and all that,”
+ protested Obed, feeling himself put on the defensive. “But that ain't
+it. What's a feller goin' to do when he needs the money and gets a
+letter like that?”
+
+He drew the crumpled sheet of note paper from his pocket, and threw it
+on the table. Higgins picked it up and read it aloud, as follows:
+
+
+SILVERLEAF HALL, June 20th.
+
+MY DEAR MR. GOTT: I am in receipt of your courteous communication of
+recent date. I make it an unvarying rule to keep little ready money here
+in East Harniss, preferring rather to let it remain at interest in the
+financial institutions of the cities. Another rule of mine, peculiar,
+I dare say--even eccentric, if you like--is never to pay by check. I am
+expecting remittances from my attorneys, however, and will then bear you
+in mind. Again thanking you for your courtesy, and begging you to extend
+to your sister my kindest regards, I remain, my dear sir,
+
+Yours very respectfully,
+
+CUTHBERTSON SCOTT HARDEE.
+
+P. S.--I shall be delighted to have the pleasure of entertaining your
+sister and yourself at dinner at the hall on any date agreeable to you.
+Kindly let me hear from you regarding this at your earliest convenience.
+I must insist upon this privilege, so do not disappoint me, I beg.
+
+
+The reception accorded this most gentlemanly epistle was peculiar. Mr.
+Higgins laid it upon the table and put his hand into his own pocket. So
+did Ezra Weeks, the butcher; Caleb Small, the dry goods dealer; “Hen”
+ Leadbetter, the livery stable keeper; “Bash” Taylor, the milkman, and
+three or four others. And, wonder of wonders, each produced a sheet of
+note paper exactly like Obed's.
+
+They spread them out on the table. The dates were, of course, different,
+and they differed in other minor particulars, but in the main they were
+exactly alike. And each one of them ended with an invitation to dinner.
+
+The members of the club looked at each other in amazement. Higgins was
+the first to speak.
+
+“Godfrey mighty!” he exclaimed. “Say, this is funny, ain't it? It's
+more'n funny; it's queer! By jimmy, it's more'n that--it's serious! Look
+here, fellers; is there anybody in this crowd that the Major's paid for
+anything any time?”
+
+They waited. No one spoke. Then, with one impulse, every face swung
+about and looked up to where, upon the wall, hung the life-size
+photograph of the Major, dignified, gracious, and gilt-framed. It
+had been presented to the club two months before by Cuthbertson Scott
+Hardee, himself.
+
+“Ike--Ike Peters,” said Higgins. “Say, Ike--has he ever paid you for
+havin' that took?”
+
+Mr. Peters, who was the town photographer, reddened, hesitated, and then
+stammered, “Why, no, he ain't, yet.”
+
+“Humph!” grunted Higgins. No one else said anything. One or two took
+out pocket memorandum books and went over some figures entered therein.
+Judging by their faces the results of these calculations were not
+pleasing. Obed was the first to break the painful silence:
+
+“Well!” he exclaimed, sarcastically; “ain't nobody got nothin' to say?
+If they ain't, I have. Or, at any rate, I've got somethin' to do.” And
+he rose and started to put on his coat.
+
+“Hi! hold on a minute, Obed, you loon!” cried Higgins. “Where are you
+goin'?”
+
+“I'm goin' to put my bill in Squire Baker's hands for c'lection, and I'm
+goin' to do it tonight, too.”
+
+He was on his way to the door, but two or three ran to stop him.
+
+“Don't be a fool, Obed,” said Higgins. “Don't go off ha'f cocked. Maybe
+we're gittin' scared about nothin'. We don't know but we'll get every
+cent that's owed us.”
+
+“Don't KNOW! Well, I ain't goin' to wait to find out. What makes me
+b'ilin' is to think how we've set still and let a man that we never saw
+afore last March, and don't know one blessed thing about, run up bills
+and RUN 'em up. How we come to be such everlastin' fools I don't see!
+What did we let him have the stuff for? Why didn't we make him pay? I--”
+
+“Now see here, Obed Gott,” broke in Weeks, the butcher, “you know why
+just as well as we do. Why, blast it!” he added earnestly, “if he was to
+come into my shop to-morrow and tip that old high hat of his, and smile
+and say 'twas a fine mornin and 'How's the good lady to-day?' and all
+that, he'd get ha'f the meat there was in the place, and I wouldn't say
+'Boo'! I jest couldn't, that's all.”
+
+This frank statement was received with approving nods and a chorus of
+muttered “That's so's.”
+
+“It looks to me this way,” declared Higgins. “If the Major's all right,
+he's a mighty good customer for all of us. If he ain't all right, we've
+got to find it out, but we're in too deep to run resks of gettin' him
+mad 'fore we know for sure. Let's think it over for a week. Inside of
+that time some of us'll hint to him, polite but firm, you understand,
+that we've got to have something on account. A week from to-night we'll
+meet in the back room of my store, talk it over and decide what to do.
+What do you say?”
+
+Everybody but Obed agreed. He declared that he had lost money enough
+and wasn't going to be a fool any longer. The others argued with him
+patiently for a while and then Leadbetter, the livery stable keeper,
+said sharply:
+
+“See here, Obe! You ain't the only one in this. How much does the Major
+owe you?”
+
+“Pretty nigh twenty dollars.”
+
+“Humph! You're lucky. He owes me over thirty, and I guess Higgins is
+worse off than any of us. Ain't that so, Beriah?”
+
+“About seventy, even money,” answered the grocer, shortly. “No use,
+Obed, we've got to hang together. Wait a week and then see. And,
+fellers,” he added, “don't tell a soul about this business, 'specially
+the women folks. There ain't a woman nor girl in this town that don't
+think Major Hardee's an A1, gold-plated saint, and twouldn't be safe to
+break the spell on a guess.”
+
+Obed reached home even more disgruntled than when he left it. He sat up
+until after twelve, thinking and smoking, and when he went to bed he had
+a brilliant idea. The next morning he wrote a letter and posted it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A BABY AND A ROBBERY
+
+
+The morning train for Boston, at that season of the year, reached East
+Harniss at five minutes to six, an “ungodly hour,” according to the
+irascible Mr. Ogden Williams, who, in company with some of his wealthy
+friends, the summer residents, was petitioning the railroad company for
+a change in the time-table. When Captain Sol Berry, the depot master,
+walked briskly down Main Street the morning following Mr. Gott's
+eventful evening at the club, the hands of the clock on the Methodist
+church tower indicated that the time was twenty minutes to six.
+
+Issy McKay was already at the depot, the doors of which were open.
+Captain Sol entered the waiting room and unlocked the ticket rack and
+the little safe. Issy, languidly toying with the broom on the front
+platform, paused in his pretense of sweeping and awaited permission to
+go home for breakfast. It came, in characteristic fashion.
+
+“How's the salt air affectin' your appetite, Is?” asked the Captain,
+casually.
+
+Issy, who, being intensely serious by nature, was uneasy when he
+suspected the presence of a joke, confusedly stammered that he cal'lated
+his appetite was all right.
+
+“Payin' for the Major's glass ain't kept you awake worryin', has it?”
+
+“No-o, sir. I--”
+
+“P'r'aps you thought he was the one to 'do the worryin', hey?”
+
+“I--I don't know.”
+
+“Well, what's your folks goin' to have to eat this mornin'?”
+
+Issy admitted his belief that fried clams were to be the breakfast.
+
+“So? Clams? Is, did you ever read the soap advertisement about not bein'
+a clam?”
+
+“I--I don't know's I ever did. No, sir.”
+
+“All right; I only called your attention to it as a warnin', that's all.
+When anybody eats as many clams as you do there's a fair chance of his
+turnin' into one. Now clear out, and don't stay so long at breakfast
+that you can't get back in time for dinner. Trot!”
+
+Issy trotted. The depot master seated himself by the door of the ticket
+office and fell into a reverie. It was interrupted by the entrance of
+Hiram Baker. Captain Hiram was an ex-fishing skipper, fifty-five years
+of age, who, with his wife, Sophronia, and their infant son, Hiram Joash
+Baker, lived in a small, old-fashioned house at the other end of the
+village, near the shore. Captain Hiram, having retired from the sea, got
+his living, such as it was, from his string of fish traps, or “weirs.”
+
+The depot master hailed the new arrival heartily.
+
+“Hello, there, Hiram!” he cried, rising from his chair. “Glad to see you
+once in a while. Ain't goin' to leave us, are you? Not goin' abroad for
+your health, or anything of that kind, hey?”
+
+Captain Baker laughed.
+
+“No,” he answered. “No further abroad than Hyannis. And I'll be back
+from there tonight, if the Lord's willin' and the cars don't get off the
+track. Give me a round trip ticket, will you, Sol?”
+
+The depot master retired to the office, returning with the desired
+ticket. Captain Hiram counted out the price from a confused mass of
+coppers and silver, emptied into his hand from a blackened leather
+purse, tied with a string.
+
+“How's Sophrony?” asked the depot master. “Pretty smart, I hope.”
+
+“Yup, she's smart. Has to be to keep up with the rest of the
+family--'specially the youngest.”
+
+He chuckled. His friend laughed in sympathy.
+
+“The youngest is the most important of all, I s'pose,” he observed. “How
+IS the junior partner of H. Baker and Son?”
+
+“He ain't a silent partner, I'll swear to that. Honest, Sol, I b'lieve
+my 'Dusenberry' is the cutest young one outside of a show. I said so
+only yesterday to Mr. Hilton, the minister. I did, and I meant it.”
+
+“Well, we're all gettin' ready to celebrate his birthday. Ho, ho!”
+
+This was a standard joke and was so recognized and honored. A baby born
+on the Fourth of July is sure of a national celebration of his birthday.
+And to Captain Baker and his wife, no celebration, however widespread,
+could do justice to the importance of the occasion. When, to answer the
+heart longings of the child-loving couple married many years, the baby
+came, he was accepted as a special dispensation of Providence and valued
+accordingly.
+
+“He's got a real nice voice, Hiram,” said Sophronia, gazing proudly
+at the prodigy, who, clutched gingerly in his father's big hands, was
+screaming his little red face black. “I shouldn't wonder if he grew up
+to sing in the choir.”
+
+“That's the kind of voice to make a fo'mast hand step lively!” declared
+Hiram. “You'll see this boy on the quarter deck of a clipper one of
+these days.”
+
+Naming him was a portentous proceeding and one not to be lightly gone
+about. Sophronia, who was a Methodist by descent and early confirmation,
+was of the opinion that the child should have a Bible name.
+
+The Captain respected his wife's wishes, but put in an ardent plea for
+his own name, Hiram.
+
+“There's been a Hiram Baker in our family ever since Noah h'isted
+the main-r'yal on the ark,” he declared. “I'd kinder like to keep the
+procession a-goin'.”
+
+They compromised by agreeing to make the baby's Christian name Hiram and
+to add a middle name selected at random from the Scriptures. The big,
+rickety family Bible was taken from the center table and opened with
+shaking fingers by Mrs. Baker. She read aloud the first sentence that
+met her eye: “The son of Joash.”
+
+“Joash!” sneered her husband. “You ain't goin' to cruelize him with that
+name, be you?”
+
+“Hiram Baker, do you dare to fly in the face of Scriptur'?”
+
+“All right! Have it your own way. Go to sleep now, Hiram Joash, while I
+sing 'Storm along, John,' to you.”
+
+Little Hiram Joash punched the minister's face with his fat fist when he
+was christened, to the great scandal of his mother and the ill-concealed
+delight of his father.
+
+“Can't blame the child none,” declared the Captain. “I'd punch anybody
+that christened a middle name like that onto me.”
+
+But, in spite of his name, the baby grew and prospered. He fell out of
+his crib, of course, the moment that he was able, and barked his shins
+over the big shells by the what-not in the parlor the first time that
+he essayed to creep. He teethed with more or less tribulation, and once
+upset the household by an attack of the croup.
+
+They gave up calling him by his first name, because of the Captain's
+invariably answering when the baby was wanted and not answering when he
+himself was wanted. Sophronia would have liked to call him Joash, but
+her husband wouldn't hear of it. At length the father took to calling
+him “Dusenberry,” and this nickname was adopted under protest.
+
+Captain Hiram sang the baby to sleep every night. There were three songs
+in the Captain's repertoire. The first was a chanty with a chorus of
+
+     John, storm along, storm along, John,
+     Ain't I glad my day's work's done.
+
+The second was the “Bowline Song.”
+
+     Haul on the bowline, the 'Phrony is a-rollin',
+     Haul on the bowline! the bowline HAUL!
+
+At the “haul!” the Captain's foot would come down with a thump. Almost
+the first word little Hiram Joash learned was “haul!” He used to shout
+it and kick his father vigorously in the vest.
+
+These were fair-weather songs. Captain Hiram sang them when everything
+was going smoothly. The “Bowline Song” indicated that he was feeling
+particularly jubilant. He had another that he sang when he was worried.
+It was a lugubrious ditty, with a refrain beginning:
+
+     Oh, sailor boy, sailor boy, 'neath the wild billow,
+     Thy grave is yawnin' and waitin' for thee.
+
+He sang this during the worst of the teething period, and, later, when
+the junior partner wrestled with the whooping cough. You could always
+tell the state of the baby's health by the Captain's choice of songs.
+
+Meanwhile Dusenberry grew and prospered. He learned to walk and to talk,
+after his own peculiar fashion, and, at the mature age of two years and
+six months, formally shipped as first mate aboard his father's dory. His
+duties in this responsible position were to sit in the stern, securely
+fastened by a strap, while the Captain and his two assistants rowed out
+over the bar to haul the nets of the deep water fish weir.
+
+The first mate gave the orders, “All hands on deck! 'Tand by to det ship
+under way!” There was no “sogerin'” aboard the Hiram Junior--that was
+the dory's name--while the first officer had command.
+
+Captain Hiram, always ready to talk of the wonderful baby, told the
+depot master of the youngster's latest achievement, which was to get the
+cover off the butter firkin in the pantry and cover himself with butter
+from head to heel.
+
+“Ho, ho, ho!” he roared, delightedly, “when Sophrony caught him at it,
+what do you s'pose he said? Said he was playin' he was a slice of bread
+and was spreadin' himself. Haw! haw!”
+
+Captain Sol laughed in sympathy.
+
+“But he didn't mean no harm by it,” explained the proud father. “He's
+got the tenderest little heart in the world. When he found his ma felt
+bad he bust out cryin' and said he'd scrape it all off again and when it
+come prayer time he'd tell God who did it, so He'd know 'twa'n't mother
+that wasted the nice butter. What do you think of that?”
+
+“No use talkin', Hiram,” said the depot master, “that's the kind of boy
+to have.”
+
+“You bet you! Hello! here's the train. On time, for a wonder. See you
+later, Sol. You take my advice, get married and have a boy of your own.
+Nothin' like one for solid comfort.”
+
+The train was coming and they went out to meet it. The only passenger
+to alight was Mr. Barzilla Wingate, whose arrival had been foretold
+by Bailey Stitt the previous evening. Barzilla was part owner of a
+good-sized summer hotel at Wellmouth Neck. He and the depot master were
+old friends.
+
+After the train had gone Wingate and Captain Sol entered the station
+together. The Captain had insisted that his friend come home with him to
+breakfast, instead of going to the hotel. After some persuasion Barzilla
+agreed. So they sat down to await Issy's arrival. The depot master could
+not leave the station until the “assistant” arrived.
+
+“Well, Barzilla,” asked Captain Sol, “what's the newest craze over to
+the hotel?”
+
+“The newest,” said Wingate, with a grin, “is automobiles.”
+
+“Automobiles? Why, I thought 'twas baseball.”
+
+“Baseball was last summer. We had a championship team then. Yes, sir, we
+won out, though for a spell it looked pretty dubious. But baseball's an
+old story. We've had football since, and now--”
+
+“Wait a minute! Football? Why, now I do remember. You had a football
+team there and--and wa'n't there somethin' queer, some sort of a--a
+robbery, or stealin', or swindlin' connected with it? Seems's if I'd
+heard somethin' like that.”
+
+Mr. Wingate looked his friend over, winked, and asked a question.
+
+“Sol,” he said, “you ain't forgot how to keep a secret?”
+
+The depot master smiled. “I guess not,” he said.
+
+“Well, then, I'm goin' to trust you with one. I'm goin' to tell you the
+whole business about that robbin'. It's all mixed up with football and
+millionaires and things--and it's a dead secret, the truth of it. So
+when I tell you it mustn't go no further.
+
+“You see,” he went on, “it was late into August when Peter T. was took
+down with the inspiration. Not that there was anything 'specially new
+in his bein' took. He was subject to them seizures, Peter was, and every
+time they broke out in a fresh place. The Old Home House itself was one
+of his inspirations, so was the hirin' of college waiters, the openin'
+of the two 'Annex' cottages, the South Shore Weather Bureau, and a whole
+lot more. Sometimes, as in the weather-bureau foolishness, the disease
+left him and t'other two patients--meanin' me and Cap'n Jonadab--pretty
+weak in the courage, and wasted in the pocketbook; but gen'rally they
+turned out good, and our systems and bank accounts was more healthy than
+normal. One of Peter T.'s inspirations was consider'ble like typhoid
+fever--if you did get over it, you felt better for havin' had it.
+
+“This time the attack was in the shape of a 'supplementary season.'
+'Twas Peter's idea that shuttin' up the Old Home the fust week in
+September was altogether too soon.
+
+“'What's the use of quittin',' says he, 'while there's bait left and the
+fish are bitin'? Why not keep her goin' through September and October?
+Two or three ads--MY ads--in the papers, hintin' that the ducks and wild
+geese are beginnin' to keep the boarders awake by roostin' in the
+back yard and hollerin' at night--two or three of them, and we'll have
+gunners here by the regiment. Other summer hotels do it, the Wapatomac
+House and the rest, so why not us? It hurts my conscience to see good
+money gettin' past the door 'count of the “Not at Home” sign hung on the
+knob. What d'you say, partners?' says he.
+
+“Well, we had consider'ble to say, partic'lar Cap'n Jonadab. 'Twas
+too risky and too expensive. Gunnin' was all right except for one
+thing--that is, that there wa'n't none wuth mentionin'.
+
+“'Ducks are scurser round here than Democrats in a Vermont
+town-meetin',' growled the Cap'n. 'And as for geese! How long has it
+been since you see a goose, Barzilla?'
+
+“'Land knows!' says I. 'I can remember as fur back as the fust time
+Washy Sparrow left off workin', but I can't--'
+
+“Brown told us to shut up. Did we cal'late he didn't know what he was
+talkin' about?
+
+“'I can see two geese right now,' he snaps; 'but they're so old and
+leather-headed you couldn't shoot an idea into their brains with a
+cannon. Gunnin' ain't the whole thing. My makin' a noise like a duck is
+only to get the would-be Teddy Roosevelts headed for this neck of the
+woods. After they get here, it's up to us to keep 'em. And I can think
+of as many ways to do that as the Cap'n can of savin' a quarter. Our
+baseball team's been a success, ain't it? Sure thing! Then why not a
+football team? Parker says he'll get it together, and coach and cap'n
+it, too. And Robinson and his daughter have agreed to stay till October
+fifteenth. So there's a start, anyhow.'
+
+“'Twas a start, and a pretty good one. The Robinsons had come to the Old
+Home about the fust of August, and they was our star boarders. 'G. W.
+Robinson' was the old man's name as entered on the hotel log, and his
+daughter answered to the hail of 'Grace'--that is, when she took
+a notion to answer at all. The Robinsons was what Peter T. called
+'exclusive.' They didn't mix much with the rest of the bunch, but
+kept to themselves in their rooms, partic'lar when a fresh net full of
+boarders was hauled aboard. Then they seemed to take an observation of
+every arrival afore they mingled; questioned the pedigree and statistics
+of all hands, and acted mighty suspicious.
+
+“The only thing that really stirred Papa Robinson up and got him excited
+and friendly was baseball and boat racin'. He was an old sport, that was
+plain, the only real plain thing about him; the rest was mystery. As
+for Grace, she wa'n't plain by a good sight, bein' what Brown called
+a 'peach.' She could have had every single male in tow if she'd wanted
+'em. Apparently she didn't want em, preferrin' to be lonesome and sad
+and interestin'. Yes, sir, there was a mystery about them Robinsons, and
+even Peter T. give in to that.
+
+“'If 'twas anybody else,' says he, 'I'd say the old man was a crook,
+down here hidin' from the police. But he's too rich for that, and always
+has been. He ain't any fly-by-night. I can tell the real article without
+lookin' for the “sterlin'” mark on the handle. But I'll bet all the
+cold-storage eggs in the hotel against the henyard--and that's big
+odds--that he wa'n't christened Robinson. And his face is familiar to
+me. I've seen it somewhere, either in print or in person. I wish I knew
+where.'
+
+“So if the Robinsons had agreed to stay--them and their two
+servants--that was a big help, as Brown said. And Parker would help,
+too, though we agreed there wa'n't no mystery about him. He was a big,
+broad-shouldered young feller just out of college somewheres, who had
+drifted our way the fortni't after the Robinsons came, with a reputation
+for athletics and a leanin' toward cigarettes and Miss Grace. She leaned
+a little, too, but hers wa'n't so much of a bend as his was. He was dead
+gone on her, and if she'd have decided to stay under water, he'd
+have ducked likewise. 'Twas easy enough to see why HE believed in a
+'supplementary season.'
+
+“Me and Jonadab argued it out with Peter, and finally we met halfway,
+so's to speak. We wouldn't keep the whole shebang open, but we'd shut
+up everything but one Annex cottage, and advertise that as a Gunner's
+Retreat. So we done it.
+
+“And it worked. Heavens to Betsy--yes! It worked so well that by the
+second week in September we had to open t'other Annex. The gunnin' was
+bad, but Peter's ads fetched the would-be's, and his 'excursions' and
+picnics and the football team held 'em. The football team especial.
+Parker cap'ned that, and, from the gunnin' crew and the waiters and some
+fishermen in the village, he dug up an eleven that showed symptoms of
+playin' the game. We played the Trumet High School, and beat it, thanks
+to Parker, and that tickled Pa Robinson so that he bought a two-handled
+silver soup tureen--'lovin' cup,' he called it--and agreed to give it to
+the team round about that won the most of the series. So the series was
+arranged, the Old Home House crowd and the Wapatomac House eleven and
+three high-school gangs bein' in it. And 'twas practice, practice,
+practice, from then on.
+
+“When we opened the second Annex, the question of help got serious. Most
+of our college waiters had gone back to school, and we was pretty shy
+of servants. So we put some extry advertisin' in the Cape weeklies, and
+trusted in Providence.
+
+“The evenin' followin' the ad in the weeklies, I was settin' smokin' on
+the back piazza of the shut-up main hotel, when I heard the gate click
+and somebody crunchin' along the clam-shell path. I sung out: 'Ahoy,
+there!' and the cruncher, whoever he was, come my way. Then I made out
+that he was a tall young chap, with his hands in his pockets.
+
+“'Good evenin',' says he. 'Is this Mr. Brown?'
+
+“'Thankin' you for the compliment, it ain't,' I says. 'My name's
+Wingate.'
+
+“'Oh!' says he. 'Is that so? I've heard father speak of you, Mr.
+Wingate. He is Solomon Bearse, of West Ostable. I think you know him
+slightly.'
+
+“Know him? Everybody on the Cape knows Sol Bearse; by reputation,
+anyhow. He's the richest, meanest old cranberry grower and
+coastin'-fleet owner in these parts.
+
+“'Is Sol Bearse your dad?' I asks, astonished. 'Why, then, you must be
+Gus?'
+
+“'No,' he says. 'I'm the other one--Fred.'
+
+“'Oh, the college one. The one who's goin' to be a lawyer.'
+
+“'Well, yes--and no,' says he. 'I WAS the college one, as you call it,
+but I'm not goin' to be a lawyer. Father and I have had some talk on
+that subject, and I think we've settled it. I--well, just at present,
+I'm not sure what I'm goin' to be. That's what I've come to you for. I
+saw your ad in the Item, and--I want a job.'
+
+“I was set all aback, and left with my canvas flappin', as you might
+say. Sol Bearse's boy huntin' a job in a hotel kitchen! Soon's I could
+fetch a whole breath, I wanted partic'lars. He give 'em to me.
+
+“Seems he'd been sent out to one of the colleges in the Middle West by
+his dad, who was dead set on havin' a lawyer in the family. But the more
+he studied, the less he hankered for law. What he wanted to be was a
+literature--a book-agent or a poet, or some such foolishness. Old Sol,
+havin' no more use for a poet than he had for a poor relation, was red
+hot in a minute. Was this what he'd been droppin' good money in the
+education collection box for? Was this--etcetery and so on. He'd
+be--what the church folks say he will be--if Fred don't go in for law.
+Fred, he comes back that he'll be the same if he does. So they disowned
+each other by mutual consent, as the Irishman said, and the boy marches
+out of the front door, bag and baggage. And, as the poetry market seemed
+to be sort of overly supplied at the present time, he decided he must
+do somethin' to earn a dollar, and, seein' our ad, he comes to Wellmouth
+Port and the Old Home.
+
+“'But look here,' says I, 'we ain't got no job for a literary. We need
+fellers to pass pie and wash dishes. And THAT ain't no poem.'
+
+“Well, he thought perhaps he could help make up advertisin'.
+
+“'You can't,' I told him. 'One time, when Peter T. Brown was away, me
+and Cap'n Jonadab cal'lated that a poetry advertisement would be a good
+idee and we managed to shake out ten lines or so. It begun:
+
+     “When you're feelin' tired and pale
+     To the Old Home House you ought to come without fail.”
+
+“'We thought 'twas pretty slick, but we never got but one answer, and
+that was a circular from one of them correspondence schools of authors,
+sayin' they'd let us in on a course at cut rates. And the next thing we
+knew we see that poem in the joke page of a Boston paper. I never--'
+
+“He laughed, quiet and sorrowful. He had the quietest way of speakin',
+anyhow, and his voice was a lovely tenor. To hear it purrin' out of his
+big, tall body was as unexpected as a hymn tune in a cent-in-the-slot
+talkin' machine.
+
+“'Too bad,' he says. 'As a waiter, I'm afraid--'
+
+“Just then the door of one of the Annex houses opened sudden, and there
+stood Grace Robinson. The light behind her showed her up plain as could
+be. I heard Fred Bearse make a kind of gaspin' noise in his throat.
+
+“'What a lovely night!' she says, half to herself. Then she calls:
+'Papa, dear, you really ought to see the stars.'
+
+“Old man Robinson, who I judged was in the settin' room, snarled out
+somethin' which wa'n't no compliment to the stars. Then he ordered
+her to come in afore she catched cold. She sighed and obeyed orders,
+shuttin' the door astern of her. Next thing I knew that literary tenor
+grabbed my arm--'twa'n't no canary-bird grip, neither.
+
+“'Who was that?' he whispers, eager.
+
+“I told him. 'That's the name they give,' says I, 'but we have doubts
+about its bein' the real one. You see, there's some mystery about them
+Robinsons, and--'
+
+“'I'll take that waiter's place,' he says, quick. 'Shall I go right in
+and begin now? Don't stop to argue, man; I say I'll take it.'
+
+“And he did take it by main strength, pretty nigh. Every time I'd open
+my mouth he'd shut it up, and at last I give in, and showed him where he
+could sleep.
+
+“'You turn out at five sharp,' I told him. 'And you needn't bother to
+write no poems while you're dressin', neither.'
+
+“'Good night,' he answers, brisk. 'Go, will you, please? I want to
+think.'
+
+“I went. 'Tain't until an hour later that I remembered he hadn't asked
+one word concernin' the wages. And next mornin' he comes to me and
+suggests that perhaps 'twould be as well if I didn't tell his real name.
+He was pretty sure he'd been away schoolin' so long that he wouldn't be
+recognized. 'And incognitos seem to be fashionable here,' he purrs, soft
+and gentle.
+
+“I wouldn't know an incognito if I stepped on one, but the tenor voice
+of him kind of made me sick.
+
+“'All right,' I snaps, sarcastic. 'Suppose I call you “Willie.” How'll
+that do?'
+
+“'Do as well as anything, I guess,' he says. Didn't make no odds to him.
+If I'd have called him 'Maud,' he'd have been satisfied.
+
+“He waited in Annex Number Two, which was skippered by Cap'n Jonadab.
+And, for a poet, he done pretty well, so the Cap'n said.
+
+“'But say, Barzilla,' asks Jonadab, 'does that Willie thing know the
+Robinsons?'
+
+“'Guess not,' I says. But, thinkin' of the way he'd acted when the girl
+come to the door: 'Why?'
+
+“'Oh, nothin' much. Only when he come in with the doughnuts the fust
+mornin' at breakfast, I thought Grace sort of jumped and looked funny.
+Anyhow, she didn't eat nothin' after that. P'r'aps that was on account
+of her bein' out sailin' the day afore, though.'
+
+“I said I cal'lated that was it, but all the same I was interested.
+And when, a day or so later, I see Grace and Willie talkin' together
+earnest, out back of the kitchen, I was more so. But I never said
+nothin'. I've been seafarin' long enough to know when to keep my main
+hatch closed.
+
+“The supplementary season dragged along, but it wa'n't quite the success
+it looked like at the start. The gunnin' that year was even worse than
+usual, and excursions and picnics in late September ain't all joy, by
+no manner of means. We shut up the second Annex at the end of the month,
+and transferred the help to Number One. Precious few new boarders come,
+and a good many of the old ones quit. Them that did stay, stayed on
+account of the football. We was edgin' up toward the end of the series,
+and our team and the Wapatomac crowd was neck and neck. It looked as if
+the final game between them and us, over on their grounds, would settle
+who'd have the soup tureen.
+
+“Pa Robinson and Parker had been quite interested in Willie when he
+fust come. They thought he might play with the eleven, you see. But he
+wouldn't. Set his foot right down.
+
+“'I don't care for athletics,' he says, mild but firm. 'They used to
+interest me somewhat, but not now.'
+
+“The old man was crazy. He'd heard about Willie's literature leanin's,
+and he give out that he'd never see a writer yet that wa'n't a 'sissy.'
+Wanted us to fire Bearse right off, but we kept him, thanks to me. If
+he'd seen the 'sissy' kick the ball once, same as I did, it might have
+changed his mind some. He was passin' along the end of the field when
+the gang was practicin', and the ball come his way. He caught it on the
+fly, and sent it back with his toe. It went a mile, seemed so, whirlin'
+and whizzin'. Willie never even looked to see where it went; just kept
+on his course for the kitchen.
+
+“The big sensation hit us on the fifth of October, right after supper.
+Me and Peter T. and Jonadab was in the office, when down comes Henry,
+old Robinson's man servant, white as a sheet and wringin' his hands
+distracted.
+
+“'Oh, I say, Mr. Brown!' says he, shakin' all over like a quicksand.
+'Oh, Mr. Brown, sir! Will you come right up to Mr. Sterz--I mean Mr.
+Robinson's room, please, sir! 'E wants to see you gentlemen special.
+'Urry, please! 'Urry!'
+
+“So we ''urried,' wonderin' what on earth was the matter. And when we
+got to the Robinson rooms, there was Grace, lookin' awful pale, and the
+old man himself ragin' up and down like a horse mack'rel in a fish weir.
+
+“Soon as papa sees us, he jumped up in the air, so's to speak, and when
+he lit 'twas right on our necks. His daughter, who seemed to be the
+sanest one in the lot, run and shut the door.
+
+“'Look here, you!' raved the old gent, shakin' both fists under Peter
+T.'s nose. 'Didn't you tell me this was a respectable hotel? And ain't
+we payin' for respectability?'
+
+“Peter admitted it, bein' too much set back to argue, I cal'late.
+
+“'Yes!' rages Robinson. 'We pay enough for all the respectability in
+this state. And yet, by the livin' Moses! I can't go out of my room
+to spoil my digestion with your cussed dried-apple pie, but what I'm
+robbed!'
+
+“'Robbed!' the three of us gurgles in chorus.
+
+“'Yes, sir! Robbed! Robbed! ROBBED! What do you think I came here for?
+And why do I stay here all this time? 'Cause I LIKE it? 'Cause I can't
+afford a better place? No, sir! By the great horn spoon! I come here
+because I thought in this forsaken hole I could get lost and be safe.
+And now--'
+
+“He tore around like a water spout, Grace trying to calm him, and
+Henry and Suzette, the maid, groanin' and sobbin' accompaniments in the
+corner. I looked at the dresser. There was silver-backed brushes and all
+sorts of expensive doodads spread out loose, and Miss Robinson's watch
+and a di'mond ring, and a few other knickknacks. I couldn't imagine a
+thief's leavin' all that truck, and I said so.
+
+“'Them?' sputters Pa, frantic. 'What the brimstone blazes do you think
+I care for them? I could buy that sort of stuff by the car-load, if I
+wanted to. But what's been stole is--Oh, get out and leave me alone!
+You're no good, the lot of you!'
+
+“'Father has had a valuable paper stolen from him,' explains Grace. 'A
+very valuable paper.'
+
+“'Valuable!' howls her dad. 'VALUABLE! Why, if Gordon and his gang get
+that paper, they've got ME, that's all. Their suit's as good as won, and
+I know it. And to think that I've kept it safe up to within a month
+of the trial, and now--Grace Sterzer, you stop pattin' my head. I'm no
+pussy-cat! By the--' And so on, indefinite.
+
+“When he called his daughter Sterzer, instead of Robinson, I cal'lated
+he was loony, sure enough. But Peter T. slapped his leg.
+
+“'Oh!' he says, as if he'd seen a light all to once. 'Ah, NOW I begin
+to get wise. I knew your face was--See here, Mr. Sterzer--Mr. Gabriel
+Sterzer--don't you think we'd better have a real, plain talk on this
+matter? Let's get down to tacks. Was the paper you lost something to do
+with the Sterzer-Gordon lawsuit? The Aluminum Trust case, you know?'
+
+“The old man stopped dancin', stared at him hard, and then set down and
+wiped his forehead.
+
+“'Something to DO with it?' he groans. 'Why, you idiot, it was IT!
+If Gordon's lawyers get that paper--and they've been after it for a
+year--then the fat's all in the fire. There's nothin' left for me to do
+but compromise.'
+
+“When Peter T. mentioned the name of Gabriel Sterzer, me and Jonadab
+begun to see a light, too. 'Course you remember the bust-up of the
+Aluminum Trust--everybody does. The papers was full of it. There'd
+been a row among the two leadin' stockholders, Gabe Sterzer and 'Major'
+Gordon. Them two double-back-action millionaires practically owned the
+trust, and the state 'twas in, and the politics of that state, and all
+the politicians. Each of 'em run three or four banks of their own, and
+a couple of newspapers, and other things, till you couldn't rest. Then
+they had the row, and Gabe had took his playthings and gone home, as
+you might say. Among the playthings was a majority of the stock, and the
+Major had sued for it. The suit, with pictures of the leadin'
+characters and the lawyers and all, had been spread-eagled in the papers
+everywheres. No wonder 'Robinson's' face was familiar.
+
+“But it seemed that Sterzer had held the trump card in the shape of the
+original agreement between him and Gordon. And he hung on to it like
+the Old Scratch to a fiddler. Gordon and his crowd had done everything,
+short of murder, to get it; hired folks to steal it, and so on, because,
+once they DID get it, Gabe hadn't a leg to stand on--he'd have to divide
+equal, which wa'n't his desires, by a good sight. The Sterzer lawyers
+had wanted him to leave it in their charge, but no--he knew too much for
+that. The pig-headed old fool had carted it with him wherever he went,
+and him and his daughter had come to the Old Home House because he
+figgered nobody would think of their bein' in such an out-of-the-way
+place as that. But they HAD thought of it. Anyhow, the paper was gone.
+
+“'But Mr. Robinzer--Sterson, I mean--' cut in Cap'n Jonadab, 'you could
+have 'em took up for stealin', couldn't you? They wouldn't dare--'
+
+“''Course they'd dare! S'pose they don't know I wouldn't have that
+agreement get in the papers? Dare! They'd dare anything. If they get
+away with it, by hook or crook, all I can do is haul in my horns and
+compromise. If they've got that paper, the suit never comes to trial.'
+
+“'Well, they ain't got it yet,' says Peter, decided. 'Whoever stole the
+thing is right here in this boardin'-house, and it's up to us to see
+that they stay here. Barzilla, you take care of the mail. No letters
+must go out to-night. Jonadab, you set up and watch all hands, help and
+all. Nobody must leave this place, if we have to tie em. And I'll keep a
+gen'ral overseein' of the whole thing, till we get a detective. And--if
+you'll stand the waybill, Mr. Sterzer--we'll have the best Pinkerton in
+Boston down here in three hours by special train. By the way, are you
+sure the thing IS lifted? Where was it?'
+
+“Old Gabe kind of colored up, and give in that 'twas under his pillow.
+He always kept it there after the beds was made.
+
+“'Humph!' grunts Brown. 'Why didn't you hang it on the door-knob? Under
+the pillow! If I was a sneak thief, the first place I'd look would be
+under the pillow; after that I'd tackle the jewelry box and the safe.'
+
+“There was consider'ble more talk. Seems the Sterzers had left Henry on
+guard, same as they always done, when they went to supper. They could
+trust him and Suzette absolute, they said. But Henry had gone down
+the hall after a drink of water, and when he had got back everything
+apparently was all right. 'Twa'n't till Gabe himself come up that he
+found the paper gone. I judged he'd made it interestin' for Henry; the
+poor critter looked that way.
+
+“All hands agreed to keep mum for the present and to watch. Peter
+hustled to the office and called up the Pinkertons over the long
+distance.”
+
+Mr. Wingate paused. Captain Sol was impatient.
+
+“Go on,” he said. “Don't stop now, I'm gettin' anxious.”
+
+Barzilla rose to his feet. “Here's your McKay man back again,” he said.
+“Let's go up to your house and have breakfast. We can talk while we're
+eatin'. I'm empty as a poorhouse boarder's pocketbook.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+AVIATION AND AVARICE
+
+
+Breakfast at Capt. Sol Berry's was a bountiful meal. The depot master
+employed a middle-aged woman who came in each day, cooked his meals and
+did the housework, returning to her own home at night. After Mr. Wingate
+had mowed a clean swath through ham and eggs, cornbread and coffee,
+and had reached the cooky and doughnut stage, he condescended to speak
+further concerning the stolen paper.
+
+“Well,” he said, “Brown give me and Jonadab a serious talkin' to when he
+got us alone.”
+
+“'Now, fellers,' he says, 'we know what we've got to do. Nothin'll be
+too good for this shebang and us if we get that agreement back. Fust
+place, the thing was done a few minutes after the supper-bell rung.
+That is, unless that 'Enry is in on the deal, which ain't unlikely,
+considerin' the price he could get from the Gordon gang. Was anybody
+late at the tables?'
+
+“Why, yes; there were quite a few late. Two of the 'gunners,' who'd been
+on a forlorn-hope duck hunt; and a minister and his wife, out walkin'
+for their health; and Parker and two fellers from the football team,
+who'd been practicin'.
+
+“'Any of the waiters or the chambermaids?' asked Peter.
+
+“I'd been expectin' he'd ask that, and I hated to answer.
+
+“'One of the waiters was a little late,' says I. 'Willie wa'n't on hand
+immediate. Said he went to wash his hands.'
+
+“Now the help gen'rally washed in the fo'castle--the servants'
+quarters, I mean--but there was a wash room on the floor where the
+Sterzer-Robinsons roomed. Peter looked at Jonadab, and the two of 'em at
+me. And I had to own up that Willie had come downstairs from that wash
+room a few minutes after the bell rung.
+
+“'Hum!' says Peter T. 'Hum!' he says. 'Look here, Barzilla, didn't you
+tell me you knew that feller's real name, and that he had been studying
+law?'
+
+“'No,' says I, emphatic. 'I said 'twas law he was tryin' to get away
+from. His tastes run large to literation and poetry.'
+
+“'Hum!' says Peter again. 'All papers are more or less literary--even
+trust agreements. Hum!'
+
+“'All the same,' says I, 'I'll bet my Sunday beaver that HE never took
+it.'
+
+“They didn't answer, but looked solemn. Then the three of us went on
+watch.
+
+“Nobody made a move to go out that evenin'. I kept whatever mail was
+handed in, but there was nothin' that looked like any agreements,
+and nothin' addressed to Gordon or his lawyers. At twelve or so, the
+detective come. Peter drove up to the depot to meet the special. He told
+the whole yarn on the way down.
+
+“The detective was a nice enough chap, and we agreed he should be 'Mr.
+Snow,' of New York, gunnin' for health and ducks. He said the watch must
+be kept up all night, and in the mornin' he'd make his fust move. So
+said, so done.
+
+“And afore breakfast that next mornin' we called everybody into the
+dinin' room, boarders, help, stable hands, every last one. And Peter
+made a little speech. He said that a very valuable paper had been taken
+out of Mr. Robinson's room, and 'twas plain that it must be on the
+premises somewhere. 'Course, nobody was suspicioned, but, speakin'
+for himself, he'd feel better if his clothes and his room was searched
+through. How'd the rest feel about it?
+
+“Well, they felt diff'rent ways, but Parker spoke up like a brick, and
+said he wouldn't rest easy till HIS belongin's was pawed over, and then
+the rest fell in line. We went through everybody and every room on the
+place. Found nothin', of course. Snow--the detective--said he didn't
+expect to. But I tell you there was some talkin' goin' on, just the
+same. The minister, he hinted that he had some doubts about them
+dissipated gunners; and the gunners cal'lated they never see a parson
+yet wouldn't bear watchin'. As for me, I felt like a pickpocket, and,
+judgin' from Jonadab's face, he felt the same.
+
+“The detective man swooped around quiet, bobbin' up in unexpected
+places, like a porpoise, and askin' questions once in a while. He asked
+about most everybody, but about Willie, especial. I judged Peter T. had
+dropped a hint to him and to Gabe. Anyhow, the old critter give out
+that he wouldn't trust a poet with the silver handles on his grandmarm's
+coffin. As for Grace, she acted dreadful nervous and worried. Once I
+caught her swabbin' her eyes, as if she'd been cryin'; but I'd never
+seen her and Willie together but the one time I told you of.
+
+“Four days and nights crawled by. No symptoms yet. The Pinkertons was
+watchin' the Gordon lawyers' office in New York, and they reported
+that nothin' like that agreement had reached there. And our own
+man--Snow--said he'd go bail it hadn't been smuggled off the premises
+sense HE struck port. So 'twas safe so far; but where was it, and who
+had it?
+
+“The final football game, the one with Wapatomac, was to be played over
+on their grounds on the afternoon of the fifth day. Parker, cap'n of the
+eleven, give out that, considerin' everything, he didn't know but we'd
+better call it off. Old Robinson--Sterzer, of course--wouldn't hear of
+it.
+
+“'Not much,' says he. 'I wouldn't chance your losin' that game for forty
+papers. You sail in and lick 'em!' or words to that effect.
+
+“So the eleven was to cruise across the bay in the Greased Lightnin',
+Peter's little motor launch, and the rooters was to go by train later
+on. 'Twas Parker's idee, goin' in the launch. 'Twould be more quiet,
+less strain on the nerves of his men, and they could talk over plays and
+signals on the v'yage.
+
+“So at nine o'clock in the forenoon they was ready, the whole
+team--three waiters, two fishermen, one carpenter from up to Wellmouth
+Center, a stable hand, and Parker and three reg'lar boarders. These last
+three was friends of Parker's that he'd had come down some time afore.
+He knew they could play football, he said, and they'd come to oblige
+him.
+
+“The eleven gathered on the front porch, all in togs and sweaters,
+principally provided and paid for by Sterzer. Cap'n Parker had the ball
+under his arm, and the launch was waitin' ready at the landin'. All the
+boarders--except Grace, who was upstairs in her room--and most of the
+help was standin' round to say good luck and good-by.
+
+“Snow, the detective, was there, and I whispered in his ear.
+
+“'Say,' I says, 'do you realize that for the fust time since the robbery
+here's a lot of folks leavin' the house? How do you know but what--'
+
+“He winked and nodded brisk. 'I'll attend to that,' he says.
+
+“But he didn't have to. Parker spoke fust, and took the wind out of his
+sails.
+
+“'Gentlemen,' says he, 'I don't know how the rest of you feel, but, as
+for me, I don't start without clear skirts. I suggest that Mr. Brown and
+Mr. Wingate here search each one of us, thoroughly. Who knows,' says he,
+laughin', 'but what I've got that precious stolen paper tucked inside my
+sweater? Ha! ha! Come on, fellers! I'll be first.'
+
+“He tossed the ball into a chair and marched into the office, the
+rest of the players after him, takin' it as a big joke. And there the
+searchin' was done, and done thorough, 'cause Peter asked Mr. Snow to
+help, and he knew how. One thing was sure; Pa Gabe's agreement wa'n't
+hid about the persons of that football team. Everybody laughed--that is,
+all but the old man and the detective. Seemed to me that Snow was kind
+of disappointed, and I couldn't see why. 'Twa'n't likely any of THEM was
+thieves.
+
+“Cap'n Parker picked up his football and started off for the launch.
+He'd got about ha'fway to the shore when Willie--who'd been stand-in'
+with the rest of the help, lookin' on--stepped for'ard pretty brisk and
+whispered in the ear of the Pinkerton man. The detective jumped, sort
+of, and looked surprised and mighty interested.
+
+“'By George!' says he. 'I never thought of that.' Then he run to the
+edge of the piazza and called.
+
+“'Mr. Parker!' he sings out. 'Oh, Mr. Parker!'
+
+“Parker was at the top of the little rise that slopes away down to the
+landin'. The rest of the eleven was scattered from the shore to the
+hotel steps. He turns, without stoppin', and answers.
+
+“'What is it?' he sings out, kind of impatient.
+
+“'There's just one thing we forgot to look at,' shouts Snow. 'Merely a
+matter of form, but just bring that--Hey! Stop him! Stop him!'
+
+“For Parker, instead of comin' back, had turned and was leggin' it for
+the launch as fast as he could, and that was some.
+
+“'Stop!' roars the Pinkerton man, jumpin' down the steps. 'Stop, or--'
+
+“'Hold him, Jim!' screeched Parker, over his shoulder. One of the
+biggest men on the eleven--one of the three 'friends' who'd been so
+obligin' as to come down on purpose to play football--made a dive,
+caught the detective around the waist, and threw him flat.
+
+“'Go on, Ed!' he shouts. 'I've got him, all right.'
+
+“Ed--meanin' Parker--was goin' on, and goin' fast. All hands seemed
+to be frozen stiff, me and Jonadab and Peter T. included. As for me, I
+couldn't make head nor tail of the doin's; things was comin' too quick
+for MY understandin'.
+
+“But there was one on that piazza who wa'n't froze. Fur from it! Willie,
+the poet waiter, made a jump, swung his long legs over the porch-rail,
+hit the ground, and took after that Parker man like a cat after a field
+mouse.
+
+“Run! I never see such runnin'! He fairly flashed across that lawn and
+over the rise. Parker was almost to the landin'; two more jumps and he'd
+been aboard the launch. If he'd once got aboard, a turn of the switch
+and that electric craft would have had him out of danger in a shake. But
+them two jumps was two too many. Willie riz off the ground like a flyin'
+machine, turned his feet up and his head down, and lapped his arms
+around Parker's knees. Down the pair of 'em went 'Ker-wallop!' and the
+football flew out of Parker's arms.
+
+“In an eyewink that poet was up, grabs the ball, and comes tearin' back
+toward us.
+
+“'Stop him!' shrieks Parker from astern.
+
+“'Head him off! Tackle him!' bellers the big chap who was hangin' onto
+the detective.
+
+“They tell me that discipline and obeyin' orders is as much in football
+as 'tis aboard ship. If that's so, every one of the Old Home House
+eleven was onto their jobs. There was five men between Willie and the
+hotel, and they all bore down on him like bats on a June bug.
+
+“'Get him!' howls Parker, racin' to help.
+
+“'Down him!' chimes in big Jim, his knee in poor Snow's back.
+
+“'Run, Bearse! Run!' whoops the Pinkerton man, liftin' his mouth out of
+the sand.
+
+“He run--don't you worry about that! Likewise he dodged. One chap
+swooped at him, and he ducked under his arms. Another made a dive, and
+he jumped over him. The third one he pushed one side with his hand.
+'Pushed!' did I say? 'Knocked' would be better, for the feller--the
+carpenter 'twas--went over and over like a barrel rollin' down hill. But
+there was two more left, and one of 'em was bound to have him.
+
+“Then a window upstairs banged open.
+
+“'Oh, Mr. Bearse!' screamed a voice--Grace Sterzer's voice. 'Don't let
+them get you!'
+
+“We all heard her, in spite of the shoutin' and racket. Willie heard
+her, too. The two fellers, one at each side, was almost on him, when
+he stopped, looked up, jumped back, and, as cool as a rain barrel in
+January, he dropped that ball and kicked it.
+
+“I can see that picture now, like a tableau at a church sociable. The
+fellers that was runnin', the others on the ground, and that literary
+pie passer with his foot swung up to his chin.
+
+“And the ball! It sailed up and up in a long curve, began to drop,
+passed over the piazza roof, and out of sight.
+
+“'Lock your door, Miss Sterzer,' sung out Fred Bearse--'Willie' for
+short. 'Lock your door and keep that ball. I think your father's paper
+is inside it.'
+
+“As sure as my name is Barzilla Wingate, he had kicked that football
+straight through the open window into old Gabe's room.”
+
+The depot master whooped and slapped his knee. Mr. Wingate grinned
+delightedly and continued:
+
+“There!” he went on, “the cat's out of the bag, and there ain't much
+more to tell. Everybody made a bolt for the room, old Gabe and Peter
+T. in the lead. Grace let her dad in, and the ball was ripped open in a
+hurry. Sure enough! Inside, between the leather and the rubber, was
+the missin' agreement. Among the jubilations and praise services nobody
+thought of much else until Snow, the Pinkerton man, come upstairs, his
+clothes tore and his eyes and nose full of sand.
+
+“'Humph!' says he. 'You've got it, hey? Good! Well, you haven't got
+friend Parker. Look!'
+
+“Such of us as could looked out of the window. There was the launch,
+with Parker and his three 'friends' in it, headin' two-forty for blue
+water.
+
+“'Let 'em go,' says old Gabe, contented. 'I wouldn't arrest 'em if I
+could. This is no police-station job.'
+
+“It come out afterwards that Parker was a young chap just from law
+school, who had gone to work for the firm of shysters who was attendin'
+to the Gordon interests. They had tracked Sterzer to the Old Home House,
+and had put their new hand on the job of gettin' that agreement. Fust
+he'd tried to shine up to Grace, but the shine--her part of it--had wore
+off. Then he decided to steal it; and he done it, just how nobody knows.
+Snow, the detective, says he cal'lates Henry, the servant, is wiser'n
+most folks thinks, fur's that's concerned.
+
+“Snow had found out about Parker inside of two days. Soon's he got the
+report as to who he was, he was morally sartin that he was the thief.
+He'd looked up Willie's record, too, and that was clear. In fact, Willie
+helped him consider'ble. 'Twas him that recognized Parker, havin' seen
+him play on a law-school team. Also 'twas Willie who thought of the
+paper bein' in the football.
+
+“Land of love! What a hero they made of that waiter!
+
+“'By the livin' Moses!' bubbles old Gabe, shakin' both the boy's hands.
+'That was the finest run and tackle and the finest kick I ever saw
+anywhere. I've seen every big game for ten years, and I never saw
+anything half so good.'
+
+“The Pinkerton man laughed. 'There's only one chap on earth who can kick
+like that. Here he is,' layin' his hand on 'Willie's' shoulder. Bearse,
+the All-American half-back last year.'
+
+“Gabe's mouth fell open. 'Not “Bung” Bearse, of Yarvard!' he sings out.
+'Why! WHY!'
+
+“'Of course, father!' purrs his daughter, smilin' and happy. 'I knew
+him at once. He and I were--er--slightly acquainted when I was at
+Highcliffe.'
+
+“'But--but “Bung” Bearse!' gasps the old gent. 'Why, you rascal! I saw
+you kick the goal that beat Haleton. Your reputation is worldwide.'
+
+“Willie--Fred Bearse, that is--shook his head, sad and regretful.
+
+“'Thank you, Mr. Sterzer,' says he, in his gentle tenor. 'I have no
+desire to be famous in athletics. My aspirations now are entirely
+literary.'
+
+“Well, he's got his literary job at last, bein' engaged as sportin'
+editor on one of Gabe's papers. His dad, old Sol Bearse, seems to be
+pretty well satisfied, partic'lar as another engagement between the
+Bearse family and the Sterzers has just been given out.”
+
+Barzilla helped himself to another doughnut. His host leaned back in his
+chair and laughed uproariously.
+
+“Well, by the great and mighty!” he exclaimed, “that Willie chap
+certainly did fool you, didn't he. You can't always tell about these
+college critters. Sometimes they break out unexpected, like chickenpox
+in the 'Old Men's Home.' Ha! ha! Say, do you know Nate Scudder?”
+
+“Know him? Course I know him! The meanest man on the Cape, and livin'
+right in my own town, too! Well, if I didn't know him I might trust him,
+and that would be the beginnin' of the end--for me.”
+
+“It sartin would. But what made me think of him was what he told
+me about his nephew, who was a college chap, consider'ble like your
+'Willie,' I jedge. Nate and this nephew, Augustus Tolliver, was mixed up
+in that flyin'-machine business, you remember.”
+
+“I know they was. Mixed up with that Professor Dixland the papers are
+makin' such a fuss over. Wellmouth's been crazy over it all, but it
+happened a year ago and nobody that I know of has got the straight
+inside facts about it yet. Nate won't talk at all. Whenever you ask him
+he busts out swearin' and walks off. His wife's got such a temper that
+nobody dared ask her, except the minister. He tried it, and ain't been
+the same man since.”
+
+“Well,” the depot master smilingly scratched his chin, “I cal'late I've
+got those inside facts.”
+
+“You HAVE?”
+
+“Yes. Nate gave 'em to me, under protest. You see, I know Nate pretty
+well. I know some things about him that . . . but never mind that part.
+I asked him and, at last, he told me. I'll have to tell you in his
+words, 'cause half the fun was the way he told it and the way he looked
+at the whole business. So you can imagine I'm Nate, and--”
+
+“'Twill be a big strain on my imagination to b'lieve you're Nate
+Scudder, Sol Berry.”
+
+“Thanks. However, you'll have to do it for a spell. Well, Nate said that
+it really begun when the Professor and Olivia landed at the Wellmouth
+depot with the freight car full of junk. Of course, the actual
+beginnin' was further back than that, when that Harmon man come on from
+Philadelphy and hunted him up, makin' proclamation that a friend of
+his, a Mr. Van Brunt of New York, had said that Scudder had a nice quiet
+island to let and maybe he could hire it.
+
+“Course Nate had an island--that little sun-dried sandbank a mile or
+so off shore, abreast his house, which we used to call 'Horsefoot Bar.'
+That crazy Van Brunt and his chum, Hartley, who lived there along
+with Sol Pratt a year or so ago, re-christened it 'Ozone Island,' you
+remember. Nate was willin' to let it. He'd let Tophet, if he owned it,
+and a fool come along who wanted to hire it and could pay for the rent
+and heat.
+
+“So Nate and this Harmon feller rowed over to the Bar--to Ozone Island,
+I mean--and the desolation and loneliness of it seemed to suit him to
+perfection. So did the old house and big barn and all the tumbledown
+buildin's stuck there in the beach-grass and sand. Afore they'd left
+they made a dicker. He wa'n't the principal in it. He was the private
+secretary and fust mate of Mr. Professor Ansel Hobart Dixland, the
+scientist--perhaps Scudder'd heard of him?
+
+“Perhaps he had, but if so, Nate forgot it, though he didn't tell him
+that. Harmon ordered a fifteen-foot-high board fence built all around
+the house and barn, and made Nate swear not to tell a soul who was
+comin' nor anything. Dixland might want the island two months, he said,
+or he might want it two years. Nate didn't care. He was in for good
+pickin's, and begun to pick by slicin' a liberal commission off that
+fencebuildin' job. There was a whole passel of letters back and forth
+between Nate and Harmon, and finally Nate got word to meet the victims
+at the depot.
+
+“There was the professor himself, an old dried-up relic with whiskers
+and a temper; and there was Miss Olivia Dixland, his niece and
+housekeeper, a slim, plain lookin' girl, who wore eyeglasses and a
+straight up and down dress. And there was a freight car full of crates
+and boxes and land knows what all. But nary sign was there of a private
+secretary and assistant. The professor told Nate that Mr. Harmon's
+health had suddenly broke down and he'd had to be sent South.
+
+“'It's a calamity,' says he; 'a real calamity! Harmon has been with
+me in my work from the beginnin'; and now, just as it is approachin'
+completion, he is taken away. They say he may die. It is very annoyin'.'
+
+“'Humph!' says Nate. 'Well, maybe it annoys HIM some, too; you can't
+tell. What you goin' to do for a secretary?'
+
+“'I understand,' says the professor, 'that there is a person of
+consider'ble scientific attainment residin' with you, Mr. Scudder, at
+present. Harmon met him while he was here; they were in the same class
+at college. Harmon recommended him highly. Olivia,' he says to the
+niece, 'what was the name of the young man whom Harmon recommended?'
+
+“'Tolliver, Uncle Ansel,' answers the girl, lookin' kind of disdainful
+at Nate. Somehow he had the notion that she didn't take to him fust
+rate.
+
+“'Hey?' sings out Nate. 'Tolliver? Why, that's Augustus! AUGUSTUS! well,
+I'll be switched!'
+
+“Augustus Tolliver was Nate's nephew from up Boston way. Him and Nate
+was livin' together at that time. Huldy Ann, Mrs. Scudder, was out West,
+in Omaha, takin' care of a cousin of hers who was a chronic invalid and,
+what's more to the purpose, owned a lot of stock in copper mines.
+
+“Augustus was a freckle-faced, spindle-shanked little critter, with
+spectacles and a soft, polite way of speakin' that made you want to
+build a fire under him to see if he could swear like a Christian. He
+had a big head with consider'ble hair on the top of it and nothin'
+underneath but what he called 'science' and 'sociology.' His science
+wa'n't nothin' but tommy-rot to Nate, and the 'sociology' was some kind
+of drivel about everybody bein' equal to everybody else, or better.
+'Seemed to think 'twas wrong to get a good price for a thing when you
+found a feller soft enough to pay it. Did you ever hear the beat of that
+in your life?' says Nate.
+
+“However, Augustus had soaked so much science and sociology into that
+weak noddle of his that they kind of made him drunk, as you might say,
+and the doctor had sent him down to board with the Scudders and sleep it
+off. 'Nervous prostration' was the way he had his symptoms labeled, and
+the nerve part was all right, for if a hen flew at him he'd holler and
+run. Scart! you never see such a scart cat in your born days. Scart of a
+boat, scart of being seasick, scart of a gun, scart of everything! Most
+special he was scart of Uncle Nate. The said uncle kept him that way
+so's he wouldn't dast to kick at the grub him and Huldy Ann give him, I
+guess.
+
+“'Augustus Tolliver,' says old Dixland, noddin'. 'Yes, that is the name.
+Has he had a sound scientific trainin'?'
+
+“'Scientific trainin'!' says Nate. 'Scientific trainin'? Why, you bet
+he's had it! That's the only kind of trainin' he HAS had. He'll be just
+the feller for you, Mr. Dixland.'
+
+“So that was settled, all but notifyin' Augustus. But Scudder sighted
+another speculation in the offin', and hove alongside of it.
+
+“'Mr. Harmon, when he was here,' says he, 'he mentioned you needin'
+a nice, dependable man to live on the island and be sort of general
+roustabout. My wife bein' away just now, and all, it struck me that I
+might as well be that man. Maybe my terms'll seem a little high, at fust
+mention, but--'
+
+“'Very good,' says the professor, 'very good. I'm sure you'll be
+satisfactory. Now please see to the unloading of that car. And be
+careful, VERY careful.'
+
+“Nate broke the news to Augustus that afternoon. He had his nose stuck
+in a book, as usual, and never heard, so Nate yelled at him like a mate
+on a tramp steamer, just to keep in trainin'.
+
+“'Who? Who? Who? What? What?' squeals Augustus, jumpin' out of the
+chair as if there was pins in it. 'What is it? Who did it? Oh, my poor
+nerves!'
+
+“'Drat your poor nerves!' Nate says. 'I've got a good promisin' job for
+you. Listen to this.'
+
+“Then he told about the professor's wantin' Gus to be assistant and help
+do what the old man called 'experiments.'
+
+“'Dixland?' says Gus, 'Ansel Hobart Dixland, the great scientist! And
+I'm to be HIS assistant? Assistant to the man who discovered DIXIUM and
+invented--'
+
+“'Oh, belay there!' snorts Nate, impatient. Tell me this--he's awful
+rich, ain't he?'
+
+“'Why, I believe--yes, Harmon said he was. But to think of MY bein'--'
+
+“'Now, nephew,' Nate cut in, 'let me talk to you a minute. Me and your
+Aunt Huldy Ann have been mighty kind to you sence you've been here, and
+here's your chance to do us a good turn. You stick close to science and
+the professor and let me attend to the finances. If this family ain't
+well off pretty soon it won't be your Uncle Nate's fault. Only don't you
+put your oar in where 'tain't needed.'
+
+“Lord love you, Gus didn't care about finances. He was so full of joy at
+bein' made assistant to the great Ansel Whiskers Dixland that he forgot
+everything else, nerves and all.
+
+“So in another day the four of 'em was landed on Ozone Island and so was
+the freight-car load of crates and boxes. Grub and necessaries was to be
+provided by Scudder--for salary as stated and commission understood.
+
+“It took Nate less than a week to find out what old Dixland was up to.
+When he learned it, he set down in the sand and fairly snorted disgust.
+The old idiot was cal'latin' to FLY. Seems that for years he'd been
+experimentin' with what he called 'aeroplanes,' and now he'd reached the
+stage where he b'lieved he could flap his wings and soar. 'Thinks I,'
+says Nate, 'your life work's cut out for you, Nate Scudder. You'll spend
+the rest of your days as gen'ral provider for the Ozone private asylum.'
+Well, Scudder wa'n't complainin' none at the outlook. He couldn't make a
+good livin' no easier.
+
+“The aeroplane was in sections in them boxes and crates. Nate and
+Augustus and the professor got out the sections and fitted 'em together.
+The buildin's on Ozone was all joined together--first the house, then
+the ell, then the wash-rooms and big sheds, and, finally, the barn.
+There was doors connectin', and you could go from house to barn, both
+downstairs and up, without steppin' outside once.
+
+“'Twas in the barn that they built what Whiskers called the 'flyin'
+stage.' 'Twas a long chute arrangement on trestles, and the idea was
+that the aeroplane was to get her start by slidin' down the chute, out
+through the big doors and off by the atmosphere route to glory. I say
+that was the IDEA. In practice she worked different.
+
+“Twice the professor made proclamations that everything was ready, and
+twice they started that flyin' machine goin'. The fust time Dixland
+was at the helm, and him and the aeroplane dropped headfust into the
+sandbank just outside the barn. The machine was underneath, and the
+pieces of it acted as a fender, so all the professor fractured was his
+temper. But it took ten days to get the contraption ready for the next
+fizzle. Then poor, shaky, scart Augustus was pilot, and he went so deep
+into the bank that Nate says he wondered whether 'twas wuth while doin'
+anything but orderin' the gravestone. But they dug him out at last,
+whole, but frightened blue, and his nerves was worse than ever after
+that.
+
+“Then old Dixland announces that he has discovered somethin' wrong in
+the principle of the thing, and they had to wait while he ordered some
+new fittin's from Boston.
+
+“Meanwhile there was other complications settin' in. Scudder was kept
+busy providin' grub and such like and helpin' the niece, Olivia,
+with the housework. Likewise he had his hands full keepin' the
+folks alongshore from findin' out what was goin' on. All this flyin'
+foolishness had to be a dead secret.
+
+“But, busy as he was, he found time to notice the thick acquaintance
+that was developin' between Augustus and Olivia. Them two was what the
+minister calls 'kindred sperrits.' Seems she was sufferin' from science
+same as he was and, more'n that, she was loaded to the gunwale with
+'social reform.' To hear the pair of 'em go on about helpin' the poor
+and 'settlement work' and such was enough, accordin' to Nate, to make
+you leave the table. But there! He couldn't complain. Olivia was her
+uncle's only heir, and Nate could see a rainbow of promise ahead for the
+Scudder family.
+
+“The niece was a nice, quiet girl. The only thing Nate had against her,
+outside of the sociology craziness and her not seemin' to take a shine
+to him, was her confounded pets. Nate said he never had no use for
+pets--lazy critters, eatin' up the victuals and costin' money--but
+Olivia was dead gone on 'em. She adopted an old reprobate of a tom-cat,
+which she labeled 'Galileo,' after an Eyetalian who invented spyglasses
+or somethin' similar, and a great big ugly dog that answered to the hail
+of 'Phillips Brooks'; she named him that because she said the original
+Phillips was a distinguished parson and a great philanthropist.
+
+“That dog was a healthy philanthropist. When Nate kicked him the first
+time, he chased him the whole length of the barn. After that they had to
+keep him chained up. He was just pinin' for a chance to swaller Scudder
+whole, and he showed it.
+
+“Well, as time went on, Olivia and Augustus got chummier and chummier.
+Nate give 'em all the chance possible to be together, and as for old
+Professor Whiskers, all he thought of, anyway, was his blessed flyin'
+machine. So things was shapin' themselves well, 'cordin' to Scudder's
+notion.
+
+“One afternoon Nate come, unexpected, to the top of a sand hill at
+t'other end of the island, and there, below, set Olivia and Augustus.
+He had a clove hitch 'round her waist, and they was lookin' into each
+other's spectacles as if they was windows in the pearly gates. Thinks
+Nate: 'They've signed articles,' and he tiptoed away, feelin' that life
+wa'n't altogether an empty dream.
+
+“They was lively hours, them that followed. To begin with, when Nate got
+back to the barn he found the professor layin' on the floor, under the
+flyin' stage, groanin' soulful but dismal. He'd slipped off one of the
+braces of the trestles and sprained both wrists and bruised himself till
+he wa'n't much more than one big lump. He hadn't bruised his tongue
+none to speak of, though, and his language wa'n't sprained so that you'd
+notice it. What broke him up most of all was that he'd got his aeroplane
+ready to 'fly' again, and now he was knocked out so's he couldn't be
+aboard when she went off the ways.
+
+“'It is the irony of fate,' says he.
+
+“'I got it off the blacksmith over to Wellmouth Centre,' Nate told him;
+'but HE might have got it from Fate, or whoever you mean. 'Twas slippery
+iron, I know that, and I warned you against steppin' on it yesterday.'
+
+“The professor more'n hinted that Nate was a dunderhead idiot, and then
+he commenced to holler for Tolliver; he wanted to see Tolliver right
+off. Scudder thought he'd ought to see a doctor, but he wouldn't, so
+Nate plastered him up best he could, got him into the big chair in the
+front room, and went huntin' Augustus. Him and Olivia was still
+camped in the sand bank. Gus's right arm had got tired by this time, I
+cal'late, but he had a new hitch with his left. Likewise they was still
+starin' into each other's specs.
+
+“'Excuse me for interruptin' the mesmerism,' says Nate, 'but the
+professor wants to see you.'
+
+“They jumped and broke away. But it took more'n that to bring 'em down
+out of the clouds. They'd been flyin' a good sight higher than the old
+aeroplane had yet.
+
+“'Uncle Nathan,' says Augustus, gettin' up and shakin' hands, 'I have
+the most wonderful news for you. It's hardly believable. You'll never
+guess it.'
+
+“'Give me three guesses and I'll win on the fust,' says Nate. 'You two
+are engaged.'
+
+“They looked at him as if he'd done somethin' wonderful. 'But, Uncle,'
+says Gus, shakin' hands again, 'just think! she's actually consented to
+marry me.'
+
+“'Well, that's gen'rally understood to be a part of engagin', ain't
+it?' says Nate. 'I'm glad to hear it. Miss Dixland, I congratulate you.
+You've got a fine, promisin' young man.'
+
+“That, to Nate's notion, was about the biggest lie he ever told, but
+Olivia swallered it for gospel. She seemed to thaw toward Scudder a
+little mite, but 'twa'n't at a permanent melt, by no means.
+
+“'Thank you, Mr. Scudder,' says she, still pretty frosty. 'I am full
+aware of Mr. Tolliver's merits. I'm glad to learn that YOU recognize
+them. He has told some things concernin' his stay at your home which--'
+
+“'Yes, yes,' says Nate, kind of hurried. 'Well, I'm sorry to dump bad
+news into a puddle of happiness like this, but your Uncle Ansel, Miss
+Dixland, has been tryin' to fly without his machine, and he's sorry for
+it.'
+
+“Then he told what had happened to the professor, and Olivia started on
+the run for the house. Augustus was goin', too, but Nate held him back.
+
+“'Wait a minute, Gus,' says he. 'Walk along with me; I want to talk with
+you. Now, as an older man, your nighest relation, and one that's come to
+love you like a son--yes, sir, like a son--I think it's my duty just now
+to say a word of advice. You're goin' to marry a nice girl that's comin'
+in for a lot of money one of these days. The professor, he's kind of
+old, his roof leaks consider'ble, and this trouble is likely to hurry
+the end along.
+
+“'Now, then,' Nate goes on, 'Augustus, my boy, what are you and that
+simple, childlike girl goin' to do with all that money? How are you
+goin' to take care of it? You and 'Livia--you mustn't mind my callin'
+her that 'cause she's goin' to be one of the family so soon--you'll
+want to be fussin' with science and such, and you won't have no time
+to attend to the finances. You'll need a good, safe person to be your
+financial manager. Well, you know me and you know your Aunt Huldy Ann.
+WE know all about financin'; WE'VE had experience. You just let us
+handle the bonds and coupons and them trifles. We'll invest 'em for you.
+We'll be yours and 'Livia's financial managers. As for our wages, maybe
+they'll seem a little high, but that's easy arranged. And--'
+
+“Gus interrupted then. 'Oh, that's all settled,' he says. 'Olivia and I
+have planned all that. When we're married we shall devote our lives to
+social work--to settlement work. All the money we ever get we shall use
+to help the poor. WE don't want any of it. We shall live AMONG the poor,
+live just as frugally as they do. Our money we shall give--every cent of
+it--to charity and--'
+
+“'Lord sakes!' yells Nate, 'DON'T talk that way! Don't! Be you crazy,
+too? Why--'
+
+“But Gus went on, talkin' a steady streak about livin' in a little
+tenement in what he called the 'slums' and chuckin' the money to this
+tramp and that, till Nate's head was whirlin'. 'Twa'n't no joke. He
+meant it and so did she, and they was just the pair of loons to do it,
+too.
+
+“Afore Nate had a chance to think up anything sensible to say, Olivia
+comes hollerin' for Gus to hurry. Off he went, and Nate followed
+along, holdin' his head and staggerin' like a voter comin' home from a
+political candidate's picnic. All he could think of was: 'THIS the end
+of all my plannin'! What--WHAT'LL Huldy Ann say to THIS?'
+
+“Nate found the professor bolstered up in his chair, with the other
+two standin' alongside. He was layin' down the law about that blessed
+aeroplane.
+
+“'No! no! NO! I tell you!' he roars, 'I'll see no doctor. My invention
+is ready at last, and, if I'm goin' to die, I'll die successful.
+Tolliver, you've been a faithful worker with me, and yours shall be the
+privilege of makin' the first flight. Wheel me to the window, Olivia,
+and let me see my triumph.'
+
+“But Olivia didn't move. Instead, she looked at Augustus and he at her.
+'Wheel me to the window!' yells Dixland. 'Tolliver, what are you waitin'
+for? The doors are open, the aeroplane is ready. Go this instant and
+fly.'
+
+“Augustus was a bird all right, 'cordin' to Nate's opinion, but he
+didn't seem anxious to spread his wings. He was white, and them nerves
+of his was all in a twitter. If ever there was a scart critter, 'twas
+him then.
+
+“'Go out and fly,' says Nate to him, pretty average ugly. 'Don't you
+hear the boss's order? Here, professor, I'll push you to the window.'
+
+“'Thank you, Scudder,' says Dixland. And then turnin' to Gus: 'Well,
+sir, may I ask why you wait?'
+
+“'Twas Olivia that answered. 'Uncle Ansel,' says she, 'I must tell you
+somethin'. I should have preferred tellin' you privately,' she puts in,
+glarin' at Nate, 'but it seems I can't. Mr. Tolliver and I are engaged
+to be married.'
+
+“Old Whiskers didn't seem to care a continental. All he had in his
+addled head was that flyin' contraption.
+
+“'All right, all right,' he snaps, fretty, 'I'm satisfied. He appears to
+be a decent young man enough. But now I want him to start my aeroplane.'
+
+“'No, Uncle Ansel,' goes on Olivia, 'I cannot permit him to risk his
+life in that way. His nerves are not strong and neither is his heart.
+Besides, the aeroplane has failed twice. Luckily no one was killed in
+the other trials, but the chances are that the third time may prove
+fatal.'
+
+“'Fatal, you imbecile!' shrieks the professor. 'It's perfected, I tell
+you! I--'
+
+“'It makes no difference. No, uncle, Augustus and I have made up our
+minds. His life and health are too precious; he must be spared for the
+grand work that we are to do together. No, Uncle Ansel, he shall NOT
+fly.'
+
+“Did you ever see a cat in a fit? That was the professor just then, so
+Nate said. He tried to wave his sprained wrists and couldn't; tried to
+stamp his foot and found it too lame. But his eyeglasses flashed sparks
+and his tongue spit fire.
+
+“'Are you goin' to start that machine?' he screams at the blue-white,
+shaky Augustus.
+
+“'No, Professor Dixland,' stammers Gus. 'No, sir, I'm sorry, but--'
+
+“'Why don't you ask Mr. Scudder to make the experiment, uncle?' suggests
+that confounded niece, smilin' the spitefullest smile.
+
+“'Scudder,' says the professor, 'I'll give you five thousand dollars
+cash to start in that aeroplane this moment.'
+
+“For a jiffy Nate was staggered. Five thousand dollars CASH--whew! But
+then he thought of how deep Gus had been shoved into that sandbank.
+And there was a new and more powerful motor aboard the thing now. Five
+thousand dollars ain't much good to a telescoped corpse. He fetched a
+long breath.
+
+“'Well, now, Mr. Dixland,' he says, 'I'd like to, fust rate, but you see
+I don't know nothin' about mechanics.'
+
+“'Professor--' begins Augustus. 'Twas the final straw. Old Whiskers
+jumped out of the chair, lameness and all.
+
+“'Out of this house, you ingrate!' he bellers. 'Out this instant! I
+discharge you. Go! go!'
+
+“He was actually frothin' at the mouth. I cal'late Olivia thought he was
+goin' to die, for she run to him.
+
+“'You'd better go, I think,' says she to her shakin' beau. 'Go, dear,
+now. I must stay with him for the present, but we will see each other
+soon. Go now, and trust me.'
+
+“'I disown you, you ungrateful girl,' foams her uncle. 'Scudder, I order
+you to put that--that creature off this island.'
+
+“'Yes, sir,' says Nate, polite; 'in about two shakes of a heifer's
+tail.'
+
+“He started for Augustus, and Gus started for the door. I guess Olivia
+might have interfered, but just then the professor keels over in a kind
+of faint and she had to tend to him. Gus darts out of the door with Nate
+after him. Scudder reached the beach just as his nephew was shovin' off
+in the boat, bound for the mainland.
+
+“'Consarn your empty head!' Nate yelled after him. 'See what you get by
+not mindin' me, don't you? I'm runnin' things on this island after this.
+I'm boss here; understand? When you're ready to sign a paper deedin'
+over ha'f that money your wife's goin' to get to me and Huldy Ann, maybe
+I'll let you come back. And perhaps then I'll square things for you with
+Dixland. But if you dare to set foot on these premises until then I'll
+murder you; I'll drown you; I'll cut you up for bait; I'll feed you to
+the dog.'
+
+“He sculled off, his oars rattlin' 'Hark from the tomb' in the rowlocks.
+He b'lieved Nate meant it all. Oh, Scudder had HIM trained all right.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE
+
+
+“Trust Nate for that,” interrupted Wingate. “He's just as much a born
+bully as he is a cheat and a skinflint.”
+
+“Yup,” went on Captain Sol. “Well, when Nate got back to the house the
+professor was alone in the chair, lookin' sick and weak. Olivia was up
+in her room havin' a cryin' fit. Nate got the old man to bed, made him
+some clam soup and hot tea, and fetched and carried for him like he was
+a baby. The professor's talk was mainly about the ungrateful desertion,
+as he called it, of his assistant.
+
+“'Keep him away from this island,' he says. 'If he comes, I shall commit
+murder; I know it.'
+
+“Scudder promised that Augustus shouldn't come back. The professor
+wanted guard kept night and day. Nate said he didn't know's he could
+afford so much time, and Dixland doubled his wages on the spot. So Nate
+agreed to stand double watches, made him comfort'ble for the night, and
+left him.
+
+“Olivia didn't come downstairs again. She didn't seem to want any
+supper, but Nate did and had it, a good one. Galileo, the cat, came
+yowlin' around, and Nate kicked him under the sofy. Phillips Brooks
+was howlin' starvation in the woodshed, and Scudder let him howl. If
+he starved to death Nate wouldn't put no flowers on his grave. Take it
+altogether, he was havin' a fairly good time.
+
+“And when, later on, he set alone up in his room over the kitchen, he
+begun to have a better one. Prospects looked good. Maybe old Dixland
+WOULD disown his niece. If he did, Nate figgered he was as healthy a
+candidate for adoption as anybody. And Augustus would have to come to
+terms or stay single. That is, unless him and Olivia got married on
+nothin' a week, paid yearly. Nate guessed Huldy Ann would think he'd
+managed pretty well.
+
+“He set there for a long while, thinkin', and then he says he cal'lates
+he must have dozed off. At any rate, next thing he knew he was settin'
+up straight in his chair, listenin'. It seemed to him that he'd heard a
+sound in the kitchen underneath.
+
+“He looked out of the window, and right away he noticed somethin'. 'Twas
+a beautiful, clear moonlight night, and the high board fence around the
+buildin's showed black against the white sand. And in that white
+strip was a ten-foot white gape. Nate had shut that gate afore he went
+upstairs. Who'd opened it? Then he heard the noise in the kitchen again.
+Somebody was talkin' down there.
+
+“Nate got up and tiptoed acrost the room. He was in his stockin' feet,
+so he didn't make a sound. He reached into the corner and took out his
+old duck gun. It was loaded, both barrels. Nate cocked the gun and crept
+down the back stairs.
+
+“There was a lamp burnin' low on the kitchen table, and there, in a
+couple of chairs hauled as close together as they could be, set
+that Olivia niece and Augustus. They was in a clove hitch again and
+whisperin' soft and slushy.
+
+“My! but Scudder was b'ilin'! He give one jump and landed in the middle
+of that kitchen floor.
+
+“'You--you--you!' he yelled, wavin' the shotgun. 'You're back here, are
+you? You know what I told you I'd do to you? Well, now, I'll do it.'
+
+“The pair of 'em had jumped about as far as Nate had, only the opposite
+way. Augustus was a paralyzed statue, but Olivia had her senses with
+her.
+
+“'Run, Augustus!' she screamed. 'He'll shoot you. Run!'
+
+“And then, with a screech like a siren whistle, Augustus commenced to
+run. Nate was between him and the outside door, so he bolted headfirst
+into the dining room. And after him went Nate Scudder, so crazy mad he
+didn't know what he was doin'.
+
+“'Twas pitch dark in the dining room, but through it they went rattlety
+bang! dishes smashin', chairs upsettin' and 'hurrah, boys!' to pay
+gen'rally. Then through the best parlor and into the front hall.
+
+“I cal'late Nate would have had him at the foot of the front stairs if
+it hadn't been for Galileo. That cat had been asleep on the sofy, and
+the noise and hullabaloo had stirred him up till he was as crazy as the
+rest of 'em. He run right under Nate's feet and down went Nate sprawlin'
+and both barrels of the shotgun bust loose like a couple of cannon.
+
+“Galileo took for tall timber, whoopin' anthems. Up them front stairs
+went Augustus, screechin' shrill, like a woman; he was SURE Nate meant
+to murder him now. And after him his uncle went on all fours, swearin'
+tremendous.
+
+“Then 'twas through one bedroom after another, and each one more crowded
+with noisy, smashable things than that previous. Nate said he could
+remember the professor roarin' 'Fire!' and 'Help!' as the two of 'em
+bumped into his bed, but they didn't stop--they was too busy. The whole
+length of the house upstairs they traveled, then through the ell, then
+the woodshed loft, and finally out into the upper story of the barn. And
+there Nate knew he had him. The ladder was down.
+
+“'Now!' says Nate. 'Now, you long-legged villain, if I don't give you
+what's comin' to you, then--Oh, there ain't no use in your climbin' out
+there; you can't get down.'
+
+“The big barn doors was open, and, in the moonlight, Nate could see
+Gus scramblin' up and around on the flyin' stage where the professor's
+aeroplane was perched, lookin' like some kind of magnified June bug.
+
+“'Come back, you fool!' Scudder yelled at him. 'Come back and be
+butchered. You might as well; it's too high for you to drop. You won't?
+Then I'll come after you.'
+
+“Nate says he never shall forget Augustus's face in the blue light when
+he see his uncle climbin' out on that stage after him. He was simply
+desperate--that's it, desperate. And the next thing he did was jump into
+the saddle of the machine and pull the startin' lever.
+
+“There was the buzz of the electric motor, a slippery, slidin' sound,
+one awful hair-raisin' whoop from Augustus, and then--'F-s-s-s-t!'--down
+the flyin' stage whizzed that aeroplane and out through the doors.
+
+“Nate set down on the trestles and waited for the sound of the smash.
+I guess he actually felt conscience stricken. Of course, he'd only done
+his duty, and yet--
+
+“But no smash came. Instead, there was a long scream from the
+kitchen--Olivia's voice that was. And then another yell that for pure
+joy beat anything ever heard.
+
+“'It flies!' screamed Professor Ansel Hobart Whiskers Dixland, from his
+bedroom window. 'At last! At last! It FLIES!'
+
+“It took Nate some few minutes to paw his way back through the shed loft
+and the ell over the things him and Gus knocked down on the fust lap,
+until he got to his room where the trouble had started. Then he went
+down to the kitchen and outdoor.
+
+“Olivia, a heavenly sort of look on her face, was standin' in the
+moonlight, with her hands clasped, lookin' up at the sky.
+
+“'It flies!' says she, in a kind of whisper over and over again. 'Oh! it
+FLIES!'
+
+“Alongside of her was old Dixland, wrapped in a bedquilt, forgettin' all
+about sprains and lameness; and he likewise was staring at the sky and
+sayin' over and over:
+
+“'It flies! It really FLIES!'
+
+“And Nate looked up, and there, scootin' around in circles, now up high
+and now down low, tippin' this way and tippin' that, was that aeroplane.
+And in the stillness you could hear the buzz of the motor and the yells
+of Augustus.
+
+“Down flopped Scudder in the sand. 'Great land of love,' he says, 'it
+FLIES!'
+
+“Well, for five minutes or so they watched that thing swoop and duck and
+sail up there overhead. And then, slow and easy as a feather in a May
+breeze, down she flutters and lands soft on a hummock a little ways off.
+And that Augustus--a fool for luck--staggers out of it safe and sound,
+and sets down and begins to cry.
+
+“The fust thing to reach him was Olivia. She grabbed him around the
+neck, and you never heard such goin's on as them two had. Nate come
+hurryin' up.
+
+“'Here you!' he says, pullin' 'em apart. 'That's enough of this. And
+you,' he adds to Gus, 'clear right out off this island. I won't make
+shark bait of you this time, but--'
+
+“And then comes Dixland, hippity-hop over the hummocks. 'My noble boy!'
+he sings out, fallin' all of a heap onto Augustus's round shoulders. 'My
+noble boy! My hero!'
+
+“Nate looked on for a full minute with his mouth open. Olivia went away
+toward the house. The professor and Gus was sheddin' tears like a couple
+of waterin' pots.
+
+“'Come! come!' says Scudder finally; 'get up, Mr. Dixland; you'll catch
+cold. Now then, you Tolliver, toddle right along to your boat. Don't you
+worry, professor, I'll fix him so's he won't come here no more.'
+
+“But the professor turned on him like a flash.
+
+“'How dare you interfere?' says he. 'I forgive him everything. He is a
+hero. Why, man, he FLEW!'
+
+“Olivia came up behind and touched Nate on the shoulders. 'Don't
+you think you'd better go, Mr. Scudder?' she purred. 'I've unchained
+Phillips Brooks.'
+
+“Nate swears he never made better time than he done gettin' to the shore
+and the boat Augustus had come over in. But that philanthropist dog only
+missed the supper he'd been waitin' for by about a foot and a half, even
+as 'twas.
+
+“And that was the end of it, fur's Nate was concerned. Olivia was boss
+from then on, and Scudder wa'n't allowed to land on his own island. And
+pretty soon they all went away, flyin' machine and all, and now Gus and
+Olivia are married.”
+
+“Well, by gum!” cried Wingate. “Say, that must have broke Nate's heart
+completely. All that good money goin' to the poor. Ha! ha!”
+
+“Yes,” said Captain Sol, with a broad grin. “Nate told me that every
+time he realized that Gus's flyin' at all was due to his scarin' him
+into it, it fairly made him sick of life.”
+
+“What did Huldy Ann say? I'll bet the fur flew when SHE heard of it!”
+
+“I guess likely it did. Scudder says her jawin's was the worst of all.
+Her principal complaint was that he didn't take up with the professor's
+five-thousand offer and try to fly. 'What if 'twas risky?' she says.
+'If anything happened to you the five thousand would have come to your
+heirs, wouldn't it? But no! you never think of no one but yourself.'”
+
+Mr. Wingate glanced at his watch. “Good land!” he cried, “I didn't
+realize 'twas so late. I must trot along down and meet Stitt. He and I
+are goin' to corner the clam market.”
+
+“I must be goin', too,” said the depot master, rising and moving toward
+the door, picking up his cap on the way. He threw open the door and
+exclaimed, “Hello! here's Sim. What you got on your mind, Sim?”
+
+Mr. Phinney looked rather solemn. “I wanted to speak with you a minute,
+Sol,” he began. “Hello! Barzilla, I didn't know you was here.”
+
+“I shan't be here but one second longer,” replied Mr. Wingate, as he and
+Phinney shook hands. “I'm late already. Bailey'll think I ain't comin'.
+Good-by, boys. See you this afternoon, maybe.”
+
+“Yes, do,” cried Berry, as his guest hurried down to the gate. “I want
+to hear about those automobiles over your way. You ain't bought one,
+have you, Barzilla?”
+
+Wingate grinned over his shoulder. “No,” he called, “I ain't. But other
+folks you know have. It's the biggest joke on earth. You and Sim'll want
+to hear it.”
+
+He waved a big hand and walked briskly up the Shore Road. The depot
+master turned to his friend.
+
+“Well, Sim?” he asked.
+
+“Well, Sol,” answered the building mover gravely, “I've just met Mr.
+Hilton, the minister, and he told me somethin' about Olive Edwards,
+somethin' I thought you'd want to know. You said for me to find out what
+she was cal'latin' to do when she had to give up her home and--”
+
+“I know what I said,” interrupted the depot master rather sharply. “What
+did Hilton say?”
+
+“Mr. Hilton told me not to tell,” continued Phinney, “and I shan't tell
+nobody but you, Sol. I know you wont t mention it. The minister says
+that Olive's hard up as she can be. All she's got in the world is the
+little furniture and store stuff in her house. The store stuff don't
+amount to nothin', but the furniture belonged to her pa and ma, and she
+set a heap by it. Likewise, as everybody knows, she's awful proud and
+self-respectin'. Anything like charity would kill her. Now out West--in
+Omaha or somewheres--she's got a cousin who owed her dad money. Old
+Cap'n Seabury lent this Omaha man two or three thousand dollars and set
+him up in business. Course, the debt's outlawed, but Olive don't
+realize that, or, if she did, it wouldn't count with her. She couldn't
+understand how law would have any effect on payin' money you honestly
+owe. She's written to the Omaha cousin, tellin' him what a scrape she's
+in and askin' him to please, if convenient, let her have a thousand or
+so on account. She figgers if she gets that, she can go to Bayport or
+Orham or somewheres and open another notion store.”
+
+Captain Berry lit a cigar. “Hum!” he said, after a minute. “You say
+she's written to this chap. Has she got an answer yet?”
+
+“No, not any definite one. She heard from the man's wife sayin' that her
+husband--the cousin--had gone on a fishin' trip somewheres up in Canady
+and wouldn't be back afore the eighth of next month. Soon's he does come
+he'll write her. But Mr. Hilton thinks, and so do I--havin' heard a
+few things about this cousin--that it's mighty doubtful if he sends any
+money.”
+
+“Yes, I shouldn't wonder. Where's Olive goin' to stay while she's
+waitin' to hear?”
+
+“In her own house. Mr. Hilton went to Williams and pleaded with him, and
+he finally agreed to let her stay there until the 'Colonial' is moved
+onto the lot. Then the Edwardses house'll be tore down and Olive'll have
+to go, of course.”
+
+The depot master puffed thoughtfully at his cigar.
+
+“She won't hear before the tenth, at the earliest,” he said. “And if
+Williams begins to move his 'Colonial' at once, he'll get it to her lot
+by the seventh, sure. Have you given him your figures for the job?”
+
+“Handed 'em in this very mornin'. One of his high-and-mighty servants,
+all brass buttons and braid, like a feller playin' in the band, took my
+letter and condescended to say he'd pass it on to Williams. I'd liked
+to have kicked the critter, just to see if he COULD unbend; but I jedged
+'twouldn't be good business.”
+
+“Probably not. If the 'Colonial' gets to Olive's lot afore she hears
+from the Omaha man, what then?”
+
+“Well, that's the worst of it. The minister don't know what she'll do.
+There's plenty of places where she'd be more'n welcome to visit a spell,
+but she's too proud to accept. Mr. Hilton's afraid she'll start for
+Boston to hunt up a job, or somethin'. You know how much chance she
+stands of gettin' a job that's wuth anything.”
+
+Phinney paused, anxiously awaiting his companion's reply. When it came
+it was very unsatisfactory.
+
+“I'm goin' to the depot,” said the Captain, brusquely. “So long, Sim.”
+
+He slammed the door of the house behind him, strode to the gate, flung
+it open, and marched on. Simeon gazed in astonishment, then hurried
+to overtake him. Ranging alongside, he endeavored to reopen the
+conversation, but to no purpose. The depot master would not talk. They
+turned into Cross Street.
+
+“Well!” exclaimed Mr. Phinney, panting from his unaccustomed hurry,
+“what be we, runnin' a race? Why! . . . Oh, how d'ye do, Mr. Williams,
+sir? Want to see me, do you?”
+
+The magnate of East Harniss stepped forward.
+
+“Er--Phinney,” he said, “I want a moment of your time. Morning, Berry.”
+
+“Mornin', Williams,” observed Captain Sol brusquely. “All right, Sim.
+I'll wait for you farther on.”
+
+He continued his walk. The building mover stood still. Mr. Williams
+frowned with lofty indignation.
+
+“Phinney,” he said, “I've just looked over those figures of yours, your
+bid for moving my new house. The price is ridiculous.”
+
+Simeon attempted a pleasantry. “Yes,” he answered, “I thought 'twas
+ridic'lous myself; but I needed the money, so I thought I could afford
+to be funny.”
+
+The Williams frown deepened.
+
+“I didn't mean ridiculously low,” he snapped; “I meant ridiculously
+high. I'd rather help out you town fellows if I can, but you can't work
+me for a good thing. I've written to Colt and Adams, of Boston, and
+accepted their offer. You had your chance and didn't see fit to take it.
+That's all. I'm sorry.”
+
+Simeon was angry; also a trifle skeptical.
+
+“Mr. Williams,” he demanded, “do you mean to tell me that THEM people
+have agreed to move you cheaper'n I can?”
+
+“Their price--their actual price may be no lower; but considering their
+up-to-date outfit and--er--progressive methods, they're cheaper. Yes.
+Morning, Phinney.”
+
+He turned on his heel and walked off. Mr. Phinney, crestfallen and
+angrier than ever, moved on to where the depot master stood waiting for
+him. Captain Sol smiled grimly.
+
+“You don't look merry as a Christmas tree, Sim,” he observed. “What did
+his Majesty have to say to you?”
+
+Simeon related the talk with Williams. The depot master's grim smile
+grew broader.
+
+“Sim,” he asked, with quiet sarcasm, “don't you realize that progressive
+methods are necessary in movin' a house?”
+
+Phinney tried to smile in return, but the attempt was a failure.
+
+“Yes,” went on the Captain. “Well, if you can't take the Grand
+Panjandrum home, you can set on the fence and see him go by. That
+ought to be honor enough, hadn't it? However, I may need some of your
+ridiculous figgers on a movin' job of my own, pretty soon. Don't be TOO
+comical, will you?”
+
+“What do you mean by that, Sol Berry?”
+
+“I mean that I may decide to move my own house.”
+
+“Move your OWN house? Where to, for mercy sakes?”
+
+“To that lot on Main Street that belongs to Abner Payne. Abner has
+wanted to buy my lot here on the Shore Road for a long time. He knows
+it'll make a fine site for some rich bigbug's summer 'cottage.' He would
+have bought the house, too, but I think too much of that to sell it.
+Now Abner's come back with another offer. He'll swap my lot for the Main
+Street one, pay my movin' expenses and a fair 'boot' besides. He don't
+really care for my HOUSE, you understand; it's my LAND he's after.”
+
+“Are you goin' to take it up?”
+
+“I don't know. The Main Street lot's a good one, and my house'll look
+good on it. And I'll make money by the deal.”
+
+“Yes, but you've always swore by that saltwater view of yours. Told me
+yourself you never wanted to live anywheres else.”
+
+Captain Sol took the cigar from his lips, looked at it, then threw it
+violently into the gutter.
+
+“What difference does it make where I live?” he snarled. “Who in blazes
+cares where I live or whether I live at all?”
+
+“Sol Berry, what on airth--”
+
+“Shut up! Let me alone, Sim! I ain't fit company for anybody just now.
+Clear out, there's a good feller.”
+
+The next moment he was striding down the hill. Mr. Phinney drew a long
+breath, scratched his head and shook it solemnly. WHAT did it all mean?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN
+
+
+The methods of Messrs. Colt and Adams, the Boston firm of building
+movers, were certainly progressive, if promptness in getting to work
+is any criterion. Two days after the acceptance of their terms by Mr.
+Williams, a freight car full of apparatus arrived at East Harniss. Then
+came a foreman and a gang of laborers. Horses were hired, and within a
+week the “pure Colonial” was off its foundations and on its way to the
+Edwards lot. The moving was no light task. The big house must be brought
+along the Shore Road to the junction with the Hill Boulevard, then swung
+into that aristocratic highway and carried up the long slope, around the
+wide curve, to its destination.
+
+Mr. Phinney, though he hated the whole operation, those having it in
+charge, and the mighty Williams especially, could not resist stealing
+down to see how his successful rivals were progressing with the work
+he had hoped to do. It caused him much chagrin to see that they were
+getting on so very well. One morning, after breakfast, as he stood at
+the corner of the Boulevard and the Shore Road, he found himself engaged
+in a mental calculation.
+
+Three days more and they would swing into the Boulevard; four or five
+days after that and they would be abreast the Edwards lot. Another day
+and . . . Poor Olive! She would be homeless. Where would she go? It
+was too early for a reply from the Omaha cousin, but Simeon, having
+questioned the minister, had little hope that that reply would be
+favorable. Still it was a chance, and if the money SHOULD come before
+the “pure Colonial” reached the Edwards lot, then the widow would at
+least not be driven penniless from her home. She would have to leave
+that home in any event, but she could carry out her project of opening
+another shop in one of the neighboring towns. Otherwise . . . Mr.
+Phinney swore aloud.
+
+“Humph!” said a voice behind him. “I agree with you, though I don't
+know what it's all about. I ain't heard anything better put for a long
+while.”
+
+Simeon spun around, as he said afterwards, “like a young one's
+pinwheel.” At his elbow stood Captain Berry, the depot master, hands
+in pockets, cigar in mouth, the personification of calmness and
+imperturbability. He had come out of his house, which stood close to the
+corner, and walked over to join his friend.
+
+“Land of love!” exclaimed Simeon. “Why don't you scare a fellow to
+death, tiptoein' around? I never see such a cat-foot critter!”
+
+Captain Sol smiled. “Jumpin' it, ain't they?” he said, nodding toward
+the “Colonial.” “Be there by the tenth, won't it?”
+
+“Tenth!” Mr. Phinney sniffed disgust. “It'll be there by the sixth, or I
+miss my guess.”
+
+“Yup. Say, Sim, how soon could you land that shanty of mine in the road
+if I give you the job to move it?”
+
+“I couldn't get it up to the Main Street lot inside of a fortnight,”
+ replied Sim, after a moment's reflection. “Fur's gettin' it in the road
+goes, I could have it here day after to-morrow if I had gang enough.”
+
+The depot master took the cigar out of his mouth and blew a ring of
+smoke. “All right,” he drawled, “get gang enough.”
+
+Phinney jumped. “You mean you've decided to take up with Payne's offer
+and swap your lot for his?” he gasped. “Why, only two or three days ago
+you said--”
+
+“Ya-as. That was two or three days ago, and I've been watchin' the
+'Colonial' since. I cal'late the movin' habit's catchin'. You have your
+gang here by noon to-day.”
+
+“Sol Berry, are you crazy? You ain't seen Abner Payne; he's out of
+town--”
+
+“Don't have to see him. He's made me an offer and I'll write and accept
+it.”
+
+“But you've got to have a selectmen's permit to move--”
+
+“Got it. I went up and saw the chairman an hour ago. He's a friend of
+mine. I nominated him town-meetin' day.”
+
+“But,” stammered Phinney, very much upset by the suddenness of it all,
+“you ain't got my price nor--”
+
+“Drat your price! Give it when I ask it. See here, Sim, are you goin' to
+have my house in the middle of the road by day after to-morrer? Or was
+that just talk?”
+
+“'Twa'n't talk. I can have it there, but--”
+
+“All right,” said Captain Sol coolly, “then have it.”
+
+Hands in pockets, he strolled away. Simeon sat down on a rock by the
+roadside and whistled.
+
+However, whistling was a luxurious and time-wasting method of expressing
+amazement, and Mr. Phinney could not afford luxuries just then. For the
+rest of that day he was a busy man. As Bailey Stitt expressed it, he
+“flew round like a sand flea in a mitten,” hiring laborers, engaging
+masons, and getting his materials ready. That very afternoon the masons
+began tearing down the chimneys of the little Berry house. Before the
+close of the following day it was on the rollers. By two of the day
+after that it was in the middle of the Shore Road, just when its mover
+had declared it should be. They were moving it, furniture and all,
+and Captain Sol was, as he said, going to “stay right aboard all the
+voyage.” No cooking could be done, of course, but the Captain arranged
+to eat at Mrs. Higgins's hospitable table during the transit. His sudden
+freak was furnishing material for gossip throughout the village, but he
+did not care. Gossip concerning his actions was the last thing in the
+world to trouble Captain Sol Berry.
+
+The Williams's “Colonial” was moving toward the corner at a rapid
+rate, and the foreman of the Boston moving firm walked over to see Mr.
+Phinney.
+
+“Say,” he observed to Simeon, who, the perspiration streaming down
+his face, was resting for a moment before recommencing his labor of
+arranging rollers; “say,” observed the foreman, “we'll be ready to turn
+into the Boulevard by tomorrer night and you're blockin' the way.”
+
+“That's all right,” said Simeon, “we'll be past the Boulevard corner by
+that time.”
+
+He thought he was speaking the truth, but next morning, before work
+began, Captain Berry appeared. He had had breakfast and strolled around
+to the scene of operations.
+
+“Well,” asked Phinney, “how'd it seem to sleep on wheels?”
+
+“Tiptop,” replied the depot master. “Like it fust rate. S'pose my next
+berth will be somewheres up there, won't it?”
+
+He was pointing around the corner instead of straight ahead. Simeon
+gaped, his mouth open.
+
+“Up THERE?” he cried. “Why, of course not. That's the Boulevard. We're
+goin' along the Shore Road.”
+
+“That so? I guess not. We're goin' by the Boulevard. Can go that way,
+can't we?”
+
+“Can?” repeated Simeon aghast. “Course we CAN! But it's like boxin' the
+whole compass backward to get ha'f a p'int east of no'th. It's way round
+Robin Hood's barn. It'll take twice as long and cost--”
+
+“That's good,” interrupted the Captain. “I like to travel, and I'm
+willin' to pay for it. Think of the view I'll get on the way.”
+
+“But your permit from the selectmen--” began Phinney. Berry held up his
+hand.
+
+“My permit never said nothin' about the course to take,” he answered,
+his eye twinkling just a little. “There, Sim, you're wastin' time. I
+move by the Hill Boulevard.”
+
+And into the Boulevard swung the Berry house. The Colt and Adams foreman
+was an angry man when he saw the beams laid in that direction. He rushed
+over and asked profane and pointed questions.
+
+“Thought you said you was goin' straight ahead?” he demanded.
+
+“Thought I was,” replied Simeon, “but, you see, I'm only navigator of
+this craft, not owner.”
+
+“Where is the blankety blank?” asked the foreman.
+
+“If you're referrin' to Cap'n Berry, I cal'late you'll find him at
+the depot,” answered Phinney. To the depot went the foreman. Receiving
+little satisfaction there, he hurried to the home of his employer, Mr.
+Williams. The magnate, red-faced and angry, returned with him to
+the station. Captain Sol received them blandly. Issy, who heard the
+interview which followed, declared that the depot master was so cool
+that “an iceberg was a bonfire 'longside of him.” Issy's description
+of this interview, given to a dozen townspeople within the next three
+hours, was as follows:
+
+“Mr. Williams,” said the wide-eyed Issy, “he comes postin' into the
+waitin' room, his foreman with him. Williams marches over to Cap'n Sol
+and he says, 'Berry,' he says, 'are you responsible for the way that
+house of yours is moved?'
+
+“Cap'n Sol bowed and smiled. 'Yes,' says he, sweet as a fresh scallop.
+
+“'You're movin' it to Main Street, aren't you? I so understood.'
+
+“'You understood correct. That's where she's bound.'
+
+“'Then what do you mean by turning out of your road and into mine?'
+
+“'Oh, I don't own any road. Have you bought the Boulevard? The selectmen
+ought to have told us that. I s'posed it was town thoroughfare.'
+
+“Mr. Williams colored up a little. 'I didn't mean my road in that
+sense,' he says. 'But the direct way to Main Street is along the
+shore, and everybody knows it. Now why do you turn from that into the
+Boulevard?'
+
+“Cap'n Sol took a cigar from his pocket. 'Have one?' says he, passin' it
+toward Mr. Williams. 'No? Too soon after breakfast, I s'pose. Why do
+I turn off?' he goes on. 'Well, I'll tell you. I'm goin' to stay right
+aboard my shack while it's movin', and it's so much pleasanter a ride up
+the hill that I thought I'd go that way. I always envied them who could
+afford a house on the Boulevard, and now I've got the chance to have one
+there--for a spell. I'm sartin I shall enjoy it.'
+
+“The foreman growled, disgusted. Mr. Williams got redder yet.
+
+“'Don't you understand?' he snorts. 'You're blockin' the way of the
+house I'M movin'. I have capable men with adequate apparatus to move
+it, and they would be able to go twice as fast as your one-horse country
+outfit. You're blockin' the road. Now they must follow you. It's an
+outrage!'
+
+“Cap'n Sol smiled once more. 'Too bad,' says he. 'It's a pity such
+a nice street ain't wider. If it was my street in my town--I b'lieve
+that's what you call East Harniss, ain't it?--seems to me I'd widen it.'
+
+“The boss of 'my town' ground his heel into the sand. 'Berry,' he snaps,
+'are you goin' to move that house over the Boulevard ahead of mine?'
+
+“The Cap'n looked him square in the eye. 'Williams,' says he, 'I am.'
+
+“The millionaire turned short and started to go.
+
+“'You'll pay for it,' he snarls, his temper gettin' free at last.
+
+“'I cal'late to,' purrs the Cap'n. 'I gen'rally do pay for what I want,
+and a fair price, at that. I never bought in cheap mortgages and held
+'em for clubs over poor folks, never in my life. Good mornin'.'
+
+“And right to Mr. Williams's own face, too,” concluded Issy. “WHAT do
+you think of that?”
+
+Here was defiance of authority and dignity, a sensation which should
+have racked East Harniss from end to end. But most of the men in the
+village, the tradespeople particularly, had another matter on their
+minds, namely, Major Cuthbertson Scott Hardee, of “Silverleaf Hall.” The
+Major and his debts were causing serious worriment.
+
+The creditors of the Major met, according to agreement, on the Monday
+evening following their previous gathering at the club. Obed Gott, one
+of the first to arrive, greeted his fellow members with an air of gloomy
+triumph and a sort of condescending pity.
+
+Higgins, the “general store” keeper, acting as self-appointed chairman,
+asked if anyone had anything to report. For himself, he had seen the
+Major and asked point-blank for payment of his bill. The Major had been
+very polite and was apparently much concerned that his fellow townsmen
+should have been inconvenienced by any neglect of his. He would write to
+his attorneys at once, so he said.
+
+“He said a whole lot more, too,” added Higgins. “Said he had never been
+better served than by the folks in this town, and that I kept a fine
+store, and so on and so forth. But I haven't got any money yet. Anybody
+else had any better luck?”
+
+No one had, although several had had similar interviews with the master
+of “Silverleaf Hall.”
+
+“Obed looks as if he knew somethin',” remarked Weeks. “What is it,
+Obed?”
+
+Mr. Gott scornfully waved his hand.
+
+“You fellers make me laugh,” he said. “You talk and talk, but you don't
+do nothin'. I b'lieve in doin', myself. When I went home t'other night,
+thinks I: 'There's one man that might know somethin' 'bout old Hardee,
+and that's Godfrey, the hotel man.' So I wrote to Godfrey up to Boston
+and I got a letter from him. Here 'tis.”
+
+He read the letter aloud. Mr. Godfrey wrote that he knew nothing about
+Major Hardee further than that he had been able to get nothing from him
+in payment for his board.
+
+“So I seized his trunk,” the letter concluded. “There was nothing in it
+worth mentioning, but I took it on principle. The Major told me a
+lot about writing to his attorneys for money, but I didn't pay much
+attention to that. I'm afraid he's an old fraud, but I can't help liking
+him, and if I had kept on running my hotel I guess he would have got
+away scot-free.”
+
+“There!” exclaimed the triumphant Obed, with a sneer, “I guess that
+settles it, don't it? Maybe you'd be willin' to turn your bills over to
+Squire Baker now.”
+
+But they were not willing. Higgins argued, and justly, that although the
+Major was in all probability a fraud, not even a lawyer could get water
+out of a stone, and that when a man had nothing, suing him was a waste
+of time and cash.
+
+“Besides,” he said, “there's just a chance that he may have attorneys
+and property somewheres else. Let's write him a letter and every one of
+us sign it, tellin' him that we'll call on him Tuesday night expectin'
+to be paid in full. If we call and don't get any satisfaction, why,
+we ain't any worse off, and then we can--well, run him out of town, if
+nothin' more.”
+
+So the letter was written and signed by every man there. It was a long
+list of signatures and an alarming total of indebtedness. The letter was
+posted that night.
+
+The days that followed seemed long to Obed. He was ill-natured at home
+and ugly at the shop, and Polena declared that he was “gettin' so a body
+couldn't live with him.” Her own spirits were remarkably high, and Obed
+noticed that, as the days went by, she seemed to be unusually excited.
+On Thursday she announced that she was going to Orham to visit her
+niece, one Sarah Emma Cahoon, and wouldn't be back right off. He knew
+better than to object, and so she went.
+
+That evening each of the signers of the letter to Major Hardee received
+a courteous note saying that the Major would be pleased to receive the
+gentlemen at the Hall. Nothing was said about payment.
+
+So, after some discussion, the creditors marched in procession across
+the fields and up to “Silverleaf Hall.”
+
+“Hardee's been to Orham to-day,” whispered the keeper of the livery
+stable, as they entered the yard. “He drove over this mornin' and come
+back to-night.”
+
+“DROVE over!” exclaimed Obed, halting in his tracks. “He did? Where'd he
+get the team? I'll bet five dollars you was soft enough to let him have
+it, and never said a word. Well, if you ain't--By jimmy! you wait till I
+get at him! I'll show you that he can't soft soap me.”
+
+Augustus met them at the door and ushered them into the old-fashioned
+parlor. The Major, calm, cool, and imperturbably polite, was waiting to
+receive them. He made some observation concerning the weather.
+
+“The day's fine enough,” interrupted Obed, pushing to the front, “but
+that ain't what we come here to talk about. Are you goin' to pay us what
+you owe? That's what we want to know.”
+
+The “gentleman of the old school” did not answer immediately. Instead he
+turned to the solemn servant at his elbow.
+
+“Augustus,” he said, “you may make ready.” Then, looking serenely at the
+irate Mr. Gott, whose clenched fist rested under the center table, which
+he had thumped to emphasize his demands, the Major asked:
+
+“I beg your pardon, my dear sir, but what is the total of my
+indebtedness to you?”
+
+“Nineteen dollars and twenty-eight cents, and I want you to understand
+that--”
+
+Major Hardee held up a slim, white hand.
+
+“One moment, if you please,” he said. “Now, Augustus.”
+
+Augustus opened the desk in the corner and produced an imposing stack of
+bank notes. Then he brought forth neat piles of halves, quarters, dimes,
+and pennies, and arranged the whole upon the table. Obed's mouth and
+those of his companions gaped in amazement.
+
+“Have you your bill with you, Mr. Gott?” inquired the Major.
+
+Dazedly Mr. Gott produced the required document.
+
+“Thank you. Augustus, nineteen twenty-eight to this gentleman. Kindly
+receipt the bill, Mr. Gott, if you please. A mere formality, of course,
+but it is well to be exact. Thank you, sir. And now, Mr. Higgins.”
+
+One by one the creditors shamefacedly stepped forward, received the
+amount due, receipted the bill, and stepped back again. Mr. Peters, the
+photographer, was the last to sign.
+
+“Gentlemen,” said the Major, “I am sorry that my carelessness in
+financial matters should have caused you this trouble, but now that you
+are here, a representative gathering of East Harniss's men of affairs,
+upon this night of all nights, it seems fitting that I should ask for
+your congratulations. Augustus.”
+
+The wooden-faced Augustus retired to the next room and reappeared
+carrying a tray upon which were a decanter and glasses.
+
+“Gentlemen,” continued the Major, “I have often testified to my
+admiration and regard for your--perhaps I may now say OUR--charming
+village. This admiration and regard has extended to the fair daughters
+of the township. It may be that some of you have conscientious scruples
+against the use of intoxicants. These scruples I respect, but I am sure
+that none of you will refuse to at least taste a glass of wine with me
+when I tell you that I have this day taken one of the fairest to love
+and cherish during life.”
+
+He stepped to the door of the dining room, opened it, and said quietly,
+“My dear, will you honor us with your presence?”
+
+There was a rustle of black silk and there came through the doorway the
+stately form of her who had been Mrs. Polena Ginn.
+
+“Gentlemen,” said the Major, “permit me to present to you my wife, the
+new mistress of 'Silverleaf Hall.'”
+
+The faces of the ex-creditors were pictures of astonishment. Mr. Gott's
+expressive countenance turned white, then red, and then settled to a
+mottled shade, almost as if he had the measles. Polena rushed to his
+side.
+
+“O Obed!” she exclaimed. “I know we'd ought to have told you, but 'twas
+only Tuesday the Major asked me, and we thought we'd keep it a secret
+so's to s'prise you. Mr. Langworthy over to Orham married us, and--”
+
+“My dear,” her husband blandly interrupted, “we will not intrude our
+private affairs upon the patience of these good friends. And now,
+gentlemen, let me propose a toast: To the health and happiness of the
+mistress of 'Silverleaf Hall'! Brother Obed, I--”
+
+The outside door closed with a slam; “Brother Obed” had fled.
+
+A little later, when the rest of the former creditors of the Major came
+out into the moonlight, they found their companion standing by the
+gate gazing stonily into vacancy. “Hen” Leadbetter, who, with Higgins,
+brought up the rear of the procession, said reflectively:
+
+“When he fust fetched out that stack of money I couldn't scarcely
+b'lieve my eyes. I begun to think that we fellers had put our foot in
+it for sartin, and had lost a mighty good customer; but, of course, it's
+all plain enough NOW.”
+
+“Yes,” remarked Weeks with a nod; “I allers heard that P'lena kept a
+mighty good balance in the bank.”
+
+“It looks to me,” said Higgins slyly, “as if we owed Obed here a vote of
+thanks. How 'bout that, Obed?”
+
+And then Major Hardee's new brother-in-law awoke with a jump.
+
+“Aw, you go to grass!” he snarled, and tramped savagely off down the
+hill.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE WIDOW BASSETT
+
+
+These developments, Major Hardee's marriage and Mr. Gott's discomfiture,
+overshadowed, for the time, local interest in the depot master's house
+moving. This was, in its way, rather fortunate, for those who took the
+trouble to walk down to the lower end of the Boulevard were astonished
+to see how very slowly the moving was progressing.
+
+“Only one horse, Sim?” asked Captain Hiram Baker. “Only one! Why, it'll
+take you forever to get through, won't it?”
+
+“I'm afraid it'll take quite a spell,” admitted Mr. Phinney.
+
+“Where's your other one, the white one?”
+
+“The white horse,” said Simeon slowly, “ain't feelin' just right and
+I've had to lay him off.”
+
+“Humph! that's too bad. How does Sol act about it? He's such a hustler,
+I should think--”
+
+“Sol,” interrupted Sim, “ain't unreasonable. He understands.”
+
+He chuckled inwardly as he said it. Captain Sol did understand. Also Mr.
+Phinney himself was beginning to understand a little.
+
+The very day on which Williams and his foreman had called on the depot
+master and been dismissed so unceremoniously, that official paid a short
+visit to his mover.
+
+“Sim,” he said, the twinkle still in his eye, “his Majesty, Williams
+the Conqueror, was in to see me just now and acted real peevish. He was
+pretty disrespectful to you, too. Called your outfit 'one horse.' That's
+a mistake, because you've got two horses at work right now. It seems a
+shame to make a great man like that lie. Hadn't you better lay off one
+of them horses?”
+
+“Lay one OFF?” exclaimed Simeon. “What for? Why, we'll be slow enough,
+as 'tis. With only one horse we wouldn't get through for I don't know
+how long.”
+
+“That's so,” murmured the Captain. “I s'pose with one horse you'd hardly
+reach the middle of the Boulevard by--well, before the tenth of the
+month. Hey?”
+
+The tenth of the month! The TENTH! Why, it was on the tenth that that
+Omaha cousin of Olive Edwards was to--Mr. Phinney began to see--to see
+and to grin, slow but expansive.
+
+“Hm-m-m!” he mused.
+
+“Yes,” observed Captain Sol. “That white horse of yours looks sort of
+ailin' to me, Sim. I think he needs a rest.”
+
+And, sure enough, next day the white horse was pronounced unfit and
+taken back to the stable. The depot master's dwelling moved, but that is
+all one could say truthfully concerning its progress.
+
+At the depot the Captain was quieter than usual. He joked with his
+assistant less than had been his custom, and for the omission Issy
+was duly grateful. Sometimes Captain Sol would sit for minutes without
+speaking. He seemed to be thinking and to be pondering some grave
+problem. When his friends, Mr. Wingate, Captain Stitt, Hiram Baker, and
+the rest, dropped in on him he cheered up and was as conversational as
+ever. After they had gone he relapsed into his former quiet mood.
+
+“He acts sort of blue, to me,” declared Issy, speaking from the depths
+of sensational-novel knowledge. “If he was a younger man I'd say he was
+most likely in love. Ah, hum! I s'pose bein' in love does get a feller
+mournful, don't it?”
+
+Issy made this declaration to his mother only. He knew better than to
+mention sentiment to male acquaintances. The latter were altogether too
+likely to ask embarrassing questions.
+
+Mr. Wingate and Captain Stitt were still in town, although their stay
+was drawing to a close. One afternoon they entered the station together.
+Captain Sol seemed glad to see them.
+
+“Set down, fellers,” he ordered. “I swan I'm glad to see you. I ain't
+fit company for myself these days.”
+
+“Ain't Betsy Higgins feedin' you up to the mark?” asked Stitt. “Or is
+house movin' gettin' on your vitals?”
+
+“No,” growled the depot master, “grub's all right and so's movin',
+I cal'late. I'm glad you fellers come in. What's the news to Orham,
+Barzilla? How's the Old Home House boarders standin' it? Hear from
+Jonadab regular, do you?”
+
+Mr. Wingate laughed. “Nothin' much,” he said. “Jonadab's too busy
+to write these days. Bein' a sport interferes with letter writing
+consider'ble.”
+
+“Sport!” exclaimed Captain Bailey. “Land of Goshen! Cap'n Jonadab is the
+last one I'd call a sport.”
+
+“That's 'cause you ain't a good judge of human nature, Bailey,” chuckled
+Barzilla. “When ancient plants like Jonadab Wixon DO bloom, they're gay
+old blossoms, I tell you!”
+
+“What do you mean?” asked the depot master.
+
+“I mean that Jonadab's been givin' me heart disease, that's what; givin'
+it to me in a good many diff'rent ways, too. We opened the Old Home
+House the middle of April this year, because Peter T. Brown thought we
+might catch some spring trade. We did catch a little, though whether it
+paid to open up so early's a question. But 'twas June 'fore Jonadab got
+his disease so awful bad. However, most any time in the last part of May
+the reg'lar programme of the male boarders was stirrin' him up.
+
+“Take it of a dull day, for instance. Sky overcast and the wind aidgin'
+round to the sou'east, so's you couldn't tell whether 'twould rain or
+fair off; too cold to go off to the ledge cod fishin' and too hot for
+billiards or bowlin'; a bunch of the younger women folks at one end
+of the piazza playin' bridge; half a dozen men, includin' me and Cap'n
+Jonadab, smokin' and tryin' to keep awake at t'other end; amidships a
+gang of females--all 'fresh air fiends'--and mainly widows or discards
+in the matrimony deal, doin' fancywork and gossip. That would be about
+the usual layout.
+
+“Conversation got to you in homeopath doses, somethin' like this:
+
+“'Did you say “Spades”? WELL! if I'd known you were going to make us
+lose our deal like that, I'd never have bridged it--not with THIS hand.'
+
+“'Oh, Miss Gabble, have you heard what people are sayin' about--' The
+rest of it whispers.
+
+“'A--oo--OW! By George, Bill! this is dead enough, isn't it? Shall we
+match for the cigars or are you too lazy?'
+
+“Then, from away off in the stillness would come a drawn-out 'Honk!
+honk!' like a wild goose with the asthma, and pretty soon up the road
+would come sailin' a big red automobile, loaded to the guards with
+goggles and grandeur, and whiz past the hotel in a hurricane of dust and
+smell. Then all hands would set up and look interested, and Bill would
+wink acrost at his chum and drawl:
+
+“'That's the way to get over the country! Why, a horse isn't
+one--two--three with that! Cap'n Wixon, I'm surprised that a sportin'
+man like you hasn't bought one of those things long afore this.'
+
+“For the next twenty minutes there wouldn't be any dullness. Jonadab
+would take care of that. He'd have the floor and be givin' his opinions
+of autos and them that owned and run 'em. And between the drops of his
+language shower you'd see them boarders nudgin' each other and rockin'
+back and forth contented and joyful.
+
+“It always worked. No matter what time of day or night, all you had to
+say was 'auto' and Cap'n Jonadab would sail up out of his chair like one
+of them hot-air balloons the youngsters nowadays have on Fourth of July.
+And he wouldn't come down till he was empty of remarks, nuther. You
+never see a man get so red faced and eloquent.
+
+“It wa'n't because he couldn't afford one himself. I know that's the
+usual reason for them kind of ascensions, but 'twa'n't his. No, sir!
+the summer hotel business has put a considerable number of dollars in
+Jonadab's hands, and the said hands are like a patent rat trap, a
+mighty sight easier to get into than out of. He could have bought three
+automobiles if he'd wanted to, but he didn't want to. And the reason he
+didn't was named Tobias Loveland and lived over to Orham.”
+
+“I know Tobias,” interrupted Captain Bailey Stitt.
+
+“Course you do,” continued Barzilla. “So does Sol, I guess. Well,
+anyhow, Tobias and Cap'n Jonadab never did hitch. When they was boys
+together at school they was always rowin' and fightin', and when they
+grew up to be thirty and courted the same girl--ten years younger than
+either of 'em, she was--twa'n't much better. Neither of 'em got her,
+as a matter of fact; she married a tin peddler named Bassett over to
+Hyannis. But both cal'lated they would have won if t'other hadn't been
+in the race, and consequently they loved each other with a love that
+passed understandin'. Tobias had got well to do in the cranberry-raisin'
+line and drove a fast horse. Jonadab, durin' the last prosperous year
+or two, had bought what he thought was some horse, likewise. They met
+on the road one day last spring and trotted alongside one another for a
+mile. At the end of that mile Jonadab's craft's jib boom was just astern
+of Tobias's rudder. Inside of that week the Cap'n had swapped his horse
+for one with a two-thirty record, and the next time they met Tobias was
+left with a beautiful, but dusty, view of Jonadab's back hair. So HE
+bought a new horse. And that was the beginnin'.
+
+“It went along that way for twelve months. Fust one feller's nag would
+come home freighted with perspiration and glory, and then t'other's. One
+week Jonadab would be so bloated with horse pride that he couldn't find
+room for his vittles, and the next he'd be out in the stable growlin'
+'cause it cost so much for hay to stuff an old hide rack that wa'n't
+fit to put in a museum. At last it got so that neither one could find a
+better horse on the Cape, and the two they had was practically an even
+match. I begun to have hopes that the foolishness was over. And then the
+tin peddler's widow drifts in to upset the whole calabash.
+
+“She made port at Orham fust, this Henrietta Bassett did, and the style
+she slung killed every female Goliath in the Orham sewin' circle dead.
+Seems her husband that was had been an inventor, as a sort of side line
+to peddlin' tinware, and all to once he invented somethin' that worked.
+He made money--nobody knew how much, though all hands had a guess--and
+pretty soon afterwards he made a will and Henrietta a widow. She'd been
+livin' in New York, so she said, and had come back to revisit the scenes
+of her childhood. She was a mighty well-preserved woman--artificial
+preservatives, I cal'late, like some kinds of tomatter ketchup--and her
+comin' stirred Orham way down to the burnt places on the bottom of the
+kettle.”
+
+“I guess I remember HER, too,” put in Captain Bailey.
+
+“Say!” queried Mr. Wingate snappishly, “do you want to tell about her?
+If you do, why--”
+
+“Belay, both of you!” ordered the depot master. “Heave ahead, Barzilla.”
+
+“The news of her got over to Wellmouth, and me and Jonadab heard of it.
+He was some subject to widows--most widower men are, I guess--but he
+didn't develop no alarmin' symptoms in this case and never even hinted
+that he'd like to see his old girl. Fact is, his newest horse trade had
+showed that it was afraid of automobiles, and he was beginnin' to get
+rabid along that line. Then come that afternoon when him and me was out
+drivin' together, and we--Well, I'll have to tell you about that.
+
+“We was over on the long stretch of wood road between Trumet and
+Denboro, nice hard macadam, the mare--her name was Celia, but Jonadab
+had re-christened her Bay Queen after a boat he used to own--skimmin'
+along at a smooth, easy gait, when, lo and behold you! we rounds a turn
+and there ahead of us is a light, rubber-tired wagon with a man and
+woman on the seat of it. I heard Jonadab give a kind of snort.
+
+“'What's the matter?' says I.
+
+“'Nothin',' says he, between his teeth. 'Only, if I ain't some mistaken,
+that's Tobe Loveland's rig. Wonder if he's got his spunk with him? The
+Queen's feelin' her oats to-day, and I cal'late I can show him a few
+things.'
+
+“'Rubbish!' says I, disgusted. 'Don't be foolish, Jonadab. I don't know
+nothin' about his spunk, but I do know there's a woman with him. 'Tain't
+likely he'll want to race you when he's got a passenger aboard.'
+
+“'Oh, I don't know!' says he. 'I've got you, Barzilla; so 'twill be two
+and two. Let's heave alongside and see.'
+
+“So he clucked to the Queen, and in a jiffy we was astern of t'other
+rig. Loveland looked back over his shoulder.
+
+“'Ugh!' he grunts, 'bout as cordial as a plate of ice cream. ''Lo,
+Wixon, that you?'
+
+“'Um-hm,' begins Jonadab. 'How's that crowbait of yours to-day, Tobe?
+Got any go in him? 'Cause if he has, I--'
+
+“He stopped short. The woman in Loveland's carriage had turned her head
+and was starin' hard.
+
+“'Why!' she gasps. 'I do believe--Why, Jonadab!'
+
+“'HETTIE!' says the Cap'n.
+
+“Well, after that 'twas pull up, of course, and shake hands and talk.
+The widow, she done most of the talkin'. She was SO glad to see him. How
+had he been all these years? She knew him instantly. He hadn't changed
+a mite--that is, not so VERY much. She was plannin' to come over to the
+Old Home House and stay a spell later on; but now she was havin' SUCH a
+good time in Orham, Tobias--Mr. Loveland--was makin' it SO pleasant for
+her. She did enjoy drivin' so much, and Mr. Loveland had the fastest
+horse in the county--did we know that?
+
+“Tobias and Jonadab glowered back and forth while all this gush was
+bein' turned loose, and hardly spoke to one another. But when 'twas over
+and we was ready to start again, the Cap'n says, says he:
+
+“'I'll be mighty glad to see you over to the hotel, when you're ready to
+come, Hettie. I can take you ridin', too. Fur's horse goes, I've got a
+pretty good one myself.'
+
+“'Oh!' squeals the widow. 'Really? Is that him? It's awful pretty, and
+he looks fast.'
+
+“'She is,' says Jonadab. 'There's nothin' round here can beat her.'
+
+“'Humph!' says Loveland. 'Git dap!'
+
+“'Git dap!' says Jonadab, agreein' with him for once.
+
+“Tobias started, and we started. Tobias makes his horse go a little
+faster, and Jonadab speeded up some likewise. I see how 'twas goin' to
+be, and therefore I wa'n't surprised to death when the next ten minutes
+found us sizzlin' down that road, neck and neck with Loveland, dust
+flyin', hoofs poundin', and the two drivers leanin' way for'ard over
+the dash, reins gripped and teeth sot. For a little ways 'twas an even
+thing, and then we commenced to pull ahead a little.
+
+“'Loveland,' yells Jonadab, out of the port corner of his mouth, 'if
+I ain't showin' you my tailboard by the time we pass the fust house in
+Denboro, I'll eat my Sunday hat.'
+
+“I cal'late he would 'a' beat, too. We was drawin' ahead all the time
+and had a three-quarter length lead when we swung clear of the woods and
+sighted Denboro village, quarter of a mile away. And up the road comes
+flyin' a big auto, goin' to beat the cars.
+
+“Let's forget the next few minutes; they wa'n't pleasant ones for me.
+Soon's the Bay Queen sot eyes on that auto, she stopped trottin' and
+commenced to hop; from hoppin' she changed to waltzin' and high jumpin'.
+When the smoke had cleared, the auto was out of sight and we was in the
+bushes alongside the road, with the Queen just gettin' ready to climb
+a tree. As for Tobias and Henrietta, they was roundin' the turn by the
+fust house in Denboro, wavin' by-bys to us over the back of the seat.
+
+“We went home then; and every foot of the way Cap'n Jonadab called an
+automobile a new kind of name, and none complimentary. The boarders,
+they got wind of what had happened and begun to rag him, and the more
+they ragged, the madder he got and the more down on autos.
+
+“And, to put a head on the whole business, I'm blessed if Tobias
+Loveland didn't get in with an automobile agent who was stoppin' in
+Orham and buy a fifteen-hundred-dollar machine off him. And the very
+next time Jonadab was out with the Queen on the Denboro road, Tobias
+and the widow whizzed past him in that car so fast he might as well have
+been hove to. And, by way of rubbin' it in, they come along back pretty
+soon and rolled alongside of him easy, while Henrietta gushed about Mr.
+Loveland's beautiful car and how nice it was to be able to go just as
+swift as you wanted to. Jonadab couldn't answer back, nuther, bein' too
+busy keepin' the Queen from turnin' herself into a flyin' machine.
+
+“'Twas then that he got himself swore in special constable to arrest
+auto drivers for overspeedin'; and for days he wandered round layin' for
+a chance to haul up Tobias and get him fined. He'd have had plenty of
+game if he'd been satisfied with strangers, but he didn't want them
+anyhow, and, besides, most of 'em was on their way to spend money at the
+Old Home House. 'Twould have been poor business to let any of THAT cash
+go for fines, and he realized it.
+
+“'Twas in early June, only a few weeks ago, that the widow come to our
+hotel. I never thought she meant it when she said she was comin', and so
+I didn't expect her. Fact is, I was expectin' to hear that she and Tobe
+Loveland was married or engaged. But there was a slip up somewheres, for
+all to once the depot wagon brings her to the Old Home House, she hires
+a room, and settles down to stay till the season closed, which would be
+in about a fortn't.
+
+“From the very fust she played her cards for Jonadab. He meant to be
+middlin' average frosty to her, I imagine--her bein' so thick with
+Tobias prejudiced him, I presume likely. But land sakes! she thawed
+him out like hot toddy thaws out some folks' tongues. She never took no
+notice of his coldness, but smiled and gushed and flattered, and looked
+her prettiest--which was more'n average, considerin' her age--and by the
+end of the third day he was hangin' round her like a cat round a cook.
+
+“It commenced to look serious to me. Jonadab was a pretty old fish to
+be caught with soft soap and a set of false crimps; but you can't
+never tell. When them old kind do bite, they gen'rally swallow hook and
+sinker, and he sartinly did act hungry. I wished more'n once that Peter
+T. Brown, our business manager, was aboard to help me with advice, but
+Peter is off tourin' the Yosemite with his wife and her relations, so
+whatever pilotin' there was I had to do. And every day fetched Jonadab's
+bows nigher the matrimonial rocks.
+
+“I'd about made up my mind to sound the fog horn by askin' him straight
+out what he was cal'latin' to do; but somethin' I heard one evenin', as
+I set alone in the hotel office, made me think I'd better wait a spell.
+
+“The office window was open and the curtain drawed down tight. I was
+settin' inside, smokin' and goin' over the situation, when footsteps
+sounded on the piazza and a couple come to anchor on the settee right by
+that window. Cap'n Jonadab and Henrietta! I sensed that immediate.
+
+“She was laughin' and actin' kind of queer, and he was talkin' mighty
+earnest.
+
+“'Oh, no, Cap'n! Oh, no!' she giggles. 'You mustn't be so serious on
+such a beautiful night as this. Let's talk about the moon.'
+
+“'Drat the moon!' says Jonadab. 'Hettie, I--'
+
+“'Oh, just see how beautiful the water looks! All shiny and--”
+
+“'Drat the water, too! Hettie, what's the reason you don't want to talk
+serious with me? If that Tobe Loveland--'
+
+“'Really, I don't see why you bring Mr. Loveland's name into the
+conversation. He is a perfect gentleman, generous and kind; and as for
+the way in which he runs that lovely car of his--'
+
+“The Cap'n interrupted her. He ripped out somethin' emphatic.
+
+“'Generous!' he snarls. ''Bout as generous as a hog in the feed trough,
+he is. And as for runnin' that pesky auto, if I'd demean myself to own
+one of them things, I'll bet my other suit I could run it better'n he
+does. If I couldn't, I'd tie myself to the anchor and jump overboard.'
+
+“The way she answered showed pretty plain that she didn't believe him.
+'Really?' she says. 'Do you think so? Good night, Jonadab.'
+
+“I could hear her walkin' off acrost the piazza. He went after her.
+'Hettie,' he says, 'you answer me one thing. Are you engaged to Tobe
+Loveland?'
+
+“She laughed again, sort of teasin' and slow. 'Really,' says she, 'you
+are--Why, no, I'm not.'
+
+“That was all, but it set me to thinkin' hard. She wa'n't engaged to
+Loveland; she said so, herself. And yet, if she wanted Jonadab, she was
+actin' mighty funny. I ain't had no experience, but it seemed to me that
+then was the time to bag him and she'd put him off on purpose. She was
+ages too ancient to be a flirt for the fun of it. What was her game?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES
+
+
+Mr. Wingate stopped and roared a greeting to Captain Hiram Baker, who
+was passing the open door of the waiting room.
+
+“Hello, there, Hime!” he shouted. “Come up in here! What, are you too
+proud to speak to common folks?”
+
+Captain Hiram entered. “Hello!” he said. “You look like a busy gang, for
+sure. What you doin'--seatin' chairs?”
+
+“Just now we're automobilin',” observed Captain Sol. “Set down, Hiram.”
+
+“Automobilin'?” repeated the new arrival, evidently puzzled.
+
+“Sartin. Barzilla's takin' us out. Go on, Barzilla.”
+
+Mr. Wingate smiled broadly. “Well,” he began, “we HAVE just about
+reached the part where I went autoin'. The widow and me and Jonadab.”
+
+“Jonadab!” shouted Stitt. “I thought you said--”
+
+“I know what I said. But we went auto ridin' just the same.
+
+“'Twas Henry G. Bradbury that took us out, him and his bran-new big
+tourin' car. You see, he landed to board with us the next day after
+Henrietta come--this Henry G. did--and he was so quiet and easy spoken
+and run his car so slow that even a pizen auto hater like Jonadab
+couldn't take much offense at him. He wa'n't very well, he said, subject
+to some kind of heart attacks, and had come to the Old Home for rest.
+
+“Him and the Cap'n had great arguments about the sins of automobilin'.
+Jonadab was sot on the idee that nine folks out of ten hadn't machine
+sense enough to run a car. Bradbury, he declared that that was a fact
+with the majority of autos, but not with his. 'Why, a child could run
+it,' says he. 'Look here, Cap'n: To start it you just do this. To stop
+it you do so and so. To make her go slow you haul back on this lever. To
+make her go faster you shove down this one. And as for steerin'--well,
+a man that's handled the wheels of as many catboats as you have would
+simply have a picnic. I'm in entire sympathy with your feelin's against
+speeders and such--I'd be a constable if I was in your shoes--but this
+is a gentleman's car and runs like one.'
+
+“All Jonadab said was 'Bosh!' and 'Humph!' but he couldn't help actin'
+interested, particular as Mrs. Bassett kept him alongside of the machine
+and was so turrible interested herself. And when, this partic'lar
+afternoon, Henry G. invites us all to go out with him for a little 'roll
+around,' the widow was so tickled and insisted so that he just HAD to
+go; he didn't dast say no.
+
+“Somehow or 'nother--I ain't just sure yet how it happened--the seatin'
+arrangements was made like this: Jonadab and Bradbury on the front seat,
+and me and Henrietta in the stuffed cockpit astern. We rolled out and
+purred along the road, smooth as a cat trottin' to dinner. No speedin',
+no joltin', no nothin'. 'TWAS a 'gentleman's car'; there wa'n't no doubt
+about that.
+
+“We went 'way over to Bayport and Orham and beyond. And all the time
+Bradbury kept p'intin' out the diff'rent levers to Jonadab and tellin'
+him how to work 'em. Finally, after we'd headed back, he asked Jonadab
+to take the wheel and steer her a spell. Said his heart was feelin' sort
+of mean and 'twould do him good to rest.
+
+“Jonadab said no, emphatic and more'n average ugly, but Henry G. kept
+beggin' and pleadin', and pretty soon the widow put in her oar. He must
+do it, to please her. He had SAID he could do it--had told her so--and
+now he must make good. Why, when Mr. Loveland--
+
+“'All right,' snarls Jonadab. 'I'll try. But if ever--'
+
+“'Hold on!' says I. 'Here's where I get out.'
+
+“However, they wouldn't let me, and the Cap'n took the wheel. His jaw
+was set and his hands shakin', but he done it. Hettie had give her
+orders and she was skipper.
+
+“For a consider'ble spell we just crawled. Jonadab was steerin' less
+crooked every minute and it tickled him; you could see that.
+
+“'Answers her hellum tiptop, don't she?' he says.
+
+“'Bet your life!' says Bradbury. 'Better put on a little more speed,
+hadn't we?'”
+
+He put it on himself, afore the new pilot could stop him, and we
+commenced to move.
+
+“'When you want to make her jump,' he says, you press down on that with
+your foot, and you shove the spark back.'
+
+“'Shut up!' howls Jonadab. 'Belay! Don't you dast to touch that. I'm
+scart to death as 'tis. Here! you take this wheel.'
+
+“But he wouldn't, and we went on at a good clip. For a green hand the
+Cap'n was leavin' a pretty straight wake.
+
+“'Gosh!' he says, after a spell; 'I b'lieve I'm kind of gettin' the hang
+of the craft.'
+
+“'Course you are,' says Bradbury. 'I told--Oh!'
+
+“He straightens up, grabs at his vest, and slumps down against the back
+of the seat.
+
+“'What IS it?' screams the widow. 'Oh, what IS it, Mr. Bradbury?'
+
+“He answers, plucky, but toler'ble faintlike. My heart!' he gasps.
+'I--I'm afraid I'm goin' to have one of my attacks. I must get to a
+doctor quick.'
+
+“'Doctor!' I sings out. 'Great land of love! there ain't a doctor nigher
+than Denboro, and that's four mile astern.'
+
+“'Never mind,' cries the Bassett woman. 'We must go there, then. Turn
+around, Jonadab! Turn around at once! Mr. Bradbury--'
+
+“But poor Henry G. was curled up against the cushions and we couldn't
+get nothin' out of him but groans. And all the time we was sailin' along
+up the road.
+
+“'Turn around, Jonadab!' orders Henrietta. 'Turn around and go for the
+doctor!'
+
+“Jonadab's hands was clutched on that wheel, and his face was white as
+his rubber collar.
+
+“'Jerushy!' he groans desperate, 'I--I don't know HOW to turn around.'
+
+“'Then stop, you foolhead!' I bellers. 'Stop where you be!'
+
+“And he moans--almost cryin' he was: 'I--I've forgotten how to STOP.'
+
+“Talk about your situations! If we wa'n't in one then I miss my guess.
+Every minute we was sinkin' Denboro below the horizon.
+
+“'We MUST get to a doctor,' says the widow. 'Where is there another one,
+Mr. Wingate?'
+
+“'The next one's in Bayport,' says I, 'and that's ten mile ahead if it's
+a foot.'
+
+“However, there wa'n't nothin' else for it, so toward Bayport we put.
+Bradbury groaned once in a while, and Mrs. Bassett got nervous.
+
+“'We'll never get there at this rate,' says she. 'Go faster, Jonadab.
+Faster! Press down on--on that thing he told you to. Please! for MY
+sake.'
+
+“'Don't you--' I begun; but 'twas too late. He pressed, and away we
+went. We was eatin' up the road now, I tell you, and though I was
+expectin' every minute to be my next, I couldn't help admirin' the way
+the Cap'n steered. And, as for him, he was gettin' more and more set up
+and confident.
+
+“'She handles like a yacht, Barzilla,' he grunts, between his teeth.
+'See me put her around the next buoy ahead there. Hey! how's that?'
+
+“The next 'buoy' was a curve in the road, and we went around it
+beautiful. So with the next and the next and the next. Bayport wa'n't so
+very fur ahead. All to once another dreadful thought struck me.
+
+“'Look here!' I yells. 'How in time are we goin' to stop when we--OW!'
+
+“The Bassett woman had pinched my arm somethin' savage. I looked at her,
+and she was scowlin' and shakin' her head.
+
+“'S-sh-sh!' she whispers. 'Don't disturb him. He'll be frightened and--'
+
+“'Frightened! Good heavens to Betsy! I cal'late he won't be the only one
+that's fri--'
+
+“But she looked so ugly that I shut up prompt, though I done a heap of
+thinkin'. On we went and, as we turned the next 'buoy,' there, ahead of
+us, was another auto, somethin' like ours, with only one person in it, a
+man, and goin' in the same direction we was, though not quite so fast.
+
+“Then I WAS scart. 'Hi, Jonadab!' I sings out. 'Heave to! Come about!
+Shorten sail! Do you want to run him down? Look OUT!'
+
+“I might as well have saved my breath. Heavin' to and the rest of it
+wa'n't included in our pilot's education. On we went, same as ever. I
+don't know what might have happened if the widow hadn't kept her head.
+She leaned over the for'ard rail of the after cockpit and squeezed a
+rubber bag that was close to Jonadab's starboard arm. It was j'ined to
+the fog whistle, I cal'late, 'cause from under our bows sounded a beller
+like a bull afoul of a barb-wire fence.
+
+“The feller in t'other car turned his head and looked. Then he commenced
+to sheer off to wind'ard so's to let us pass. But all the time he kept
+lookin' back and starin' and, as we got nigher, and I could see him
+plainer through the dust, he looked more and more familiar. 'Twas
+somebody I knew.
+
+“Then I heard a little grunt, or gasp, from Cap'n Jonadab. He was
+leanin' for'ard over the wheel, starin' at the man in the other auto.
+The nigher we got, the harder he stared; and the man in front was
+actin' similar in regards to him. And, all to once, the head car stopped
+swingin' off to wind'ard, turned back toward the middle of the road, and
+begun to go like smoke. The next instant I felt our machine fairly jump
+beneath me. I looked at Jonadab's foot. 'Twas pressed hard down on the
+speed lever.
+
+“'You crazy loon!' I screeched. 'You--you--you--Stop it! Take your foot
+off that! Do you want to--!'
+
+“I was climbin' over the back of the front seat, my knee pretty nigh on
+Bradbury's head. But, would you believe it, that Jonadab man let go of
+the wheel with one hand--let GO of it, mind you--and give me a shove
+that sent me backward in Henrietta Bassett's lap.
+
+“'Barzilla!' he growled, between his teeth, 'you set where you be
+and keep off the quarterdeck. I'm runnin' this craft. I'll beat that
+Loveland this time or run him under, one or t'other!'
+
+“As sure as I'm alive this minute, the man in the front car was Tobias
+Loveland!
+
+“And from then on--Don't talk! I dream about it nights and wake up with
+my arms around the bedpost. I ain't real sure, but I kind of have an
+idee that the bedpost business comes from the fact that I was huggin'
+the widow some of the time. If I did, 'twa'n't knowin'ly, and she never
+mentioned it afterwards. All I can swear to is clouds of dust, and horns
+honkin', and telegraph poles lookin' like teeth in a comb, and Jonadab's
+face set as the Day of Judgment.
+
+“He kept his foot down on the speed place as if 'twas glued. He shoved
+the 'spark'--whatever that is--'way back. Every once in a while he
+yelled, yelled at the top of his lungs. What he yelled hadn't no sense
+to it. Sometimes you'd think that he was drivin' a horse and next that
+he was handlin' a schooner in a gale.
+
+“'Git dap!' he'd whoop. 'Go it, you cripples! Keep her nose right in the
+teeth of it! She's got the best of the water, so let her bile! Whe-E-E!'
+
+“We didn't stop at Bayport. Our skipper had made other arrangements.
+However, the way I figgered it, we was long past needin' a doctor, and
+you can get an undertaker 'most anywhere. We went through the village
+like a couple of shootin' stars, Tobias about a length ahead, his hat
+blowed off, his hair--what little he's got--streamin' out behind, and
+that blessed red buzz wagon of his fairly skimmin' the hummocks and
+jumpin' the smooth places. And right astern of him comes Jonadab,
+hangin' to the wheel, HIS hat gone, his mouth open, and fillin' the dust
+with yells and coughs.
+
+“You could see folks runnin' to doors and front gates; but you never saw
+'em reach where they was goin'--time they done that we was somewheres
+round the next bend. A pullet run over us once--yes, I mean just that.
+She clawed the top of the widow's bunnit as we slid underneath her, and
+by the time she lit we was so fur away she wa'n't visible to the
+naked eye. Bradbury--who'd got better remarkable sudden--was pawin' at
+Jonadab's arm, tryin' to make him ease up; but he might as well have
+pawed the wind. As for Henrietta Bassett, she was acrost the back of the
+front seat tootin' the horn for all she was wuth. And curled down in a
+heap on the cockpit floor was a fleshy, sea-farin' person by the name of
+Barzilla Wingate, sufferin' from chills and fever.
+
+“I think 'twas on the long stretch of the Trumet road that we beat
+Tobias. I know we passed somethin' then, though just what I ain't
+competent to testify. All I'm sure of is that, t'other side of Bayport
+village, the landscape got some less streaked and you could most
+gen'rally separate one house from the next.
+
+“Bradbury looked at Henrietta and smiled, a sort of sickly smile. She
+was pretty pale, but she managed to smile back. I got up off the floor
+and slumped on the cushions. As for Cap'n Jonadab Wixon, he'd stopped
+yellin', but his face was one broad, serene grin. His mouth, through
+the dust and the dirt caked around it, looked like a rain gully in a
+sand-bank. And, occasional, he crowed, hoarse but vainglorious.
+
+“'Did you see me?' he barked. 'Did you notice me lick him? He'll laugh
+at me, will he?--him and his one-horse tin cart! Ho! HO! Why, you'd
+think he was settin' down to rest! I've got him where I want him now!
+Ho, ho! Say, Henrietta, did you go swift as you--? Land sakes! Mr.
+Bradbury, I forgot all about you. And I--I guess we must have got a good
+ways past the doctor's place.'
+
+“Bradbury said never mind. He felt much better, and he cal'lated he'd do
+till we fetched the Old Home dock. He'd take the wheel, now, he guessed.
+
+“But, would you b'lieve it, that fool Jonadab wouldn't let him! He was
+used to the ship now, he said, and, if 'twas all the same to Henry G.
+and Hettie, he'd kind of like to run her into port.
+
+“'She answers her hellum fine,' he says. 'After a little practice I
+cal'late I could steer--'
+
+“'Steer!' sings out Bradbury. 'STEER! Great Caesar's ghost! I give you
+my word, Cap'n Wixon, I never saw such handlin' of a machine as you did
+goin' through Bayport, in my life. You're a wonder!'
+
+“'Um-hm,' says Jonadab contented. 'I've steered a good many vessels in
+my time, through traffic and amongst the shoals, and never run afoul
+of nothin' yet. I don't see much diff'rence on shore--'cept that it's a
+little easier.'
+
+“EASIER! Wouldn't that--Well, what's the use of talkin'?
+
+“We got to the Old Home House safe and sound; Jonadab, actin' under
+Bradbury's orders, run her into the yard, slowin' up and stoppin' at
+the front steps slick as grease. He got out, his chest swelled up like
+a puffin' pig, and went struttin' in to tell everybody what he'd done to
+Loveland. I don't know where Bradbury and the widow went. As for me, I
+went aloft and turned in. And 'twas two days and nights afore I got up
+again. I had a cold, anyway, and what I'd been through didn't help it
+none.
+
+“The afternoon of the second day, Bradbury come up to see me. He was
+dressed in his city clothes and looked as if he was goin' away. Sure
+enough, he was; goin' on the next train.
+
+“'Where's Jonadab?' says I.
+
+“'Oh, he's out in his car,' he says. 'Huntin' for Loveland again,
+maybe.'
+
+“'HIS car? You mean yours.'
+
+“'No, I mean his. I sold my car to him yesterday mornin' for twenty-five
+hundred dollars cash.'
+
+“I set up in bed. 'Go 'long!' I sings out. 'You didn't nuther!'
+
+“'Yes, I did. Sure thing. After that ride, you couldn't have separated
+him from that machine with blastin' powder. He paid over the money like
+a little man.'
+
+“I laid down again. Jonadab Wixon payin' twenty-five hundred dollars for
+a plaything! Not promisin', but actually PAYIN' it!
+
+“'Has--has the widow gone with him?' I asked, soon's I could get my
+breath.
+
+“He laughed sort of queer. 'No,' he says, 'she's gone out of town for
+a few days. Ha, ha! Well, between you and me, Wingate, I doubt if
+she comes back again. She and I have made all we're likely to in this
+neighborhood, and she's too good a business woman to waste her time.
+Good-by; glad to have met you.'
+
+“But I smelt rat strong and wouldn't let him go without seein' the
+critter.
+
+“'Hold on!' I says. 'There's somethin' underneath all this. Out with it.
+I won't let on to the Cap'n if you don't want me to.'
+
+“'Well,' says he, laughin' again, 'Mrs. Bassett WON'T come back and
+I know it. She and I have sold four cars on the Cape in the last five
+weeks, and the profits'll more'n pay vacation expenses. Two up in
+Wareham, one over in Orham, to Loveland--'
+
+“'Did YOU sell Tobias his?' I asks, settin' up again.
+
+“'Hettie and I did--yes. Soon's we landed him, we come over to bag old
+Wixon. I thought one time he'd kill us before we got him, but he didn't.
+How he did run that thing! He's a game sport.'
+
+“'See here!' says I. 'YOU and Hettie sold--What do you mean by that?'
+
+“'Mrs. Bassett is my backer in the auto business,' says he. 'She put in
+her money and I furnished the experience. We've got a big plant up in--'
+namin' a city in Connecticut.
+
+“I fetched a long breath. 'WELL!' says I. 'And all this makin' eyes at
+Tobe and Jonadab was just--just--'
+
+“'Just bait, that's all,' says he. 'I told you she was a good business
+woman.'
+
+“I let this sink in good. Then says I, 'Humph! I swan to man! And how's
+your heart actin' now?'
+
+“'Fine!' he says, winkin'. 'I had that attack so's the Cap'n would learn
+to run on his own hook. I didn't expect quite so much of a run, but
+I'm satisfied. Don't you worry about my heart disease. That twenty-five
+hundred cured it. 'Twas all in the way of business,' says Henry G.
+Bradbury.”
+
+“Whew!” whistled Captain Hiram as Barzilla reached into his pocket for
+pipe and tobacco. “Whew! I should say your partner had a narrer escape.
+Want to look out sharp for widders. They're dangerous, hey, Sol?”
+
+The depot master did not answer. Captain Hiram asked another question.
+“How'd Jonadab take Hettie's leavin'?” he inquired.
+
+“Oh,” said Barzilla, “I don't think he minded so much. He was too crazy
+about his new auto to care for anything else. Then, too, he was b'ilin'
+mad 'cause Loveland swore out a warrant against him for speedin'.
+
+“'Nice trick, ain't it?' he says. 'I knew Tobe was a poor loser, but
+I didn't think he'd be so low down as all that. Says I was goin' fifty
+mile an hour. He! he! Well, I WAS movin', that's a fact. I don't care.
+'Twas wuth the twenty-dollar fine.'
+
+“'Maybe so,' I says, 'but 'twon't look very pretty to have a special
+auto constable hauled up and fined for breakin' the law he's s'posed to
+protect.'
+
+“He hadn't thought of that. His face clouded over.
+
+“'No use, Barzilla,' says he; 'I'll have to give it up.'
+
+“'Guess you will,' says I. 'Automobilin' is--'
+
+“'I don't mean automobilin',' he snorts disgusted. 'Course not! I mean
+bein' constable.'
+
+“So there you are! From cussin' automobiles he's got so that he can't
+talk enough good about 'em. And every day sence then he's out on the
+road layin' for another chance at Tobias. I hope he gets that chance
+pretty soon, because--well, there's a rumor goin' round that Loveland is
+plannin' to swap his car for a bigger and faster one. If he does . . .”
+
+“If he does,” interrupted Captain Sol, “I hope you'll fix the next race
+for over here. I'd like to see you go by, Barzilla.”
+
+“Guess you'd have to look quick to see him,” laughed Stitt. “Speakin'
+about automobiles--”
+
+“By gum!” ejaculated Wingate, “you'd have to look somewheres else to
+find ME. I've got all the auto racin' I want!”
+
+“Speakin' of automobiles,” began Captain Bailey again. No one paid the
+slightest attention.
+
+“How's Dusenberry, your baby, Hiram?” asked the depot master, turning to
+Captain Baker. “His birthday's the Fourth, and that's only a couple of
+days off.”
+
+The proud parent grinned, then looked troubled.
+
+“Why, he ain't real fust-rate,” he said. “Seems to be some under
+the weather. Got a cold and kind of sore throat. Dr. Parker says he
+cal'lates it's a touch of tonsilitis. There's consider'ble fever, too.
+I was hopin' the doctor'd come again to-day, but he's gone away on
+a fishin' cruise. Won't be home till late to-morrer. I s'pose me and
+Sophrony hadn't ought to worry. Dr. Parker seems to know about the
+case.”
+
+“Humph!” grunted the depot master, “there's only two bein's in creation
+that know it all. One's the Almighty and t'other's young Parker. He's
+right out of medical school and is just as fresh as his diploma. He
+hadn't any business to go fishin' and leave his patients. We lost a
+good man when old Dr. Ryder died. He . . . Oh, well! you mustn't
+worry, Hiram. Dusenberry'll pull out in time for his birthday. Goin' to
+celebrate, was you?”
+
+Captain Baker nodded. “Um-hm,” he said. “Sophrony's goin' to bake a
+frosted cake and stick three candles on it--he's three year old, you
+know--and I've made him a 'twuly boat with sails,' that's what he's been
+beggin' for. Ho! ho! he's the cutest little shaver!”
+
+“Speakin' of automobiles,” began Bailey Stitt for the third time.
+
+“That youngster of yours, Hiram,” went on the depot master, “is the
+right kind. Compared with some of the summer young ones that strike this
+depot, he's a saint.”
+
+Captain Hiram grinned. “That's what I tell Sophrony,” he said.
+“Sometimes when Dusenberry gets to cuttin' up and she is sort of
+provoked, I say to her, 'Old lady,' I say, 'if you think THAT'S a
+naughty boy, you ought to have seen Archibald.'”
+
+“Who was Archibald?” asked Barzilla.
+
+“He was a young rip that Sim Phinney and I run across four years ago
+when we went on our New York cruise together. The weir business had been
+pretty good and Sim had been teasin' me to go on a vacation with him, so
+I went. Sim ain't stopped talkin' about our experiences yet. Ho! ho!”
+
+“You bet he ain't!” laughed the depot master. “One mix-up you had with
+a priest, and a love story, and land knows what. He talks about that to
+this day.”
+
+“What was it? He never told me,” said Wingate.
+
+“Why, it begun at the Golconda House, the hotel where Sim and I was
+stayin'. We--”
+
+“Did YOU put up at the Golconda?” interrupted Barzilla. “Why, Cap'n
+Jonadab and me stayed there when we went to New York.”
+
+“I know you did. Jonadab recommended it to Sim, and Sim took the
+recommendation. That Golconda House is the only grudge I've got against
+Jonadab Wixon. It sartin is a tough old tavern.”
+
+“I give in to that. Jonadab's so sot on it account of havin' stopped
+there on his honeymoon, years and years ago. He's too stubborn to
+own it's bad. It's a matter of principle with him, and he's sot on
+principle.”
+
+“Yes,” continued Baker. “Well, Sim and me had been at that Golconda
+three days and nights. Mornin' of the fourth day we walked out of the
+dinin' room after breakfast, feelin' pretty average chipper. Gettin'
+safe past another meal at that hotel was enough of itself to make a chap
+grateful.
+
+“We walked out of the dinin' room and into the office. And there, by the
+clerk's desk, was a big, tall man, dressed up in clothes that was loud
+enough to speak for themselves, and with a shiny new tall hat, set with
+a list to port, on his head. He was smooth-faced and pug-nosed, with an
+upper lip like a camel's.
+
+“He didn't pay much attention to us, nor to anybody else, for the matter
+of that. He was as mournful as a hearse, for all his joyful togs.
+
+“'Fine day, ain't it?' says Sim, social.
+
+“The tall chap looked up at him from under the deck of the beaver hat.
+
+“'Huh!' he growls out, and looks down again.
+
+“'I say it's a fine day,' said Phinney again.
+
+“'I was after hearin' yez say it,' says the man, and walks off, scowlin'
+like a meat ax. We looked after him.
+
+“'Who was that murderer?' asks Sim of the clerk. 'And when are they
+going to hang him?'
+
+“'S-sh-sh!' whispers the clerk, scart. ''Tis the boss. The bloke what
+runs the hotel. He's a fine man, but he has troubles. He's blue.'
+
+“'So that's the boss, hey?' says I. 'And he's blue. Well, he looks it.
+What's troublin' him? Ain't business good?'
+
+“'Never better. It ain't that. He has things on his mind. You see--'
+
+“I cal'late he'd have told us the yarn, only Sim wouldn't wait to hear
+it. We was goin' sight-seein' and we had 'aquarium' and 'Stock Exchange'
+on the list for that afternoon. The hotel clerk had made out a kind of
+schedule for us of things we'd ought to see while we was in New York,
+and so fur we'd took in the zoological menagerie and the picture museum,
+and Central Park and Brooklyn Bridge.
+
+“On the way downtown in the elevated railroad Sim done some preachin'.
+His text was took from the Golconda House sign, which had 'T. Dempsey,
+Proprietor,' painted on it.
+
+“'It's that Dempsey man's conscience that makes him so blue, Hiram,'
+says Sim. 'It's the way he makes his money. He sells liquor.'
+
+“'Oh!' says I. 'Is THAT it? I thought maybe he'd been sleepin' on one
+of his own hotel beds. THEY'RE enough to make any man blue--black and
+blue.'
+
+“The 'aquarium' wa'n't a success. Phinney was disgusted. He give one
+look around, grabbed me by the arm, and marched me out of that building
+same as Deacon Titcomb, of the Holiness Church at Denboro, marched his
+boy out of the Universalist sociable.
+
+“'It's nothin' but a whole passel of fish,' he snorts. 'The idea of
+sendin' two Cape Codders a couple of miles to look at FISH. I've looked
+at 'em and fished for 'em, and et 'em all the days of my life,' he says,
+'and when I'm on a vacation I want a change. I'd forgot that “aquarium”
+ meant fish, or you wouldn't have got me within smellin' distance of
+it. Necessity's one thing and pleasure's another, as the boy said about
+takin' his ma's spring bitters.'
+
+“So we headed for the Stock Exchange. We got our gallery tickets at the
+bank where the Golconda folks kept money, and in a little while we was
+leanin' over a kind of marble bulwarks and starin' down at a gang of men
+smokin' and foolin' and carryin' on. 'Twas a dull day, so we found out
+afterward, and I guess likely that was true. Anyway, I never see such
+grown-up men act so much like children. There was a lot of poles stuck
+up around with signs on 'em, and around every pole was a circle of
+bedlamites hollerin' like loons. Hollerin' was the nighest to work
+of anything I see them fellers do, unless 'twas tearin' up papers and
+shovin' the pieces down somebody's neck or throwin' 'em in the air like
+a play-actin' snowstorm.
+
+“'What's the matter with 'em?' says I. 'High finance taken away their
+brains?'
+
+“But Phinney was awful interested. He dumped some money in a mine once.
+The mine caved in on it, I guess, for not a red cent ever come to the
+top again, but he's been a kind of prophet concernin' finances ever
+sence.
+
+“'I want to see the big fellers,' says he. 'S'pose that fat one is
+Morgan?'
+
+“'I don't know,' says I. 'Me and Pierpont ain't met for ever so long.
+Don't lean over and point so; you're makin' a hit.'
+
+“He was, too. Some of the younger crew on the floor was lookin' up and
+grinnin', and more kept stoppin' and joinin' in all the time. I cal'late
+we looked kind of green and soft, hangin' over that marble rail, like
+posies on a tombstone; and green is the favorite color to a stockbroker,
+they tell me. Anyhow, we had a good-sized congregation under us in
+less than no time. Likewise, they got chatty, and commenced to unload
+remarks.
+
+“'Land sakes!' says one. 'How's punkins?'
+
+“'How's crops down your way?' says another.
+
+“Now there wa'n't nothin' real bright and funny about these
+questions--more fresh than new, they struck me--but you'd think they
+was gems from the comic almanac, jedgin' by the haw-haws. Next minute
+a little bald-headed smart Alec, with clothes that had a tailor's sign
+hull down and out of the race, steps to the front and commences to make
+a speech.
+
+“'Gosh t'mighty, gents,' says he. 'With your kind permission, I'll sing
+“When Reuben Comes to Town.”'
+
+“And he did sing it, too, in a voice that needed cultivatin' worse'n
+a sandy front yard. And with every verse the congregation whooped and
+laughed and cheered. When the anthem was concluded, all hands set up a
+yell and looked at us to see how we took it.
+
+“As for me, I was b'ilin' mad and mortified and redhot all over. But Sim
+Phinney was as cool as an October evenin'. Once in a while old Sim
+comes out right down brilliant, and he done it now. He smiled, kind
+of tolerant and easy, same as you might at the tricks of a hand-organ
+monkey. Then he claps his hands, applaudin' like, reaches into his
+pocket, brings up a couple of pennies, and tosses 'em down to little
+baldhead, who was standin' there blown up with pride.
+
+“For a minute the crowd was still. And THEN such a yell as went up! The
+whole floor went wild. Next thing I knew the gallery was filled with
+brokers, grabbin' us by the hands, poundin' us on the back, beggin' us
+to come have a drink, and generally goin' crazy. We was solid with the
+'system' for once in our lives. We could have had that whole buildin',
+from marble decks to gold maintruck, if we'd said the word. Fifty
+yellin' lunatics was on hand to give it to us; the other two hundred was
+joyfully mutilatin' the baldhead.
+
+“Well, I wanted to get away, and so did Sim, I guess; but the crowd
+wouldn't let us. We'd got to have a drink; hogsheads of drinks. That was
+the best joke on Eddie Lewisburg that ever was. Come on! We MUST come
+on! Whee! Wow!
+
+“I don't know how it would have ended if some one hadn't butted head
+first through the mob and grabbed me by the shoulder. I was ready to
+fight by this time, and maybe I'd have begun to fight if the chap who
+grabbed me hadn't been a few inches short of seven foot high. And,
+besides that, I knew him. 'Twas Sam Holden, a young feller I knew when
+he boarded here one summer. His wife boarded here, too, only she wa'n't
+his wife then. Her name was Grace Hargrave and she was a fine girl.
+Maybe you remember 'em, Sol?”
+
+The depot master nodded.
+
+“I remember 'em well,” he said. “Liked 'em both--everybody did.”
+
+“Yes. Well, he knew us and was glad to see us.
+
+“'It IS you!' he sings out. 'By George! I thought it was when I came on
+the floor just now. My! but I'm glad to see you. And Mr. Phinney, too!
+Bully! Clear out and let 'em alone, you Indians.'
+
+“The crowd didn't want to let us alone, but Sam got us clear somehow,
+and out of the Exchange Buildin' and into the back room of a kind of
+restaurant. Then he gets chairs for us, orders cigars, and shakes hands
+once more.
+
+“'To think of seein' you two in New York!' he says, wonderin'. 'What are
+you doin' here? When did you come? Tell us about it.'
+
+“So we told him about our pleasure cruise, and what had happened to us
+so fur. It seemed to tickle him 'most to death.
+
+“'Grace and I are keepin' house, in a modest way, uptown,' says Sam,
+'and she'll be as glad to see you as I am. You're comin' up to dinner
+with me to-night, and you're goin' to make us a visit, you know,' he
+says.
+
+“Well, if we didn't know it then, we learned it right away. Nothin'
+that me or Simeon could say would make him change the course a point. So
+Phinney went up to the Golconda House and got our bags, and at half-past
+four that afternoon the three of us was in a hired hack bound uptown.
+
+“On the way Sam was full of fun as ever. He laughed and joked, and asked
+questions about East Harniss till you couldn't rest. All of a sudden he
+slaps his knee and sings out:
+
+“'There! I knew I'd forgotten somethin'. Our butler left yesterday,
+and I was to call at the intelligence office on my way home and see if
+they'd scared up a new one.'
+
+“I looked at Simeon, and he at me.
+
+“'Hum!' says I, thinkin' about that 'modest' housekeepin'. 'Do you keep
+a butler?'
+
+“'Not long,' says he, dry as a salt codfish. And that's all we could get
+out of him.
+
+“I s'pose there's different kinds of modesty. We hadn't more'n got
+inside the gold-plated front door of that house when I decided that the
+Holden brand of housekeepin' wa'n't bashful enough to blush. If I'D been
+runnin' that kind of a place, the only time I'd felt shy and retirin'
+was when the landlord came for the rent.
+
+“One of the fo'mast hands--hired girls, I mean--went aloft to fetch Mrs.
+Holden, and when Grace came down she was just as nice and folksy and
+glad to see us as a body could be. But she looked sort of troubled, just
+the same.
+
+“'I'm ever so glad you're here,' says she to me and Simeon. 'But, oh,
+Sam! it's a shame the way things happen. Cousin Harriet and Archie came
+this afternoon to stay until to-morrow. They're on their way South.
+And I have promised that you and I shall take Harriet to see Marlowe
+to-night. Of course we won't do it now, under any consideration, but you
+know what she is.'
+
+“Sam seemed to know. He muttered somethin' that sounded like a Scripture
+text. Simeon spoke up prompt.
+
+“'Indeed you will,' says he, decided. 'Me and Hiram ain't that kind.
+We've got relations of our own, and we know what it means when they
+come a-visitin'. You and Mr. Holden'll take your comp'ny and go to
+see--whatever 'tis you want to see, and we'll make ourselves to home
+till you get back. Yes, you will, or we clear out this minute.'
+
+“They didn't want to, but we was sot, and so they give in finally. It
+seemed that this Cousin Harriet was a widow relation of the Holdens, who
+lived in a swell country house over in Connecticut somewhere, and was
+rich as the rest of the tribe. Archie was her son. 'Hers and the Evil
+One's,' Sam said.
+
+“We didn't realize how much truth there was in this last part until we
+run afoul of Archie and his ma at dinner time. Cousin Harriet was tall
+and middlin' slim, thirty-five years old, maybe, at a sale for
+taxes, but discounted to twenty at her own valuation. She was got up
+regardless, and had a kind of chronic, tired way of talkin', and a
+condescendin' look to her, as if she was on top of Bunker Hill monument,
+and all creation was on its knees down below. She didn't warm up to
+Simeon and me much; eyed us over through a pair of gilt spyglasses, and
+admitted that she was 'charmed, I'm sure.' Likewise, she was afflicted
+with 'nerves,' which must be a divil of a disease--for everybody but the
+patient, especial.
+
+“Archie--his ma hailed him as 'Archibald, dear'--showed up pretty
+soon in tow of his 'maid,' a sweet-faced, tired-out Irish girl named
+Margaret. 'Archibald, dear,' was five years old or so, sufferin' from
+curls and the lack of a lickin'. I never see a young one that needed a
+strap ile more.
+
+“'How d'ye do Archie?' says Simeon, holdin' out his hand.
+
+“Archie didn't take the hand. Instead of that he points at Phinney and
+commences to laugh.
+
+“'Ho, ho!' says he, dancin' and pointin'. 'Look at the funny whiskers.'
+
+“Sim wa'n't expectin' that, and it set him all aback, like he'd run into
+a head squall. He took hold of his beard and looked foolish. Sam and
+Grace looked ashamed and mad. Cousin Harriet laughed one of her lazy
+laughs.
+
+“'Archibald, de-ar,' she drawls, 'you mustn't speak that way. Now be
+nice, and play with Margaret durin' dinner, that's a good boy.'
+
+“'I won't,' remarks Archie, cheerful. 'I'm goin' to dine with you,
+mama.'
+
+“'Oh, no, you're not, dear. You'll have your own little table, and--'
+
+“Then 'twas' Hi, yi!' 'Bow, wow!' Archibald wa'n't hankerin' for little
+tables. He was goin' to eat with us, that's what. His ma, she argued
+with him and pleaded, and he yelled and stamped and hurrahed. When
+Margaret tried to soothe him he went at her like a wild-cat, and kicked
+and pounded her sinful. She tried to take him out of the room, and then
+Cousin Harriet come down on her like a scow load of brick.
+
+“'Haven't I told you,' says she, sharp and vinegary, 'not to oppose the
+child in that way? Archibald has such a sensitive nature,' she says to
+Grace, 'that opposition arouses him just as it did me at his age. Very
+well, dear; you MAY dine with us to-night, if you wish. Oh, my poor
+nerves! Margaret, why don't you place a chair for Master Archibald? The
+creature is absolutely stupid at times,' she says, talkin' about that
+poor maid afore her face with no more thought for her feelin's than
+if she was a wooden image. 'She has no tact whatever. I wouldn't have
+Archibald's spirit broken for anything.'
+
+“'Twas his neck that needed breakin' if you asked ME. That was a joyful
+meal, now I tell you.
+
+“There was more joy when 'twas over. Archie didn't want to go to bed,
+havin' desires to set up and torment Simeon with questions about his
+whiskers; askin' if they growed or was tied on, and things like that.
+Course he didn't know his ma was goin' to the show, or he wouldn't have
+let her. But finally he was coaxed upstairs by Margaret and a box of
+candy, and, word havin' been sent down that he was asleep, Sam got
+out his plug hat, and Grace and Cousin Harriet got on their fur-lined
+dolmans and knit clouds, and was ready for the hack.
+
+“'I feel mighty mean to go off and leave you this way,' says Sam to
+me and Simeon. 'But you make yourself at home, won't you? This is your
+house to-night, you know; servants and all.'
+
+“'How about that boy's wakin' up?' says I.
+
+“'Oh, his maid'll attend to him. If she needs any help you can give it
+to her,' he says, winkin' on the side.
+
+“But Cousin Harriet was right at his starboard beam, and she heard him.
+She flew up like a settin' hen.
+
+“'Indeed they will NOT!' she sings out. 'If anyone but Margaret was to
+attempt to control Archibald, I don't dare think what might happen.
+I shall not stir from this spot until these persons promise not to
+interfere in ANY way; Archibald, dear, is such a sensitive child.'
+
+“So we promised not to interfere, although Sim Phinney looked
+disappointed when he done it. I could see that he'd had hopes afore he
+give that promise.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS
+
+
+“So they left you and Sim Phinney to keep house, did they, Hiram?”
+ observed Wingate.
+
+“They did. And, for a spell, we figgered on bein' free from too much
+style.
+
+“After they'd gone we loafed into the settin' room or libr'ry, or
+whatever you call it, and come to anchor in a couple of big lazy chairs.
+
+“'Now,' says I, takin' off my coat, 'we can be comf'table.'
+
+“But we couldn't. In bobs a servant girl to know if we 'wanted
+anything.' We didn't, but she looked so shocked when she see me in my
+shirt sleeves that I put the coat on again, feelin' as if I'd ought
+to blush. And in a minute back she comes to find out if we was SURE we
+didn't want anything. Sim was hitchin' in his chair. Between 'nerves'
+and Archibald, his temper was raw on the edges.
+
+“'Say,' he bursts out, 'you look kind of pale to me. What you need is
+fresh air. Why don't you go take a walk?'
+
+“The girl looked at him with her mouth open.
+
+“'Oh,' says she, 'I couldn't do that, thank you, sir. That would leave
+no one but the cook and the kitchen girl. And the master said you was to
+be made perfectly comf'table, and--'
+
+“'Yes,' says Sim, dry, 'I heard him say it. And we can't be comf'table
+with you shut up in the house this nice evenin'. Go and take a walk, and
+take the cook and stewardess with you. Don't argue about it. I'm skipper
+here till the boss gets back. Go, the three of you, and go NOW. D'ye
+hear?'
+
+“There was a little more talk, but not much. In five minutes or so the
+downstairs front door banged, and there was gigglin' outside.
+
+“'There,' says Simeon, peelin' off HIS coat and throwin' himself back in
+one chair with his feet on another one. 'Now, by Judas, I'm goin' to be
+homey and happy like poor folks. I don't wonder that Harriet woman's got
+nerves. Darn style, anyhow! Pass over that cigar box, Hiram.'
+
+“'Twas half an hour later or so when Margaret, the nursemaid, came
+downstairs. I'd almost forgot her. We was tame and toler'ble contented
+by that time. Phinney called to her as she went by the door.
+
+“'Is that young one asleep?' he asked.
+
+“'Yes, sir,' says she, 'he is. Is there anything I can do? Did you want
+anything?'
+
+“Simeon looks at me. 'I swan to man, it's catchin'!' he says. 'They've
+all got it. No, we don't want anything, except--What's the matter? YOU
+don't need fresh air, do you?'
+
+“The girl looked as if she'd lost her last friend. Her pretty face was
+pale and her eyes was wet, as if she'd been cryin'.
+
+“'No, sir,' says she, puzzled. 'No, sir, thank you, sir.'
+
+“'She's tired out, that's all,' says I. I swan, I pitied the poor thing.
+'You go somewheres and take a nap,' I told her. 'Me and my friend won't
+tell.'
+
+“Oh, no, she couldn't do that. It wa'n't that she was tired--no more
+tired than usual--but she'd been that troubled in her mind lately,
+askin' our pardon, that she was near to crazy.
+
+“We was sorry for that, but it didn't seem to be none of our business,
+and she was turnin' away, when all at once she stops and turns back
+again.
+
+“'Might I ask you gintlemen a question?' she says, sort of pleadin'.
+'Sure I mane no harm by it. Do aither of you know a man be the name of
+Michael O'Shaughnessy?'
+
+“Me and Sim looked at each other. 'Which?' says I. 'Mike O' who?' says
+Simeon.
+
+“'Aw, don't you know him?' she begs. 'DON'T you know him? Sure I hoped
+you might. If you'd only tell me where he is I'd git on me knees and
+pray for you. O Mike, Mike! why did you leave me like this? What'll
+become of me?'
+
+“And she walks off down the hall, coverin' her face with her hands and
+cryin' as if her heart was broke.
+
+“'There! there!' says Simeon, runnin' after her, all shook up. He's a
+kind-hearted man--especially to nice-lookin' females. 'Don't act so,' he
+says. 'Be a good girl. Come right back into the settin' room and tell
+me all about it. Me and Cap'n Baker ain't got nerves, and we ain't rich,
+neither. You can talk to us. Come, come!'
+
+“She didn't know how to act, seemingly. She was like a dog that's been
+kicked so often he's suspicious of a pat on the head. And she was cryin'
+and sobbin' so, and askin' our pardon for doin' it, that it took a good
+while to get at the real yarn. But we did get it, after a spell.
+
+“It seems that the girl--her whole name was Margaret Sullivan--had
+been in this country but a month or so, havin' come from Ireland in a
+steamboat to meet the feller who'd kept comp'ny with her over there. His
+name was Michael O'Shaughnessy, and he'd been in America for four years
+or more, livin' with a cousin in Long Island City. And he'd got a good
+job at last, and he sent for her to come on and be married to him.
+And when she landed 'twas the cousin that met her. Mike had drawn a
+five-thousand-dollar prize in the Mexican lottery a week afore, and
+hadn't been seen sence.
+
+“So poor Margaret goes to the cousin's to stay. And she found them poor
+as Job's pet chicken, and havin' hardly grub enough aboard to feed the
+dozen or so little cousins, let alone free boarders like her. And so,
+havin' no money, she goes out one day to an intelligence office where
+they deal in help, and puts in a blank askin' for a job as servant girl.
+'Twas a swell place, where bigbugs done their tradin', and there she
+runs into Cousin Harriet, who was a chronic customer, always out of
+servants, owin' to the complications of Archibald and nerves. And
+Harriet hires her, because she was pretty and would work for a shavin'
+more'n nothin', and carts her right off to Connecticut. And when
+Margaret sets out to write for her trunk, and to tell where she is, she
+finds she's lost the cousin's address, and can't remember whether it's
+Umpty-eighth Street or Tin Can Avenue.
+
+“'And, oh,' says she, 'what SHALL I do? The mistress is that hard to
+please, and the child is that wicked till I want to die. And I have no
+money and no friends. O Mike! Mike!' she says. 'If you only knew you'd
+come to me. For it's a good heart he has, although the five thousand
+dollars carried away his head,' says she.
+
+“I don't believe I ever wanted to make a feller's acquaintance more than
+I done that O'Shaughnessy man's. The mean blackguard, to leave his girl
+that way. And 'twas easy to see what she'd been through with Cousin
+Harriet and that brat. We tried to comfort her all we could; promised to
+have a hunt through Long Island and the directory, and to help get her
+another place when she got back from the South, and so on. But 'twas
+kind of unsatisfactory. 'Twas her Mike she wanted.
+
+“'I told the Father about it at the church up there,' she says, 'and he
+wrote, but the letters was lost, I guess. And I thought if I might see
+a priest here in New York he might help me. But the mistress is to go at
+noon to-morrer, and I'll have no time. What SHALL I do?' says she, and
+commenced to cry again.
+
+“Then I had an idea. 'Priest?' says I. 'There's a fine big church, with
+a cross on the ridgepole of it, not five minutes' walk from this house.
+I see it as we was comin' up. Why don't you run down there this minute?'
+I says.
+
+“No, she didn't want to leave Archibald. Suppose he should wake up.
+
+“'All right,' says I. 'Then I'll go myself. And I'll fetch a priest up
+here if I have to tote him on my back, like the feller does the codfish
+in the advertisin' picture.'
+
+“I didn't have to tote him. He lived in a mighty fine house, hitched
+onto the church, and there was half a dozen assistant parsons to help
+him do his preachin'. But he was big and fat and gray-haired and as
+jolly and as kind-hearted a feller as you'd want to meet. He said he'd
+come right along; and he done it.
+
+“Phinney opened the door for us. 'What's the row?' says I, lookin' at
+his face.
+
+“'Row?' he snorts; 'there's row enough for six. That da--excuse me,
+mister--that cussed Archibald has woke up.'
+
+“He had; there wa'n't no doubt about it. And he was raisin' hob, too.
+The candy, mixed up with the dinner, had put his works in line with his
+disposition, and he was poundin' and yellin' upstairs enough to wake the
+dead. Margaret leaned over the balusters.
+
+“'Is it the Father?' she says. 'Oh, dear! what'll I do?'
+
+“'Send some of the other servants to the boy,' says the priest, 'and
+come down yourself.'
+
+“Simeon, lookin' kind of foolish, explained what had become of the other
+servants. Father McGrath--that was his name--laughed and shook all over.
+
+“'Very well,' says he. 'Then bring the young man down. Perhaps he'll be
+quiet here.'
+
+“So pretty soon down come Margaret with Archibald, full of the Old
+Scratch, as usual, dressed up gay in a kind of red blanket nighty, with
+a rope around the middle of it. The young one spotted Simeon, and set up
+a whoop.
+
+“'Oh! there's the funny whiskers,' he sings out.
+
+“'Good evenin', my son,' says the priest.
+
+“'Who's the fat man?' remarks Archibald, sociable. 'I never saw such a
+red fat man. What makes him so red and fat?'
+
+“These questions didn't make Father McGrath any paler. He laughed, of
+course, but not as if 'twas the funniest thing he ever heard.
+
+“'So you think I'm fat, do you, my boy?' says he.
+
+“'Yes, I do,' says Archibald. 'Fat and red and funny. Most as funny as
+the whisker man. I never saw such funny-lookin' people.'
+
+“He commenced to point and holler and laugh. Poor Margaret was so
+shocked and mortified she didn't know what to do.
+
+“'Stop your noise, sonny,' says I. 'This gentleman wants to talk to your
+nurse.'
+
+“The answer I got was some unexpected.
+
+“'What makes your feet so big?' says Archie, pointin' at my Sunday
+boots. 'Why do you wear shoes like that? Can't you help it? You're
+funny, too, aren't you? You're funnier than the rest of 'em.'
+
+“We all went into the library then, and Father McGrath tried to ask
+Margaret some questions. I'd told him the heft of the yarn on the way
+from the church, and he was interested. But the questionin' was mighty
+unsatisfyin'. Archibald was the whole team, and the rest of us was
+yeller dogs under the wagon.
+
+“'Can't you keep that child quiet?' asks the priest, at last, losin' his
+temper and speakin' pretty sharp.
+
+“'O Archie, dear! DO be a nice boy,' begs Margaret, for the eight
+hundredth time.
+
+“'Why don't you punish him as he deserves?'
+
+“'Father, dear, I can't. The mistress says he's so sensitive that he has
+to have his own way. I'd lose my place if I laid a hand on him.'
+
+“'Come on into the parlor and see the pictures, Archie,' says I.
+
+“'I won't,' says Archibald. 'I'm goin' to stay here and see the fat man
+make faces.'
+
+“'You see,' says Sim, apologizin' 'we can't touch him, 'cause we
+promised his ma not to interfere. And my right hand's got cramps in the
+palm of it this minute,' he adds, glarin' at the young one.
+
+“Father McGrath stood up and reached for his hat. Margaret began to cry.
+Archibald, dear, whooped and kicked the furniture. And just then the
+front-door bell rang.
+
+“For a minute I thought 'twas Cousin Harriet and the Holdens come back,
+but then I knew it was hours too early for that. Margaret was too much
+upset to be fit for company, so I answered the bell myself. And who in
+the world should be standin' on the steps but that big Dempsey man, the
+boss of the Golconda House, where me and Simeon had been stayin'; the
+feller we'd spoke to that very mornin'.
+
+“'Good evenin', sor,' says he, in a voice as deep as a well. 'I'm glad
+to find you to home, sor. There's a telegram come for you at my place,'
+he says, 'and as your friend lift the address when he come for the
+baggage this afternoon, I brought it along to yez. I was comin' this
+way, so 'twas no trouble.'
+
+“'That's real kind of you,' I says. 'Step inside a minute, won't you?'
+
+“So in he comes, and stands, holdin' his shiny beaver in his hand, while
+I tore open the telegram envelope. 'Twas a message from a feller I knew
+with the Clyde Line of steamboats. He had found out, somehow, that we
+was in New York, and the telegram was an order for us to come and make
+him a visit.
+
+“'I hope it's not bad news, sor,' says the big chap.
+
+“'No, no,' says I. 'Not a bit of it, Mr. Dempsey. Come on in and have a
+cigar, won't you?'
+
+“'Thank you, sor,' says he. 'I'm glad it's not the bad news. Sure, I ax
+you and your friend's pardon for bein' so short to yez this mornin', but
+I'm in that throuble lately that me timper is all but gone.'
+
+“'That so?' says I. 'Trouble's thick in this world, ain't it? Me and Mr.
+Phinney got a case of trouble on our hands now, Mr. Dempsey, and--'
+
+“'Excuse me, sor,' he says. 'My name's not Dempsey. I suppose you seen
+the sign with me partner's name on it. I only bought into the business
+a while ago, and the new sign's not ready yit. Me name is O'Shaughnessy,
+sor.'
+
+“'What?' says I. And then: 'WHAT?'
+
+“'O'Shaughnessy. Michael O'Shaughnessy. I--'
+
+“'Hold on!' I sung out. 'For the land sakes, hold on! WHAT'S your name?'
+
+“He bristled up like a cat.
+
+“'Michael O'Shaughnessy,' he roars, like the bull of Bashan. 'D'yez
+find any fault with it? 'Twas me father's before me--Michael Patrick
+O'Shaughnessy, of County Sligo. I'll have yez know--WHAT'S THAT?'
+
+“'Twas a scream from the libr'ry. Next thing I knew, Margaret, the nurse
+girl, was standin' in the hall, white as a Sunday shirt, and swingin'
+back and forth like a wild-carrot stalk in a gale.
+
+“'Mike!' says she, kind of low and faint. 'Mary be good to us! MIKE!'
+
+“And the big chap dropped his tall hat on the floor and turned as white
+as she was.
+
+“'MAGGIE!' he hollers. And then they closed in on one another.
+
+“Sim and the priest and Archie had followed the girl into the hall. Me
+and Phinney was too flabbergasted to do anything, but big Father McGrath
+was cool as an ice box. When Archibald, like the little imp he was, sets
+up a whoop and dives for them two, the priest grabs him by the rope of
+the blanket nighty and swings him into the libr'ry, and shuts the door
+on him.
+
+“'And now,' says he, takin' Sim and me by the arms and leadin' us to the
+parlor, 'we'll just step in here and wait a bit.'
+
+“We waited, maybe, ten minutes. Archibald, dear, shut up in the libr'ry,
+was howlin' blue murder, but nobody paid any attention to him. Then
+there was a knock on the door between us and the hall, and Father
+McGrath opened it. There they was, the two of 'em--Mike and
+Maggie--lookin' red and foolish--but happy, don't talk!
+
+“'You see, sor,' says the O'Shaughnessy man to me, ''twas the
+five-thousand-dollar prize that done it. I'd been workin' at me trade,
+sor--larnin' to tind bar it was--and I'd just got a new job where the
+pay was pretty good, and I'd sint over for Maggie, and was plannin' for
+the little flat we was to have, and the like of that, when I drew that
+prize. And the joy of it was like handin' me a jolt on the jaw. It put
+me out for two weeks, sor, and when I come to I was in Baltimore, where
+I'd gone to collect the money; and two thousand of the five was gone,
+and I knew me job in New York was gone, and I was that shamed and sick
+it took me three days more to make up me mind to come to me Cousin
+Tim's, where I knew Maggie'd be waitin' for me. And when I did come back
+she was gone, too.'
+
+“'And then,' says Father McGrath, sharp, 'I suppose you went on another
+spree, and spent the rest of the money.'
+
+“'I did not, sor--axin' your pardon for contradictin' your riverence.
+I signed the pledge, and I'll keep it, with Maggie to help me. I put
+me three thousand into a partnership with me friend Dempsey, who was
+runnin' the Golconda House--'tis over on the East Side, with a fine bar
+trade--and I'm doin' well, barrin' that I've been crazy for this poor
+girl, and advertisin' and--'
+
+“'And look at the clothes of him!' sings out Margaret, reverentlike.
+'And is that YOUR tall hat, Mike? To think of you with a tall hat! Sure
+it's a proud girl I am this day. Saints forgive me, I've forgot Archie!'
+
+“And afore we could stop her she'd run into the hall and unfastened
+the libr'ry door. It took her some time to smooth down the young one's
+sensitive feelin's, and while she was gone, me and Simeon told the
+O'Shaughnessy man a little of what his girl had had to put up with along
+of Cousin Harriet and Archibald. He was mad.
+
+“'Is that the little blackguard?' he asks, pointin' to Archibald, who
+had arrived by now.
+
+“'That's the one,' says I.
+
+“Archibald looked up at him and grinned, sassy as ever.
+
+“'Father McGrath,' asks O'Shaughnessy, determined like, 'can you marry
+us this night?'
+
+“'I can,' says the Father.
+
+“'And will yez?'
+
+“'I will, with pleasure.'
+
+“'Maggie,' says Mike, 'get your hat and jacket on and come with the
+Father and me this minute. These gintlemen here will explain to your
+lady when she comes back. But YOU'LL come back no more. We'll send for
+your trunk to-morrer.'
+
+“Even then the girl hesitated. She'd been so used to bein' a slave that
+I suppose she couldn't realize she was free at last.
+
+“'But, Mike, dear,' she says. 'I--oh, your lovely hat! Put it down,
+Archie, darlin'. Put it down!'
+
+“Archibald had been doin' a little cruisin' on his own hook, and he'd
+dug up Mike's shiny beaver where it had been dropped in the hall. Now he
+was dancin' round with it, bangin' it on the top as if it was a drum.
+
+“'Put it down, PLEASE!' pleads Margaret. 'Twas plain that that plug was
+a crown of glory to her.
+
+“'Drop it, you little thafe!' yells O'Shaughnessy, makin' a dive for the
+boy.
+
+“'I won't!' screams Archibald, and starts to run. He tripped over the
+corner of a mat, and fell flat. The plug hat was underneath him, and it
+fell flat, too.
+
+“'Oh! oh! oh!' wails Margaret, wringin' her hands. 'Your beautiful hat,
+Mike!'
+
+“Mike's face was like a sunset.
+
+“'Your reverence,' says he, 'tell me this; don't the wife promise to
+“obey” in the marriage service?'
+
+“'She does,' says Father McGrath.
+
+“'D'ye hear that, you that's to be Margaret O'Shaughnessy? You do? Well,
+then, as your husband that's to be in tin minutes, I order you to give
+that small divil what's comin' to him. D'ye hear me? Will yez obey me,
+or will yez not?'
+
+“She didn't know what to do. You could see she wanted to--her fingers
+was itchin' to do it, but--And then Archie held up the ruins of the hat
+and commenced to laugh.
+
+“That settled it. Next minute he was across her knee and gettin' what
+he'd been sufferin' for ever sence he was born; and gettin' all the back
+numbers along with it, too.
+
+“And in the midst of the performance Sim Phinney leans over to me with
+the most heavenly, resigned expression on his face, and says he:
+
+“'It ain't OUR fault, Hiram. We promised not to interfere.'”
+
+“What did Sam Holden and his wife say when they got home?” asked Captain
+Sol, when the triumphant whoops over Archibald's righteous chastisement
+had subsided.
+
+“We didn't give him much of a chance to say anything. I laid for him in
+the hall when he arrived and told him that Phinney had got a telegram
+and must leave immediate. He wanted to know why, and a whole lot more,
+but I told him we'd write it. Neither Sim nor me cared to face Cousin
+Harriet after her darlin' son had spun his yarn. Ha! ha! I'd like to
+have seen her face--from a safe distance.”
+
+Captain Bailey Stitt cleared his throat. “Referrin' to them
+automobiles,” he said, “I--”
+
+“Say, Sol,” interrupted Wingate, “did I ever tell you of Cap'n Jonadab's
+and my gettin' took up by the police when WE was in New York?”
+
+“No,” replied the astounded depot master. “Took up by the POLICE?”
+
+“Um--hm. Surprises you, don't it? Well, that whole trip was a surprise
+to me.
+
+“When Laban Thorp set out to thrash his son and the boy licked him
+instead, they found the old man settin' in the barnyard, holdin' on to
+his nose and grinnin' for pure joy.
+
+“'Hurt?' says he. 'Why, some. But think of it! Only think of it! I
+didn't believe Bill had it in him.'
+
+“Well, that's the way I felt when Cap'n Jonadab sprung the New York plan
+on to me. I was pretty nigh as much surprised as Labe. The idea of a man
+with a chronic case of lockjaw of the pocketbook, same as Jonadab had
+worried along under ever sence I knew him, suddenly breakin' loose with
+a notion to go to New York on a pleasure cruise! 'Twas too many for me.
+I set and looked at him.
+
+“'Oh, I mean it, Barzilla,' he says. 'I ain't been to New York sence I
+was mate on the Emma Snow, and that was 'way back in the eighties. That
+is, to stop I ain't. That time we went through on the way to Peter T.'s
+weddin' don't count, 'cause we only went in the front door and out the
+back, like Squealer Wixon went through high school. Let's you and me go
+and stay two or three days and have a real high old time,' says he.
+
+“I fetched a long breath. 'Jonadab,' I says, don't scare a feller this
+way; I've got a weak heart. If you're goin' to start in and be divilish
+in your old age, why, do it kind of gradual. Let's go over to the
+billiard room and have a bottle of sass'parilla and a five-cent cigar,
+just to break the ice.'
+
+“But that only made him mad.
+
+“'You talk like a fish,' he says. 'I mean it. Why can't we go? It's
+September, the Old Home House is shut up for the season, you and me's
+done well--fur's profits are concerned--and we ought to have a change,
+anyway. We've got to stay here in Orham all winter.'
+
+“'Have you figgered out how much it's goin' to cost?' I asked him.
+
+“Yes, he had. 'It won't be so awful expensive,' he says. 'I've got some
+stock in the railroad and that'll give me a pass fur's Fall River. And
+we can take a lunch to eat on the boat. And a stateroom's a dollar;
+that's fifty cents apiece. And my daughter's goin' to Denboro on a
+visit next week, so I'd have to pay board if I stayed to home. Come on,
+Barzilla! don't be so tight with your money.'
+
+“So I said I'd go, though I didn't have any pass, nor no daughter to
+feed me free gratis for nothin' when I got back. And when we started,
+on the followin' Monday, nothin' would do but we must be at the depot
+at two o'clock so's not to miss the train, which left at quarter past
+three.
+
+“I didn't sleep much that night on the boat. For one thing, our
+stateroom was a nice lively one, alongside of the paddle box and just
+under the fog whistle; and for another, the supper that Jonadab had
+brought, bein' mainly doughnuts and cheese, wa'n't the best cargo to
+take to bed with you. But it didn't make much diff'rence, 'cause we
+turned out at four, so's to see the scenery and git our money's worth.
+What was left of the doughnuts and cheese we had for breakfast.
+
+“We made the dock on time, and the next thing was to pick out a hotel.
+I was for cruisin' along some of the main streets until we hove in sight
+of a place that looked sociable and not too expensive. But no; Jonadab
+had it all settled for me. We was goin' to the 'Wayfarer's Inn,' a
+boardin' house where he'd put up once when he was mate of the Emma Snow.
+He said 'twas a fine place and you could git as good ham and eggs there
+as a body'd want to eat.
+
+“So we set sail for the 'Wayfarer's,' and of all the times gittin' to a
+place--don't talk! We asked no less than nine policemen and one hundred
+and two other folks, and it cost us thirty cents in car fares, which
+pretty nigh broke Jonadab's heart. However, we found it, finally, 'way
+off amongst a nest of brick houses and peddler carts and children, and
+it wa'n't the 'Wayfarer's Inn' no more, but was down in the shippin'
+list as the 'Golconda House.' Jonadab said the neighborhood had changed
+some sence he was there, but he guessed we'd better chance it, 'cause
+the board was cheap.
+
+“We had a nine-by-ten room up aloft somewheres, and there we set down on
+the edge of the bed and a chair to take account of stock, as you might
+say.
+
+“'Now, I tell you, Jonadab,' says I; 'we don't want to waste no time,
+and we've got the day afore us. What do you say if we cruise along
+the water front for a spell? There's ha'f a dozen Orham folks aboard
+diff'rent steamers that hail from this port, and 'twouldn't be no more'n
+neighborly to call on 'em. There's Silas Baker's boy, Asa--he's with the
+Savannah Line and he'd be mighty glad to see us. And there's--'
+
+“But Jonadab held up his hand. He'd been mysterious as a baker's mince
+pie ever sence we started, hintin' at somethin' he'd got to do when we'd
+got to New York. And now he out with it.
+
+“'Barzilla,' he says, 'I ain't sayin' but what I'd like to go to the
+wharves with you, first rate. And we will go, too. But afore we do
+anything else I've got an errand that must be attended to. 'Twas give
+to me by a dyin' man,' he says, 'and I promised him I'd do it. So that
+comes first of all.'
+
+“He got his wallet out of his inside vest pocket, where it had been
+pinned in tight to keep it safe from robbers, unwound a foot or so of
+leather strap, and dug up a yeller piece of paper that looked old enough
+to be Methusalem's will, pretty nigh.
+
+“'Do you remember Patrick Kelly in Orham?' he asks.
+
+“'Who?' says I. 'Pat Kelly, the Irishman, that lived in the little old
+shack back of your barn? Course I do. But he's been dead for I don't
+know how long.'
+
+“'I know he has. Do you remember his boy Jim that run away from home?'
+
+“'Let's see,' I says. 'Seems to me I do. Freckled, red-headed rooster,
+wa'n't he? And of all the imps of darkness that ever--'
+
+“'S-sh-sh!' he interrupted solemn. 'Don't say that now, Barzilla. Sounds
+kind of irreverent. Well, me and old Pat was pretty friendly, in a way,
+though he did owe me rent. When he was sick with the pleurisy he sends
+for me and he says, “Cap'n 'Wixon,” says he, “you're pretty close with
+the money,” he says--he was kind of out of his head at the time and
+liable to say foolish things--“you're pretty close,” he says, “but
+you're a man of your word. My boy Jimmie, that run away, was the apple
+of my eye.”'
+
+“'That's what he said about his girl Maggie that was took up for
+stealin' Mrs. Elkanah Higgins's spoons,' I says. 'He had a healthy crop
+of apples in HIS orchard.'
+
+“'S-sh-h! DON'T talk so! I feel as if the old man's spirit was with
+us this minute. “He's the apple of my eye,” he says, “and he run away,
+after me latherin' the life out of him with a wagon spoke. 'Twas all
+for his good, but he didn't understand, bein' but a child. And now I've
+heard,” he says, “that he's workin' at 116 East Blank Street in the city
+of New York. Cap'n Wixon, you're a man of money and a travelin' man,” he
+says (I was fishin' in them days). “When you go to New York,” he says,
+“I want you to promise me to go to the address on this paper and hunt
+up Jimmie. Tell him I forgive him for lickin' him,” he says, “and die
+happy. Will you promise me that, Cap'n, on your word as a gentleman?”
+ And I promised him. And he died in less than ten months afterwards, poor
+thing.'
+
+“'But that was sixteen--eighteen--nineteen years ago,' says I. 'And the
+boy run away three years afore that. You've been to New York in the past
+nineteen years, once anyhow.'
+
+“'I know it. But I forgot. I'm ashamed of it, but I forgot. And when
+I was goin' through the things up attic at my daughter's last Friday,
+seein' what I could find for the rummage sale at the church, I come
+across my old writin' desk, and in it was this very piece of paper with
+the address on it just as I wrote it down. And me startin' for New York
+in three days! Barzilla, I swan to man, I believe something SENT me to
+that attic.'
+
+“I knew what sent him there and so did the church folks, judgin' by
+their remarks when the contribution came in. But I was too much set back
+by the whole crazy business to say anything about that.
+
+“'Look here, Jonadab Wixon,' I sings out, 'do you mean to tell me that
+we've got to put in the whole forenoon ransackin' New York to find a boy
+that run off twenty-two years ago?'
+
+“'It won't take the forenoon,' he says. 'I've got the number, ain't I?'
+
+“'Yes, you've got the number where he WAS. If you want to know where I
+think he's likely to be now, I'd try the jail.'
+
+“But he said I was unfeelin' and disobligin' and lots more, so, to cut
+the argument short, I agreed to go. And off we put to hunt up 116
+East Blank Street. And when we located it, after a good hour of askin'
+questions, and payin' car fares and wearin' out shoe leather, 'twas a
+Chinese laundry.
+
+“'Well,' I says, sarcastic, 'here we be. Which one of the heathen do you
+think is Jimmie? If he had an inch or so more of upper lip, I'd gamble
+on that critter with the pink nighty and the baskets on his feet. He has
+a kind of familiar chicken-stealin' look in his eye. Oh, come down on
+the wharves, Jonadab, and be sensible.'
+
+“Would you believe it, he wa'n't satisfied. We must go into the wash
+shop and ask the Chinamen if they knew Jimmie Kelly. So we went in and
+the powwow begun.
+
+“'Twas a mighty unsatisfyin' interview. Jonadab's idea of talkin' to
+furriners is to yell at 'em as if they was stone deef. If they don't
+understand what you say, yell louder. So between his yells and the
+heathen's jabber and grunts the hullabaloo was worse than a cat in a hen
+yard. Folks begun to stop outside the door and listen and grin.
+
+“'What did he say?' asks the Cap'n, turnin' to me.
+
+“'I don't know,' says I, 'but I cal'late he's gettin' ready to send
+a note up to the crazy asylum. Come on out of here afore I go loony
+myself.'
+
+“So he done it, finally, cross as all get out, and swearin' that all
+Chinese was no good and oughtn't to be allowed in this country. But he
+wouldn't give up, not yet. He must scare up some of the neighbors and
+ask them. The fifth man that we asked was an old chap who remembered
+that there used to be a liquor saloon once where the laundry was now.
+But he didn't know who run it or what had become of him.
+
+“'Never mind,' I says. 'You're as warm as you're likely to be this trip.
+A rum shop is just about the place I'd expect that Kelly boy WOULD be
+in. And, if he's like the rest of his relations on his dad's side, he
+drank himself to death years ago. NOW will you head for the Savannah
+Line?'
+
+“Not much, he wouldn't. He had another notion. We'd look in the
+directory. That seemed to have a glimmer of sense somewheres in its
+neighborhood, so we found an apothecary store and the clerk handed us
+out a book once again as big as a church Bible.
+
+“'Kelly,' says Jonadab. 'Yes, here 'tis. Now, “James Kelly.” Land of
+Love! Barzilla, look here.'
+
+“I looked, and there wa'n't no less than a dozen pages of James Kellys
+beginning with fifty James A.'s and endin' with four James Z.'s. The Y
+in 'New York' ought to be a C, judgin' by that directory.
+
+“'Godfrey mighty!' I says. 'This ain't no forenoon's job, Jonadab. If
+you're goin' through that list you'll have to spend the rest of your
+life here. Only, unless you want to be lonesome, you'll have to change
+your name to Kelly.'
+
+“'If I'd only got his middle letter,' says he, mournful, ''twould have
+been easier. He had four middle names, if I remember right--the old man
+was great on names--and 'twas too much trouble to write 'em all down.
+Well, I've done my duty, anyhow. We'll go and call on Ase Baker.'
+
+“But 'twas after eleven o'clock then, and the doughnuts and cheese I
+had for breakfast was beginnin' to feel as if they wanted company. So we
+decided to go back to the Golconda and have some dinner first.
+
+“We had ham and eggs for dinner, some that was left over from the last
+time Jonadab stopped there, I cal'late. Lucky there was hot bread and
+coffee on the bill or we'd never got a square meal. Then we went up to
+our room and the Cap'n laid down on the bed. He was beat out, he said,
+and wanted to rest up a spell afore haulin' anchor for another cruise.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A VISION SENT
+
+
+“Where's the arrestin' come in?” demanded Stitt.
+
+“Comes quick now, Bailey. Plenty quick enough for me and Jonadab, I tell
+you that! After we got to our room the Cap'n went to sleep pretty soon
+and I set in the one chair, readin' the newspaper and wishin' I hadn't
+ate so many of the warm bricks that the Golconda folks hoped was
+biscuit. They made me feel like a schooner goin' home in ballast. I
+guess I was drowsin' off myself, but there comes a most unearthly yell
+from the bed and I jumped ha'f out of the chair. There was Jonadab
+settin' up and lookin' wild.
+
+“'What in the world?' says I.
+
+“'Oh! Ugh! My soul!' says he.
+
+“'Your soul, hey?' says I. 'Is that all? I thought mebbe you'd lost a
+quarter.'
+
+“'Barzilla,' he says, comin' to and starin' at me solemn, 'Barzilla,
+I've had a dream--a wonderful dream.'
+
+“'Well,' I says, 'I ain't surprised. A feller that h'isted in as much
+fried dough as you did ought to expect--'
+
+“'But I tell you 'twas a WONDERFUL dream,' he says. 'I dreamed I was on
+Blank Street, where we was this mornin', and Patrick Kelly comes to me
+and p'ints his finger right in my face. I see him as plain as I see
+you now. And he says to me--he said it over and over, two or three
+times--Seventeen,” says he, “Seventeen.” Now what do you think of that?'
+
+“'Humph!' I says. 'I ain't surprised. I think 'twas just seventeen
+of them biscuits that you got away with. Wonder to me you didn't see
+somebody worse'n old Pat.'
+
+“But he was past jokin'. You never see a man so shook up by the
+nightmare as he was by that one. He kept goin' over it and tellin' how
+natural old Kelly looked and how many times he said 'Seventeen' to him.
+
+“'Now what did he mean by it?' he says. 'Don't tell me that was a common
+dream, 'cause twa'n't. No, sir, 'twas a vision sent to me, and I know
+it. But what did he mean?'
+
+“'I think he meant you was seventeen kinds of an idiot,' I snorts,
+disgusted. 'Get up off that bed and stop wavin' your arms, will you?
+He didn't mean for you to turn yourself into a windmill, that's sartin
+sure.'
+
+“Then he hits his knee a slap that sounds like a window blind blowin'
+to. 'I've got it!' he sings out. 'He meant for me to go to number
+seventeen on that street. That's what he meant.'
+
+“I laughed and made fun of him, but I might as well have saved my
+breath. He was sure Pat Kelly's ghost had come hikin' back from the
+hereafter to tell him to go to 17 Blank Street and find his boy. 'Else
+why was he ON Blank Street?' he says. 'You tell me that.'
+
+“I couldn't tell him. It's enough for me to figger out what makes live
+folks act the way they do, let alone dead ones. And Cap'n Jonadab was a
+Spiritu'list on his mother's side. It ended by my agreein' to give the
+Jimmie chase one more try.
+
+“'But it's got to be the last,' I says. 'When you get to number
+seventeen don't you say you think the old man meant to say “seventy” and
+stuttered.'
+
+“Number 17 Blank Street was a little combination fruit and paper store
+run by an Eyetalian with curly hair and the complexion of a molasses
+cooky. His talk sounded as if it had been run through a meat chopper.
+All he could say was, 'Nica grape, genta'men? On'y fifteen cent a pound.
+Nica grape? Nica apple? Nica pear? Nica ploom?'
+
+“'Kelly?' says Jonadab, hollerin' as usual. 'Kelly! d'ye understand?
+K-E-L-Kel L-Y-ly, Kelly. YOU know, KELLY! We want to find him.'
+
+“And just then up steps a feller about six feet high and three foot
+through. He was dressed in checkerboard clothes, some gone to seed, and
+you could hardly see the blue tie he had on for the glass di'mond in
+it. Oh, he was a little wilted now--for the lack of water, I judge--but
+'twas plain that he'd been a sunflower in his time. He'd just come out
+of a liquor store next door to the fruit shop and was wipin' his mouth
+with the back of his hand.
+
+“'What's this I hear?' says he, fetchin' Jonadab a welt on the back like
+a mast goin' by the board. 'Is it me friend Kelly you're lookin' for?'
+
+“I was just goin' to tell him no, not likin' his looks, but Jonadab cut
+in ahead of me, out of breath from the earthquake the feller had landed
+him, but excited as could be.
+
+“'Yes, yes!' says he. 'It's Mr. Kelly we want. Do you know him?'
+
+“'Do I know him? Why, me bucko, 'tis me old college chum he is. Come on
+with me and we'll give him the glad hand.'
+
+“He grabs Jonadab by the arm and starts along the sidewalk, steerin' a
+toler'ble crooked course, but gainin' steady by jerks.
+
+“'I was on me way to Kelly's place now,' says he. 'And here it is. Sure
+didn't I bate the bookies blind on Rosebud but yesterday--or was it the
+day before? I don't know, but come on, me lads, and we'll do him again.'
+
+“He turned in at a little narrer entry-like, and went stumblin' up a
+flight of dirty stairs. I caught hold of Jonadab's coat tails and pulled
+him back.
+
+“'Where you goin', you crazy loon?' I whispered. 'Can't you see he's
+three sheets in the wind? And you haven't told him what Kelly you want,
+nor nothin'.'
+
+“But I might as well have hollered at a stone wall. 'I don't care if
+he's as fur gone in liquor as Belshazzer's goat,' sputters the Cap'n,
+all worked up. 'He's takin' us to a Kelly, ain't he? And is it likely
+there'd be another one within three doors of the number I dreamed
+about? Didn't I tell you that dream was a vision sent? Don't lay to NOW,
+Barzilla, for the land sakes! It's Providence a-workin'.'
+
+“'Cording to my notion the sunflower looked more like an agent from
+t'other end of the line than one from Providence, but just then he
+commenced to yell for us and upstairs we went, Jonadab first.
+
+“'Whisht!' says the checkerboard, holdin' on to Jonadab's collar and
+swingin' back and forth. 'Before we proceed to blow in on me friend
+Kelly, let us come to an understandin' concernin' and touchin'
+on--and--and--I don't know. But b'ys,' says he, solemn and confidential,
+'are you on the square? Are yez dead game sports, hey?'
+
+“'Yes, yes!' says Jonadab. 'Course we be. Mr. Kelly and us are old
+friends. We've come I don't know how fur on purpose to see him. Now
+where's--'
+
+“'Say no more,' hollers the feller. 'Say no more. Come on with yez.' And
+he marches down the dark hall to a door with a 'To let' sign on it and
+fetches it a bang with his fist. It opens a little ways and a face shows
+in the crack.
+
+“'Hello, Frank!' hails the sunflower, cheerful. 'Will you take that ugly
+mug of yours out of the gate and lave me friends in?'
+
+“'What's the matter wid you, Mike?' asks the chap at the door. 'Yer
+can't bring them two yaps in here and you know it. Gwan out of this.'
+
+“He tried to shut the door, but the checkerboard had his foot between it
+and the jamb. You might as well have tried to shove in the broadside of
+an ocean liner as to push against that foot.
+
+“'These gents are friends of mine,' says he. 'Frank, I'll do yez the
+honor of an introduction to Gin'ral Grant and Dan'l O'Connell. Open that
+door and compose your face before I'm obliged to break both of 'em.'
+
+“'But I tell you, Mike, I can't,' says the door man, lookin' scared.
+'The boss is out, and you know--'
+
+“'WILL you open that door?' roars the big chap. And with that he hove
+his shoulder against the panels and jammed the door open by main force,
+all but flattenin' the other feller behind it. 'Walk in, Gin'ral,' he
+says to Jonadab, and in we went, me wonderin' what was comin' next, and
+not darin' to guess.
+
+“There was a kind of partitioned off hallway inside, with another door
+in the partition. We opened that, and there was a good-sized room,
+filled with men, smokin' and standin' around. A high board fence was
+acrost one end of the room, and from behind it comes a jinglin' of
+telephone bells and the sounds of talk. The floor was covered with
+torn papers, the window blinds was shut, the gas was burnin' blue, and,
+between it and the smoke, the smells was as various as them in a fish
+glue factory. On the fence was a couple of blackboards with 'Belmont'
+and 'Brighton' and suchlike names in chalk wrote on 'em, and
+beneath that a whole mess in writin' and figures like, 'Red Tail
+4--Wt--108--Jock Smith--5--1,' 'Sourcrout 5--Wt--99--Jock Jones--20--5,'
+and similar rubbish. And the gang--a mighty mixed lot--was scribblin'
+in little books and watchin' each other as if they was afraid of havin'
+their pockets picked; though, to look at 'em, you'd have guessed the
+biggest part had nothin' in their pockets but holes.
+
+“The six-foot checkerboard--who, it turned out, answered to the hail of
+'Mike'--seemed to be right at home with the gang. He called most of 'em
+by their first names and went sasshayin' around, weltin' 'em on the back
+and tellin' 'em how he'd 'put crimps in the bookies rolls t'other day,'
+and a lot more stuff that they seemed to understand, but was hog Greek
+to me and Jonadab. He'd forgot us altogether which was a mercy the way I
+looked at it, and I steered the Cap'n over into a corner and we come to
+anchor on a couple of rickety chairs.
+
+“'What--why--what kind of a place IS this, Barzilla?' whispers Jonadab,
+scared.
+
+“'Sh-h-h!' says I. 'Land knows. Just set quiet and hang on to your
+watch.'
+
+“'But--but I want to find Kelly,' says he.
+
+“'I'd give somethin' to find a back door,' says I. 'Ain't this a
+collection of dock rats though! If this is a part of your dream,
+Jonadab, I wish you'd turn over and wake up. Oh land! here's one
+murderer headin' this way. Keep your change in your fist and keep the
+fist shut.'
+
+“A more'n average rusty peep, with a rubber collar on and no necktie,
+comes slinkin' over to us. He had a smile like a crack in a plate.
+
+“'Say, gents,' he says, 'have you made your bets yet? I've got a dead
+straight line on the handicap,' says he, 'and I'll put you next for a
+one spot. It's a sure t'ing at fifteen to three. What do you say?'
+
+“I didn't say nuthin'; but that fool dream was rattlin' round in
+Jonadab's skull like a bean in a blowgun, and he sees a chance for a
+shot.
+
+“'See here, mister,' he says. 'Can you tell me where to locate Mr.
+Kelly?'
+
+“'Who--Pete?' says the feller. 'Oh, he ain't in just now. But about that
+handicap. I like the looks of youse and I'll let youse in for a dollar.
+Or, seein' it's you, we'll say a half. Only fifty cents. I wouldn't do
+better for my own old man,' he says.
+
+“While the Cap'n was tryin' to unravel one end of this gibberish I spoke
+up prompt.
+
+“'Say,' says I, 'tell me this, will you? Is the Kelly who owns
+this--this palace, named Jimmie--James, I mean?'
+
+“'Naw,' says he. 'Sure he ain't. It's Pete Kelly, of course--Silver
+Pete. But what are you givin' us? Are you bettin' on the race, or ain't
+you?'
+
+“Well, Jonadab understood that. He bristled up like a brindled cat.
+If there's any one thing the Cap'n is down on, it's gamblin' and
+such--always exceptin' when he knows he's won already. You've seen that
+kind, maybe.
+
+“'Young feller,' he says, perkish, 'I want you to know that me and my
+friend ain't the bettin' kind. What sort of a hole IS this, anyway?'
+
+“The rubber collared critter backed off, lookin' worried. He goes acrost
+the room, and I see him talkin' to two or three other thieves as tough
+as himself. And they commenced to stare at us and scowl.
+
+“'Come on,' I whispered to Jonadab. 'Let's get out of this place while
+we can. There ain't no Jimmie Kelly here, or if there is you don't want
+to find him.'
+
+“He was as willin' to make tracks as I was, by this time, and we headed
+for the door in the partition. But Rubber Collar and some of the others
+got acrost our bows.
+
+“'Cut it out,' says one of 'em. 'You can't get away so easy. Hi, Frank!
+Frank! Who let these turnip pullers in here, anyhow? Who are they?'
+
+“The chap who was tendin' door comes out of his coop. 'You've got me,'
+he says. 'They come in with Big Mike, and he was loaded and scrappy and
+jammed 'em through. Said they was pals of his. Where is he?'
+
+“There was a hunt for Mike, and, when they got his bearin's, there
+he was keeled over on a bench, breathin' like an escape valve. And an
+admiral's salute wouldn't have woke him up. The whole crew was round us
+by this time, some ugly, and the rest laffin' and carryin' on.
+
+“'It's the Barkwurst gang,' says one.
+
+“'It's old Bark himself,' says another. 'Look at them lace curtains.'
+And he points to Jonadab's whiskers.
+
+“'This one's Jacobs in disguise,' sings out somebody else. 'You can tell
+him by the Rube get-up. Haw! haw!'
+
+“'Soak 'em! Do 'em up! Don't let 'em out!' hollers a ha'f dozen more.
+
+“Jonadab was game; I'll say that for him. And I hadn't been second mate
+in my time for nothin'.
+
+“'Take your hands off me!' yells the Cap'n. 'I come in here to find
+a man I'm lookin' for, James Kelly it was, and--You would, would you!
+Stand by, Barzilla!'
+
+“I stood by. Rubber Collar got one from me that made him remember home
+and mother, I'll bet. Anyhow, my knuckles ached for two days afterwards.
+And Jonadab was just as busy. But I cal'late we'd have been ready for
+the oven in another five minutes if the door hadn't bu'st open with a
+bang, and a loud dressed chap, with the sweat pourin' down his face,
+come tearin' in.
+
+“'Beat it, fellers!' he yells. 'The place is goin' to be pinched. I've
+just had the tip, and they're right on top of me.'
+
+“THEN there was times. Everybody was shoutin' and swearin' and fallin'
+over each other to get out. I was kind of lost in the shuffle, and
+the next thing I remember for sartin is settin' up on Rubber Collar's
+stomach and lookin' foggy at the door, where the loud dressed man was
+wrestlin' with a policeman. And there was police at the windows and all
+around.
+
+“Well, don't talk! I got up, resurrects Jonadab from under a heap of
+gamblers and furniture, and makes for harbor in our old corner. The
+police was mighty busy, especially a fat, round-faced, red-mustached
+man, with gold bands on his cap and arms, that the rest called 'Cap'n.'
+Him and the loud dressed chap who'd give the alarm was talkin' earnest
+close to us.
+
+“'I can't help it, Pete,' says the police cap'n. ''Twas me or the Vice
+Suppression crowd. They've been on to you for two weeks back. I only
+just got in ahead of 'em as it was. No, you'll have to go along with
+the rest and take your chances. Quiet now, everybody, or you'll get it
+harder,' he roars, givin' orders like the skipper of a passenger boat.
+'Stand in line and wait your turns for the wagon.'
+
+“Jonadab grabbed me by the wrist. He was pale and shakin' all over.
+
+“'Oh, Lordy!' says he, 'we're took up. Will we have to go to jail, do
+you think?'
+
+“'I don't know,' I says, disgusted. 'I presume likely we will. Did you
+dream anything like this? You'd better see if you can't dream yourself
+out now.' Twas rubbin' it in, but I was mad.
+
+“'Oh! oh!' says he, flappin' his hands. 'And me a deacon of the church!
+Will folks know it, do you think?'
+
+“'Will they know it! Sounds as if they knew it already. Just listen to
+that.'
+
+“The first wagon full of prizes was bein' loaded in down at the front
+door, and the crowd outside was cheerin' 'em. Judgin' by the whoops and
+hurrahs there wa'n't no less than a million folks at the show, and they
+was gettin' the wuth of admission.
+
+“'Oh, dear!' groans Jonadab. 'And it'll be in the papers and all! I
+can't stand this.'
+
+“And afore I could stop him he'd run over and tackled the head
+policeman.
+
+“'Mister--Mister Cap'n,' he says, pantin', 'there's been a mistake, an
+awful mis--take--'
+
+“'That's right,' says the police cap'n, 'there has. Six or eight of you
+tin horns got clear. But--' Then he noticed who was speakin' to him
+and his mouth dropped open like a hatch. 'Well, saints above!' he says.
+'Have the up-state delegates got to buckin' the ponies, too? Why ain't
+you back home killin' pertater bugs? You ought to be ashamed.'
+
+“'But we wa'n't gamblin'--me and my friend wa'n't. We was led in here
+by mistake. We was told that a feller named Kelly lived here and we're
+huntin' for a man of that name. I've got a message to him from his poor
+dead father back in Orham. We come all the way from Orham, Mass.--to
+find him and--'
+
+“The police cap'n turned around then and stared at him hard. 'Humph!'
+says he, after a spell. 'Go over there and set down till I want you. No,
+you'll go now and we'll waste no breath on it. Go on, do you hear!'
+
+“So we went, and there we set for ha'f an hour, while the rest of the
+gang and the blackboards and the paper slips and the telephones and Big
+Mike and his chair was bein' carted off to the wagon. Once, when one of
+the constables was beatin' acrost to get us, the police cap'n spoke to
+him.
+
+“'You can leave these two,' he says. 'I'll take care of them.'
+
+“So, finally, when there was nothin' left but the four walls and us and
+some of the police, he takes me and Jonadab by the elbows and heads for
+the door.
+
+“'Now,' says he, 'walk along quiet and peaceable and tell me all about
+it. Get out of this!' he shouts to the crowd of small boys and loafers
+on the sidewalk, 'or I'll take you, too.'
+
+“The outsiders fell astern, lookin' heartbroke and disapp'inted that we
+wa'n't hung on the spot, and the fat boss policeman and us two paraded
+along slow but grand. I felt like the feller that was caught robbin'
+the poorhouse, and I cal'late Jonadab felt the same, only he was so
+busy beggin' and pleadin' and explainin' that he couldn't stop to feel
+anything.
+
+“He told it all, the whole fool yarn from one end to t'other. How old
+Pat give him the message and how he went to the laundry, and about his
+ridiculous dream, every word. And the fat policeman shook all over, like
+a barrel of cod livers.
+
+“By and by we got to a corner of a street and hove to. I could see
+the station house loomin' up large ahead. Fatty took a card from his
+pocketbook, wrote on it with a pencil, and then hailed a hack, one of
+them stern-first kind where the driver sits up aloft 'way aft. He pushed
+back the cap with the gilt wreath on it, and I could see his red hair
+shinin' like a sunset.
+
+“'Here,' says he to the hack driver, 'take these--this pair of salads
+to the--what d'ye call it?--the Golconda House, wherever on top of the
+pavement that is. And mind you, deliver 'em safe and don't let the truck
+horses get a bite at 'em. And at half-past eight to-night you call for
+'em and bring 'em here,' handin' up the card he'd written on.
+
+“''Tis the address of my house, I'm givin',' he says, turnin' to
+Jonadab. 'I'll be off duty then and we'll have dinner and talk about old
+times. To think of you landin' in Silver Pete's pool room! Dear! dear!
+Why, Cap'n Wixon, barrin' that your whiskers are a bit longer and a
+taste grayer, I'd 'a' known you anywheres. Many's the time I've stole
+apples over your back fence. I'm Jimmie Kelly,' says he.”
+
+“Well, by mighty!” exclaimed the depot master, slapping his knee. “So HE
+was the Kelly man! Humph!”
+
+“Funny how it turned out, wa'n't it?” said Barzilla. “Course, Cap'n
+Jonadab was perfectly sat on spiritu'lism and signs and omens and such
+after that. He's had his fortune told no less'n eight times sence, and,
+nigh's I can find out, each time it's different. The amount of blondes
+and brunettes and widows and old maids that he's slated to marry,
+accordin' to them fortune tellers, is perfectly scandalous. If he lives
+up to the prophecies, Brigham Young wouldn't be a twospot 'longside of
+him.”
+
+“It's funny about dreams,” mused Captain Hiram. “Folks are always
+tellin' about their comin' true, but none of mine ever did. I used to
+dream I was goin' to be drowned, but I ain't been yet.”
+
+The depot master laughed. “Well,” he observed, “once, when I was a
+youngster, I dreamed two nights runnin' that I was bein' hung. I asked
+my Sunday school teacher if he believed dreams come true, and he said
+yes, sometimes. Then I told him my dream, and he said he believed in
+that one. I judged that any other finish for me would have surprised
+him. But, somehow or other, they haven't hung me yet.”
+
+“There was a hired girl over at the Old Home House who was sat on
+fortune tellin',” said Wingate. “Her name was Effie, and--”
+
+“Look here!” broke in Captain Bailey Stitt, righteous indignation in his
+tone, “I've started no less than nineteen different times to tell you
+about how I went sailin' in an automobile. Now do you want to hear it,
+or don't you?”
+
+“How you went SAILIN' in an auto?” repeated Barzilla. “Went ridin', you
+mean.”
+
+“I mean sailin'. I went ridin', too, but--”
+
+“You'll have to excuse me, Bailey,” interrupted Captain Hiram, rising
+and looking at his watch. “I've stayed here a good deal longer'n I
+ought to, already. I must be gettin' on home to see how poor little
+Dusenberry, my boy, is feelin'. I do hope he's better by now. I wish Dr.
+Parker hadn't gone out of town.”
+
+The depot master rose also. “And I'll have to be excused, too,” he
+declared. “It's most time for the up train. Good-by, Hiram. Give my
+regards to Sophrony, and if there's anything I can do to help, in case
+your baby should be sick, just sing out, won't you?”
+
+“But I want to tell about this automobilin' scrape,” protested Captain
+Bailey. “It was one of them things that don't happen every day.”
+
+“So was that fortune business of Effie's,” declared Wingate. “Honest,
+the way it worked out was queer enough.”
+
+But the train whistled just then and the group broke up. Captain Sol
+went out to the platform, where Cornelius Rowe, Ed Crocker, Beriah
+Higgins, Obed Gott, and other interested citizens had already assembled.
+Wingate and Stitt followed. As for Captain Hiram Baker, he hurried home,
+his conscience reproving him for remaining so long away from his wife
+and poor little Hiram Joash, more familiarly known as “Dusenberry.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+DUSENBERRY'S BIRTHDAY
+
+
+Mrs. Baker met her husband at the door.
+
+“How is he?” was the Captain's first question. “Better, hey?”
+
+“No,” was the nervous answer. “No, I don't think he is. His throat's
+terrible sore and the fever's just as bad.”
+
+Again Captain Hiram's conscience smote him.
+
+“Dear! dear!” he exclaimed. “And I've been loafin' around the depot
+with Sol Berry and the rest of 'em instead of stayin' home with you,
+Sophrony. I KNEW I was doin' wrong, but I didn't realize--”
+
+“Course you didn't, Hiram. I'm glad you got a few minutes' rest, after
+bein' up with him half the night. I do wish the doctor was home, though.
+When will he be back?”
+
+“Not until late to-morrer, if then. Did you keep on givin' the
+medicine?”
+
+“Yes, but it don't seem to do much good. You go and set with him now,
+Hiram. I must be seein' about supper.”
+
+So into the sick room went Captain Hiram to sit beside the crib and
+sing “Sailor boy, sailor boy, 'neath the wild billow,” as a lugubrious
+lullaby.
+
+Little Hiram Joash tossed and tumbled. He was in a fitful slumber when
+Mrs. Baker called her husband to supper. The meal was anything but
+a cheerful one. They talked but little. Over the home, ordinarily so
+cheerful, had settled a gloom that weighed upon them.
+
+“My! my!” sighed Captain Hiram, “how lonesome it seems without him
+chatterin' and racketin' sound. Seems darker'n usual, as if there was a
+shadow on the place.”
+
+“Hush, Hiram! don't talk that way. A shadow! Oh, WHAT made you say that?
+Sounds like a warnin', almost.”
+
+“Warnin'?”
+
+“Yes, a forewarnin', you know. 'The valley of the shadow--'”
+
+“HUSH!” Captain Baker's face paled under its sunburn. “Don't say such
+things, Sophrony. If that happened, the Lord help you and me. But it
+won't--it won't. We're nervous, that's all. We're always so careful of
+Dusenberry, as if he was made out of thin china, that we get fidgety
+when there's no need of it. We mustn't be foolish.”
+
+After supper Mrs. Baker tiptoed into the bedroom. She emerged with a
+very white face.
+
+“Hiram,” she whispered, “he acts dreadful queer. Come in and see him.”
+
+The “first mate” was tossing back and forth in the crib, making odd
+little choky noises in his swollen throat. When his father entered he
+opened his eyes, stared unmeaningly, and said: “'Tand by to det der ship
+under way.”
+
+“Good Lord! he's out of his head,” gasped the Captain. Sophronia and he
+stepped back into the sitting room and looked at each other, the same
+thought expressed in the face of each. Neither spoke for a moment, then
+Captain Hiram said:
+
+“Now don't you worry, Sophrony. The Doctor ain't home, but I'm goin' out
+to--to telegraph him, or somethin'. Keep a stiff upper lip. It'll be all
+right. God couldn't go back on you and me that way. He just couldn't.
+I'll be back in a little while.”
+
+“But, oh, Hiram! if he should--if he SHOULD be taken away, what WOULD we
+do?”
+
+She began to cry. Her husband laid a trembling hand on her shoulder.
+
+“But he won't,” he declared stoutly. “I tell you God wouldn't do such a
+thing. Good-by, old lady. I'll hurry fast as I can.”
+
+As he took up his cap and turned to the door he heard the voice of the
+weary little first mate chokily calling his crew to quarters. “All hands
+on deck!”
+
+The telegraph office was in Beriah Higgins's store. Thither ran the
+Captain. Pat Sharkey, Mr. Higgins's Irish helper, who acted as telegraph
+operator during Gertie Higgins's absence, gave Captain Hiram little
+satisfaction.
+
+“How can I get Dr. Parker?” asked Pat. “He's off on a cruise and land
+knows where I can reach him to-night. I'll do what I can, Cap, but it's
+ten chances out of nine against a wire gettin' to him.”
+
+Captain Hiram left the store, dodging questioners who were anxious to
+know what his trouble might be, and dazedly crossed Main Street, to the
+railway station. He thought of asking advice of his friend, the depot
+master.
+
+The evening train from Boston pulled out as he passed through the
+waiting room. One or two passengers were standing on the platform. One
+of these was a short, square-shouldered man with gray side whiskers and
+eyeglasses. The initials on his suit case were J. S. M., Boston, and
+they stood for John Spencer Morgan. If the bearer of the suit case had
+followed the fashion of the native princes of India and had emblazoned
+his titles upon his baggage, the commonplace name just quoted might have
+been followed by “M.D., LL.D., at Harvard and Oxford; vice president
+American Medical Society; corresponding secretary Associated Society of
+Surgeons; lecturer at Harvard Medical College; author of 'Diseases of
+the Throat and Lungs,' etc., etc.”
+
+But Dr. Morgan was not given to advertising either his titles or
+himself, and he was hurrying across the platform to Redny Blount's depot
+wagon when Captain Hiram touched him on the arm.
+
+“Why, hello, Captain Baker,” exclaimed the Doctor, “how do you do?”
+
+“Dr. Morgan,” said the Captain, “I--I hope you'll excuse my presumin' on
+you this way, but I want to ask a favor of you, a great favor. I want to
+ask if you'll come down to the house and see the boy; he's on the sick
+list.”
+
+“What, Dusenberry?”
+
+“Yes, sir. He's pretty bad, I'm 'fraid, and the old lady's considerable
+upsot about him. If you just come down and kind of take an observation,
+so's we could sort of get our bearin's, as you might say, 'twould be a
+mighty help to all hands.”
+
+“But where's your town physician? Hasn't he been called?”
+
+The Captain explained. He had inquired, and he had telegraphed, but
+could get no word of Dr. Parker's whereabouts.
+
+The great Boston specialist listened to Captain Hiram's story in an
+absent-minded way. Holidays were few and far between with him, and when
+he accepted the long-standing invitation of Mr. Ogden Williams to run
+down for the week end he determined to forget the science of medicine
+and all that pertained to it for the four days of his outing. But an
+exacting patient had detained him long enough to prevent his taking the
+train that morning, and now, on the moment of his belated arrival, he
+was asked to pay a professional call. He liked the Captain, who had
+taken him out fishing several times on his previous excursions to East
+Harniss, and he remembered Dusenberry as a happy little sea urchin, but
+he simply couldn't interrupt his pleasure trip to visit a sick baby.
+Besides, the child was Dr. Parker's patient, and professional ethics
+forbade interference.
+
+“Captain Hiram,” he said, “I am sorry to disappoint you, but it will
+be impossible for me to do what you ask. Mr. Williams expected me this
+morning, and I am late already. Dr. Parker will, no doubt, return soon.
+The baby cannot be dangerously ill or he would not have left him.”
+
+The Captain slowly turned away.
+
+“Thank you, Doctor,” he said huskily. “I knew I hadn't no right to ask.”
+
+He walked across the platform, abstractedly striking his right hand into
+his left. When he reached the ticket window he put one hand against the
+frame as if to steady himself, and stood there listlessly.
+
+The enterprising Mr. Blount had been hanging about the Doctor like a cat
+about the cream pitcher; now he rushed up, grasped the suit case, and
+officiously led the way toward the depot wagon. Dr. Morgan followed more
+slowly. As he passed the Captain he glanced up into the latter's face,
+lighted, as it was, by the lamp inside the window.
+
+The Doctor stopped and looked again. Then he took another step forward,
+hesitated, turned on his heel, and said:
+
+“Wait a moment, Blount. Captain Hiram, do you live far from here?”
+
+The Captain started. “No, sir, only a little ways.”
+
+“All right. I'll go down and look at this boy of yours. Mind you, I'll
+not take the case, simply give my opinion on it, that's all. Blount,
+take my grip to Mr. Williams's. I'm going to walk down with the
+Captain.”
+
+
+“Haul on ee bowline, ee bowline, haul!” muttered the first mate, as they
+came into the room. The lamp that Sophronia was holding shook, and the
+Captain hurriedly brushed his eyes with the back of his hand.
+
+Dr. Morgan started perceptibly as he bent forward to look at the little
+fevered face of Dusenberry. Graver and graver he became as he felt the
+pulse and peered into the swollen throat. At length he rose and led the
+way back into the sitting room.
+
+“Captain Baker,” he said simply, “I must ask you and your wife to be
+brave. The child has diphtheria and--”
+
+“Diphthery!” gasped Sophronia, as white as her best tablecloth.
+
+“Good Lord above!” cried the Captain.
+
+“Diphtheria,” repeated the Doctor; “and, although I dislike extremely to
+criticize a member of my own profession, I must say that any physician
+should have recognized it.”
+
+Sophronia groaned and covered her face with her apron.
+
+“Ain't there--ain't there no chance, Doctor?” gasped the Captain.
+
+“Certainly, there's a chance. If I could administer antitoxin by
+to-morrow noon the patient might recover. What time does the morning
+train from Boston arrive here?”
+
+“Ha'f-past ten or thereabouts.”
+
+Dr. Morgan took his notebook from his pocket and wrote a few lines in
+pencil on one of the pages. Then he tore out the leaf and handed it to
+the Captain.
+
+“Send that telegram immediately to my assistant in Boston,” he said.
+“It directs him to send the antitoxin by the early train. If nothing
+interferes it should be here in time.”
+
+Captain Hiram took the slip of paper and ran out at the door bareheaded.
+
+Dr. Morgan stood in the middle of the floor absent-mindedly looking at
+his watch. Sophronia was gazing at him appealingly. At length he put his
+watch in his pocket and said quietly:
+
+“Mrs. Baker, I must ask you to give me a room. I will take the case.”
+ Then he added mentally: “And that settles my vacation.”
+
+
+Dr. Morgan's assistant was a young man whom nature had supplied with a
+prematurely bald head, a flourishing beard, and a way of appearing ten
+years older than he really was. To these gifts, priceless to a young
+medical man, might be added boundless ambition and considerable common
+sense.
+
+The yellow envelope which contained the few lines meaning life or death
+to little Hiram Joash Baker was delivered at Dr. Morgan's Back Bay
+office at ten minutes past ten. Dr. Payson--that was the assistant's
+name--was out, but Jackson, the colored butler, took the telegram
+into his employer's office, laid it on the desk among the papers, and
+returned to the hall to finish his nap in the armchair. When Dr. Payson
+came in, at 11:30, the sleepy Jackson forgot to mention the dispatch.
+
+The next morning as Jackson was cleaning the professional boots in the
+kitchen and chatting with the cook, the thought of the yellow envelope
+came back to his brain. He went up the stairs with such precipitation
+that the cook screamed, thinking he had a fit.
+
+“Doctah! Doctah!” he exclaimed, opening the door of the assistant's
+chamber, “did you git dat telegraft I lef' on your desk las' night?”
+
+“What telegraph?” asked the assistant sleepily. By way of answer Jackson
+hurried out and returned with the yellow envelope. The assistant opened
+it and read as follows:
+
+
+Send 1,500 units Diphtheritic Serum to me by morning train. Don't fail.
+Utmost importance.
+
+J. S. MORGAN.
+
+
+Dr. Payson sprang out of bed, and running to the table took up the
+Railway Guide, turned to the pages devoted to the O. C. and C. C.
+Railroad and ran his finger down the printed tables. The morning train
+for Cape Cod left at 7:10. It was 6:45 at that moment. As has been said,
+the assistant had considerable common sense. He proved this by wasting
+no time in telling the forgetful Jackson what he thought of him. He sent
+the latter after a cab and proceeded to dress in double-quick time. Ten
+minutes later he was on his way to the station with the little wooden
+case containing the precious antitoxin, wrapped and addressed, in his
+pocket.
+
+It was seven by the Arlington Street Church clock as the cab rattled
+down Boylston Street. A tangle of a trolley car and a market wagon
+delayed it momentarily at Harrison Avenue and Essex Street. Dr. Payson,
+leaning out as the carriage swung into Dewey Square, saw by the big
+clock on the Union Station that it was 7:13. He had lost the train.
+
+Now, the assistant had been assistant long enough to know that
+excuses--in the ordinary sense of the word--did not pass current with
+Dr. Morgan. That gentleman had telegraphed for antitoxin, and said it
+was important that he should have it; therefore, antitoxin must be sent
+in spite of time-tables and forgetful butlers. Dr. Payson went into the
+waiting room and sat down to think. After a moment's deliberation he
+went over to the ticket office and asked:
+
+“What is the first stop of the Cape Cod express?”
+
+“Brockboro,” answered the ticket seller.
+
+“Is the train usually on time?”
+
+“Well, I should smile. That's Charlie Mills's train, and the old man
+ain't been conductor on this road twenty-two years for nothin'.”
+
+“Mills? Does he live on Shawmut Avenue?”
+
+“Dunno. Billy, where does Charlie Mills live?”
+
+“Somewhere at the South End. Shawmut Avenue, I think.”
+
+“Thank you,” said the assistant, and, helping himself to a time-table,
+he went back rejoicing to his seat in the waiting room. He had stumbled
+upon an unexpected bit of luck.
+
+There might be another story written in connection with this one; the
+story of a veteran railroad man whose daughter had been very, very ill
+with a dreaded disease of the lungs, and who, when other physicians
+had given up hope, had been brought back to health by a celebrated
+specialist of our acquaintance. But this story cannot be told just now;
+suffice it to say that Conductor Charlie Mills had vowed that he would
+put his neck beneath the wheels of his own express train, if by so doing
+he could confer a favor on Dr. John Spencer Morgan.
+
+The assistant saw by his time-table that the Cape Cod express reached
+Brockboro at 8:05. He went over to the telegraph office and wrote two
+telegrams. The first read like this:
+
+
+CALVIN S. WISE, The People's Drug Store, 28 Broad Street, Brockboro,
+Mass.:
+
+Send package 1,500 units Diphtheritic Serum marked with my name to
+station. Hand to Conductor Mills, Cape Cod express. Train will wait.
+Matter life and death.
+
+
+The second telegram was to Conductor Mills. It read:
+
+
+Hold train Brockboro to await arrival C. A. Wise. Great personal favor.
+Very important.
+
+
+Both of these dispatches were signed with the magic name, “J. S. Morgan,
+M.D.”
+
+“Well,” said the assistant as he rode back to his office, “I don't know
+whether Wise will get the stuff to the train in time, or whether Mills
+will wait for him, but at any rate I've done my part. I hope breakfast
+is ready, I'm hungry.”
+
+Mr. Wise, of “The People's Drug Store,” had exactly two minutes in which
+to cover the three-quarters of a mile to the station. As a matter of
+course, he was late. Inquiring for Conductor Mills, he was met by a
+red-faced man in uniform, who, watch in hand, demanded what in the vale
+of eternal torment he meant by keeping him waiting eight minutes.
+
+“Do you realize,” demanded the red-faced man, “that I'm liable to lose
+my job? I'll have you to understand that if any other man than Doc.
+Morgan asked me to hold up the Cape Cod express, I'd tell him to go
+right plumb to--”
+
+Here Mr. Wise interrupted to hand over the package and explain that it
+was a matter of life and death. Conductor Mills only grunted as he swung
+aboard the train.
+
+“Hump her, Jim,” he said to the engineer; “she's got to make up those
+eight minutes.”
+
+And Jim did.
+
+
+And so it happened that on the morning of the Fourth of July,
+Dusenberry's birthday, Captain Hiram Baker and his wife sat together in
+the sitting room, with very happy faces. The Captain had in his hands
+the “truly boat with sails,” which the little first mate had so ardently
+wished for.
+
+She was a wonder, that boat. Red hull, real lead on the keel, brass
+rings on the masts, reef points on the main and fore sail, jib,
+flying jib and topsails, all complete. And on the stern was the name,
+“Dusenberry. East Harniss.”
+
+Captain Hiram set her down in front of him on the floor.
+
+“Gee!” he exclaimed, “won't his eyes stick out when he sees that
+rig, hey? Wisht he would be well enough to see it to-day, same as we
+planned.”
+
+“Well, Hiram,” said Sophrony, “we hadn't ought to complain. We'd ought
+to be thankful he's goin' to get well at all. Dr. Morgan says, thanks to
+that blessed toxing stuff, he'll be up and around in a couple of weeks.”
+
+“Sophrony,” said her husband, “we'll have a special birthday celebration
+for him when he gets all well. You can bake the frosted cake and we'll
+have some of the other children in. I TOLD you God wouldn't be cruel
+enough to take him away.”
+
+And this is how Fate and the medical profession and the O. C. and C.
+C. Railroad combined to give little Hiram Joash Baker his birthday, and
+explains why, as he strolled down Main Street that afternoon, Captain
+Hiram was heard to sing heartily:
+
+     Haul on the bowline, the 'Phrony is a-rollin',
+     Haul on the bowline, the bowline, HAUL!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+EFFIE'S FATE
+
+
+Surely, but very, very slowly, the little Berry house moved on its
+rollers up the Hill Boulevard. Right at its heels--if a house may be
+said to have heels--came the “pure Colonial,” under the guidance of the
+foreman with “progressive methods.” Groups of idlers, male and female,
+stood about and commented. Simeon Phinney smilingly replied to their
+questions. Captain Sol himself seemed little interested. He spent most
+of his daylight time at the depot, only going to the Higginses' house
+for his meals. At night, after the station was closed, he sought his own
+dwelling, climbed over the joist and rollers, entered, retired to his
+room, and went to bed.
+
+Each day also he grew more taciturn. Even with Simeon, his particular
+friend, he talked little.
+
+“What IS the matter with you, Sol?” asked Mr. Phinney. “You're as glum
+as a tongue-tied parrot. Ain't you satisfied with the way I'm doin' your
+movin'? The white horse can go back again if you say so.”
+
+“I'm satisfied,” grunted the depot master. “Let you know when I've
+got any fault to find. How soon will you get abreast the--abreast the
+Seabury lot?”
+
+“Let's see,” mused the building mover. “Today's the eighth. Well, I'll
+be there by the eleventh, SURE. Can't drag it out no longer, Sol,
+even if the other horse is took sick. 'Twon't do. Williams has been
+complainin' to the selectmen and they're beginnin' to pester me. As for
+that Colt and Adams foreman--whew!”
+
+He whistled. His companion smiled grimly.
+
+“Williams himself drops in to see me occasional,” he said. “Tells me
+what he thinks of me, with all the trimmin's added. I cal'late he gets
+as good as he sends. I'm always glad to see him; he keeps me cheered up,
+in his way.”
+
+“Ye-es, I shouldn't wonder. Was he in to-day?”
+
+“He was. And somethin' has pleased him, I guess. At any rate he was in
+better spirits. Asked me if I was goin' to move right onto that Main
+Street lot soon as my house got there.”
+
+“What did you say?”
+
+“I said I was cal'latin' to. Told him I hated to get out of the
+high-society circles I'd been livin' in lately, but that everyone had
+their comedowns in this world.”
+
+“Ho, ho! that was a good one. What answer did he make to that?”
+
+“Well, he said the 'high society' would miss me. Then he finished up
+with a piece of advice. 'Berry,' says he, 'don't move onto that lot TOO
+quick. I wouldn't if I was you.' Then he went away, chucklin'.”
+
+“Chucklin', hey? What made him so joyful?”
+
+“Don't know”--Captain Sol's face clouded once more--“and I care less,”
+ he added brusquely.
+
+Simeon pondered. “Have you heard from Abner Payne, Sol?” he asked. “Has
+Ab answered that letter you wrote sayin' you'd swap your lot for the
+Main Street one?”
+
+“No, he hasn't. I wrote him that day I told you to move me.”
+
+“Hum! that's kind of funny. You don't s'pose--”
+
+He stopped, noticing the expression on his friend's face. The depot
+master was looking out through the open door of the waiting room. On
+the opposite side of the road, just emerging from Mr. Higgins's “general
+store,” was Olive Edwards, the widow whose home was to be pulled down
+as soon as the “Colonial” reached its destination. She came out of
+the store and started up Main Street. Suddenly, and as if obeying an
+involuntary impulse, she turned her head. Her eyes met those of Captain
+Sol Berry, the depot master. For a brief instant their glance met, then
+Mrs. Edwards hurried on.
+
+Sim Phinney sighed pityingly. “Looks kind of tired and worried, don't
+she?” he ventured. His friend did not speak.
+
+“I say,” repeated Phinney, “that Olive looks sort of worn out and--”
+
+“Has she heard from the Omaha cousin yet?” interrupted the depot master.
+
+“No; Mr. Hilton says not. Sol, what DO you s'pose--”
+
+But Captain Sol had risen and gone into the ticket office. The door
+closed behind him. Mr. Phinney shook his head and walked out of the
+building. On his way back to the scene of the house moving he shook his
+head several times.
+
+On the afternoon of the ninth Captain Bailey Stitt and his friend
+Wingate came to say good-by. Stitt was going back to Orham on the “up”
+ train, due at 3:30. Barzilla would return to Wellmouth and the Old Home
+House on the evening (the “down”) train.
+
+“Hey, Sol!” shouted Wingate, as they entered the waiting room. “Sol!
+where be you?”
+
+The depot master came out of the ticket office. “Hello, boys!” he said
+shortly.
+
+“Hello, Sol!” hailed Stitt. “Barzilla and me have come to shed the
+farewell tear. As hirelin's of soulless corporations, meanin' the Old
+Home House at Wellmouth and the Ocean House at Orham, we've engaged all
+the shellfish along-shore and are goin' to clear out.”
+
+“Yes,” chimed in his fellow “hireling,” “and we thought the pleasantest
+place to put in our few remainin' hours--as the papers say when a
+feller's goin' to be hung--was with you.”
+
+“I thought so,” said Captain Bailey, with a wink. “We've been havin'
+more or less of an argument, Sol. Remember how Barzilla made fun of
+Jonadab Wixon for believin' in dreams? Yes, well that was only make
+believe. He believes in 'em himself.”
+
+“I don't either,” declared Wingate. “And I never said so. What I said
+was that sometimes it almost seemed as if there was somethin' IN fortune
+tellin' and such.”
+
+“There is,” chuckled Bailey with another wink at the depot master.
+“There's money in it--for the fortune tellers.”
+
+“I said--and I say again,” protested Barzilla, “that I knew a case at
+our hotel of a servant girl named Effie, and she--”
+
+“Oh, Heavens to Betsy! Here he goes again, I steered him in here on
+purpose, Sol, so's he'd get off that subject.”
+
+“You never neither. You said--”
+
+The depot master held up his hand. “Don't both talk at once,” he
+commanded. “Set down and be peaceful, can't you. That's right. What
+about this Effie, Barzilla?”
+
+“Now look here!” protested Stitt.
+
+“Shut up, Bailey! Who was Effie, Barzilla?”
+
+“She was third assistant roustabout and table girl at the Old Home
+House,” said Wingate triumphantly. “Got another cigar, Sol? Thanks. Yes,
+this Effie had never worked out afore and she was greener'n a mess of
+spinach; but she was kind of pretty to look at and--”
+
+“Ah, ha!” crowed Captain Bailey, “here comes the heart confessions. Want
+to look out for these old bachelors, Sol. Fire away, Barzilla; let us
+know the worst.”
+
+“I took a fancy to her, in a way. She got in the habit of tellin' me her
+troubles and secrets, me bein' old enough to be her dad--”
+
+“Aw, yes!” this from Stitt, the irrepressible. “That's an old gag. We
+know--”
+
+“WILL you shut up?” demanded Captain Sol. “Go on, Barzilla.”
+
+“Me bein' old enough to be her dad,” with a glare at Captain Bailey,
+“and not bein' too proud to talk with hired help. I never did have that
+high-toned notion. 'Twa'n't so long since I was a fo'mast hand.
+
+“So Effie told me a lot about herself. Seems she'd been over to the
+Cattle Show at Ostable one year, and she was loaded to the gunwale with
+some more or less facts that a fortune-tellin' specimen by the name of
+the 'Marvelous Oriental Seer' had handed her in exchange for a quarter.
+
+“'Yup,' says she, bobbin' her head so emphatic that the sky-blue ribbon
+pennants on her black hair flapped like a loose tops'l in a gale of
+wind. 'Yup,' says she, 'I b'lieve it just as much as I b'lieve anything.
+How could I help it when he told me so much that has come true already?
+He said I'd seen trouble, and the dear land knows that's so! and that I
+might see more, and I cal'late that's pretty average likely. And he said
+I hadn't been brought up in luxury--'
+
+“'Which wa'n't no exaggeration neither,' I put in, thinkin' of the shack
+over on the Neck Road where she and her folks used to live.
+
+“'No,' says she; 'and he told me I'd always had longin's for better and
+higher things and that my intellectuals was above my station. Well, ever
+sence I was knee high to a kitchen chair I'd ruther work upstairs than
+down, and as for intellectuals, ma always said I was the smartest
+young one she'd raised yet. So them statements give me consider'ble
+confidence. But he give out that I was to make a journey and get money,
+and when THAT come true I held up both hands and stood ready to swaller
+all the rest of it.'
+
+“'So it come true, did it?' says I.
+
+“'Um-hm,' says she, bouncin' her head again. 'Inside of four year I
+traveled 'way over to South Eastboro--'most twelve mile--to my Uncle
+Issy's fun'ral, and there I found that he'd left me nine hundred dollars
+for my very own. And down I flops on the parlor sofy and says I: “There!
+don't talk superstition to ME no more! A person that can foretell Uncle
+Issy's givin' anybody a cent, let alone nine hundred dollars, is a good
+enough prophet for ME to tie to. Now I KNOW that I'm going to marry the
+dark-complected man, and I'll be ready for him when he comes along.
+I never spent a quarter no better than when I handed it over to that
+Oriental Seer critter at the Cattle Show.” That's what I said then and I
+b'lieve it yet. Wouldn't you feel the same way?'
+
+“I said sure thing I would. I'd found out that the best way to keep
+Effie's talk shop runnin' was to agree with her. And I liked to hear her
+talk.
+
+“'Yup,' she went on, 'I give right in then. I'd traveled same as the
+fortune teller said, and I'd got more money'n I ever expected to see,
+let alone own. And ever sence I've been sartin as I'm alive that the
+feller I marry will be of a rank higher'n mine and dark complected and
+good-lookin' and distinguished, and that he'll be name of Butler.'
+
+“'Butler?' says I. 'What will he be named Butler for?'
+
+“''Cause the Seer critter said so. He said he could see the word Butler
+printed out over the top of my head in flamin' letters. Pa used to say
+'twas a wonder it never set fire to my crimps, but he was only foolin'.
+I know that it's all comin' out true. You ain't acquaintanced to any
+Butlers, are you?'
+
+“'No,' says I. 'I heard Ben Butler make a speech once when he was
+gov'nor, but he's dead now. There ain't no Butlers on the Old Home
+shippin' lists.'
+
+“'Oh, I know that!' she says. 'And everybody round here is homelier'n a
+moultin' pullet. There now! I didn't mean exactly EVERYbody, of course.
+But you ain't dark complected, you know, nor--'
+
+“'No,' says I, 'nor rank nor distinguished neither. Course the handsome
+part might fit me, but I'd have to pass on the rest of the hand. That's
+all right, Effie; my feelin's have got fire-proofed sence I've been
+in the summer hotel business. Now you'd better run along and report to
+Susannah. I hear her whoopin' for you, and she don't light like a canary
+bird on the party she's mad with.'
+
+“She didn't, that was a fact. Susannah Debs, who was housekeeper for us
+that year, was middlin' young and middlin' good-lookin', and couldn't
+forget it. Also and likewise, she had a suit for damages against the
+railroad, which she had hopes would fetch her money some day or other,
+and she couldn't forget that neither. She was skipper of all the hired
+hands and, bein' as Effie was prettier than she was, never lost a chance
+to lay the poor girl out. She put the other help up to pokin' fun at
+Effie's green ways and high-toned notions, and 'twas her that started
+'em callin' her 'Lady Evelyn' in the fo'castle--servants' quarters, I
+mean.
+
+“'I'm a-comin', 'screams Effie, startin' for the door. 'Susannah's in a
+tearin' hurry to get through early to-day,' she adds to me. 'She's got
+the afternoon off, and her beau's comin' to take her buggy ridin'.
+He's from over Harniss way somewheres and they say he's just lovely. My
+sakes! I wisht somebody'd take ME to ride. Ah hum! cal'late I'll have to
+wait for my Butler man. Say, Mr. Wingate, you won't mention my fortune
+to a soul, will you? I never told anybody but you.'
+
+“I promised to keep mum and she cleared out. After dinner, as I was
+smokin', along with Cap'n Jonadab, on the side piazza, a horse and
+buggy drove in at the back gate. A young chap with black curly hair was
+pilotin' the craft. He was a stranger to me, wore a checkerboard suit
+and a bonfire necktie, and had his hat twisted over one ear. Altogether
+he looked some like a sunflower goin' to seed.
+
+“'Who's that barber's sign when it's to home?' says I to Jonadab. He
+snorted contemptuous.
+
+“'That?' he says. 'Don't you know the cut of that critter's jib? He
+plays pool “for the house” in Web Saunders's place over to Orham. He's
+the housekeeper's steady comp'ny--steady by spells, if all I hear's
+true. Good-for-nothin' cub, I call him. Wisht I'd had him aboard a
+vessel of mine; I'd 'a' squared his yards for him. Look how he cants his
+hat to starboard so's to show them lovelocks. Bah!'
+
+“'What's his name?' I asks.
+
+“'Name? Name's Butler--Simeon Butler. Don't you remember . . . Hey? What
+in tunket . . .?'
+
+“Both of us had jumped as if somebody'd touched off a bombshell under
+our main hatches. The windows of the dining room was right astern of us.
+We whirled round, and there was Effie. She'd been clearin' off one of
+the tables and there she stood, with the smashed pieces of an ice-cream
+platter in front of her, the melted cream sloppin' over her shoes, and
+her face lookin' like the picture of Lot's wife just turnin' to salt.
+Only Effie looked as if she enjoyed the turnin'. She never spoke nor
+moved, just stared after that buggy with her black eyes sparklin' like
+burnt holes in a blanket.
+
+“I was too astonished to say anything, but Jonadab had his eye on that
+smashed platter and HE had things to say, plenty of 'em. I walked off
+and left Effie playin' congregation to a sermon on the text 'Crockery
+costs money.' You'd think that ice-cream dish was a genuine ugly, nicked
+'antique' wuth any city loon's ten dollars, instead of bein' only new
+and pretty fifty-cent china. I felt real sorry for the poor girl.
+
+“But I needn't have been. That evenin' I found her on the back steps,
+all Sunday duds and airs. Her hair had a wire friz on it, and her dress
+had Joseph's coat in Scriptur' lookin' like a mournin' rig. She'd have
+been real handsome--to a body that was color blind.
+
+“'My, Effie!' says I, 'you sartin do look fine to-night.'
+
+“'Yup,' she says, contented, 'I guess likely I do. Hope so, 'cause I'm
+wearin' all I've got. Say, Mr. Wingate,' says she, excited as a cat in a
+fit, 'did you see him?'
+
+“'Him?' says I. 'Who's him?'
+
+“'Why, HIM! The one the Seer said was comin'. The handsome,
+dark-complected feller I'm goin' to marry. The Butler one. That was him
+in the buggy this afternoon.'
+
+“I looked at her. I'd forgot all about the fool prophecy.
+
+“'Good land of love!' I says. 'You don't cal'late he's comin' to marry
+YOU, do you, just 'cause his name's Butler? There's ten thousand Butlers
+in the world. Besides, your particular one was slated to be high ranked
+and distinguished, and this specimen scrubs up the billiard-room floor
+and ain't no more distinguished than a poorhouse pig.'
+
+“'Ain't?' she sings out. 'Ain't distinguished? With all them beautiful
+curls, and rings on his fingers, and--'
+
+“'Bells on his toes? No!' says I, emphatic. 'Anyhow, he's signed for
+the v'yage already. He's Susannah Debs's steady, and they're off buggy
+ridin' together right now. And if she catches you makin' eyes at her
+best feller--Whew!'
+
+“Didn't make no difference. He was her Butler, sure. 'Twas Fate--that's
+what 'twas--Fate, just the same as in storybooks. She was sorry for poor
+Susannah and she wouldn't do nothin' mean nor underhanded; but couldn't
+I understand that 'twas all planned out for her by Providence and that
+everlastin' Seer? Just let me watch and see, that's all.
+
+“What can you do with an idiot like that? I walked off disgusted and
+left her. But I cal'lated to watch. I judged 'twould be more fun than
+any 'play-actin' show ever I took in.
+
+“And 'twas, in a way. Don't ask me how they got acquainted, 'cause I
+can't tell you for sartin. Nigh's I can learn, Susannah and Sim had some
+sort of lover's row durin' their buggy ride, and when they got back to
+the hotel they was scurcely on speakin' terms. And Sim, who always had a
+watch out for'ard for pretty girls, see Effie standin' on the servants'
+porch all togged up regardless and gay as a tea-store chromo, and
+nothin' to do but he must be introduced. One of the stable hands done
+the introducin', I b'lieve, and if he'd have been hung afterwards
+'twould have sarved him right.
+
+“Anyhow, inside of a week Butler come round again to take a lady friend
+drivin', but this time 'twas Effie, not the housekeeper, that was
+passenger. And Susannah glared after 'em like a cat after a sparrow,
+and the very next day she was for havin' Effie discharged for
+incompetentiveness. I give Jonadab the tip, though, so that didn't go
+through. But I cal'late there was a parrot and monkey time among the
+help from then on.
+
+“They all sided with Susannah, of course. She was their boss, for one
+thing, and 'Lady Evelyn's' high-minded notions wa'n't popular, for
+another. But Effie didn't care--bless you, no! She and that Butler sport
+was together more and more, and the next thing I heard was that they was
+engaged. I snum, if it didn't look as if the Oriental man knew his job
+after all.
+
+“I spoke to the stable hand about it.
+
+“'Look here,' says I, 'is this business betwixt that pool player and our
+Effie serious?'
+
+“He laughed. 'Serious enough, I guess,' he says. 'They're goin' to
+be married pretty soon, I hear. It's all 'cordin' to the law and the
+prophets. Ain't you heard about the fortune tellin' and how 'twas
+foretold she'd marry a Butler?'
+
+“I'd heard, but I didn't s'pose he had. However, it seemed that Effie
+hadn't been able to keep it to herself no longer. Soon as she'd hooked
+her man she'd blabbed the whole thing. The fo'mast hands wa'n't talkin'
+of nothin' else, so this feller said.
+
+“'Humph!' says I. 'Is it the prophecy that Butler's bankin' on?'
+
+“He laughed again. 'Not so much as on Lady Evelyn's nine hundred, I
+cal'late,' says he. Sim likes Susannah the best of the two, so we all
+reckon, but she ain't rich and Effie is. And yet, if the Debs woman
+should win that lawsuit of hers against the railroad she'd have pretty
+nigh twice as much. Butler's a fool not to wait, I think,' he says.
+
+“This was of a Monday. On Friday evenin' Effie comes around to see me. I
+was alone in the office.
+
+“'Mr. Wingate,' she says, 'I'm goin' to leave to-morrer night. I'm goin'
+to be married on Sunday.'
+
+“I'd been expecting it, but I couldn't help feelin' sorry for her.
+
+“'Don't do nothin' rash, Effie,' I told her. 'Are you sure that Butler
+critter cares anything about you and not your money?'
+
+“She flared up like a tar barrel. 'The idea!' she says, turnin' red. 'I
+just come in to give you warnin'. Good-by.'
+
+“'Hold on,' I sung out to her. 'Effie, I've thought consider'ble about
+you lately. I've been tryin' to help you a little on the sly. I realized
+that 'twa'n't pleasant for you workin' here under Susannah Debs, and
+I've been tryin' to find a nice place for you. I wrote about you to Bob
+Van Wedderburn; he's the rich banker chap who stopped here one summer.
+“Jonesy,” we used to call him. I know him and his wife fust rate, and
+he'd do 'most anything as a favor to me. I told him what a neat, handy
+girl you was, and he writes that he'll give you the job of second girl
+at his swell New York house, if you want it. Now you just hand that Sim
+Butler his clearance papers and go work for Bob's wife. The wages are
+double what you get here, and--'
+
+“She didn't wait to hear the rest. Just sailed out of the room with her
+nose in the air. In a minute, though, back she come and just put her
+head in the door.
+
+“'I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Wingate,' says she. 'I know you mean
+well. But you ain't had your fate foretold, same's I have. It's all
+been arranged for me, and I couldn't stop it no more'n Jonah could help
+swallerin' the whale. I--I kind of wish you'd be on hand at the back
+door on Sunday mornin' when Simeon comes to take me away. You--you're
+about the only real friend I've got,' she says.
+
+“And off she went, for good this time. I pitied her, in spite of her
+bein' such a dough head. I knew what sort of a husband that pool-room
+shark would make. However, there wa'n't nothin' to be done. And next day
+Cap'n Jonadab was round, madder'n a licked pup. Seems Susannah's lawyer
+at Orham had sent for her to come right off and see him. Somethin' about
+the suit, it was. And she was goin' in spite of everything. And with
+Effie's leavin' at the same time, what was we goin' to do over Sunday?
+and so forth and so on.
+
+“Well, we had to do the best we could, that's all. But that Saturday
+was busy, now I tell you. Sunday mornin' broke fine and clear and, after
+breakfast was over, I remembered Effie and that 'twas her weddin' day.
+On the back steps I found her, dressed in all her grandeur, with her
+packed trunk ready, waitin' for the bridegroom.
+
+“'Ain't come yet, hey, Effie?' says I.
+
+“'No,' says she, smilin' and radiant. 'It's a little early for him yet,
+I guess.'
+
+“I went off to 'tend to the boarders. At half past ten, when I made the
+back steps again, she was still there. T'other servants was peekin' out
+of the kitchen windows, grinnin' and passin' remarks.
+
+“'Hello!' I calls out. 'Not married yet? What's the matter?'
+
+“She'd stopped smilin', but she was as chipper as ever, to all
+appearances.
+
+“'I--I guess the horse has gone lame or somethin',' says she. 'He'll be
+here any time now.'
+
+“There was a cackle from the kitchen windows. I never said nothin'.
+She'd made her nest; now let her roost on it.
+
+“But at twelve Butler hadn't hove in sight. Every hand, male and female,
+on the place, that wa'n't busy, was hangin' around the back of the
+hotel, waitin' and watchin' and ridiculin' and havin' a high time. Them
+that had errands made it a p'int to cruise past that way. Lots of the
+boarders had got wind of the doin's, and they was there, too.
+
+“Effie was settin' on her trunk, tryin' hard to look brave. I went up
+and spoke to her.
+
+“'Come, my girl,' says I. 'Don't set here no longer. Come into the house
+and wait. Hadn't you better?'
+
+“'No!' says she, loud and defiant like. 'No, sir! It's all right. He's a
+little late, that's all. What do you s'pose I care for a lot of jealous
+folks like those up there?' wavin' her flipper scornful toward the
+kitchen.
+
+“And then, all to once, she kind of broke down, and says to me, with a
+pitiful sort of choke in her voice:
+
+“'Oh, Mr. Wingate! I can't stand this. Why DON'T he come?'
+
+“I tried hard to think of somethin' comfortin' to say, but afore I
+could h'ist a satisfyin' word out of my hatches I heard the noise of a
+carriage comin'. Effie heard it, too, and so did everybody else. We all
+looked toward the gate. 'Twas Sim Butler, sure enough, in his buggy and
+drivin' the same old horse; but settin' alongside of him on the seat was
+Susannah Debs, the housekeeper. And maybe she didn't look contented with
+things in gen'ral!
+
+“Butler pulled up his horse by the gate. Him and Susannah bowed to all
+hands. Nobody said anything for a minute. Then Effie bounced off the
+trunk and down them steps.
+
+“'Simmie' she sung out, breathless like, 'Simeon Butler, what does this
+mean?'
+
+“The Debs woman straightened up on the seat. 'Thank you, marm,' says
+she, chilly as the top section of an ice chest, 'I'll request you not to
+call my husband by his first name.'
+
+“It was so still you could have heard yourself grow. Effie turned white
+as a Sunday tablecloth.
+
+“'Your--husband?' she gasps. 'Your--your HUSBAND?'
+
+“'Yes, marm,' purrs the housekeeper. 'My husband was what I said. Mr.
+Butler and me have just been married.'
+
+“'Sorry, Effie, old girl,' puts in Butler, so sassy I'd love to have
+preached his fun'ral sermon. 'Too bad, but fust love's strongest, you
+know. Susie and me was engaged long afore you come to town.'
+
+“THEN such a haw-haw and whoop bust from the kitchen and fo'castle as
+you never heard. For a jiffy poor Effie wilted right down. Then she
+braced up and her black eyes snapped.
+
+“'I wish you joy of your bargain, marm,' says she to Susannah. 'You'd
+ought to be proud of it. And as for YOU,' she says, swingin' round
+toward the rest of the help, 'I--'
+
+“'How 'bout that prophet?' hollers somebody.
+
+“'Three cheers for the Oriental!' bellers somebody else.
+
+“'When you marry the right Butler fetch him along and let us see him!'
+whoops another.
+
+“She faced 'em all, and I gloried in her spunk.
+
+“'When I marry him I WILL come back,' says she. 'And when I do you'll
+have to get down on your knees and wait on me. You--and you--Yes, and
+YOU, too!'
+
+“The last two 'yous' was hove at Sim and Susannah. Then she turned and
+marched into the hotel. And the way them hired hands carried on was
+somethin' scandalous--till I stepped in and took charge of the deck.
+
+“That very afternoon I put Effie and her trunk aboard the train. I
+paid her fare to New York and give her directions how to locate the Van
+Wedderburns.
+
+“'So long, Effie,' says I to her. 'It's all right. You're enough sight
+better off. All you want to do now is to work hard and forget all that
+fortune-tellin' foolishness.'
+
+“She whirled on me like a top.
+
+“'Forget it!' she says. 'I GUESS I shan't forget it! It's comin' true,
+I tell you--same as all the rest come true. You said yourself there was
+ten thousand Butlers in the world. Some day the right one--the handsome,
+high-ranked, distinguished one--will come along, and I'll get him. You
+wait and see, Mr. Wingate--just you wait and see.'”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE “HERO” AND THE COWBOY
+
+
+“So that was the end of it, hey?” said Captain Bailey. “Well, it's what
+you might expect, but it wa'n't much to be so anxious to tell; and as
+for PROVIN' anything about fortune tellin'--why--”
+
+“It AIN'T the end,” shouted the exasperated Barzilla. “Not nigh the end.
+'Twas the beginnin'. The housekeeper left us that day, of course, and
+for the rest of that summer the servant question kept me and Jonadab
+from thinkin' of other things. Course, the reason for the Butler scamp's
+sudden switch was plain enough. Susannah's lawyer had settled the case
+with the railroad and, even after his fee was subtracted, there was
+fifteen hundred left. That was enough sight better'n nine hundred, so
+Sim figgered when he heard of it; and he hustled to make up with his old
+girl.
+
+“Fifteen hundred dollars doesn't last long with some folks. At the
+beginnin' of the next spring season both of 'em was round huntin' jobs.
+Susannah was a fust-rate waitress, so we hired her for that--no more
+housekeeper for hers, and served her right. As for her husband, we took
+him on in the stable. He wouldn't have been wuth his salt if it hadn't
+been for her. She said she'd keep him movin' and she did. She nagged and
+henpecked him till I'd have been sorry if 'twas anybody else; as 'twas,
+I got consider'ble satisfaction out of it.
+
+“I got one letter from Effie pretty soon after she left, sayin' she
+liked her new job and that the Van Wedderburns liked her. And that's all
+I did hear, though Bob himself wrote me in May, sayin' him and
+Mabel, his wife, had bought a summer cottage in Wapatomac, and me and
+Jonadab--especially me--must be sure and come to see it and them. He
+never mentioned his second girl, and I almost forgot her myself.
+
+“But one afternoon in early July a big six-cylinder automobile come
+sailin' down the road and into the Old Home House yard. A shofer--I
+b'lieve that's what they call the tribe--was at the helm of it, and on
+the back seat, lollin' luxurious against the upholstery, was a man and
+a woman, got up regardless in silk dusters and goggles and veils and
+prosperity. I never expect to see the Prince of Wales and his wife, but
+I know how they'd look--after seein' them two.
+
+“Jonadab was at the bottom step to welcome 'em, bowin' and scrapin' as
+if his middle j'int had just been iled. I wa'n't fur astern, and every
+boarder on deck was all eyes and envy.
+
+“The shofer opens the door of the after cockpit of the machine, and the
+man gets out fust, treadin' gingerly but grand, as if he was doin' the
+ground a condescension by steppin' on it. Then he turns to the woman and
+she slides out, her duds rustlin' like the wind in a scrub oak. The pair
+sails up the steps, Jonadab and me backin' and fillin' in front of 'em.
+All the help that could get to a window to peek had knocked off work to
+do it.
+
+“'Ahem!' says the man, pompous as Julius Caesar--he was big and
+straight and fine lookin' and had black side whiskers half mast on his
+cheeks--ahem!' says he. 'I say, good people, may we have dinner here?'
+
+“Well, they tell us time and tide waits for no man, but prob'ly that
+don't include the nobility. Anyhow, although 'twas long past our reg'lar
+dinner time, I heard Jonadab tellin' 'em sure and sartin they could. If
+they wouldn't mind settin' on the piazza or in the front parlor for a
+spell, he'd have somethin' prepared in a jiffy. So up to the piazza they
+paraded and come to anchor in a couple of chairs.
+
+“'You can have your automobile put right into the barn,' I says, 'if you
+want to.'
+
+“'I don't know as it will be necessary--' began the big feller, but the
+woman interrupted him. She was starin' through her thick veil at the
+barn door. Sim Butler, in his overalls and ragged shirt sleeves, was
+leanin' against that door, interested as the rest of us in what was
+goin' on.
+
+“'I would have it put there, I think,' says the woman, lofty and
+superior. 'It is rather dusty, and I think the wheels ought to be
+washed. Can that man be trusted to wash 'em?' she asks, pointin' kind of
+scornful at Simeon.
+
+“'Yes, marm, I cal'late so,' I says. 'Here, Sim!' I sung out, callin'
+Butler over to the steps. 'Can you wash the dust off them wheels?'
+
+“He said course he could, but he didn't act joyful over the job. The
+woman seemed some doubtful.
+
+“'He looks like a very ignorant, common person,' says she, loud and
+clear, so that everybody, includin' the 'ignorant person' himself, could
+hear her. 'However, James'll superintend. James,' she orders the shofer,
+'you see that it is well done, won't you? Make him be very careful.'
+
+“James looked Butler over from head to foot. 'Humph!' he sniffs,
+contemptuous, with a kind of half grin on his face. 'Yes, marm, I'll
+'tend to it.'
+
+“So he steered the auto into the barn, and Simeon got busy. Judgin' by
+the sharp language that drifted out through the door, 'twas plain that
+the shofer was superintendin' all right.
+
+“Jonadab heaves in sight, bowin', and makes proclamation that dinner
+is served. The pair riz up majestic and headed for the dinin' room. The
+woman was a little astern of her man, and in the hall she turns brisk to
+me.
+
+“'Mr. Wingate,' she whispers, 'Mr. Wingate.'
+
+“I stared at her. Her voice had sounded sort of familiar ever sence I
+heard it, but the veil kept a body from seein' what she looked like.
+
+“'Hey?' I sings out. 'Have I ever--'
+
+“'S-s-h-h!' she whispers. 'Say, Mr. Wingate, that--that Susannah thing
+is here, ain't she? Have her wait on us, will you, please?'
+
+“And she swept the veil off her face. I choked up and staggered bang!
+against the wall. I swan to man if it wa'n't Effie! EFFIE, in silks and
+automobiles and gorgeousness!
+
+“Afore I could come to myself the two of 'em marched into that dining
+room. I heard a grunt and a 'Land of love!' from just ahead of me. That
+was Jonadab. And from all around that dinin' room come a sort of gasp
+and then the sound of whisperin'. That was the help.
+
+“They took a table by the window, which had been made ready. Down they
+set like a king and a queen perchin' on thrones. One of the waiter girls
+went over to em.
+
+“But I'd come out of my trance a little mite. The situation was miles
+ahead of my brain, goodness knows, but the joke of it all was gettin' a
+grip on me. I remembered what Effie had asked and I spoke up prompt.
+
+“'Susannah,' says I, 'this is a particular job and we're anxious to
+please. You'd better do the waitin' yourself.'
+
+“I wish you could have seen the glare that ex-housekeeper give me. For
+a second I thought we'd have open mutiny. But her place wa'n't any too
+sartin and she didn't dare risk it. Over she walked to that table, and
+the fun began.
+
+“Jonadab had laid himself out to make that meal a success, but they ate
+it as if 'twas pretty poor stuff and not by no means what they fed on
+every day. They found fault with 'most everything, but most especial
+with Susannah's waitin'. My! how they did order her around--a mate on a
+cattle boat wa'n't nothin' to it. And when 'twas all over and they got
+up to go, Effie says, so's all hands can hear:
+
+“'The food here is not so bad, but the service--oh, horrors! However,
+Albert,' says she to the side-whiskered man, 'you had better give the
+girl our usual tip. She looks as if she needed it, poor thing!'
+
+“Then they paraded out of the room, and I see Susannah sling the half
+dollar the man had left on the table clear to Jericho, it seemed like.
+
+“The auto was waitin' by the piazza steps. The shofer and Butler was
+standin' by it. And when Sim see Effie with her veil throwed back he
+pretty nigh fell under the wheels he'd been washin' so hard. And he
+looked as if he wisht they'd run over him.
+
+“'Oh, dear!' sighs Effie, lookin' scornful at the wheels. 'Not half
+clean, just as I expected. I knew by the looks of that--that PERSON that
+he wouldn't do it well. Don't give him much, Albert; he ain't earned
+it.'
+
+“They climbed into the cockpit, the shofer took the helm, and they was
+ready to start. But I couldn't let 'em go that way. Out I run.
+
+“'Say--say, Effie!' I whispers, eager. 'For the goodness' sakes, what's
+all this mean? Is that your--your--'
+
+“'My husband? Yup,' she whispers back, her eyes shinin'. 'Didn't I tell
+you to look out for my prophecy? Ain't he handsome and distinguished,
+just as I said? Good-by, Mr. Wingate; maybe I'll see you again some
+day.'
+
+“The machinery barked and they got under way. I run along for two steps
+more.
+
+“'But, Effie,' says I, 'tell me--is his name--?'
+
+“She didn't answer. She was watchin' Sim Butler and his wife. Sim had
+stooped to pick up the quarter the Prince of Wales had hove at him. And
+that was too much for Susannah, who was watchin' from the window.
+
+“'Don't you touch that money!' she screams. 'Don't you lay a finger on
+it! Ain't you got any self-respect at all, you miser'ble, low-lived--'
+and so forth and so on. All the way to the front gate I see Effie
+leanin' out, lookin' and listenin' and smilin'.
+
+“Then the machine buzzed off in a typhoon of dust and I went back to
+Jonadab, who was a livin' catechism of questions which neither one of us
+could answer.”
+
+“So THAT'S the end!” exclaimed Captain Bailey. “Well--”
+
+“No, it ain't the end--not even yet. Maybe it ought to be, but it ain't.
+There's a little more of it.
+
+“A fortni't later I took a couple of days off and went up to Wapatomac
+to visit the Van Wedderburns, same as I'd promised. Their 'cottage' was
+pretty nigh big enough for a hotel, and was so grand that I, even if I
+did have on my Sunday frills, was 'most ashamed to ring the doorbell.
+
+“But I did ring it, and the feller that opened the door was big and
+solemn and fine lookin' and had side whiskers. Only this time he wore a
+tail coat with brass buttons on it.
+
+“How do you do, Mr. Wingate?' says he. Step right in, sir, if you
+please. Mr. and Mrs. Van Wedderburn are out in the auto, but they'll be
+back shortly, and very glad to see you, sir, I'm sure. Let me take
+your grip and hat. Step right into the reception room and wait, if you
+please, sir. Perhaps,' he says, and there was a twinkle in his port eye,
+though the rest of his face was sober as the front door of a church,
+'perhaps,' says he, 'you might wish to speak with my wife a moment. I'll
+take the liberty of sendin' her to you, sir.'
+
+“So, as I sat on the gunwale of a blue and gold chair, tryin' to settle
+whether I was really crazy or only just dreamin', in bounces Effie,
+rigged up in a servant's cap and apron. She looked polite and demure,
+but I could see she was just bubblin' with the joy of the whole
+bus'ness.
+
+“'Effie,' says I, 'Effie, what--what in the world--?'
+
+“She giggled. 'Yup,' she says, 'I'm chambermaid here and they treat me
+fine. Thank you very much for gettin' me the situation.'
+
+“'But--but them doin's the other day? That automobile--and them silks
+and satins--and--?'
+
+“'Mr. Van Wedderburn lent 'em to me,' she said, 'him an' his wife. And
+he lent us the auto and the shofer, too. I told him about my troubles
+at the Old Home House and he thought 'twould be a great joke for me
+to travel back there like a lady. He's awful fond of a joke--Mr. Van
+Wedderburn is.'
+
+“'But that man?' I gasps. 'Your husband? That's what you said he was.'
+
+“'Yes,' says she, 'he is. We've been married 'most six months now. My
+prophecy's all come true. And DIDN'T I rub it in on that Susannah Debs
+and her scamp of a Sim? Ho! ho!'
+
+“She clapped her hands and pretty nigh danced a jig, she was so tickled.
+
+“'But is he a Butler?' I asks.
+
+“'Yup,' she nods, with another giggle. 'He's A butler, though his name's
+Jenkins; and a butler's high rank--higher than chambermaid, anyhow. You
+see, Mr. Wingate,' she adds, ''twas all my fault. When that Oriental
+Seer man at the show said I was to marry a butler, I forgot to ask him
+whether you spelt it with a big B or a little one.'”
+
+The unexpected manner in which Effie's pet prophecy had been fulfilled
+amused Captain Sol immensely. He laughed so heartily that Issy McKay
+looked in at the door with an expression of alarm on his face. The
+depot master had laughed little during the past few days, and Issy was
+surprised.
+
+But Captain Stitt was ready with a denial. He claimed that the prophecy
+was NOT fulfilled and therefore all fortune telling was fraudulent.
+Barzilla retorted hotly, and the argument began again. The two were
+shouting at each other. Captain Sol stood it for a while and then
+commanded silence.
+
+“Stop your yellin'!” he ordered. “What ails you fellers? Think you can
+prove it better by screechin'? They can hear you half a mile. There's
+Cornelius Rowe standin' gawpin' on the other side of the street this
+minute. He thinks there's a fire or a riot, one or t'other. Let's change
+the subject. See here, Bailey, didn't you start to tell us somethin'
+last time you was in here about your ridin' in an automobile?”
+
+“I started to--yes. But nobody'd listen. I rode in one and I sailed in
+one. You see--”
+
+“I'm goin' outdoor,” declared Barzilla.
+
+“No, you're not. Bailey listened to you. Now you do as much for him. I
+heard a little somethin' about the affair at the time it happened and
+I'd like to hear the rest of it. How was it, Bailey?”
+
+Captain Stitt knocked the ashes from his pipe.
+
+“Well,” he began, “I didn't know the critter was weak in his top riggin'
+or I wouldn't have gone with him in the fust place. And he wa'n't
+real loony, nuther. 'Twas only when he got aboard that--that ungodly,
+kerosene-smellin', tootin', buzzin', Old Harry's gocart of his that the
+craziness begun to show. There's so many of them weak-minded city folks
+from the Ocean House comes perusin' 'round summers, nowadays, that
+I cal'lated he was just an average specimen, and never examined him
+close.”
+
+“Are all the Ocean House boarders weak-minded nowadays?” asked the depot
+master.
+
+Mr. Wingate answered the question.
+
+“My land!” he snapped; “would they board at the Ocean House if they
+WA'N'T weak-minded?”
+
+Captain Bailey did not deign to reply to this jibe. He continued calmly:
+
+“This feller wa'n't an Ocean Houser, though. He was young Stumpton's
+automobile skipper-shover, or shofer, or somethin' they called him. He
+answered to the hail of Billings, and his home port was the Stumpton
+ranch, 'way out in Montana. He'd been here in Orham only a couple of
+weeks, havin' come plumb across the United States to fetch his boss the
+new automobile. You see, 'twas early October. The Stumptons had left
+their summer place on the Cliff Road, and was on their way South for
+the winter. Young Stumpton was up to Boston, but he was comin' back in
+a couple of days, and then him and the shover was goin' automobilin' to
+Florida. To Florida, mind you! In that thing! If it was me I'd buy my
+ticket to Tophet direct and save time and money.
+
+“Well, anyhow, this critter Billings, he ain't never smelt salt water
+afore, and he don't like the smell. He makes proclamations that Orham is
+nothin' but sand, slush, and soft drinks. He won't sail, he can't
+swim, he won't fish; but he's hankerin' to shoot somethin', havin' been
+brought up in a place where if you don't shoot some of the neighbors
+every day or so folks think you're stuck up and dissociable. Then
+somebody tells him it's the duckin' season down to Setuckit P'int, and
+he says he'll spend his day off, while the boss is away, massycreein'
+the coots there. This same somebody whispers that I know so much about
+ducks that I quack when I talk, and he comes cruisin' over in the buzz
+cart to hire me for guide. And--would you b'lieve it?--it turns out that
+he's cal'latin' to make his duckin' v'yage in that very cart. I was for
+makin' the trip in a boat, like a sensible man, but he wouldn't hear of
+it.
+
+“'Land of love!' says I. 'Go to Setuckit in a automobile?'
+
+“'Why not?' he says. 'The biscuit shooter up at the hotel tells me
+there's a smart chance of folks goes there a-horseback. And where a hoss
+can travel I reckon the old gal here'--slappin' the thwart of the auto
+alongside of him--'can go, too!'
+
+“'But there's the Cut-through,' says I.
+
+“''Tain't nothin' but a creek when the freshet's over, they tell me,'
+says he. 'And me and the boss have forded four foot of river in this
+very machine.'
+
+“By the 'freshet' bein' over I judged he meant the tide bein' out. And
+the Cut-through ain't but a little trickle then, though it's a quarter
+mile wide and deep enough to float a schooner at high water. It's the
+strip of channel that makes Setuckit Beach an island, you know. The
+gov'ment has had engineers down dredgin' of it out, and pretty soon fish
+boats'll be able to save the twenty-mile sail around the P'int and into
+Orham Harbor at all hours.
+
+“Well, to make a long story short, I agreed to let him cart me to
+Setuckit P'int in that everlastin' gas carryall. We was to start at four
+o'clock in the afternoon, 'cause the tide at the Cut-through would be
+dead low at half-past four. We'd stay overnight at my shanty at the
+P'int, get up airly, shoot all day, and come back the next afternoon.
+
+“At four prompt he was on hand, ready for me. I loaded in the guns and
+grub and one thing or 'nother, and then 'twas time for me to get aboard
+myself.
+
+“'You'll set in the tonneau,' says he, indicatin' the upholstered after
+cockpit of the concern. I opened up the shiny hatch, under orders from
+him, and climbed in among the upholstery. 'Twas soft as a feather bed.
+
+“'Jerushy!' says I, lollin' back luxurious. This is fine, ain't it?'
+
+“'Cost seventy-five hundred to build,' he says casual. 'Made to order
+for the boss. Lightest car of her speed ever turned out.'
+
+“'Go 'way! How you talk! Seventy-five hundred what? Not dollars?'
+
+“'Sure,' he says. Then he turns round--he was in the bow, hangin' on to
+the steerin' wheel--and looks me over, kind of interested, but superior.
+'Say,' he says, 'I've been hearin' things about you. You're a hero,
+ain't you?'
+
+“Durn them Orham gabblers! Ever sence I hauled that crew of seasick
+summer boarders out of the drink a couple of years ago and the gov'ment
+gave me a medal, the minister and some more of his gang have painted out
+the name I was launched under and had me entered on the shippin' list
+as 'The Hero.' I've licked two or three for callin' me that, but I can't
+lick a parson, and he was the one that told Billings.
+
+“'Oh, I don't know!' I answers pretty sharp. 'Get her under way, why
+don't you?'
+
+“All he done was look me over some more and grin.
+
+“'A hero! A real live gov'ment-branded hero!' he says. 'Ain't scared of
+nothin', I reckon--hey?'
+
+“I never made no answer. There's some things that's too fresh to eat
+without salt, and I didn't have a pickle tub handy.
+
+“'Hum!' he says again, reverend-like. 'A sure hero; scared of nothin'!
+Never rode in an auto afore, did you?'
+
+“'No,' says I, peppery; 'and I don't see no present symptom of ridin' in
+one now. Cast off, won't you?'
+
+“He cast off. That is to say, he hauled a nickel-plated marlinespike
+thing toward him, shoved another one away from him, took a twist on the
+steerin' wheel, the gocart coughed like a horse with the heaves, started
+up some sort of buzz-planer underneath, and then we begun to move.
+
+“From the time we left my shanty at South Orham till we passed the pines
+at Herrin' Neck I laid back in that stuffed cockpit, feelin' as grand
+and tainted as old John D. himself. The automobile rolled along smooth
+but swift, and it seemed to me I had never known what easy trav'lin' was
+afore. As we rounded the bend by the pines and opened up the twelve-mile
+narrow white stretch of Setuckit Beach ahead of us, with the ocean on
+one side and the bay on t'other, I looked at my watch. We'd come that
+fur in thirteen minutes.
+
+“'Land sakes!' I says. 'This is what I call movin' right along!'
+
+“He turned round and sized me up again, like he was surprised.
+
+“'Movin'?' says he. 'Movin'? Why, pard, we've been settin' down to rest!
+Out our way, if a lynchin' party didn't move faster than we've done so
+fur, the center of attraction would die on the road of old age. Now, my
+heroic college chum,' he goes on, callin' me out of my name, as usual,
+'will you be so condescendin' as to indicate how we hit the trail?'
+
+“'Hit--hit which? Don't hit nothin', for goodness' sake! Goin' the way
+we be, it would--'
+
+“'Which way do we go?'
+
+“'Right straight ahead. Keep on the ocean side, 'cause there's more hard
+sand there, and--hold on! Don't do that! Stop it, I tell you!'
+
+“Them was the last rememberable words said by me durin' the next quarter
+of an hour. That shover man let out a hair-raisin' yell, hauled the
+nickel marlinespike over in its rack, and squeezed a rubber bag that was
+spliced to the steerin' wheel. There was a half dozen toots or howls or
+honks from under our bows somewheres, and then that automobile hopped
+off the ground and commenced to fly. The fust hop landed me on my knees
+in the cockpit, and there I stayed. 'Twas the most fittin' position
+fur my frame of mind and chimed in fust-rate with the general religious
+drift of my thoughts.
+
+“The Cut-through is two mile or more from Herrin' Neck. 'Cordin' to my
+count we hit terra cotta just three times in them two miles. The fust
+hit knocked my hat off. The second one chucked me up so high I looked
+back for the hat, and though we was a half mile away from it, it hadn't
+had time to git to the ground. And all the while the horn was a-honkin',
+and Billings was a-screechin, and the sand was a-flyin'. Sand! Why,
+say! Do you see that extra bald place on the back of my head? Yes? Well,
+there was a two-inch thatch of hair there afore that sand blast ground
+it off.
+
+“When I went up on the third jounce I noticed the Cut-through just
+ahead. Billings see it, too, and--would you b'lieve it?--the lunatic
+stood up, let go of the wheel with one hand, takes off his hat and waves
+it, and we charge down across them wet tide flats like death on the
+woolly horse, in Scriptur'.
+
+“'Hi, yah! Yip!' whoops Billings. 'Come on in, fellers! The water's
+fine! Yow! Y-e-e-e! Yip!'
+
+“For a second it left off rainin' sand, and there was a typhoon of
+mud and spray. I see a million of the prettiest rainbows--that is, I
+cal'lated there was a million; it's awful hard to count when you're
+bouncin' and prayin' and drowndin' all to once. Then we sizzed out of
+the channel, over the flats on t'other side, and on toward Setuckit.
+
+“Never mind the rest of the ride. 'Twas all a sort of constant changin'
+sameness. I remember passin' a blurred life-savin' station, with
+three--or maybe thirty--blurred men jumpin' and laughin' and hollerin'.
+I found out afterwards that they'd been on the lookout for the bombshell
+for half an hour. Billings had told around town what he was goin' to
+do to me, and some kind friend had telephoned it to the station. So the
+life-savers was full of anticipations. I hope they were satisfied. I
+hadn't rehearsed my part of the show none, but I feel what the parson
+calls a consciousness of havin' done my best.
+
+“'Whoa, gal!' says Billings, calm and easy, puttin' the helm hard down.
+The auto was standin' still at last. Part of me was hangin' over the lee
+rail. I could see out of the part, so I knew 'twas my head. And there
+alongside was my fish shanty at the P'int, goin' round and round in
+circles.
+
+“I undid the hatch of the cockpit and fell out on the sand. Then I
+scrambled up and caught hold of the shanty as it went past me. That fool
+shover watched me, seemin'ly interested.
+
+“'Why, pard,' says he, 'what's the matter? Do you feel pale? Are you
+nervous? It ain't possible that you're scared? Honest, now, pard, if it
+weren't that I knew you were a genuine gold-mounted hero I'd sure think
+you was a scared man.'
+
+“I never said nothin'. The scenery and me was just turnin' the mark buoy
+on our fourth lap.
+
+“'Dear me, pard!' continues Billings. 'I sure hope I ain't scared you
+none. We come down a little slow this evenin', but to-morrow night, when
+I take you back home, I'll let the old girl out a little.'
+
+“I sensed some of that. And as the shanty had about come to anchor, I
+answered and spoke my mind.
+
+“'When you take me back home!' I says. 'When you do! Why, you
+crack-brained, murderin' lunatic, I wouldn't cruise in that hell wagon
+of yours again for the skipper's wages on a Cunarder. No, nor the mate's
+hove in!'
+
+“And that shover he put his head back and laughed and laughed and
+laughed.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR
+
+
+“I don't wonder he laughed,” observed Wingate, who seemed to enjoy
+irritating his friend. “You must have been good as a circus.”
+
+“Humph!” grunted the depot master. “If I remember right you said YOU
+wa'n't any ten-cent side show under similar circumstances, Barzilla.
+Heave ahead, Bailey!”
+
+Captain Stitt, unruffled, resumed:
+
+“I tell you, I had to take it that evenin',” he said. “All the time I
+was cookin' and while he was eatin' supper, Billings was rubbin' it
+into me about my bein' scared. Called me all the saltwater-hero names
+he could think of--'Hobson' and 'Dewey' and the like of that, usin' em
+sarcastic, of course. Finally, he said he remembered readin' in school,
+when he was little, about a girl hero, name of Grace Darlin'. Said he
+cal'lated, if I didn't mind, he'd call me Grace, 'cause it was heroic
+and yet kind of fitted in with my partic'lar brand of bravery. I didn't
+answer much; he had me down, and I knew it. Likewise I judged he was
+more or less out of his head; no sane man would yell the way he done
+aboard that automobile.
+
+“Then he commenced to spin yarns about himself and his doin's, and
+pretty soon it come out that he'd been a cowboy afore young Stumpton
+give up ranchin' and took to automobilin'. That cleared the sky line
+some, of course; I'd read consider'ble about cowboys in the ten-cent
+books my nephew fetched home when he was away to school. I see right off
+that Billings was the livin' image of Deadwood Dick and Wild Bill and
+the rest in them books; they yelled and howled and hadn't no regard for
+life and property any more'n he had. No, sir! He wa'n't no crazier'n
+they was; it was in the breed, I judged.
+
+“'I sure wish I had you on the ranch, Grace,' says he. 'Why don't you
+come West some day? That's where a hero like you would show up strong.'
+
+“'Godfrey mighty!' I sings out. 'I wouldn't come nigh such a nest of
+crazy murderers as that fur no money! I'd sooner ride in that automobile
+of yours, and St. Peter himself couldn't coax me into THAT again, not if
+'twas fur a cruise plumb up the middle of the golden street!'
+
+“I meant it, too, and the next afternoon when it come time to start
+for home he found out that I meant it. We'd shot a lot of ducks, and
+Billings was havin' such a good time that I had to coax and tease him
+as if he was a young one afore he'd think of quittin'. It was quarter
+of six when he backed the gas cart out of the shed. I was uneasy, 'cause
+'twas past low-water time, and there was fog comin' on.
+
+“'Brace up, Dewey!' says he. 'Get in.'
+
+“'No, Mr. Billings,' says I. 'I ain't goin' to get in. You take that
+craft of yourn home, and I'll sail up alongside in my dory.'
+
+“'In your which?' says he.
+
+“'In my dory,' I says. 'That's her hauled up on the beach abreast the
+shanty.'
+
+“He looked at the dory and then at me.
+
+“'Go on!' says he. 'You ain't goin' to pack yourself twelve mile on THAT
+SHINGLE?'
+
+“'Sartin I am! says I. 'I ain't takin' no more chances.'
+
+“Do you know, he actually seemed to think I was crazy then. Seemed to
+figger that the dory wa'n't big enough; and she's carried five easy
+afore now. We had an argument that lasted twenty minutes more, and the
+fog driftin' in nigher all the time. At last he got sick of arguin',
+ripped out somethin' brisk and personal, and got his tin shop to movin'.
+
+“'You want to cross over to the ocean side,' I called after him. 'The
+Cut-through's been dredged at the bay end, remember.'
+
+“'Be hanged!' he yells, or more emphatic. And off he whizzed. I see him
+go, and fetched a long breath. Thanks to a merciful Providence, I'd come
+so fur without bein' buttered on the undercrust of that automobile or
+scalped with its crazy shover's bowie knife.
+
+“Ten minutes later I was beatin' out into the bay in my dory. All
+around was the fog, thin as poorhouse gruel so fur, but thickenin' every
+minute. I was worried; not for myself, you understand, but for that
+cowboy shover. I was afraid he wouldn't fetch t'other side of the
+Cut-through. There wa'n't much wind, and I had to make long tacks. I
+took the inshore channel, and kept listenin' all the time. And at last,
+when 'twas pretty dark and I was cal'latin' to be about abreast of the
+bay end of the Cut-through, I heard from somewheres ashore a dismal
+honkin' kind of noise, same as a wild goose might make if 'twas chokin'
+to death and not resigned to the worst.
+
+“'My land!' says I. 'It's happened!' And I come about and headed
+straight in for the beach. I struck it just alongside the gov'ment
+shanty. The engineers had knocked off work for the week, waitin' for
+supplies, but they hadn't took away their dunnage.
+
+“'Hi!' I yells, as I hauled up the dory. 'Hi-i-i! Billings, where be
+you?'
+
+“The honkin' stopped and back comes the answer; there was joy in it.
+
+“'What? Is that Cap'n Stitt?'
+
+“'Yes,' I sings out. 'Where be you?'
+
+“'I'm stuck out here in the middle of the crick. And there's a flood on.
+Help me, can't you?'
+
+“Next minute I was aboard the dory, rowin' her against the tide up the
+channel. Pretty quick I got where I could see him through the fog and
+dark. The auto was on the flat in the middle of the Cut-through, and
+the water was hub high already. Billings was standin' up on the for'ard
+thwart, makin' wet footmarks all over them expensive cushions.
+
+“'Lord,' says he, 'I sure am glad to see you, pard! Can we get to land,
+do you think?'
+
+“'Land?' says I, makin' the dory fast alongside and hoppin' out into the
+drink. ''Course we can land! What's the matter with your old derelict?
+Sprung a leak, has it?'
+
+“He went on to explain that the automobile had broke down when he struck
+the flat, and he couldn't get no farther. He'd been honkin' and howlin'
+for ten year at least, so he reckoned.
+
+“'Why in time,' says I, 'didn't you mind me and go up the ocean side?
+And why in nation didn't you go ashore and--But never mind that now. Let
+me think. Here! You set where you be.'
+
+“As I shoved off in the dory again he turned loose a distress signal.
+
+“'Where you goin'?' he yells. 'Say, pard, you ain't goin' to leave me
+here, are you?'
+
+“'I'll be back in a shake,' says I, layin' to my oars. 'Don't holler so!
+You'll have the life-savers down here, and then the joke'll be on us.
+Hush, can't you? I'll be right back!'
+
+“I rowed up channel a little ways, and then I sighted the place I
+was bound for. Them gov'ment folks had another shanty farther up the
+Cut-through. Moored out in front of it was a couple of big floats, for
+their stone sloops to tie up to at high water. The floats were made of
+empty kerosene barrels and planks, and they'd have held up a house easy.
+I run alongside the fust one, cut the anchor cable with my jackknife,
+and next minute I was navigatin' that float down channel, steerin' it
+with my oar and towin' the dory astern.
+
+“'Twas no slouch of a job, pilotin' that big float, but part by steerin'
+and part by polin' I managed to land her broadside on to the auto. I
+made her fast with the cable ends and went back after the other float.
+This one was a bigger job than the fust, but by and by that gas wagon,
+with planks under her and cable lashin's holdin' her firm, was restin'
+easy as a settin' hen between them two floats. I unshipped my mast,
+fetched it aboard the nighest float, and spread the sail over the
+biggest part of the brasswork and upholstery.
+
+“'There,' says I, 'if it rains durin' the night she'll keep pretty
+dry. Now I'll take the dory and row back to the shanty after some spare
+anchors there is there.'
+
+“'But what's it fur, pard?' asks Billings for the nine hundred and
+ninety-ninth time. 'Why don't we go where it's dry? The flood's risin'
+all the time.'
+
+“'Let it rise,' I says. 'I cal'late when it gets high enough them
+floats'll rise with it and lift the automobile up, too. If she's
+anchored bow and stern she'll hold, unless it comes on to blow a gale,
+and to-morrow mornin' at low tide maybe you can tinker her up so she'll
+go.'
+
+“'Go?' says he, like he was astonished. 'Do you mean to say you're
+reckonin' to save the CAR?'
+
+“'Good land!' I says, starin' at him. 'What else d'you s'pose? Think I'd
+let seventy-five hundred dollars' wuth of gilt-edged extravagance go to
+the bottom? What did you cal'late I was tryin' to save--the clam flat?
+Give me that dory rope; I'm goin' after them anchors. Sufferin' snakes!
+Where IS the dory? What have you done with it?'
+
+“He'd been holdin' the bight of the dory rodin'. I handed it to him so's
+he'd have somethin' to take up his mind. And, by time, he'd forgot all
+about it and let it drop! And the dory had gone adrift and was out of
+sight.
+
+“'Gosh!' says he, astonished-like. 'Pard, the son of a gun has slipped
+his halter!'
+
+“I was pretty mad--dories don't grow on every beach plum bush--but there
+wa'n't nothin' to say that fitted the case, so I didn't try.
+
+“'Humph!' says I. 'Well, I'll have to swim ashore, that's all, and go up
+to the station inlet after another boat. You stand by the ship. If she
+gets afloat afore I come back you honk and holler and I'll row after
+you. I'll fetch the anchors and we'll moor her wherever she happens to
+be. If she shouldn't float on an even keel, or goes to capsize, you jump
+overboard and swim ashore. I'll--'
+
+“'Swim?' says he, with a shake in his voice. 'Why, pard, I can't swim!'
+
+“I turned and looked at him. Shover of a two-mile-a-minute gold-plated
+butcher cart like that, a cowboy murderer that et his friends for
+breakfast--and couldn't swim! I fetched a kind of combination groan and
+sigh, turned back the sail, climbed aboard the automobile, and lit up my
+pipe.
+
+“'What are you settin' there for?' says he. 'What are you goin' to do?'
+
+“'Do?' says I. 'Wait, that's all--wait and smoke. We won't have to wait
+long.'
+
+“My prophesyin' was good. We didn't have to wait very long. It was pitch
+dark, foggy as ever, and the tide a-risin' fast. The floats got to be
+a-wash. I shinned out onto 'em, picked up the oar that had been left
+there, and took my seat again. Billings climbed in, too, only--and
+it kind of shows the change sence the previous evenin'--he was in the
+passenger cockpit astern, and I was for'ard in the pilot house. For a
+reckless daredevil he was actin' mighty fidgety.
+
+“And at last one of the floats swung off the sand. The automobile tipped
+scandalous. It looked as if we was goin' on our beam ends. Billings let
+out an awful yell. Then t'other float bobbed up and the whole shebang,
+car and all, drifted out and down the channel.
+
+“My lashin's held--I cal'lated they would. Soon's I was sure of that I
+grabbed up the oar and shoved it over the stern between the floats. I
+hoped I could round her to after we passed the mouth of the Cut-through,
+and make port on the inside beach. But not in that tide. Inside of five
+minutes I see 'twas no use; we was bound across the bay.
+
+“And now commenced a v'yage that beat any ever took sence Noah's time,
+I cal'late; and even Noah never went to sea in an automobile, though
+the one animal I had along was as much trouble as his whole menagerie.
+Billings was howlin' blue murder.
+
+“'Stop that bellerin'!' I ordered. 'Quit it, d'you hear! You'll have the
+station crew out after us, and they'll guy me till I can't rest. Shut
+up! If you don't, I'll--I'll swim ashore and leave you.'
+
+“I was takin' big chances, as I look at it now. He might have drawed a
+bowie knife or a lasso on me; 'cordin' to his yarns he'd butchered folks
+for a good sight less'n that. But he kept quiet this time, only gurglin'
+some when the ark tilted. I had time to think of another idee. You
+remember the dory sail, mast and all, was alongside that cart. I clewed
+up the canvas well as I could and managed to lash the mast up straight
+over the auto's bows. Then I shook out the sail.
+
+“'Here!' says I, turnin' to Billings. 'You hang on to that sheet. No,
+you needn't nuther. Make it fast to that cleat alongside.'
+
+“I couldn't see his face plain, but his voice had a funny tremble to it;
+reminded me of my own when I climbed out of that very cart after he'd
+jounced me down to Setuckit the day before.
+
+“'What?' he says. 'Wh-what? What sheet? I don't see any sheet. What do
+you want me to do?'
+
+“'Tie this line to that cleat. That cleat there! CLEAT, you lubber!
+CLEAT! That knob! MAKE IT FAST! Oh, my gosh t'mighty! Get out of my
+way!'
+
+“The critter had tied the sheet to the handle of the door instead of the
+one I meant, and the pull of the sail hauled the door open and pretty
+nigh ripped it off the hinges. I had to climb into the cockpit and
+straighten out the mess. I was losin' my temper; I do hate bunglin'
+seamanship aboard a craft of mine.
+
+“'But what'll become of us?' begs Billings. 'Will we drown?'
+
+“'What in tunket do we want to drown for? Ain't we got a good sailin'
+breeze and the whole bay to stay on top of--fifty foot of water and
+more?'
+
+“'Fifty foot!' he yells. 'Is there fifty foot of water underneath us
+now? Pard, you don't mean it!'
+
+“'Course I mean it. Good thing, too!'
+
+“'But fifty foot! It's enough to drown in ten times over!'
+
+“'Can't drown but once, can you? And I'd just as soon drown in fifty
+foot as four--ruther, 'cause 'twouldn't take so long.'
+
+“He didn't answer out loud; but I heard him talkin' to himself pretty
+constant.
+
+“We was well out in the bay by now, and the seas was a little mite more
+rugged--nothin' to hurt, you understand, but the floats was all foam,
+and once in a while we'd ship a little spray. And every time that
+happened Billings would jump and grab for somethin' solid--sometimes
+'twas the upholstery and sometimes 'twas me. He wa'n't on the thwart,
+but down in a heap on the cockpit floor.
+
+“'Let go of my leg!' I sings out, after we'd hit a high wave and that
+shover had made a more'n ordinary savage claw at my underpinnin'. 'You
+make me nervous. Drat this everlastin' fog! somethin'll bump into us if
+we don't look out. Here, you go for'ard and light them cruisin' lights.
+They ain't colored 'cordin' to regulations, but they'll have to do. Go
+for'ard! What you waitin' for?'
+
+“Well, it turned out that he didn't like to leave that cockpit. I was
+mad.
+
+“'Go for'ard there and light them lights!' I yelled, hangin' to the
+steerin' oar and keepin' the ark runnin' afore the wind.
+
+“'I won't!' he says, loud and emphatic. 'Think I'm a blame fool? I sure
+would be a jack rabbit to climb over them seats the way they're buckin'
+and light them lamps. You're talkin' through your hat!'
+
+“Well, I hadn't no business to do it, but, you see, I was on salt water,
+and skipper, as you might say, of the junk we was afloat in; and if
+there's one thing I never would stand it's mutiny. I hauled in the oar,
+jumped over the cockpit rail, and went for him. He see me comin', stood
+up, tried to get out of the way, and fell overboard backwards. Part of
+him lit on one of the floats, but the biggest part trailed in the water
+between the two. He clawed with his hands, but the planks was slippery,
+and he slid astern fast. Just as he reached the last plank and slid off
+and under I jumped after him and got him by the scruff of the neck. I
+had hold of the lashin' end with one hand, and we tailed out behind the
+ark, which was sloppin' along, graceful as an elephant on skates.
+
+“I was pretty well beat out when I yanked him into that cockpit
+again. Neither of us said anything for a spell, breath bein' scurce as
+di'monds. But when he'd collected some of his, he spoke.
+
+“'Pard,' he says, puffin', 'I'm much obleeged to you. I reckon I sure
+ain't treated you right. If it hadn't been for you that time I'd--'
+
+“But I was b'ilin' over. I whirled on him like a teetotum.
+
+“'Drat your hide!' I says. 'When you speak to your officer you say sir!
+And now you go for'ard and light them lights. Don't you answer back!
+If you do I'll fix you so's you'll never ship aboard another vessel!
+For'ard there! Lively, you lubber, lively!'
+
+“He went for'ard, takin' consider'ble time and hangin' on for dear life.
+But somehow or 'nuther he got the lights to goin'; and all the time
+I hazed him terrible. I was mate on an Australian packet afore I went
+fishin' to the Banks, and I can haze some. I blackguarded that shover
+awful.
+
+“'Ripperty-rip your everlastin' blankety-blanked dough head!' I roared
+at him. 'You ain't wuth the weight to sink you. For'ard there and get
+that fog horn to goin'! And keep it goin'! Lively, you sculpin! Don't
+you open your mouth to me!'
+
+“Well, all night we sloshed along, straight acrost the bay. We must
+have been a curious sight to look at. The floats was awash, so that the
+automobile looked like she was ridin' the waves all by her lonesome; the
+lamps was blazin' at either side of the bow; Billings was a-tootin'
+the rubber fog horn as if he was wound up; and I was standin' on the
+cushions amidships, keepin' the whole calabash afore the wind.
+
+“We never met another craft the whole night through. Yes, we did meet
+one. Old Ezra Cahoon, of Harniss, was out in his dory stealin' quahaugs
+from Seth Andrews's bed over nigh the Wapatomac shore. Ezra stayed long
+enough to get one good glimpse of us as we bust through the fog; then he
+cut his rodin' and laid to his oars, bound for home and mother. We could
+hear him screech for half an hour after he left us.
+
+“Ez told next day that the devil had come ridin' acrost the bay after
+him in a chariot of fire. Said he could smell the brimstone and hear
+the trumpet callin' him to judgment. Likewise he hove in a lot of
+particulars concernin' the personal appearance of the Old Boy himself,
+who, he said, was standin' up wavin' a red-hot pitchfork. Some folks
+might have been flattered at bein' took for such a famous character; but
+I wa'n't; I'm retirin' by nature, and besides, Ez's description
+wa'n't cal'lated to bust a body's vanity b'iler. I was prouder of the
+consequences, the same bein' that Ezra signed the Good Templars' pledge
+that afternoon, and kept it for three whole months, just sixty-nine days
+longer than any previous attack within the memory of man had lasted.
+
+“And finally, just as mornin' was breakin', the bows of the floats slid
+easy and slick up on a hard, sandy beach. Then the sun riz and the
+fog lifted, and there we was within sight of the South Ostable
+meetin'-house. We'd sailed eighteen miles in that ark and made a better
+landin' blindfold than we ever could have made on purpose.
+
+“I hauled down the sail, unshipped the mast, and jumped ashore to find
+a rock big enough to use for a makeshift anchor. It wa'n't more'n three
+minutes after we fust struck afore my boots hit dry ground, but Billings
+beat me one hundred and seventy seconds, at that. When I had time to
+look at that shover man he was a cable's length from high-tide mark,
+settin' down and grippin' a bunch of beach grass as if he was afeard the
+sand was goin' to slide from under him; and you never seen a yallerer,
+more upset critter in your born days.
+
+“Well, I got the ark anchored, after a fashion, and then we walked up to
+the South Ostable tavern. Peleg Small, who runs the place, he knows me,
+so he let me have a room and I turned in for a nap. I slept about three
+hours. When I woke up I started out to hunt the automobile and Billings.
+Both of 'em looked consider'ble better than they had when I see 'em
+last. The shover had got a gang of men and they'd got the gas cart
+ashore, and Billings and a blacksmith was workin' over--or rather
+under--the clockwork.
+
+“'Hello!' I hails, comin' alongside.
+
+“Billings sticks his head out from under the tinware.
+
+“'Hi, pard!' says he. I noticed he hadn't called me 'Grace' nor 'Dewey'
+for a long spell. Hi, pard,' he says, gettin' to his feet, 'the old gal
+ain't hurt a hair. She'll be good as ever in a couple of hours. Then you
+and me can start for Orham.'
+
+“'In HER?' says I.
+
+“'Sure,' he says.
+
+“'Not by a jugful!' says I, emphatic. 'I'll borrer a boat to get to
+Orham in, when I'm ready to go. You won't ketch me in that man killer
+again; and you can call me a coward all you want to!'
+
+“'A coward?' says he. 'You a coward? And--Why, you was in that car all
+night!'
+
+“'Oh!' I says. 'Last night was diff'rent. The thing was on water then,
+and when I've got enough water underneath me I know I'm safe.'
+
+“'Safe!' he sings out. 'SAFE! Well, by--gosh! Pard, I hate to say it,
+but it's the Lord's truth--you had me doin' my “Now I lay me's”!'
+
+“For a minute we looked at each other. Then says I, sort of thinkin' out
+loud, 'I cal'late,' I says, 'that whether a man's brave or not depends
+consider'ble on whether he's used to his latitude. It's all accordin'.
+It lays in the bringin' up, as the duck said when the hen tried to
+swim.'
+
+“He nodded solemn. 'Pard,' says he, 'I sure reckon you've called the
+turn. Let's shake hands on it.'
+
+“So we shook; and . . .”
+
+Captain Bailey stopped short and sprang from his chair. “There's my
+train comin',” he shouted. “Good-by, Sol! So long, Barzilla! Keep away
+from fortune tellers and pretty servant girls or YOU'LL be gettin'
+married pretty soon. Good-by.”
+
+He darted out of the waiting room and his companions followed. Mr.
+Wingate, having a few final calls to make, left the station soon
+afterwards and did not return until evening. And that evening he heard
+news which surprised him.
+
+As he and Captain Sol were exchanging a last handshake on the platform,
+Barzilla said:
+
+“Well, Sol, I've enjoyed loafin' around here and yarnin' with you, same
+as I always do. I'll be over again in a month or so and we'll have some
+more.”
+
+The Captain shook his head. “I may not be here then, Barzilla,” he
+observed.
+
+“May not be here? What do you mean by that?”
+
+“I mean that I don't know exactly where I shall be. I shan't be depot
+master, anyway.”
+
+“Shan't be depot master? YOU won't? Why, what on airth--”
+
+“I sent in my resignation four days ago. Nobody knows it, except you,
+not even Issy, but the new depot master for East Harniss will be here to
+take my place on the mornin' of the twelfth, that's two days off.”
+
+“Why! Why! SOL!”
+
+“Yes. Keep mum about it. I'll--I'll let you know what I decide to do. I
+ain't settled it myself yet. Good-by, Barzilla.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+ISSY'S REVENGE
+
+
+The following morning, at nine o'clock, Issy McKay sat upon the heap of
+rusty chain cable outside the blacksmith's shop at Denboro, reading,
+as usual, a love story. Issy was taking a “day off.” He had begged
+permission of Captain Sol Berry, the permission had been granted,
+and Issy had come over to Denboro, the village eight miles above East
+Harniss, in his “power dory,” or gasoline boat, the Lady May. The Lady
+May was a relic of the time before Issy was assistant depot master, when
+he gained a precarious living by quahauging, separating the reluctant
+bivalve from its muddy house on the bay bottom with an iron rake, the
+handle of which was forty feet long. Issy had been seized with a desire
+to try quahauging once more, hence his holiday. The rake was broken
+and he had put in at Denboro to have it fixed. While the blacksmith was
+busy, Issy laboriously spelled out the harrowing chapters of “Vivian,
+the Shop Girl; or Lord Lyndhurst's Lowly Love.”
+
+A grinning, freckled face peered cautiously around the corner of the
+blacksmith's front fence. Then an overripe potato whizzed through the
+air and burst against the shop wall a few inches from the reader's head.
+Issy jumped.
+
+“You--you everlastin' young ones, you!” he shouted fiercely. “If I
+git my hands onto you, you'll wish you'd--I see you hidin' behind that
+fence.”
+
+Two barefooted little figures danced provokingly in the roadway and two
+shrill voices chanted in derision:
+
+     “Is McKay--Is McKay--
+     Makes the Injuns run away!
+
+“Scalped anybody lately, Issy?”
+
+Alas for the indiscretions of youth! The tale of Issy's early expedition
+in search of scalps and glory was known from one end of Ostable County
+to the other. It had made him famous, in a way.
+
+“If I git a-holt of you kids, I'll bet there'll be some scalpin' done,”
+ retorted the persecuted one, rising from the heap of cable.
+
+A second potato burst like a bombshell on the shingles behind him.
+McKay was a good general, in that he knew when it was wisest to retreat.
+Shoving the paper novel into his overalls pocket, he entered the shop.
+
+“What's the matter, Is?” inquired the grinning blacksmith. Most people
+grinned when they spoke to Issy. “Gittin' too hot outside there, was it?
+Why don't you tomahawk 'em and have 'em for supper?”
+
+“Humph!” grunted the offended quahauger. “Don't git gay now, Jake
+Larkin. You hurry up with that rake.”
+
+“Oh, all right, Is. Don't sculp ME; I ain't done nothin'. What's the
+news over to East Harniss?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know. Not much. Sam Bartlett, he started for Boston this
+mornin'.”
+
+“Who? Sam Bartlett? I want to know! Thought he was down for six weeks.
+You sure about that, Is?”
+
+“Course I'm sure. I was up to the depot and see him buy his ticket and
+git on the cars.”
+
+“Did, hey? Humph! So Sam's gone. Gertie Higgins still over to her Aunt
+Hannah's at Trumet?”
+
+Issy looked at his questioner. “Why, yes,” he said suspiciously.
+“I s'pose she's there. Fact, I know she is. Pat Starkey's doin' the
+telegraphin' while she's away. What made you ask that?”
+
+The blacksmith chuckled. “Oh, nothin',” he said. “How's her dad's
+dyspepsy? Had any more of them sudden attacks of his? I cal'late they'll
+take the old man off some of these days, won't they? I hear the doctor
+thinks there's more heart than stomach in them attacks.”
+
+But the skipper of the Lady May was not to be put off thus. “What you
+drivin' at, Jake?” he demanded. “What's Sam Bartlett's goin' away got to
+do with Gertie Higgins?”
+
+In his eagerness he stepped to Mr. Larkin's side. The blacksmith caught
+sight of the novel in his customer's pocket. He snatched it forth.
+
+“What you readin' now, Is?” he demanded. “More blood and brimstone?
+'Vivy Ann, the Shop Girl!' Gee! Wow!”
+
+“You gimme that book, Jake Larkin! Gimme it now!”
+
+Fending the frantic quahauger off with one mighty arm, the blacksmith
+proceeded to read aloud:
+
+“'Darlin',' cried Lord Lyndhurst, strainin' the beautiful and blushin'
+maid to his manly bosom, 'you are mine at last. Mine! No--' Jerushy! a
+love story! Why, Issy! I didn't know you was in love. Who's the lucky
+girl? Send me an invite to your weddin', won't you?”
+
+Issy's face was a fiery red. He tore the precious volume from its
+desecrator's hand, losing the pictured cover in the struggle.
+
+“You--you pesky fool!” he shouted. “You mind your own business.”
+
+The blacksmith roared in glee. “Oh, ho!” he cried. “Issy's in love and
+I never guessed it. Aw, say, Is, don't be mean! Who is she? Have you
+strained her to your manly bosom yit? What's her name?”
+
+“Shut up!” shrieked Issy, and strode out of the shop. His tormentor
+begged him not to “go off mad,” and shouted sarcastic sympathy after
+him. But Mr. McKay heeded not. He stalked angrily along the sidewalk.
+Then espying just ahead of him the boys who had thrown the potatoes,
+he paused, turned, and walking down the carriageway at the side of the
+blacksmith's place of business, sat down upon a sawhorse under one of
+its rear windows. He could, at least, be alone here and think; and he
+wanted to think.
+
+For Issy--although he didn't look it--was deeply interested in another
+love story as well as that in his pocket. This one was printed upon
+his heart's pages, and in it he was the hero, while the heroine--the
+unsuspecting heroine--was Gertie Higgins, daughter of Beriah Higgins,
+once a fisherman, now the crotchety and dyspeptic proprietor of the
+“general store” and postmaster at East Harniss.
+
+This story began when Issy first acquired the Lady May. The Higgins home
+stood on the slope close to the boat landing, and when Issy came in from
+quahauging, Gertie was likely to be in the back yard, hanging out the
+clothes or watering the flower garden. Sometimes she spoke to him of her
+own accord, concerning the weather or other important topics. Once
+she even asked him if he were going to the Fourth of July ball at the
+town-hall. It took him until the next morning--like other warriors, Issy
+was cursed with shyness--to summon courage enough to ask her to go to
+the ball with him. Then he found it was too late; she was going with
+her cousin, Lennie Bloomer. But he felt that she had offered him the
+opportunity, and was happy and hopeful accordingly.
+
+This, however, was before she went to Boston to study telegraphy. When
+she returned, with a picture hat and a Boston accent, it was to preside
+at the telegraph instrument in the little room adjoining the post office
+at her father's store. When Issy bowed blushingly outside the window
+of the telegraph room, he received only the airiest of frigid nods. Was
+there what Lord Lyndhurst would have called “another”? It would seem
+not. Old Mr. Higgins, her father, encouraged no bows nor attentions from
+young men, and Gertie herself did not appear to desire them. So Issy
+gave up his tales of savage butchery for those of love and blisses,
+adored in silence, and hoped--always hoped.
+
+But why had the blacksmith seemed surprised at the departure of Sam
+Bartlett, the “dudey” vacationist from the city, whose father had, years
+ago, been Beriah Higgins's partner in the fish business? And why had he
+coupled the Bartlett name with that of Gertie, who had been visiting her
+father's maiden sister at Trumet, the village next below East Harniss,
+as Denboro is the next above it? Issy's suspicions were aroused, and he
+wondered.
+
+Suddenly he heard voices in the shop above him. The window was open and
+he heard them plainly.
+
+“Well! WELL!” It was the blacksmith who uttered the exclamation. “Why,
+Bartlett, how be you? What you doin' over here? Thought you'd gone back
+to Boston. I heard you had.”
+
+Slowly, cautiously, the astonished quahauger rose from the sawhorse and
+peered over the window sill. There were two visitors in the shop. One
+was Ed Burns, proprietor of the Denboro Hotel and livery stable. The
+other was Sam Bartlett, the very same who had left East Harniss that
+morning, bound, ostensibly, for Boston. Issy sank back again and
+listened.
+
+“Yes, yes!” he heard Sam say impatiently; “I know, but--see here, Jake,
+where can I hire a horse in this God-forsaken town?”
+
+“Well, well, Sam!” continued Larkin. “I was just figurin' that Beriah
+had got the best of you after all, and you'd had to give it up for this
+time. Thinks I, it's too bad! Just because your dad and Beriah Higgins
+had such a deuce of a row when they bust up in the fish trade, it's a
+shame that he won't hark to your keepin' comp'ny with Gertie. And you
+doin' so well; makin' twenty dollars a week up to the city--Ed told me
+that--and--”
+
+“Yes, yes! But never mind that. Where can I get a horse? I've got to be
+in Trumet by eight to-night sure.”
+
+“Trumet? Why, that's where Gertie is, ain't it?”
+
+“Look a-here, Jake,” broke in the livery-stable keeper. “I'll tell you
+how 'tis. Oh, it's all right, Sam! Jake knows the most of it; I told
+him. He can keep his mouth shut, and he don't like old crank Higgins any
+better'n you and me do. Jake, Sam here and Gertie had fixed it up to run
+off and git married to-night. He was to pretend to start for Boston this
+mornin'. Bought a ticket and all, so's to throw Beriah off the scent.
+He was to get off the train here at Denboro and I was to let him have a
+horse 'n' buggy. Then, this afternoon, he was goin' to drive through the
+wood roads around to Trumet and be at the Baptist Church there at eight
+to-night sharp. Gertie's Aunt Hannah, she's had her orders, and bein' as
+big a crank as her brother, she don't let the girl out of her sight. But
+there's a fair at the church and Auntie's tendin' a table. Gertie, she
+steps out to the cloak room to git a handkerchief which she's forgot;
+see? And she hops into Sam's buggy and away they go to the minister's.
+After they're once hitched Old Dyspepsy can go to pot and see the kittle
+bile.”
+
+“Bully! By gum, that's fine! Won't Beriah rip some, hey?”
+
+“Yes, but there's the dickens to pay. I've only got two horses in the
+stable to-day. The rest are let. And the two I've got--one's old Bill,
+and he couldn't go twenty mile to save his hide. And t'other's the gray
+mare, and blamed if she didn't git cast last night and use up her off
+hind leg so's she can't step. And Sam's GOT to have a horse. Where can I
+git one?”
+
+“Hum! Have you tried Haynes's?”
+
+“Yes, yes! And Lathrop's and Eldredge's. Can't git a team for love nor
+money.”
+
+“Sho! And he can't go by train?”
+
+“What? With Beriah postmaster at East Harniss and always nosin' through
+every train that stops there? You can't fetch Trumet by train without
+stoppin' at East Harniss and--What was that?”
+
+“I don't know. What was it?”
+
+“Sounded like somethin' outside that back winder.”
+
+The two ran to the window and looked out. All they saw was an overturned
+sawhorse and two or three hens scratching vigorously.
+
+“Guess 'twas the chickens, most likely,” observed the blacksmith. Then,
+striking his blackened palms together, he exclaimed:
+
+“By time! I've thought of somethin'! Is McKay is in town to-day. Come
+over in the Lady May. She's a gasoline boat. Is would take Sam to Trumet
+for two or three dollars, I'll bet. And he's such a fool head that he
+wouldn't ask questions nor suspicion nothin'. 'Twould be faster'n a
+horse and enough sight less risky.”
+
+And just then the “fool head,” his brain whirling under its carroty
+thatch, was hurrying blindly up the main street, bound somewhere, he
+wasn't certain where.
+
+A mushy apple exploded between his shoulders, but he did not even turn
+around. So THIS was what the blacksmith meant! This was why Mr. Higgins
+watched his daughter so closely. This was why Gertie had been sent off
+to Trumet. She had met the Bartlett miscreant in Boston; they had been
+together there; had fallen in love and--He gritted his teeth and shook
+his fists almost in the face of old Deacon Pratt, who, knowing the
+McKay penchant for slaughter, had serious thoughts of sending for the
+constable.
+
+Beriah Higgins must be warned, of course, but how? To telegraph was
+to put Pat Starkey in possession of the secret, and Pat was too good a
+friend of Gertie's to be trusted. There was no telephone at the store.
+Issy entered the combination grocery store and post office.
+
+“Has the down mail closed yet?” he panted.
+
+The postmaster looked out of his little window.
+
+“Yes,” he replied. “Why? Got a letter you want to go? Take it up to the
+depot. The train's due, but 'tain't here yit. If you run you can make
+it.”
+
+Issy took a card from his pocket. It was the business card of the firm
+to whom he sold his quahaugs. On the back of the card he wrote in pencil
+as follows:
+
+“Mr. Beriah Higgins, your daughter Gertrude is going to meet Sam'l
+Bartlett at the Baptist Church in Trumet at 8 P.M. to-night and get
+married to him. LOOK OUT!!!”
+
+After an instant's consideration he signed it “A True Friend,” this
+being in emulation of certain heroes of the Deadwood Dick variety. Then
+he put the card into an envelope and ran at top speed to the railway
+station. The train came in as he reached the platform. The baggage
+master was standing in the door of his car.
+
+“Here, mister!” panted Issy. “Jest hand this letter to Beriah Higgins
+when he takes the mail bag at East Harniss, won't you? It's mighty
+important. Don't forgit. Thanks.”
+
+The train moved off. Issy stared after it, grinning malevolently.
+Higgins would get that note in ample time to send word to the watchful
+Aunt Hannah. When the unsuspecting eloper reached the Trumet church, it
+would be the aunt, not the niece, who awaited him. Still grinning, Mr.
+McKay walked off the platform, and into the arms of Ed Burns, the stable
+keeper, and Sam Bartlett, his loathed and favored rival.
+
+“Here he is!” shouted Burns. “Now we've got him.”
+
+The foiler of the plot turned pale. Was his secret discovered? But no;
+his captors began talking eagerly, and gradually the sense of their
+pleadings became plain. They wanted him--HIM, of all people--to convey
+Bartlett to Trumet in the Lady May.
+
+“You see, it's a business meetin',” urged Burns. “Sam's got to be there
+by ha'f past seven or he'll--he won't win on the deal, will you, Sam?
+Say yes, Issy; that's a good feller. He'll give you--I don't know's he
+won't give you five dollars.”
+
+“Ten,” cried Bartlett. “And I'll never forget it, either. Will you, Is?”
+
+A mighty “No!” was trembling on Issy's tongue. But before it was uttered
+Burns spoke again.
+
+“McKay's got the best boat in these parts,” he urged. “She's got a
+tiptop engine in her, and--”
+
+The word “engine” dropped into the whirlpool of Issy's thoughts with a
+familiar sound. In the chapter of “Vivian” that he had just finished,
+the beautiful shopgirl was imprisoned on board the yacht of the
+millionaire kidnaper, while the hero, in his own yacht, was miles
+astern. But the hero's faithful friend, disguised as a stoker, was
+tampering with the villain's engine. A vague idea began to form in
+Issy's brain. Once get the would-be eloper aboard the Lady May, and,
+even though the warning note should remain undelivered, he--
+
+Issy smiled, and the ghastliness of that smile was unnoticed by his
+companions.
+
+“I--I'll do it,” he cried. “By mighty! I WILL do it. You be at the wharf
+here at four o'clock. I wouldn't do it for everybody, Sam Bartlett, but
+for you I'd do consider'ble, just now. And I don't want your ten dollars
+nuther.”
+
+
+Doctoring an engine may be easy enough--in stories. But to doctor a
+gasoline engine so that it will run for a certain length of time and
+THEN break down is not so easy. Three o'clock came and the problem was
+still unsolved. Issy, the perspiration running down his face, stood
+up in the Lady May's cockpit and looked out across the bay, smooth and
+glassy in the afternoon sun.
+
+The sky overhead was clear and blue, but along the eastern and southern
+horizon was a gray bank of cloud, heaped in tumbled masses.
+
+A sunburned lobsterman in rubber boots and a sou'wester was smoking on
+the wharf.
+
+“What time you goin' to start for home, Is?” he asked.
+
+“Oh, in an hour or so,” was the absent-minded reply.
+
+“Humph! You'd better cast off afore that or you'll be fog bound. It'll
+be thicker'n dock mud toward sundown, and you'll fetch up in Waptomac
+'stead of East Harniss, 'thout you've got a good compass.”
+
+“Oh, my compass is all right,” began Issy, and stopped short.
+The lobsterman made other attempts at conversation, but they were
+unproductive. McKay was gazing at the growing fog bank and thinking
+hard. To doctor an engine may be difficult, but to get lost in a fog--He
+took the compass from the glass-lidded binnacle by the wheel, and
+carrying it into the little cabin, placed it in the cuddy forward.
+
+It was nearer five than four when the Lady May, her engine barking
+aggressively, moved out of Denboro Harbor. Mr. Bartlett, the passenger,
+had been on time and had fumed and fretted at the delay. But Issy was
+deliberation itself. He had forgotten his quahaug rake, and the lapse
+of memory entailed a trip to the blacksmith's. Then the gasoline tank
+needed filling and the battery had to be overhauled.
+
+“Are you sure you can make it?” queried Sam anxiously. “It's important,
+I tell you. Mighty important.”
+
+The skipper snorted in disgust. “Make it?” he repeated. “If the Lady May
+can't make fourteen mile in two hours--let alone two'n a ha'f--then I
+don't know her. She's one of them boats you read about, she is.”
+
+The Cape makes a wide bend between Denboro and Trumet. The distance
+between these towns is twenty long, curved miles over the road; by water
+it is reduced to a straight fourteen. And midway between the two, at the
+center of the curve, is East Harniss.
+
+The Lady May coughed briskly on. There was no sea, and she sent long,
+widening ripples from each side of her bow. Bartlett, leaning over the
+rail, gazed impatiently ahead. Issy, sprawled on the bench by the wheel,
+was muttering to himself. Occasionally he glanced toward the east. The
+gray fog bank was now half way to the zenith and approaching rapidly.
+The eastern shore had disappeared.
+
+“Is! Hi, Is! What are you doing? Don't kill him before my eyes.”
+
+Issy came out of his trance with a start.
+
+“What--what's that?” he asked. His passenger was grinning broadly.
+
+“What? Kill who?”
+
+“Why, the big chief, or whoever you had under your knee just then.
+You've been rolling your eyes and punching air with your fist for the
+last five minutes. I was getting scared. You're an unmerciful sinner
+when you get started, ain't you, Is? Who was the victim that time? 'Man
+Afraid of Hot Water'? or who?”
+
+The skipper scowled. He shoved the fist into his pocket.
+
+“Naw,” he growled. “'Twa'n't.”
+
+“So? Not an Indian? Then it must have been a white man. Some fellow
+after your girl, perhaps. Hey?”
+
+The disconcerted Issy was speechless. His companion's chance shot had
+scored a bull's-eye. Sam whooped.
+
+“That's it!” he crowed. “Sure thing! Give it to him, Is! Don't spare
+him.”
+
+Mr. McKay chokingly admitted that he “wa'n't goin' to.”
+
+“Ho, ho! That's the stuff! But who's SHE, Is? When are you going to
+marry her?”
+
+Issy grunted spitefully. “You ain't married yourself--not yit,” he
+observed, with concealed sarcasm.
+
+The unsuspecting Bartlett laughed in triumph. “No,” he said. “I'm not,
+that's a fact; but maybe I'm going to be some of these days. It looked
+pretty dubious for a while, but now it's all right.”
+
+“'Tis, hey? You're sure about that, be you?”
+
+“Guess I am. Great Scott! what's that? Fog?”
+
+A damp breath blew across the boat. The clouds covered the sky overhead
+and the bay to port. The fog was pouring like smoke across the water.
+
+“Fog, by thunder!” exclaimed Bartlett.
+
+Issy smiled. “Hum! Yes, 'tis fog, ain't it?” he observed.
+
+“But what'll we do? It'll be here in a minute, won't it?”
+
+“Shouldn't be a mite surprised. Looks 's if twas here now.”
+
+The fog came on. It reached the Lady May, passed over her, and shut her
+within gray, wet walls. It was impossible to see a length from her side.
+Sam swore emphatically. The skipper was provokingly calm. He stepped to
+the engine, bent over it, and then returned to the wheel.
+
+“What are you doing?” demanded Bartlett.
+
+“Slowin' down, of course. Can't run more'n ha'f speed in a fog like
+this. 'Tain't safe.”
+
+“Safe! What do I care? I want to get to Trumet.”
+
+“Yes? Well, maybe we'll git there if we have luck.”
+
+“You idiot! We've GOT to get there. How can you tell which way to steer?
+Get your compass, man! get your compass!”
+
+“Ain't got no compass,” was the sulky answer. “Left it to home.”
+
+“Why, no, you didn't. I--”
+
+“I tell you I did. 'Twas careless of me, I know, but--”
+
+“But I say you didn't. When you went uptown after that quahaug rake I
+explored this craft of yours some. The compass is in that little closet
+at the end of the cabin. I'll get it.”
+
+He rose to his feet. Issy sprang forward and seized him by the arm.
+
+“Set down!” he yelled. “Who's runnin' this boat, you or me?”
+
+The astounded passenger stared at his companion.
+
+“Why, you are,” he replied. “But that's no reason--What's the matter
+with you, anyway? Have your dime novels driven you loony?”
+
+Issy hesitated. For a moment chagrin and rage at this sudden upset of
+his schemes had gotten the better of his prudence. But Bartlett was
+taller than he and broad in proportion. And valor--except of the
+imaginative brand--was not Issy's strong point.
+
+“There, there, Sam!” he explained, smiling crookedly. “You mustn't mind
+me. I'm sort of nervous, I guess. And you mustn't hop up and down in a
+boat that way. You set still and I'll fetch the compass.”
+
+He stumbled across the cockpit and disappeared in the dusk of the cabin.
+Finding that compass took a long time. Sam lost patience.
+
+“What's the matter?” he demanded. “Can't you find it? Shall I come?”
+
+“No, no!” screamed Issy vehemently. “Stay where you be. Catch a-holt of
+that wheel. We'll be spinnin' circles if you don't. I'm a-comin'.”
+
+But it was another five minutes before he emerged from the cabin,
+carrying the compass box very carefully with both hands. He placed it in
+the binnacle and closed the glass lid.
+
+“'Twas catched in a bluefish line,” he explained. “All snarled up,
+'twas.”
+
+Sam peered through the glass at the compass.
+
+“Thunder!” he exclaimed. “I should say we had spun around. Instead of
+north being off here where I thought it was, it's 'way out to the right.
+Queer how fog'll mix a fellow up. Trumet's about northeast, isn't it?”
+
+“No'theast by no'th's the course. Keep her just there.”
+
+The Lady May, still at half speed, kept on through the mist. Time
+passed. The twilight, made darker still by the fog, deepened. They lit
+the lantern in order to see the compass card. Issy had the wheel now.
+Sam was forward, keeping a lookout and fretting at the delay.
+
+“It's seven o'clock already,” he cried. “For Heaven's sake, how late
+will you be? I've got to be there by quarter of eight. D'you hear? I've
+GOT to.”
+
+“Well, we're gittin' there. Can't expect to travel so fast with part of
+the power off. You'll be where you're goin' full as soon as you want to
+be, I cal'late.”
+
+And he chuckled.
+
+Another half hour and, through the wet dimness, a light flashed,
+vanished, and flashed again. Issy saw it and smiled grimly. Bartlett saw
+it and shouted.
+
+“'What's that light?” he cried. “Did you see it? There it is, off
+there.”
+
+“I see it. There's a light at Trumet Neck, ain't there?”
+
+“Humph! It's been years since I was there, but I thought Trumet light
+was steady. However--”
+
+“Ain't that the wharf ahead?”
+
+Sure enough, out of the dark loomed the bulk of a small wharf, with
+catboats at anchor near it. Higher up, somewhere on the shore, were the
+lighted windows of a building.
+
+“By thunder, we're here!” exclaimed Sam, and drew a long breath.
+
+Issy shut off the power altogether, and the Lady May slid easily up to
+the wharf. Feverishly her skipper made her fast.
+
+“Yes, sir!” he cried exultantly. “We're here. And no Black Rover nor
+anybody else ever done a better piece of steerin' than that, nuther.”
+
+He clambered over the stringpiece, right at the heels of his impatient
+but grateful passenger. Sam's thanks were profuse and sincere.
+
+“I'll never forget it, Is,” he declared. “I'll never forget it. And
+you'll have to let me pay you the--What makes you shake so?”
+
+Issy pulled his arm away and stepped back.
+
+“I'll never forget it, Is,” continued Sam. “I--Why! What--?”
+
+He was standing at the shore end of the wharf, gazing up at the lighted
+windows. They were those of a dwelling house--an old-fashioned house
+with a back yard sloping down to the landing.
+
+And then Issy McKay leaned forward and spoke in his ear.
+
+“You bet you won't forgit it, Sam Bartlett!” he crowed, in trembling but
+delicious triumph. “You bet you won't! I've fixed you just the same as
+the Black Rover fixed the mutineers. Run off with my girl, will ye? And
+marry her, will ye? I--”
+
+Sam interrupted him. “Why! WHY!” he cried. “That's--that's Gertie's
+house! This isn't Trumet! IT'S EAST HARNISS!”
+
+The next moment he was seized from behind. The skipper's arms were
+around his waist and the skipper's thin legs twisted about his own. They
+fell together upon the sand and, as they rolled and struggled, Issy's
+yells rose loud and high.
+
+“Mr. Higgins!” he shrieked. “Mr. Higgins! Come on! I've got him! I've
+got the feller that's tryin' to steal your daughter! Come on! I've got
+him! I'm hangin' to him!”
+
+A door banged open. Some one rushed down the walk. And then a girl's
+voice cried in alarm:
+
+“What is it? Who is it? What IS the matter?”
+
+And from the bundle of legs and arms on the ground two voices exclaimed:
+“GERTIE!”
+
+“But where IS your father?” asked Sam. Issy asked nothing. He merely sat
+still and listened.
+
+“Why, he's at Trumet. At least I suppose he is. Mrs. Jones--she's gone
+to telephone to him now--says that he came home this morning with one
+of those dreadful 'attacks' of his. And after dinner he seemed so sick
+that, when she went for the doctor, she wired me at Auntie's to come
+home. I didn't want to come--you know why--but I COULDN'T let him die
+alone. And so I caught the three o'clock train and came. I knew you'd
+forgive me. But it seems that when Mrs. Jones came back with the doctor
+they found father up and dressed and storming like a crazy man. He had
+received some sort of a letter; he wouldn't say what. And, in spite of
+all they could do, he insisted on going out. And Cap'n Berry--the depot
+master--says he went to Trumet on the afternoon freight. We must have
+passed each other on the way. And I'm so--But why are you HERE? And what
+were you and Issy doing? And--”
+
+Her lover broke in eagerly. “Then you're alone now?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, but--”
+
+“Good! Your father can't get a train back from Trumet before to-morrow
+morning. I don't know what this letter was--but never mind. Perhaps
+friend McKay knows more about it. It may be that Mr. Higgins is waiting
+now outside the Baptist church. Gertie, now's our chance. You come with
+me right up to the minister's. He's a friend of mine. He understands.
+He'll marry us, I know. Come! We mustn't lose a minute. Your dad may
+take a notion to drive back.”
+
+He led her off up the lane, she protesting, he urging. At the corner of
+the house he turned.
+
+“I say, Is!” he called. “Don't you want to come to the wedding? Seems
+to me we owe you that, considering all you've done to help it along. Or
+perhaps you want to stay and fix that compass of yours.”
+
+Issy didn't answer. Some time after they had gone he arose from the
+ground and stumbled home. That night he put a paper novel into the
+stove. Next morning, before going to the depot, he removed an iron spike
+from the Lady May's compass box. The needle swung back to its proper
+position.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMET
+
+
+The eleventh of July. The little Berry house stood high on its joists
+and rollers, in the middle of the Hill Boulevard, directly opposite
+the Edwards lot. Close behind it loomed the big “Colonial.” Another
+twenty-four hours, and, even at its one-horse gait, the depot master's
+dwelling would be beyond the strip of Edwards fence. The “Colonial”
+ would be ready to move on the lot, and Olive Edwards, the widow, would
+be obliged to leave her home. In fact, Mr. Williams had notified
+her that she and her few belongings must be off the premises by the
+afternoon of the twelfth.
+
+The great Williams was in high good-humor. He chuckled as he talked with
+his foreman, and the foreman chuckled in return. Simeon Phinney did
+not chuckle. He was anxious and worried, and even the news of Gertie
+Higgins's runaway marriage, brought to him by Obed Gott, who--having
+been so recently the victim of another unexpected matrimonial
+alliance--was wickedly happy over the postmaster's discomfiture, did not
+interest him greatly.
+
+“Well, I wonder who'll be the next couple,” speculated Obed. “First
+Polena and old Hardee, then Gertie Higgins and Sam Bartlett! I declare,
+Sim, gettin' married unbeknownst to anybody must be catchin', like the
+measles. Nobody's safe unless they've got a wife or husband livin'. Me
+and Sol Berry are old baches--we'd better get vaccinated or WE may come
+down with the disease. Ho! ho!”
+
+After dinner Mr. Phinney went from his home to the depot. Captain Sol
+was sitting in the ticket office, with the door shut. On the platform,
+forlornly sprawled upon the baggage truck, was Issy McKay, the picture
+of desolation. He started nervously when he heard Simeon's step. As
+yet Issy's part in the Bartlett-Higgins episode was unknown to the
+townspeople. Sam and Gertie had considerately kept silence. Beriah had
+not learned who sent him the warning note, the unlucky missive which had
+brought his troubles to a climax. But he was bound to learn it, he would
+find out soon, and then--No wonder Issy groaned.
+
+“Come in here, Sim,” said the depot master. Phinney entered the ticket
+office.
+
+“Shut the door,” commanded the Captain. The order was obeyed. “Well,
+what is it?” asked Berry.
+
+“Why, I just run in to see you a minute, Sol, that's all. What are you
+shut up in here all alone for?”
+
+“'Cause I want to be alone. There's been more than a thousand folks in
+this depot so far to-day, seems so, and they all wanted to talk. I don't
+feel like talkin'.”
+
+“Heard about Gertie Higgins and--”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Who told you?”
+
+“Hiram Baker told me first. He's a fine feller and he's so tickled, now
+that his youngster's 'most well, that he cruises around spoutin' talk
+and joy same as a steamer's stack spouts cinders. He told me. Then Obed
+Gott and Cornelius Rowe and Redny Blount and Pat Starkey, and land knows
+how many more, came to tell me. I cut 'em short. Why, even the Major
+himself condescended to march in, grand and imposin' as a procession, to
+make proclamations about love laughin' at locksmiths, and so on. Since
+he got Polena and her bank account he's a bigger man than the President,
+in his own estimate.”
+
+“Humph! Well, he better make the best of it while it lasts. P'lena ain't
+Hetty Green, and her money won't hold out forever.”
+
+“That's a fact. Still Polena's got sense. She'll hold Hardee in check,
+I cal'late. I wouldn't wonder if it ended by her bossin' things and the
+Major actin' as a sort of pet poodle dog--nice and pretty to walk out
+with, but always kept at the end of a string.”
+
+“You didn't go to Higgins's for dinner to-day, did you?”
+
+“No. Nor I shan't go for supper. Beriah's bad enough when he's got
+nothin' the matter with him but dyspepsy. Now that his sufferin's are
+complicated with elopements, I don't want to eat with him.”
+
+“Come and have supper with us.”
+
+“I guess not, thank you, Sim. I'll get some crackers and cheese and such
+at the store. I--I ain't very hungry these days.”
+
+He turned his head and looked out of the window. Simeon fidgeted.
+
+“Sol,” he said, after a pause, “we'll be past Olive's by to-morrer
+night.”
+
+No answer. Sim repeated his remark.
+
+“I know it,” was the short reply.
+
+“Yes--yes, I s'posed you did, but--”
+
+“Sim, don't bother me now. This is my last day here at the depot, and
+I've got things to do.”
+
+“Your last day? Why, what--?”
+
+Captain Sol told briefly of his resignation and of the coming of the new
+depot master.
+
+“But you givin' up your job!” gasped Phinney. “YOU! Why, what for?”
+
+“For instance, I guess. I ain't dependent on the wages, and I'm sick of
+the whole thing.”
+
+“But what'll you do?”
+
+“Don't know.”
+
+“You--you won't leave town, will you? Lawsy mercy, I hope not!”
+
+“Don't know. Maybe I'll know better by and by. I've got to think things
+out. Run along now, like a good feller. Don't say nothin' about my
+quittin'. All hands'll know it to-morrow, and that's soon enough.”
+
+Simeon departed, his brain in a whirl. Captain Solomon Berry no longer
+depot master! The world must be coming to an end.
+
+He remained at his work until supper time. During the meal he ate and
+said so little that his wife wondered and asked questions. To avoid
+answering them he hurried out. When he returned, about ten o'clock, he
+was a changed man. His eyes shone and he fairly danced with excitement.
+
+“Emeline!” he shouted, as he burst into the sitting room. “What do you
+think? I've got the everlastin'est news to tell!”
+
+“Good or bad?” asked the practical Mrs. Phinney.
+
+“Good! So good that--There! let me tell you. When I left here I went
+down to the store and hung around till the mail was sorted. Pat Starkey
+was doin' the sortin', Beriah bein' too upsot by Gertie's gettin'
+married to attend to anything. Pat called me to the mail window and
+handed me a letter.
+
+“'It's for Olive Edwards,' he says. 'She's been expectin' one for a
+consider'ble spell, she told me, and maybe this is it. P'r'aps you'd
+just as soon go round by her shop and leave it.'
+
+“I took the letter and looked at it. Up in one corner was the printed
+name of an Omaha firm. I never said nothin', but I sartinly hustled on
+my way up the hill.
+
+“Olive was in her little settin' room back of the shop. She was pretty
+pale, and her eyes looked as if she hadn't been doin' much sleepin'
+lately. Likewise I noticed--and it give me a queer feelin' inside--that
+her trunk was standin', partly packed, in the corner.”
+
+“The poor woman!” exclaimed Mrs. Phinney.
+
+“Yes,” went on her husband. “Well, I handed over the letter and started
+to go, but she told me to set down and rest, 'cause I was so out of
+breath. To tell you the truth, I was crazy to find out what was in that
+envelope and, being as she'd give me the excuse, I set.
+
+“She took the letter over to the lamp and looked at it for much as
+a minute, as if she was afraid to open it. But at last, and with her
+fingers shakin' like the palsy, she fetched a long breath and tore off
+the end of the envelope. It was a pretty long letter, and she read it
+through. I see her face gettin' whiter and whiter and, when she reached
+the bottom of the last page, the letter fell onto the floor. Down went
+her head on her arms, and she cried as if her heart would break. I never
+felt so sorry for anybody in my life.
+
+“'Don't, Mrs. Edwards,' I says. 'Please don't. That cousin of yours is
+a darn ungrateful scamp, and I'd like to have my claws on his neck this
+minute.'
+
+“She never even asked me how I knew about the cousin. She was too much
+upset for that.
+
+“'Oh! oh!' she sobs. 'What SHALL I do? Where shall I go? I haven't got a
+friend in the world!'
+
+“I couldn't stand that. I went acrost and laid my hand on her shoulder.
+
+“'Mrs. Edwards,' says I, 'you mustn't say that. You've got lots of
+friends. I'm your friend. Mr. Hilton's your friend. Yes, and there's
+another, the best friend of all. If it weren't for him, you'd have been
+turned out into the street long before this.'”
+
+Mrs. Phinney nodded. “I'm glad you told her!” she exclaimed. “She'd
+ought to know.”
+
+“That's what I thought,” said Simeon.
+
+“Well, she raised her head then and looked at me.
+
+“'You mean Mr. Williams?' she asks.
+
+“That riled me up. 'Williams nothin'!' says I. 'Williams let you stay
+here 'cause he could just as well as not. If he'd known that this other
+friend was keepin' him from gettin' here, just on your account, he'd
+have chucked you to glory, promise or no promise. But this friend, this
+real friend, he don't count cost, nor trouble, nor inconvenience. Hikes
+his house--the house he lives in--right out into the road, moves it to a
+place where he don't want to go, and--'
+
+“'Mr. Phinney,' she sighs out, 'what do you mean?'
+
+“And then I told her. She listened without sayin' a word, but her eyes
+kept gettin' brighter and brighter and she breathed short.
+
+“'Oh!' she says, when I'd finished. 'Did he--did he--do that for ME?'
+
+“'You bet!' says I. 'He didn't tell me what he was doin' it for--that
+ain't Sol's style; but I'm arithmetiker enough to put two and two
+together and make four. He did it for you, you can bet your last red on
+that.'
+
+“She stood up. 'Oh!' she breathes. 'I--I must go and thank him. I--'
+
+“But, knowin' Sol, I was afraid. Fust place, there was no tellin' how
+he'd act, and, besides, he might not take it kindly that I'd told her.
+
+“'Wait a jiffy,' I says. 'I'll go out and see if he's home. You stay
+here. I'll be back right off.'
+
+“Out I put, and over to the Berry house, standin' on its rollers in the
+middle of the Boulevard. And, just as I got to it, somebody says:
+
+“'Ahoy, Sim! What's the hurry? Anybody on fire?'
+
+“'Twas the Cap'n himself, settin' on a pile of movin' joist and smokin'
+as usual. I didn't waste no time.
+
+“'Sol,' says I, 'I've just come from Olive's. She's got that letter from
+the Omaha man. Poor thing! all alone there--'
+
+“He interrupted me sharp. 'Well?' he snaps. 'What's it say? Will the
+cousin help her?'
+
+“'No,' I says, 'drat him, he won't!'
+
+“The answer I got surprised me more'n anything I ever heard or ever will
+hear.
+
+“'Thank God!' says Sol Berry. 'That settles it.'
+
+“And I swan to man if he didn't climb down off them timbers and march
+straight across the street, over to the door of Olive Edwards's home,
+open it, and go in! I leaned against the joist he'd left, and swabbed my
+forehead with my sleeve.”
+
+“He went to HER!” gasped Mrs. Phinney.
+
+“Wait,” continued her husband. “I must have stood there twenty minutes
+when I heard somebody hurryin' down the Boulevard. 'Twas Cornelius Rowe,
+all red-faced and het up, but bu'stin' with news.
+
+“''Lo, Sim!' says he to me. 'Is Cap'n Sol home? Does he know?'
+
+“'Know? Know what?” says I.
+
+“'Why, the trick Mr. Williams put up on him? Hey? You ain't heard? Well,
+Mr. Williams's fixed him nice, HE has! Seems Abner Payne hadn't answered
+Sol's letter tellin' him he'd accept the offer to swap lots, and
+Williams went up to Wareham where Payne's been stayin' and offered him a
+thumpin' price for the land on Main Street, and took it. The deed's all
+made out. Cap'n Sol can't move where he was goin' to, and he's left with
+his house on the town, as you might say. Ain't it a joke, though? Where
+is Sol? I want to be the fust to tell him and see how he acts. Is he to
+home?'
+
+“I was shook pretty nigh to pieces, but I had some sense left.
+
+“'No, he ain't,' says I. 'I see him go up street a spell ago.'”
+
+“Why, Simeon!” interrupted Mrs. Phinney once more. “Was that true? How
+COULD you see him when--”
+
+“Be still! S'pose I was goin' to tell him where Sol HAD gone? I'd have
+lied myself blue fust. However, Cornelius was satisfied.
+
+“'That so?' he grunts. 'By jings! I'm goin' to find him.'
+
+“Off he went, and the next thing I knew the Edwards door opened, and
+I heard somebody callin' my name. I went acrost, walkin' in a kind of
+daze, and there, in the doorway, with the lamp shinin' on 'em, was Cap'n
+Sol and Olive. The tears was wet on her cheeks, but she was smilin' in
+a kind of shy, half-believin' sort of way, and as for Sol, he was one
+broad, satisfied grin.
+
+“'Cap'n,' I begun, 'I just heard the everlastin'est news that--'
+
+“'Shut up, Sim!' he orders, cheerful. 'You've been a mighty good friend
+to both of us, and I want you to be the fust to shake hands.'
+
+“'Shake hands?' I stammers, lookin' at 'em. 'WHAT? You don't mean--'
+
+“'I mean shake hands. Don't you want to?'
+
+“Want to! I give 'em both one more look, and then we shook, up to the
+elbows; and my grin had the Cap'n's beat holler.
+
+“'Sim,' he says, after I'd cackled a few minutes, 'I cal'late maybe that
+white horse is well by this time. P'r'aps we might move a little faster.
+I'm kind of anxious to get to Main Street.'
+
+“Then I remembered. 'Great gosh all fish-hooks!' I sings out. 'Main
+Street? Why, there AIN'T no Main Street!'
+
+“And I gives 'em Cornelius's news. The widow's smile faded out.
+
+“'Oh!' says she. 'O Solomon! And I got you into all this trouble!'
+
+“Cap'n Sol didn't stop grinnin', but he scratched his head. 'Huh!' says
+he. 'Mark one up for King Williams the Great. Humph!'
+
+“He thought for a minute and then he laughed out loud. 'Olive,' he says,
+'if I remember right, you and I always figgered to live on the Shore
+Road. It's the best site in town. Sim, I guess if that white horse IS
+well, you can move that shanty of mine right to Cross Street, down that,
+and back along the Shore Road to the place where it come from. THAT
+land's mine yet,' says he.
+
+“If that wa'n't him all over! I couldn't think what to say, except that
+folks would laugh some, I cal'lated.
+
+“'Not at us, they won't,' says he. 'We'll clear out till the laughin' is
+over. Olive, to-morrer mornin' we'll call on Parson Hilton and then take
+the ten o'clock train. I feel's if a trip to Washin'ton would be about
+right just now.'
+
+“She started and blushed and then looked up into his face. 'Solomon,'
+she says, low, 'I really would like to go to Niagara.'
+
+“He shook his head. 'Old lady,' says he, 'I guess you don't quite
+understand this thing. See here'--p'intin' to his house loomin' big and
+black in the roadway--'see! the mountain has come to Mahomet.'”
+
+Mrs. Phinney had heard enough. She sprang from her chair and seized her
+husband's hands.
+
+“Splendid!” she cried, her face beaming. “Oh, AIN'T it lovely! Ain't you
+glad for 'em, Simeon?”
+
+“Glad! Say, Emeline; there's some of that wild-cherry bounce down
+cellar, ain't there? Let's break our teetotalism for once and drink a
+glass to Cap'n and Mrs. Solomon Berry. Jerushy! I got to do SOMETHIN' to
+celebrate.”
+
+
+On the Hill Boulevard the summer wind stirred the silverleaf poplars.
+The thick, black shadows along the sidewalks were heavy with the perfume
+of flowers. Captain Sol, ex-depot master of East Harniss, strolled on
+in the dark, under the stars, his hands in his pockets, and in his heart
+happiness complete and absolute.
+
+Behind him twinkled the lamp in the window of the Edwards house, so soon
+to be torn down. Before him, over the barberry hedge, blazed the windows
+of the mansion the owner of which was responsible for it all. The
+windows were open, and through them sounded the voices of the mighty
+Ogden Hapworth Williams and his wife, engaged in a lively altercation.
+It was an open secret that their married life was anything but peaceful.
+
+“What are you grumbling about now?” demanded 'Williams. “Don't I give
+you more money than--”
+
+“Nonsense!” sneered Mrs. Williams, in scornful derision. “Nonsense,
+I say! Money is all there is to you, Ogden. In other things, the real
+things of this world, those you can't buy with money, you're a perfect
+imbecile. You know nothing whatever about them.”
+
+Captain Sol, alone on the walk by the hedge, glanced in the direction
+of the shrill voice, then back at the lamp in Olive's window. And he
+laughed aloud.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Depot Master, by Joseph C. Lincoln
+
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