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diff --git a/28512-h/28512-h.htm b/28512-h/28512-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..df6b1fd --- /dev/null +++ b/28512-h/28512-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7020 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of What's-His-Name, by George Barr McCutcheon. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.2em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em; text-align:center;} + .caption {font-size:.8em;} + hr.tb {border:none; margin-top: 2em;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.4em;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of What's-His-Name, by George Barr McCutcheon + +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: What's-His-Name + +Author: George Barr McCutcheon + +Illustrator: Harrison Fisher + +Release Date: April 6, 2009 [EBook #28512] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT'S-HIS-NAME *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 424px; height: 555px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 424px;'> +Nellie Duluth<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table style='margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; border: black 2px solid;' summary=""> + <tr><td> + <table style='width:22em; margin: 3px 3px; border: black 1px solid;' summary=""> + +<tr><td> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2em;margin-top:0.5em;margin-bottom:1.4em;'>What’s-His-Name</p> +<p class='tp' style=''>BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:4em;'>GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.8em;'>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:2em;'>HARRISON FISHER</p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='center'> +<img alt='' src='images/illus-emb.png' /> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:4em;'>NEW YORK</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;letter-spacing:0.2em;'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:1em;'>PUBLISHERS</p> +</td></tr> + + </table> + </td></tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:center'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Copyright</span>, 1910, 1911<br /></p> +<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:center'>BY<br /></p> +<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:center'>GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON<br /></p> +<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:center'>Published March, 1911<br /></p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Our Hero</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_I_OUR_HERO'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Miss Nellie Duluth</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_II_MISS_NELLIE_DULUTH'>31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Mr. Fairfax</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_III_MR_FAIRFAX'>71</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Luncheon</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IV_LUNCHEON'>95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Christmas</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_V_CHRISTMAS'>124</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Revolver</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VI_THE_REVOLVER'>150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Lawyer</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VII_THE_LAWYER'>176</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Blakeville</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VIII_BLAKEVILLE'>201</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<col style='width:80%;' /> +<col style='width:20%;' /> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Nellie Duluth</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Fairfax was sitting on a trunk, a satisfied smile on his lips</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Phoebe</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>134</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>He stopped, aghast, petrified</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>238</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2>What’s-His-Name</h2> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_I_OUR_HERO' id='CHAPTER_I_OUR_HERO'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>OUR HERO</h3> +</div> +<p>Two men were standing in front of the Empire +Theatre on Broadway, at the outer edge of the +sidewalk, amiably discussing themselves in the +first person singular. It was late in September +and somewhat early in the day for actors +to be abroad, a circumstance which invites +speculation. Attention to their conversation, +which was marked by the habitual humility, +would have convinced the listener (who is always +welcome) that both had enjoyed a successful +season on the road, although closing +somewhat prematurely on account of miserable +booking, and that both had received splendid +“notices” in every town visited.</p> +<p>These two loiterers serve a single purpose in +this tale—they draw your attention to the principal +character, to the person who plays the +title rôle, so to speak, and then, having done so, +sink back into an oblivion from which it is quite +unnecessary to retrieve them.</p> +<p>The younger of the two players was in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span> +act of lighting a cigarette, considerately tendered +by the older, when his gaze fell upon the +figure of the approaching hero. He hesitated +for a moment, squinting his eyes reflectively +as if to make sure of both vision and memory +before committing himself to the declaration +that was to follow.</p> +<p>“See that fellow there? The little chap with +his hands in his pockets?”</p> +<p>The other permitted a vague, indifferent +glance to enter the throng of pedestrians, +plainly showing that he did not see the person +indicated. (Please note this proof of the person’s +qualifications as a hero.)</p> +<p>“The fellow in front of Browne’s,” added +the first speaker, so eagerly that his friend tried +once more and succeeded.</p> +<p>“What of him?” he demanded, unimpressed.</p> +<p>“That is What’s-His-Name, Nellie Duluth’s +husband.”</p> +<p>The friend’s stare was prolonged and incredulous.</p> +<p>“That?”</p> +<p>“Yes. That’s the fair Nellie’s anchor. +Isn’t he a wonder?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span></p> +<p>The object of these remarks passed slowly +in front of them and soon was lost in the crowd. +Now that we know who he is we will say thank +you to the obliging Thespian and be off up +Broadway in his wake, not precisely in the capacity +of spies and eavesdroppers, but as acquaintances +who would know him better.</p> +<p>He was not an imposing figure. You would +not have looked twice at him. You could not +have remembered looking once at him, for that +matter. He was the type of man who ambles +through life without being noticed, even by +those amiably inclined persons who make it +their business to see everything that is going +on, no matter how trivial it is.</p> +<p>Somewhere in this wide and unfeeling world +the husband of Nellie Duluth had an identity +of his own, but New York was not the place. +Back in the little Western town from which he +came he had a name and a personality all his +own, but it was a far cry from Broadway and +its environments. For a matter of four or five +years he had been known simply as “Er—What’s-His-Name? Nellie Duluth’s husband!” +You have known men of his stripe, I am sure; +men who never get anywhere for the good and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +sufficient reason that it isn’t necessary. Men +who stand still. Men who do not even shine +by reflected glory. Men whose names you cannot +remember. It might be Smith or Brown or +Jones, or any of the names you can’t forget +if you try, and yet it always escapes you. You +know the sort I mean.</p> +<p>Nellie Duluth’s husband was a smallish young +man, nice-looking, even kind-looking, with an +habitual expression of inquiry in his face, just +as if he never quite got used to seeing or being +seen. The most expert tailor haberdasher +could not have provided him with apparel that +really belonged to him. Not that he was awkward +or ill-favoured in the matter of figure, +but that he lacked individuality. He always +seemed to be a long way from home.</p> +<p>Sometimes you were sure that he affected a +slight, straw-coloured moustache; then, a moment +afterward, if you turned your back, you +were not quite sure about it. As a matter of +fact, he did possess such an adornment. The +trouble came in remembering it. Then, again, +his eyes were babyish blue and unseasoned; he +was always looking into shop windows, getting +accustomed to the sights. Trolley cars and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +automobiles were never-decreasing novelties to +him, if you were to judge by the startled way +in which he gazed at them. His respect for the +crossing policeman, his courtesy to the street-car +conductor, his timidity in the presence of +the corner newsboy, were only surpassed by his +deference to the waiter in the cheap restaurants +he affected.</p> +<p>But, ah! You should have seen him in that +little Western town! He was a “devil of a +fellow” out there! He knew the policemen by +their first names and had no respect for them; +street-car conductors were hail-fellows well met, +and the newsboys wore spectacles and said +“Yes, sir,” to him. As for the waiters, he +knew them all by their Christian name, which +usually was Annie or Mamie or Katie.</p> +<p>On Broadway he was quite another person. +He knew his Broadway from one end to the +other—that is to say, he knew that side of the +“Great White Way” which stares you in the +face and rebukes you for staring back—the +outside of Broadway. He had been on and off +Broadway for a matter of five years and yet +he had never recovered from the habit of turning +out for every pedestrian he met, giving the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +other man the right of way instead of holding +to his own half of it, sometimes stepping in +puddles of water to do so and not infrequently +being edged off the curbstone by an accumulation +of the unexpected.</p> +<p>Once in a while during his peregrinations +some one recognised him and bowed in a hesitating +manner, as if trying to place him, and +at such times he responded with a beaming +smile and a half-carried-out impulse to stop for +a bit of a chat, but always with a subsequent +acceleration of speed on discovering that the +other fellow seemed to be in a hurry. They +doubtless knew him for Miss Duluth’s husband, +but for the life of them they couldn’t call him +by name. Every one understood that Nellie +possessed a real name, but no one thought to +ask what it was.</p> +<p>Moreover, Nellie had a small daughter whose +name was Phoebe. She unquestionably was a +collaboration, but every one who knew the child +spoke of her as that “darling little girl of Nellie’s.” +The only man in New York who appeared +to know Nellie’s husband by name was +the postman, and he got it second-hand.</p> +<p>At the stage door of the theatre he was known +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +as Miss Duluth’s husband, to the stage hands +and the members of the chorus he was What’s-His-Name, +to the principals he was “old chap,” +to Nellie herself he was Harvey, to Phoebe he +was “daddy,” to the press agent he was nameless—he +didn’t exist.</p> +<p>You could see Nellie in big red letters on all +the billboards. She was inevitable. Her face +smiled at you from every nook and corner—and +it was a pretty face, too—and +you had to get your tickets of the scalpers if +you wanted to see her in person any night in +the week, Sundays excepted. Hats, parasols, +perfumes, and face powders were named after +her. It was Nellie here and Nellie there and +Nellie everywhere. The town was mad about +her. It goes without saying that her husband +was not the only man in love with her.</p> +<p>As Harvey—let me see—oh, never mind—What’s-His-Name—ambled +up Broadway on +the morning of his introduction into this homely +narrative he was smiled at most bewitchingly +by his wife—from a hundred windows—for +Nellie’s smile was never left out of the lithographs +(he never missed seeing one of them, +you may be sure)—but it never occurred to him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +to resent the fact that she was smiling in the +same inviting way to every other man who +looked.</p> +<p>He ambled on. At Forty-second Street he +turned to the right, peering at the curtained +windows of the Knickerbocker with a sort of +fearful longing in his mild blue eyes, and kept +on his way toward the Grand Central Station. +Although he had been riding in and out of the +city on a certain suburban train for nearly two +years and a half, he always heaved a sigh of +relief when the gate-tender told him he was +taking the right train for Tarrytown. Once in +a great while, on matinée days, he came to town +to luncheon with Nellie before the performance. +On Sundays she journeyed to Tarrytown to see +him and Phoebe. In that way they saw quite a +bit of each other. This day, however, he was +taking an earlier train out, and he was secretly +agitated over the possibility of getting the +wrong one. Nellie had sent word to the theatre +that she had a headache and could not have +luncheon with him.</p> +<p>He was not to come up to her apartment. If +he had known a human being in all New York +with whom he could have had luncheon, he would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +have stayed in town and perhaps gone to a +theatre. But, alas, there was no one! Once +he had asked a low comedian, a former member +of Nellie’s company, but at the time out of +a job and correspondingly meek, to luncheon +with him at Rector’s. At parting he had the +satisfaction of lending the player eleven dollars. +He hoped it would mean a long and pleasant +acquaintance and a chance to let the world +see something of him. But the low comedian +fell unexpectedly into a “part” and did not +remember Nellie’s husband the next time he +met him. He forgot something else as well. +Harvey’s memory was not so short. He never +forgot it. It rankled.</p> +<p>He bought a noon extra and found a seat in +the train. Then he sat up very straight to let +people see that they were riding in the same +car with the great Nellie Duluth’s husband. +Lucky dog! Every one was saying that about +him, he was sure. But every one else had a +noon extra, worse luck!</p> +<p>After a while he sagged down into the seat +and allowed his baby-blue eyes to fall into a +brown study. In his mind’s eye he was seeing +a thousand miles beyond the western bank of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +the Hudson, far off into the quiet streets of a +town that scarcely had heard the name of Nellie +Duluth and yet knew him by name and fame, +even to the remotest nook of it.</p> +<p>They were good old days, sweet old days, +those days when he was courting her—when +she was one among many and he the only one. +Days when he could serve customers in his +shirt-sleeves and address each one familiarly. +Every one was kind. If he had a toothache, +they sympathised with him and advised him to +have it pulled and all that sort of thing. In +New York (he ground his teeth, proving that +he retained them) no one cared whether he lived +or died. He hated New York. He would have +been friendly to New York—cheerfully, gladly—if +New York had been willing to meet him +halfway. It was friendly to Nellie; why +couldn’t it be friendly to him? He was her +husband. Why, confound it all, out in Blakeville, +where they came from, he was somebody +while she was merely “that girl of Ted Barkley’s.” +He had drawn soda water for her a +hundred times and she had paid him in pennies! +Only five years ago. Sometimes she had +the soda water charged; that is to say, she had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +it put on her mother’s bill. Ted couldn’t get +credit anywhere in town.</p> +<p>And now look at her! She was getting six +hundred dollars a week and spurned soda water +as if it were poison.</p> +<p>His chin dropped lower. The dreamy look +deepened.</p> +<p>“Doggone it,” he mused for the hundredth +time, “I could have been a partner in the +store by this time if I’d stuck to Mr. Davis.”</p> +<p>He was thinking of Davis’ drug store, in +Main Street, and the striped blazer he wore +while tending the soda fount in the summer +time. A red and yellow affair, that blazer was. +Before the “pharmacy law” went into effect +he was permitted to put up prescriptions while +Mr. Davis was at meals. Afterward he was restricted +to patent medicines, perfumes, soaps, +toilet articles, cigars, razor strops, and all such, +besides soda water in season. Moreover, when +circuses came to town the reserved-seat sale +was conducted in Davis’ drug store. He always +had passes without asking for them.</p> +<p>Yes, he might have been a partner by this +time. He drew a lot of trade to the store. Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +Davis could not have afforded to let him go +elsewhere.</p> +<p>Five years ago! It seemed ages. He was +twenty-three when he left Blakeville. Wasted +ages! Somehow he liked the ready-made garments +he used to buy at the Emporium much +better than those he wore nowadays—fashionable +duds from Fifth Avenue at six times the +price. He used to be busy from seven A.M. till +ten P.M., and he was happy. Nowadays he had +nothing to do but get up and shave and take +Phoebe for walks, eat, read the papers, tell +stories to Phoebe, and go to bed. To be sure, +the food was good and plentiful, the bed was +soft, and the cottage more attractive than anything +Blakeville could boast of; Phoebe was a +joy and Nellie a jewel, but—heigh-ho! he might +have been a partner in Davis’ drug store if +he’d stayed in the old town.</p> +<p>The man in the seat behind was speaking to +him. He came out of his reverie with a glad +rush. It was so unusual for any one to take +the initiative that he was more than ready to +respond.</p> +<p>“I see the Giants lost again yesterday,” said +the volunteer conversationalist. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>“Yes. Six to four,” said our hero, brightly, +turning in his seat. He always read the baseball +news. He could tell you the batting average +of every player in the big leagues for ten +years back.</p> +<p>“Lot of bone-heads,” said the other sourly. +At first glance our friend thought he looked +like an actor and his heart sank. But perhaps +he might be a travelling salesman. He liked +them. In either event, the stranger’s estimate +of the New York ball team pleased him. He +rejoiced in every defeat it sustained, particularly +at the hands of the Chicagos.</p> +<p>“Not in it with the Cubs,” he announced, +blitheness in his manner. Here was a man after +his own heart.</p> +<p>But the stranger glared at him. “The +Cubs?” he said, his voice hardening, his manner +turning aggressive.</p> +<p>“They make the Giants look like two-spots,” +went on our friend, recklessly.</p> +<p>The stranger looked him over pityingly and +then ended the conversation by deliberately hiding +himself behind his newspaper. Our hero +opened his lips to add further comment, but +something in the way the paper crackled caused +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +him to close them and turn back to his bitter +survey of the Hudson. And the confounded +fellow had invited his confidence, too!</p> +<p>He got down at Tarrytown and started up +the hill. The station-master pointed him out to +a friend.</p> +<p>“That’s—er—What’s-His-Name—Nellie Duluth’s +husband.”</p> +<p>“That guy?”</p> +<p>“She keeps him up here in a cottage to take +care of the baby. Away from the temptations +of the city,” said the agent, with a broad wink.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know she was married,” said his +friend, who lived in Yonkers.</p> +<p>“Well, she is.”</p> +<p>Mr.—(I declare, his name escapes me, so I +will call him by his Christian name, Harvey)—Harvey, +utterly oblivious to the pitying scrutiny +of the two men, moved slowly up the road, +homeward bound. He stopped in the middle of +the sidewalk to light a “Sweet Cap,” threw +back his unimposing shoulders, and accelerated +his gait a trifle in deference to his position as +the master of a celebrity.</p> +<p>It was his habit to take a rather roundabout +way up to the little cottage on the hill. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +route led him past a certain drug store and a +grocer’s where he was on speaking terms with +the clerks. They knew him. He did the marketing, +but the account was in Miss Duluth’s +name. A livery stable, too, was on the line of +progress. He occasionally stopped in to engage +a pony phaeton for a drive in the afternoon +with Phoebe.</p> +<p>To-day he passed these places by. Every one +seemed to be busy. He could see that at a +glance. So there wasn’t any use stopping. +That was what he got for coming home from +town in the middle of the day. He nodded to +several acquaintances—passing acquaintances +in both senses of the word. They turned to look +after him, half-smiles on their lips.</p> +<p>One woman said to another, “I wonder if +he’s really married to her?”</p> +<p>“If he wasn’t, he’d be living in the city with +her,” was the complete rejoinder.</p> +<p>“He seems such a quiet little man, so utterly +unlike what a husband of hers ought to be. +He’s from the far West—near Chicago, I believe. +I never can remember his name. Can +you?”</p> +<p>“I’ve never heard it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p> +<p>“It’s not an uncommon name.”</p> +<p>“Why doesn’t he call himself Mr. Duluth?”</p> +<p>“My husband says actresses are not supposed +to have husbands. If they have them, +they keep them in the background.”</p> +<p>“That’s true. I know I am always surprised +when I see that they’re trying to get divorces.”</p> +<p>Harvey was never so far in the background +as when he appeared in the foreground. One +seldom took notice of him unless he was out of +sight, or at least out of hearing.</p> +<p>He was not effeminate; he was not the +puerile, shiftless creature the foregoing sentences +may have led you to suspect. He was +simply a weakling in the strong grasp of circumstance. +He could not help himself; to save +his life, he could not be anything but Nellie +Duluth’s husband.</p> +<p>Not a bad-looking chap, as men of his stamp +go. Not much of a spine, perhaps, and a little +saggy about the shoulders; all in all, rather a +common type. He kept his thin moustache +twisted, but inconsistently neglected to shave +for several days—that kind of a man. His +trousers, no matter how well made, were always +in need of pressing and his coat was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +wrinkled from too much sitting on the small of +his back. His shirts, collars, and neckties were +clean and always “dressy.” Nellie saw to that. +Besides he always had gone in for gay colours +when it came to ties and socks. His watch-fob +was a thing of weight and pre-eminence. It +was of the bell-clapper type. In the summer +time he wore suspenders with his belt, and in +the winter time he wore a belt with his suspenders. +Of late he affected patent-leather +shoes with red or green tops; he walked as if +he despised the size of them.</p> +<p>Arriving at the snug little cottage, he was +brought face to face with one of the common +tragedies of a housekeeper’s life. The cook and +the nursemaid, who also acted as waitress and +chambermaid, had indulged in one of their controversies +during his absence, and the former +had departed, vowing she would never return. +Here it was luncheon time and no one to get +it! He knew that Bridget would be back before +dinner time—she always did come back—but +in the meantime what were they to do? +There wasn’t a thing in the house.</p> +<p>He found himself wishing he had stayed in +the city for luncheon. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span></p> +<p>Annie’s story was a long one, but he gathered +from it that Bridget was wholly to blame +for the row. Annie was very positive as to +that.</p> +<p>“Have we any eggs?” asked the dismayed +master.</p> +<p>“Eggs? How should I know, sir?” demanded +Annie. “It’s Bridget’s place to know +what’s in the pantry, not mine. The Lord +knows I have enough to do without looking +after her work.”</p> +<p>“Excuse me,” said he, apologetically. He +hesitated for a moment and then came to a +decision. “I guess I’d better go and see what +we’ve got. If we’ve got eggs, I can fry ’em. +Bridget will be back this evening.”</p> +<p>“I’m not so sure of that,” said Annie, belligerently. +“I told her this was the last time, +the very last.”</p> +<p>“I’ll bet you a quarter she comes back,” said +he, brightly.</p> +<p>“Gee! What a sport you are!” scoffed +Annie.</p> +<p>He flushed. “Will you please set the table?”</p> +<p>“It’s set.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span></p> +<p>“I’ll help you make the toast, if you’d like,” +said she, a sudden feeling of pity for him coming +into her niggardly soul.</p> +<p>“Thanks,” he said, briskly. “And the tea, +too?”</p> +<p>“I think we’d better have coffee,” said she, +asserting a preference for the housemaid’s +joy.</p> +<p>“Just as you say,” he acquiesced, hastily. +“Where is Phoebe?”</p> +<p>“Next door with the Butler kids—children, +I mean. Maybe they’ll ask her to stay to lunch.”</p> +<p>He gave her a surprise. “Go over and tell +her to come home. I don’t want her staying to +luncheon with those damned Butlers.”</p> +<p>She stared, open-mouthed. “I’m sure, sir, +they’re quite as good as—as we are. What +have you got against ’em?”</p> +<p>He could not tell her that Butler, who worked +in a bank, never took the trouble to notice +him except when Nellie was out to spend +Sunday.</p> +<p>“Never mind. Go and get Phoebe.”</p> +<p>He made a dash for the kitchen, and when +the exasperated Annie returned a few minutes +later with Phoebe—rebellious Phoebe, who at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +that particular moment hated her father—he +was in his shirt-sleeves and aproned, breaking +eggs over a skillet on the gas stove. His face +was very red, as if considerable exertion had +been required.</p> +<p>Phoebe was pouting when she came in, but +the sight of her father caused her to set up +a shriek of glee.</p> +<p>“What fun, daddy!” she cried. “Now we’ll +never need Bridget again. I don’t like her. +You will be our cook, won’t you?”</p> +<p>Annie’s sarcastic laugh annoyed him.</p> +<p>“I used to do all the cooking when the Owl +Club went camping,” he announced, entirely for +Annie’s benefit.</p> +<p>“In Blakeville?” asked Annie, with a grin.</p> +<p>“Yes, in Blakeville,” he exploded, almost +dropping the cigarette from his lips into the +skillet. His blue eyes flashed ominously. +Annie, unused to the turning of the worm, +caught her breath.</p> +<p>Suddenly obsessed by the idea that he was +master in his own house, he began strutting +about the kitchen, taking mental note of the +things that needed attention, with a view to reproving +Bridget when she came back to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +fold. He burnt his fingers trying to straighten +the stovepipe, smelt of the dish-cloths to see if +they were greasy, rattled the pans and bethought +himself of the eggs just in the nick of +time. In some haste and embarrassment he removed +the skillet from the fire just as Annie +came out of the pantry with the bread and the +coffee can.</p> +<p>“Where’s the platter?” he demanded, holding +the skillet at arm’s length. “They’re +fried.”</p> +<p>“They’ll be stone cold,” said she, “waiting +for the coffee to boil. You ain’t got any water +boiling.”</p> +<p>“I thought, perhaps, we’d better have milk,” +he said, gathering his wits.</p> +<p>To his surprise—and to her own, for that +matter—she said, “Very good, sir,” and repaired +to the icebox for the dairy bottles. He +was still holding the skillet when she returned. +She was painfully red in the face.</p> +<p>Phoebe eyed the subsequent preparations for +the meal with an increasing look of sullenness +in her quaint little face. She was rather a +pretty child. You would say of her, if you saw +her in the street, “What a sweet child!” just +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +as you would say it about the next one you +met.</p> +<p>Her father, taking note of her manner, +paused in the act of removing his apron.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, darling?”</p> +<p>“Can’t I go over to Mrs. Butler’s for luncheon?” +she complained. “They’re going to +have chicken.”</p> +<p>“So are we,” said he, pointing to the +eggs.</p> +<p>“I want to go,” said Phoebe, stubbornly.</p> +<p>He coloured. “Don’t you want to stay home +and eat what daddy has cooked?” he asked, +rather plaintively.</p> +<p>“I want to go.”</p> +<p>He could only resort to bribery. “And daddy’ll +take you down to see the nickel show as +soon as we’ve finished,” he offered. The child’s +face brightened.</p> +<p>Here Annie interposed.</p> +<p>“She can’t go to see them nickel shows; Miss +Duluth won’t stand for it. She’s give me strict +orders.”</p> +<p>“I’ll take good care of her––” began +Phoebe’s father.</p> +<p>“Miss Duluth’s afraid of diphtheria and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +scarlet fever,” said Annie, resolutely, as she +poured out a glass of milk for him.</p> +<p>“Not likely to be any diphtheria this time +of year,” he began again, spurred by the kick +Phoebe planted on his kneecap.</p> +<p>“Well, orders is orders. What Miss Duluth +says goes.”</p> +<p>“Ah, come now, Annie––”</p> +<p>“Say, do you want her to ketch scarlet fever +and die?” demanded the nurse, putting the +bottle down and glaring at him with a look of +mixed commiseration and scorn.</p> +<p>“Good Heavens, no!” he ejaculated. The +very thought of it brought a gush of cold water +to his mouth.</p> +<p>“Well, take her to see it if you must, but +don’t blame me. She’s your kid,” said Annie, +meanly, with victory assured.</p> +<p>“Make her say ‘Yes,’” urged Phoebe, in a +loud whisper.</p> +<p>He hedged. “Do you want to have the scarlet +fever?” he asked, dismally.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Phoebe. “And measles, too.”</p> +<p>The sound of heavy footsteps on the back +porch put an end to the matter for the time +being. Even Phoebe was diverted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></p> +<p>Bridget had come back. A little ahead of her +usual schedule, too, which was food for apprehension. +Usually she took the whole day off +when she left “for good and all.” Never before +in the history of her connection with Miss +Duluth’s menage had she returned so promptly. +Involuntarily the master of the house glanced +out of the window to see if a rain had blown +up. The sun was shining brightly. It wasn’t +the weather.</p> +<p>The banging of the outer door to the kitchen +caused him to jump ever so slightly and to cast +a glance of inquiry at Annie, who altered her +original course and moved toward the sitting-room +door. In the kitchen a perfectly innocent +skillet crashed into the sink with a vigour that +was more than ominous.</p> +<p>A moment later Bridget appeared in the +door. She wore her best hat and gloves and +the dress she always went to mass in. The +light of battle was in her eye.</p> +<p>“We—we thought we wouldn’t wait, Bridget,” +said Mr.—er—What’s-His-Name, quickly. +“You never come back till six or seven, you +know, so––”</p> +<p>“Who’s been monkeyin’ wid my kitchen?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +demanded Bridget. She started to unbutton +one of her gloves and the movement was so +abrupt and so suggestive that he got up from +his chair in such a hurry that he overturned it.</p> +<p>“Somebody had to get lunch,” he began.</p> +<p>“I wasn’t sp’akin’ to you,” said Bridget, +glaring past him at Annie.</p> +<p>He gulped suddenly. For the second time +that day his eyes blazed. Things seemed to be +dancing before them.</p> +<p>“Well, I’m speaking to you!” he shouted, +banging the table with his clenched fist.</p> +<p>“What!” squealed Bridget, staggering back +in astonishment.</p> +<p>He remembered Phoebe.</p> +<p>“You’d better run over to the Butlers’, +Phoebe, and have lunch,” he said, his voice +trembling in spite of himself. “Run along +lively now.”</p> +<p>Bridget was still staring at him like one +bereft of her senses when Phoebe scrambled +down from her chair and raced out of the room. +He turned upon the cook.</p> +<p>“What do you mean by coming in here and +speaking to me in that manner?” he demanded, +shrilly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p> +<p>“Great God above!” gasped Bridget weakly. +She dropped her glove. Her eyes were blinking.</p> +<p>“And why weren’t you here to get lunch?” +he continued, ruthlessly. “What do we pay +you for?”</p> +<p>Bridget forgot her animosity toward Annie. +“What do yez think o’ that?” she muttered, +addressing the nursemaid.</p> +<p>“Get back to the kitchen,” ordered he.</p> +<p>Cook had recovered herself by this time. Her +broad face lost its stare and a deep scowl, with +fiery red background, spread over her features. +She imposed her huge figure a step or two +farther into the room.</p> +<p>“Phat’s that?” she demanded.</p> +<p>She weighed one hundred and ninety and was +nearly six feet tall. He was barely five feet +five and could not have tipped the beam at one +hundred and twenty-five without his winter suit +and overcoat. He moved back a corresponding +step or two.</p> +<p>“Don’t argue,” he said, hurriedly.</p> +<p>“Argue?” she snorted. “Phy, ye little +shrimp, who are you to be talkin’ back to me? +For two cents I’d––” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></p> +<p>“You are discharged!” he cried, hastily +putting a chair in her path—but wisely retaining +a grip on it.</p> +<p>She threw back her head and laughed, loudly, +insultingly. Her broad hands, now gloveless +and as red as broiled lobsters, found resting-places +on her hips. He allowed his gaze to take +them in with one hurried, sweeping glance. +They were as big and as menacing as a prizefighter’s.</p> +<p>“We’ll discuss it when you’re sober,” he +made haste to say, trying to wink amiably.</p> +<p>“So help me Mike, I haven’t touched +a––” she began, but caught herself in time. +“So yez discharge me, do yez?” she shouted.</p> +<p>“I understood you had quit, anyway.”</p> +<p>“Well, me fine little man, I’ll see yez further +before I’ll quit now. I came back this minute +to give notice, but I wouldn’t do it now for +twenty-five dollars.”</p> +<p>“You don’t have to give notice. You’re discharged. +Good-bye.” He started for the +sitting-room.</p> +<p>She slapped the dining-table with one of her +big hands. The dishes bounced into the air, +and so did he. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p> +<p>“I’ll give this much notice to yez,” she +roared, “and ye’ll bear it in mind as long as +yez stay in the same house wid me. I don’t +take no orders from the likes of you. I was +employed by Miss Duluth. I cook for her, I get +me pay from her, and I’ll not be fired by anybody +but her. Do yez get that? I’d as soon +take orders from the kid as from you, ye little +pinhead. Who are yez anyhow? Ye’re nobody. +Begorry, I don’t even know yer name. +Discharge me! Phy, phy, ye couldn’t discharge +a firecracker. What’s that?”</p> +<p>“I—I didn’t say anything,” he gasped.</p> +<p>“Ye’d better not.”</p> +<p>“I shall speak to—to Miss Duluth about +this,” he muttered, very red in the face.</p> +<p>“Do!” she advised, sarcastically. “She’ll +tell yez to mind yer own business, the same as +I do. The idee! Talkin’ about firing me! Fer +the love av Mike, Annie, what do yez think av +the nerve? Phy Miss Duluth kapes him on the +place I can’t fer the life av me see. She’s that +tinder-hearted she––”</p> +<p>But he had bolted through the door, slamming +it after him. As he reached the bottom +of the stairs leading to his bedroom the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +door opened again and Annie called out to +him:—</p> +<p>“Are you through lunch, sir?”</p> +<p>He was halfway up the steps before he could +frame an answer. Tears of rage and humiliation +were in his baby-blue eyes.</p> +<p>“Tell her to go to the devil,” he sputtered.</p> +<p>As he disappeared at the bend in the stairs +he distinctly heard Annie say:—</p> +<p>“I can see myself doing it—not.”</p> +<p>For an hour he paced the floor of his little +bed-chamber, fuming and swearing to himself +in a mild, impotent fashion—and in some dread +of the door. Such words and sentences as these +fell from his lips:—“Nobody!” “Keeps me +on the place!” “Because she’s tender-hearted!” +“I will fire her!” “Can’t talk +back to me!” “Damned Irisher!” And so on +and so forth until he quite wore himself out. +Then he sat down at the window and let the +far-away look slip back into his troubled blue +eyes. They began to smart, but he did not +blink them.</p> +<p>Phoebe found him there at four when she +came in for her nap. He promised to play croquet +with her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></p> +<p>Dinner was served promptly that evening, +and it was the best dinner Bridget had cooked +in a month.</p> +<p>“That little talk of mine did some good,” +said he to himself, as he selected a toothpick +and went in to read “Nicholas Nickleby” till +bedtime. “They can’t fool with me.”</p> +<p>He was reading Dickens. His wife had given +him a complete set for Christmas. To keep him +occupied, she said.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_II_MISS_NELLIE_DULUTH' id='CHAPTER_II_MISS_NELLIE_DULUTH'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>MISS NELLIE DULUTH</h3> +</div> +<p>Nellie Duluth had an apartment up near the +Park, the upper end of the Park, in fact, and +to the east of it. She went up there, she said, +so that she could be as near as possible to her +husband and daughter. Besides, she hated taking +the train at the Grand Central on Sundays. +She always went to One Hundred and Twenty-fifth +Street in her electric brougham. It didn’t +seem so far to Tarrytown from One Hundred +and Twenty-fifth. In making her calculations +Nellie always went through the process of subtracting +forty-two from one-twenty-five, seldom +correctly. She had no difficulty in taking the +two from the five, but it wasn’t so simple when +it came to taking four from two with one to +carry over. It was the one that confused her. +For the life of her she couldn’t see what became +of it. Figures of that sort were not in +her line.</p> +<p>Nellie’s career had been meteoric. She literally +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +had leaped from the chorus into the rôle +of principal comédienne—one of those pranks +of fortune that cannot be explained or denied. +She was one of the “Jack-in-the-Box” girls in +a big New York production. On the opening +night, when the lid of her box flew open and +she was projected into plain view, she lost her +bearings and missed the tiny platform in coming +down. To save herself from an ignominious +tumble almost to the footlights she hopped off +the edge of her box, where she had been “teetering” +helplessly, and did a brief but exceedingly +graceful little “toe spin,” hopping back +into the box an instant later with all the agility +of a scared rabbit. She expected “notice” +from the stage manager for her inexcusable +slip.</p> +<p>But the spectators liked it. They thought it +was in the play. She was so pretty, so +sprightly, so graceful, and so astoundingly +modest that they wanted more of her. After +the performance no fewer than a dozen men +asked the producer why he didn’t give that little +girl with the black hair more of a chance.</p> +<p>The next night she was commanded to repeat +the trick. Then they permitted her to do it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +over in the “encore.” Before the end of a +fortnight she was doing a dance with the +comedian, exchanging lines with him. Then a +little individual song-and-dance specialty was +introduced. At the close of the engagement on +Broadway she announced that she would not +sign for the next season unless given a “ripping” +part and the promise to be featured.</p> +<p>That was three years ago. Now she was the +feature in the big, musical comedy success, “Up +in the Air” and had New York at her feet. +The critics admitted that she saved the +“piece” in spite of composer and librettist. +Some one is always doing that very thing for +the poor wretches, Heaven pity them.</p> +<p>Nellie was not only pretty and sprightly, but +as clever as they make them. She never drew +the short straw. She had a brain that was quite +as active as her feet. It was not a very big +brain; for that matter, her feet were tiny. She +had the good sense to realise that her brain +would last longer than her feet, so she got as +much for them as she could while the applause +lasted. She drove shrewd bargains with the +managers and shrewder ones with Wall Street +admirers, who experienced a slim sense of gratification +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +in being able to give her tips on the +market, with the assurance that they would see +to it that she didn’t lose.</p> +<p>She put her money into diamonds as fast as +she got it. Some one in the profession had told +her that diamonds were safer than banks or +railroad bonds. She could get her interest by +looking at them and she could always sell them +for what she paid for them.</p> +<p>The card on the door of her cosey apartment +bore the name, “Miss Nellie Duluth.”</p> +<p>There was absolutely nothing inside or outside +the flat to lead one to suspect that there +was a Mr. Duluth. A husband was the remotest +figure in her household. When the management +concluded to put her name in the play-bill, +after the memorable Jack-in-the-Box leap, +she was requested to drop her married name, +because it would not look well in print.</p> +<p>“Where were you born?” the manager had +asked.</p> +<p>“Duluth.”</p> +<p>“Take Duluth for luck,” said he, and Duluth +it was. She changed the baptismal name +Ella to Nellie. At home in Blakeville she had +been called Eller or Ell. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span></p> +<p>Her apartment was an attractive one. Her +housemaid was a treasure. She was English +and her name was Rachel. Nellie’s personal +maid and dresser was French. Her name was +Rebecca. When Miss Duluth and Rebecca left +the apartment to go to the theatre in the former’s +electric brougham, Rachel put the place +in order. So enormous was the task that she +barely had it finished when her mistress returned, +tired and sleepy, to litter it all up again +with petticoats, stockings, roses, orchids, lobster +shells, and cigarette stubs. More often +than otherwise Nellie brought home girls from +the theatre to spend the night with her. Poor +things, they were chorus girls, just as she had +been, and they had so far to go. Besides, they +served as excuses for declining unwelcome invitations +to supper. Be that as it may, Rachel +had to clean up after them, finding their puffs, +rats, and switches in the morning and the telephone +number at their lodgings in the middle +of the night. She had her instructions to say +that such young ladies were spending the night +with Miss Duluth.</p> +<p>“If you don’t believe it, call up Miss Duluth’s +number in the telephone book,” she always +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +concluded, as if the statement needed +verification.</p> +<p>Nellie had not been in Tarrytown for a matter +of three weeks; what with rehearsals, revisions, +consultations, and suppers, she just +couldn’t get around to it. The next day after +Harvey’s inglorious stand before Bridget she +received a letter from him setting forth the +whole affair in a peculiarly vivid light. He said +that something would have to be done about +Bridget and advised her to come out on the +earliest day possible to talk it over with him. +He confessed to a hesitancy about discharging +the cook, recalling the trouble she had experienced +in getting her away from a neighbour in +the first place. But Bridget was drinking and +quarrelling with Annie and using strong language +in the presence of Phoebe. He would +have discharged her long ago if it hadn’t been +for the fear of worrying her during rehearsals +and all that. She wasn’t to be bothered with +trifling household squabbles at such an important +time as this. No, sir! Not if he could +help it. But, just the same, he thought she’d +better come out and talk it over before Bridget +took it into her head to poison some one. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></p> +<p>“I really, truly must go up to Tarrytown +next Sunday,” said Nellie to the select company +supping in her apartment after the performance +that night. “Harvey’s going to discharge +the cook.”</p> +<p>“Who is Harvey?” inquired the big blond +man who sat beside her.</p> +<p>“My teenty-weenty hubby,” said she, airily.</p> +<p>There were two other men besides the big +blond in the party, and the wife of one of them—a +balance wheel.</p> +<p>The big blond man stared at his hostess. He +expected her to laugh at her own joke, but she +did not. The others were discussing the relative +merits of the Packard and Peerless cars. +He waited a moment and then leaned closer to +Nellie’s ear.</p> +<p>“Are you in earnest?” he asked, in low +tones.</p> +<p>“About what, Mr. Fairfax?”</p> +<p>“Hubby. Have you got one?”</p> +<p>“Of course I have. Had him for six years. +Why?”</p> +<p>He swallowed hard. A wave of red crept +up over his jowl and to the very roots of his +hair. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></p> +<p>“I’ve known you for over a month, Nellie,” +he said, a hard light in his fishy grey eyes, “and +you’ve never mentioned this husband of yours. +What’s the game?”</p> +<p>“It’s a guessing game,” she said, coolly. +“You might guess what I’m wearing this little +plain gold ring on my left hand for. It’s +there where everybody can see it, isn’t it? You +just didn’t take the trouble to look, Mr. Fairfax. +Women don’t wear wedding rings for a +joke, let me tell you that.”</p> +<p>“I never noticed it,” he said, huskily. “The +truth is, it never entered my head to think you +could be a married woman.”</p> +<p>“Thought I was divorced, eh?”</p> +<p>“Well, divorces are not uncommon, you +know. You girls seem to get rid of husbands +quite as easily as you pick them up.”</p> +<p>“Lord bless you,” said Nellie, in no way offended, +“I have never done anything to give +Harvey cause for divorce, and I’m sure he’s +never done the tiniest thing out of the way. +He never treats me cruelly, he never beats +me, he doesn’t get tight and break things up, +and he never looks at other women. He’s the +nicest little husband ever.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p> +<p>She instructed Rachel to fill up Mr. Fairfax’s +glass and pass the ripe olives. He was watching +her, an odd expression in his eyes. A big, +smooth-faced man of fifty was he, fat from +high living, self-indulgence, and indolence, immaculately +dressed to the tips of his toes.</p> +<p>“Speaking of divorce,” she went on, without +looking at him, “your wife didn’t have +much trouble getting hers, I’ve heard.”</p> +<p>It was a daring thing to say, but Nellie was +from the West, where courage and freshness +of vision are regarded as the antithesis of tact +and diplomacy. Tact calls for tact. The diplomatist +is powerless if you begin shooting at +him. Nellie did not work this out for herself; +she merely wanted to put him in a corner where +he would have to stand and get it over with.</p> +<p>Fairfax was disconcerted. He showed it. No +one ever presumed to discuss the matter with +him. It was a very tender subject. His eyes +wavered.</p> +<p>“I like your cheek,” he growled.</p> +<p>“Don’t you like to talk about it?” she inquired, +innocently.</p> +<p>“No,” he replied, curtly. “It’s nobody’s +business, Miss Duluth.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></p> +<p>“My, how touchy!” She shivered prettily. +“I feel as if some one had thrown a pail of ice +water over me.”</p> +<p>“We were speaking of your—this husband +of yours,” he said, quietly. “Why have you +never mentioned him to me? Is it quite fair?”</p> +<p>“It just slipped my mind,” she said, in the +most casual way. “Besides, I thought you +knew. My little girl is four—or is it five?”</p> +<p>“Where do you keep them?”</p> +<p>“I’ve got ’em in storage up at Tarrytown. +That’s the Sleepy Hollow neighbourhood, isn’t +it? I guess that’s why Harvey likes it so well.”</p> +<p>“What is his business?”</p> +<p>She looked up quickly. “What is that to +you, Mr. Fairfax?”</p> +<p>“Nothing. I am in no way interested in +Mr. Duluth.”</p> +<p>“His name isn’t Duluth,” she flashed, hotly. +“If you are not interested in him, let’s drop the +subject.”</p> +<p>“I retract what I said. I am always interested +in curiosities. What’s he like?”</p> +<p>“Well, he’s like a gentleman, if you are +really interested in curiosities,” she said.</p> +<p>He laughed. “By Jove, you’ve got a ready +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +wit, my dear.” He looked at her reflectively, +speculatively. “It’s rather a facer to have you +turn out to be a married woman.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you like married women?”</p> +<p>“Some of ’em,” he answered, coolly. “But +I don’t like to think of you as married.”</p> +<p>“Pooh!” she said, and there was a world of +meaning in the way she said it.</p> +<p>“Don’t you know that it means a great deal +to me?” he demanded, leaning closer and +speaking in a lowered voice, tense and eager.</p> +<p>“Pooh!” she repeated.</p> +<p>He flushed again. “I cannot bear the +thought of you belonging––”</p> +<p>She interrupted him quickly. “I wouldn’t +say it, if I were you.”</p> +<p>“But I must say it. I’m in love with you, +Nellie, and you know it. Every drop of blood +in my veins is crying out for you, and has +been––”</p> +<p>Her face had clouded. “I’ve asked you not +to say such things to me.”</p> +<p>He stared in amazement. “You are dreaming! +I’ve never uttered a word of this sort to +you. What are you thinking of? This is the +first time I’ve said––” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p> +<p>Nellie was dismayed. It was the first time +he had spoken to her in that way. She stammered +something about “general principles,” +but he was regarding her so fixedly that +her attempt at dissembling was most unconvincing.</p> +<p>“Or perhaps,” said he, almost savagely, but +guardedly, “you are confusing me with some +one else.”</p> +<p>This was broad enough to demand instant +resentment. She took refuge in the opportunity.</p> +<p>“Do you mean to insult me, Mr. Fairfax?” +she demanded, coldly, drawing back in her +chair.</p> +<p>He laughed harshly.</p> +<p>“Is there any one else?” he asked, gripping +one of her small hands in his great fist.</p> +<p>She jerked the hand away. “I don’t like +that, Mr. Fairfax. Please remember it. Don’t +ever do it again. You have no right to ask such +questions of me, either.”</p> +<p>“I’m a fool to have asked,” he said, gruffly. +“You’d be a fool to answer. We’ll let it go +at that. So that’s your wedding ring, eh? Odd +that I shouldn’t have noticed it before.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></p> +<p>She was angry with herself, so she vented the +displeasure on him.</p> +<p>“You never took much notice of your wife’s +wedding ring, if tales are true.”</p> +<p>“Please, Miss Duluth, I––”</p> +<p>“Oh, I read all about the case,” she ran on. +“You must have hated the notoriety. I suppose +most of the things she charged you with +were lies.”</p> +<p>He pulled his collar away from his throat.</p> +<p>“Is it too hot in the room?” she inquired, +innocently.</p> +<p>His grin was a sickly one. “Do you always +make it so hot?” he asked. “This is my first +visit to your little paradise, you must remember. +Don’t make it too hot for me.”</p> +<p>“It isn’t paradise when it gets too hot,” was +her safe comment.</p> +<p>Fairfax’s wife had divorced him a year or +two before. The referee was not long in deciding +the case in her favour. As they were leaving +Chambers, Fairfax’s lawyer had said to his +client:—“Well, we’ve saved everything but +honour.” And Fairfax had replied:—“You +would have saved that, too, if I had given you +a free rein.” From which it may be inferred +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +that Fairfax was something of a man despite +his lawyer.</p> +<p>He was one of those typical New Yorkers who +were Pittsburgers or Kansas Citians in the last +incarnation—which dated back eight or ten +years, at the most, and which doesn’t make any +difference on Broadway—with more money +than he was used to and a measureless capacity +for spending. His wife had married him when +money was an object to him. When he got all +the money he wanted he went to New York and +began a process of elevating the theatre by lending +his presence to the stage door. The stage +declined to be elevated without the aid of an +automobile, so he also lent that, and went soaring. +His wife further elevated the stage by +getting a divorce from him.</p> +<p>“This is my first time here,” he went on, +“but it isn’t to be the last, I hope. What good +taste you have, Nellie! It’s a corking little +nest.”</p> +<p>“I just can’t go out to Tarrytown every +night,” she explained. “I must have a place +in town.”</p> +<p>“By the way,” he said, more at ease than +he had been, “you spoke of going to Tarrytown +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +on Sunday. Let me take you out in the +motor. I’d like to see this husband chap of +yours and the little girl, if––”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay,” she said, shaking her head. “I +never mix my public affairs with my private +ones. You are a public affair, if there ever +was one. No, little Nellie will go out on the +choo-choos.” She laughed suddenly, as if +struck by a funny thought. Then, very seriously, +she said:—“I don’t know what Harvey +would do to you if he caught you with +me.”</p> +<p>He stiffened. “Jealous, eh?”</p> +<p>“Wildly!”</p> +<p>“A fire-eater?”</p> +<p>“He’s a perfect devil,” said Nellie, with the +straightest face imaginable.</p> +<p>Fairfax smiled in a superior sort of way, +flecked the ashes from his cigarette, and leaned +back in his chair the better to contemplate the +charming creature at his side. He thoroughly +approved of jealous husbands. The fellow who +isn’t jealous, he argued, is the hardest to trifle +with.</p> +<p>“I suppose you adore him,” he said, with a +thinly veiled sneer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span></p> +<p>“‘He’s the idol of me ’art,’” she sang, in +gentle mimicry.</p> +<p>“Lucky dog,” he whispered, leering upon +her. “And how trustful he is, leaving you here +in town to face temptation alone while he hibernates +in Tarrytown.”</p> +<p>“He trusts me,” she flashed.</p> +<p>“I am the original ‘trust buster,’” he +laughed.</p> +<p>Nellie arose abruptly. She stretched her +arms and yawned. The trio opposite gave over +disputing about automobiles, and both men +looked at their watches.</p> +<p>“Go home,” said Nellie. “I’m tired. +We’ve got a rehearsal to-morrow.”</p> +<p>No one took offence. They understood her +ways.</p> +<p>Fairfax gave her his light topcoat to hold +while he slipped into it. She was vaguely surprised +that he did not seek to employ the old +trick of slipping an arm about her during the +act. Somehow she felt a little bit more of +respect for him.</p> +<p>“Don’t forget to-morrow night,” he said, +softly, at the door. “Just the four of us, you +know. I’ll come back for you after the play.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p> +<p>“Remember, it has to be in the main restaurant,” +she warned him. “I like to see the +people.”</p> +<p>He smiled. “Just as you like.”</p> +<p>She laughed to herself while Rebecca was +preparing her for bed, tickled by the thought +of the “fire-eating” Harvey. In bed, however, +with the lights out, she found that sleep would +not come as readily as she had expected. Instead +her mind was vividly awake and full of +reflections. She was thinking of the two in +Tarrytown asleep for hours and snugly complacent. +Her thoughts suddenly leaped back to +the old days in Blakeville when she was the +Town Marshal’s daughter and he the all-important +dispenser of soft drinks at Davis’. How +she had hung on his every word, quip, or jest! +How she had looked forward to the nights when +he was to call! How she hated the other girls +who divided with her the attentions of this +popular young beau! And how different everything +was now in these days of affluence and +adulation! She caught herself counting how +many days it had been since she had seen her +husband, the one-time hero of her dreams. +What a home-body he was! What a change +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +there was in him! In the old Blakeville days +he was the liveliest chap in town. He was never +passive for more than a minute at a stretch. +Going, gadding, frivolling, flirting—that was +the old Harvey. And now look at him!</p> +<p>Those old days were far, far away, so far +that she was amazed that she was able to recall +them. She had sung in the church choir and +at all of the local entertainments. The praise +of the Blakeville <i>Patriot</i> was as sweet incense +to her, the placid applause of the mothers’ +meetings more riotous than anything she could +imagine in these days when audiences stamped +and clapped and whistled till people in the +streets outside the theatre stopped and envied +those who were inside.</p> +<p>And then the days of actual courtship; she +tried to recall how and when they began. She +married Harvey in the little church on the hill. +Everybody in town was there. She could close +her eyes now and see Harvey in the new checked +suit he had ordered from Chicago especially for +the occasion, a splendid innovation that caused +more than one Lotharial eye to gleam with +envy.</p> +<p>Then came the awakening. The popular +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +drug clerk, for all his show of prosperity and +progress, had not saved a cent in all his years +of labour, nor was there any likelihood of his +salary ever being large enough to supply the +wants of two persons. They went to live with +his mother, and it was not long before he was +wearing the checked suit for “everyday use” +as well as for Sunday.</p> +<p>She was stagestruck. For that matter, so +was he. They were members of the town dramatic +club and always had important parts in +the plays. An instructor came from Chicago to +drill the “members of the cast,” as they were +designated by the committee in charge. It was +this instructor who advised Nellie to go to Chicago +for a course in the school he represented. +He assured her she would have no difficulty in +getting on the stage.</p> +<p>Harvey procured a position in a confectioner’s +establishment in State Street and she +went to work for a photographer, taking her +lessons in dancing, singing, and elocution at +odd hours. She was pretty, graceful, possessed +of a lovely figure not above the medium height; +dark-haired and vivacious after a fashion of +her own. As her pleased husband used to say, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +she “got a job on the stage before you could +say Jack Robinson.” He tried to get into the +chorus with her, but the management said, +“No husbands need apply.”</p> +<p>That was the beginning of her stage career, +such a few years ago that she was amazed when +she counted back. It seemed like ten years, +not five.</p> +<p>She soared; he dropped, and, as there was no +occasion for rousing himself, according to the +point of view established by both of them, he +settled back into his natural groove and never +got beyond his soda-fountain days in retrospect.</p> +<p>The next night after the little supper at Nellie’s +a most astonishing thing happened. A +smallish man with baby-blue eyes appeared at +the box-office window, gave his name, and asked +for a couple of good seats in Miss Duluth’s +name. The ticket-seller had him repeat the +name and then gruffly told him to see the company +manager.</p> +<p>“I’m Miss Duluth’s husband,” said the +smallish man, shrinking. The tall, flashily +good-looking man at his elbow straightened up +and looked at him with a doubtful expression +in his eyes. He was Mr. Butler, Harvey’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +next-door neighbour in Tarrytown. “You +must be new here.”</p> +<p>“Been here two years,” said the ticket-seller, +glaring at him. “See the manager.”</p> +<p>“Where is he?”</p> +<p>“At his hotel, I suppose. Please move up. +You’re holding the line back.”</p> +<p>At that moment the company’s press representative +sauntered by. Nellie’s husband, very +red in the face and humiliated, hailed him, and +in three minutes was being conducted to a seat +in the nineteenth row, three removed from the +aisle, followed by his Tarrytown neighbour, +on whose face there was a frozen look of +disgust.</p> +<p>“We’ll go back after the second act,” said +Harvey, struggling with his hat, which wouldn’t +go in the rack sideways. “I’ll arrange everything +then.”</p> +<p>“Rotten seats,” said Mr. Butler, who had +expected the front row or a box.</p> +<p>“The scenery is always better from the back +of the house,” explained his host, uncomfortably.</p> +<p>“Damn the scenery!” said Mr. Butler. “I +never look at it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span></p> +<p>“Wait till you see the setting in the second––” +began Harvey, with forced enthusiasm, +when the lights went down and the curtain +was whisked upward, revealing a score of +pretty girls representing merry peasants, in +costumes that cost a hundred dollars apiece, +and glittering with diamond rings.</p> +<p>Mr. Butler glowered through the act. He +couldn’t see a thing, he swore.</p> +<p>“I should think the husband of the star could +get the best seats in the house,” he said when +the act was half-over, showing where his +thoughts were.</p> +<p>“That press agent hates me,” said Harvey, +showing where his had been.</p> +<p>“Hates you? In God’s name, why?”</p> +<p>“I’ve had to call him down a couple of +times,” said Harvey, confidentially. “Good +and hard, too.”</p> +<p>“I suppose that’s why he makes you take a +back seat,” said Butler, sarcastically.</p> +<p>“Well, what can a fellow do?” complained +the other. “If I could have seen Mr.—”</p> +<p>A man sitting behind tapped him on the +shoulder.</p> +<p>“Will you be good enough to stop talking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +while the curtain’s up?” he requested, in a +state of subdued belligerency.</p> +<p>Harvey subsided without even so much as a +glance to see what the fellow was like.</p> +<p>After the act Butler suggested a drink, which +was declined.</p> +<p>“I don’t drink,” explained Harvey.</p> +<p>His companion snorted. “I’d like to know +what kind of a supper we’re going to have if +you don’t drink. Be a sport!”</p> +<p>“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” said Harvey. +“Ginger ale livens me up as much as +anything. I used to simply pour the liquor +down me. I had to give it up. It was getting +the best of me. You should have seen the way +I was carrying on out there in Blakeville before––”</p> +<p>“Well, come out and watch me take a +drink,” interrupted Butler, wearily. “It may +brace you up.”</p> +<p>Harvey looked helplessly at the three ladies +over whom they would have to climb in order +to reach the aisle and shook his head.</p> +<p>“We’re going out after the next act. Let’s +wait till then.”</p> +<p>“Give me my seat check,” said Butler, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +shortly. “I’m going out.” Receiving the +check, he trampled his way out, leaving Harvey +to ruminate alone.</p> +<p>The joint presence of these two gentlemen of +Tarrytown in the city requires an explanation. +You may remember that Nellie’s husband resented +Butler’s habit of ignoring him. Well, +there had come a time when Butler had thought +it advisable to get down from his high horse. +His wife had gone to Cleveland to visit her +mother for a week or two. It was a capital +time for him to get better acquainted with Miss +Duluth, to whom he had been in the habit of +merely doffing his hat in passing.</p> +<p>The morning of his wife’s departure, which +was no more than eight hours prior to their +appearance at the box office, he made it a point +to hail Harvey in a most jovial manner as he +stood on his side porch, suggesting that he come +over and see the playroom he had fixed up for +his children and Phoebe.</p> +<p>“We ought to be more neighbourly,” he said, +as he shook hands with Harvey at the steps. +Later on, as they smoked in the library, he +mentioned the fact that he had not had the +pleasure of seeing Miss Duluth in the new piece. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></p> +<p>Harvey was exalted. When any one was so +friendly as all this to him he quite lost his head +in the clouds.</p> +<p>“We’ll go in and see it together,” said he, +“and have a bit of supper afterward.”</p> +<p>“That’s very good of you,” said Butler, who +was gaining his point.</p> +<p>“When does Mrs. Butler return?” asked +Harvey.</p> +<p>Butler was startled. “Week or ten days.”</p> +<p>“Well, just as soon as she’s back we’ll have +a little family party––”</p> +<p>His neighbour shook his head. “My wife’s +in mourning,” he said, nervously.</p> +<p>“In mourning?” said Harvey, who remembered +her best in rainbow colours.</p> +<p>“Yes. Her father.”</p> +<p>“Dead?”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said Butler, a trifle bewildered. +He coughed and changed the current of conversation. +It was not at all necessary to say +that his wife’s father had been dead eleven +years. “I thought something of going in to +the theatre to-night,” he went on. “Just to +kill time. It will be very lonely for me, now +that my dear wife’s away.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></p> +<p>Harvey fell into the trap. “By jinks!” he +exclaimed, “what’s the matter with me going +in, too? I haven’t been in town at night for six +weeks or more.”</p> +<p>Butler’s black eyes gleamed.</p> +<p>“Excellent! We’ll see a good play, have a +bite to eat, and no one will know what gay dogs +we are.” He laughed and slapped Harvey on +the back.</p> +<p>“I’ll get seats for Nellie’s show if you’d like +to see it,” said Harvey, just as enthusiastically, +except that he slapped the arm of the chair and +peeled his knuckle on a knob he hadn’t seen.</p> +<p>“Great!”</p> +<p>“And say, I’d like you to know my wife better, +Mr. Butler. If you don’t object I’ll ask +her to go out with us after the show for something +to eat.”</p> +<p>“Permit me to remind you, Mr.—Mr.—er––”</p> +<p>“Call me Harvey,” said the owner of the +name.</p> +<p>“––to remind you that this is my party. I +will play host and be honoured if your wife will +condescend to join me—and you—at any hour +and place she chooses.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span></p> +<p>“You are most kind,” said Harvey, who had +been mentally calculating the three one-dollar +bills in his pocket.</p> +<p>And that is how they came to be in the theatre +that night.</p> +<p>The curtain was up when Butler returned. +He had had a drink.</p> +<p>“Did you send a note back to your wife?” +he asked as he sat down.</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“To tell her we are here,” hissed the other.</p> +<p>“No, I didn’t,” said Harvey, calmly. “I +want to surprise her.”</p> +<p>Butler said something under his breath and +was so mad during the remainder of the act +that everybody on the stage seemed to be +dressed in red.</p> +<p>Miss Duluth did not have to make a change +of costume between the second and third acts. +It was then that she received visitors in her +dressing-room. She had a sandwich and a +glass of milk at that time, but was perfectly +willing to send across the alley for bottled beer +if her callers cared to take anything so commonplace +as that.</p> +<p>She was sitting in her room, quite alone, with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +her feet cocked upon a trunk, nibbling a sandwich +and thinking of the supper Fairfax was +to give later on in the evening, when the manager +of the company came tapping at her door. +People had got in the habit of walking in upon +her so unexpectedly that she issued an order +for every one to knock and then made the injunction +secure by slipping the bolt. Rebecca +went to the door.</p> +<p>“Mr. Fairfax is here, mademoiselle,” she +announced a moment later. “Mr. Ripton has +brought him back and he wants to come in.” +Except for the word “mademoiselle” Rebecca +spoke perfect English.</p> +<p>Nellie took one foot down and then, thinking +quickly, put it up again. It wouldn’t hurt Fairfax, +she argued, to encounter a little opposition.</p> +<p>“Tell Ripton I’m expecting some one else,” +she said, at random. “If Mr. Fairfax wants +to wait in the wings, I’ll see him there.”</p> +<p>But she had not the slightest inkling of what +was in store for her in the shape of visitors.</p> +<p>At that very moment Harvey and his friend +were at the stage door, the former engaged in +an attempt at familiarity with the smileless +attendant. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></p> +<p>“Hello, Bob; how goes it?” said he, strutting +up to the door.</p> +<p>Bob’s bulk blocked the passage.</p> +<p>“Who d’you want to see?” he demanded, +gruffly.</p> +<p>“Who d’you suppose?” asked Harvey, +gaily.</p> +<p>“Don’t get fresh,” snapped the door man, +making as if to slam the iron door in his face. +Suddenly he recognised the applicant. “Oh, +it’s you, is it?”</p> +<p>“You must be going blind, Bobby,” said +Harvey, in a fine effort at geniality. “I’m taking +a friend in to show him how it’s done. My +friend, Mr. Butler, Bob.”</p> +<p>Mr. Butler stepped on Harvey’s toes and said +something under his breath.</p> +<p>“Is Miss Duluth expecting you, Mr.—er—Mr.—Is +she?” asked old Bob.</p> +<p>“No. I’m going to surprise her.”</p> +<p>Bob looked over his shoulder hastily.</p> +<p>“If I was you,” he said, “I’d send my card +in. She’s—she’s nervous and a shock might +upset her.”</p> +<p>“She hasn’t got a nerve in her body,” +said Harvey. “Come on, Butler. Mind you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +don’t fall over the braces or get hit by the +scenery.”</p> +<p>They climbed a couple of steps and were in +the midst of a small, bustling army of scene +shifters and property men. Old Bob scratched +his head and muttered something about “surprises.”</p> +<p>Three times Harvey tried to lead the way +across the stage. Each time they were turned +back by perspiring, evil-minded stage hands +who rushed at them with towering, toppling +canvases. Once Harvey nearly sat down when +an unobserving hand jerked a strip of carpet +from under his feet. A grand staircase almost +crushed Mr. Butler on its way into place, and +some one who seemed to be in authority shouted +to him as he dodged:—</p> +<p>“Don’t knock that pe-des-tal over, you pie +face!”</p> +<p>At last they got safely over, and Harvey +boldly walked up to the star’s dressing-room.</p> +<p>“We’re all right now,” he said to Butler, +with a perceptible quaver in his voice. “Just +you wait while I go in and tell her I am +here.”</p> +<p>Butler squeezed himself into a narrow place, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +where he seemed safe from death, mopped his +brow, and looked like a lost soul.</p> +<p>Two men, sitting off to the left, saw Harvey +try the locked door and then pound rather imperatively.</p> +<p>“Good Lord!” exclaimed one of them, staring. +“It’s—it’s—er—What’s-His-Name, Nellie’s +husband! Well, of all the infernal––”</p> +<p>“That?” gasped Fairfax.</p> +<p>“What in thunder is he doing here this +time o’ night! Great Scott, he’ll spoil everything,” +groaned Ripton, the manager.</p> +<p>Harvey pounded again with no response. +Nellie was sitting inside, mentally picturing +the eagerness that caused Fairfax to come +a-pounding like that. She had decided not to +answer.</p> +<p>Ripton called a stage hand.</p> +<p>“Tell him that Nellie isn’t seeing anybody +to-night,” he whispered. “Do it quick. Get +him out of here.”</p> +<p>“Shall I throw him out, sir?” demanded +the man, with a wry face. “Poor little +chap!”</p> +<p>“Just tell him that Nellie will see him for a +few minutes after the play.” Then, as the man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +moved away:—“They’ve got no business +having husbands, Mr. Fairfax. Damned +nuisances.”</p> +<p>Fairfax had his hand to his lips. He was +thinking of Nellie’s “perfect devil.”</p> +<p>“I fancy he doesn’t cut much of a figure in +her life,” said he, in a tone of relief.</p> +<p>In the meantime the stage hand had accosted +Harvey, who had been joined by the anxious +Mr. Butler.</p> +<p>“Miss Duluth ain’t seeing any one to-night, +sir,” he said. “She gave strict orders. No +one, sir.”</p> +<p>Harvey’s blue eyes were like delft saucers. +“She’ll see me,” he said. “I’m her husband, +you know.”</p> +<p>“I know that, sir. But the order goes, just +the same.”</p> +<p>“Is she ill?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. Very ill,” said the man, quickly.</p> +<p>Butler was gnawing his moustache.</p> +<p>“Rubbish!” he said, sharply. “Come away, +you. She’s got a visitor in there. Can’t you +see the lay of the land?”</p> +<p>The little husband turned cold, then hot.</p> +<p>“A—a man visitor?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span></p> +<p>“Certainly,” snapped the aggrieved Mr. +Butler. “What else?”</p> +<p>Without another word, Harvey brushed past +the stage hand and began rattling the door violently.</p> +<p>“Nellie!” he shouted, his lips close to the +paint.</p> +<p>In a second the door flew open and the astonished +actress stood there staring at him as +if he were a ghost. He pushed the door wide +open and strode into the dressing-room, Nellie +falling back before him. The room was empty +save for the dismayed Rebecca.</p> +<p>“There!” he exclaimed, turning to address +Butler in the doorway, but Butler was not +there. The stage hand had got in his way.</p> +<p>“Wha—what, in the name of Heaven, are +you doing here, Harvey?” gasped Nellie.</p> +<p>“How are you, Nell? Nothing serious, I +hope.”</p> +<p>“Serious?” she murmured, swallowing hard, +her wits in the wind.</p> +<p>“Ain’t you ill?”</p> +<p>“Never was better in my life,” she cried, +seeing what she thought was light. “Who +brought you to town with such a tale as that? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +I’m fine. You’ve been fooled. If I were you, +I’d take the first train out and try to find out +who––”</p> +<p>“It’s all right, Butler,” he called out. +“Come right in. Hello! Where are you?” +He stepped to the door and looked out. Mr. +Butler was being conducted toward the stage +door by the burly stage hand. He was trying +to expostulate. “Hi! What you doing?” +shouted Harvey, darting after them. “Let my +friend alone!”</p> +<p>Up came Ripton in haste.</p> +<p>“O’Brien, what do you mean? Take your +hand off that gentleman’s shoulder at once. He +is a friend of Mr.—Mr.—ahem! A terrible mistake, +sir.”</p> +<p>Then followed a moment of explanation, +apology, and introduction, after which Harvey +fairly dragged his exasperated friend back to +Nellie’s room.</p> +<p>She was still standing in the middle of the +room trying to collect her wits.</p> +<p>“You remember Mr. Butler, deary,” panted +Harvey, waving his hand. Nellie gasped in the +affirmative.</p> +<p>At that instant Fairfax’s big frame appeared +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +in the door. He was grinning amiably. She +glared at him helplessly for a moment.</p> +<p>“Won’t you introduce me to your husband?” +he said, suavely.</p> +<p>Nellie found her tongue and the little man +shook hands with the big one.</p> +<p>“Glad to meet you,” said Harvey.</p> +<p>“I am glad to see you,” said Fairfax, +warmly.</p> +<p>“My friend Butler,” introduced Harvey.</p> +<p>Mr. Butler was standing very stiff and pallid, +with one knee propped against a chair. +There was a glaze over his eyes. Fairfax +grinned broadly.</p> +<p>“Oh, Butler and I are old acquaintances,” +said he. “Wife out of town, Butler?”</p> +<p>“Sure,” said Harvey, before Butler could +reply. “And we’re in town to see the sights. +Eh, Butler?”</p> +<p>Butler muttered something that sounded uncommonly +like “confounded ass,” and began +fanning himself with his derby hat and gloves +and walking-stick, all of which happened to be +in the same hand.</p> +<p>“We’re going to take Nellie—I mean Miss +Duluth—out for supper after the play,” went +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +on Harvey, glibly. “We’ll be waiting for you, +dearie. Mr. Butler is doing the honours. By +the way, Butler, I think it would be nicer if +Nellie could suggest an odd lady for us. We +ought to have four. Do you know of any one, +Nell? By George, we’ve got to have a pretty +one, though. We insist on that, eh, Butler?” +He jabbed Butler in the ribs and winked.</p> +<p>“Don’t do that!” said the unhappy Mr. +Butler, dropping his stick. It rolled under a +table and he seized the opportunity thus providentially +presented. He went down after it +and was lost to view for a considerable length, +of time, hiding himself as the ostrich does when +it buries its head in the sand and imagines it is +completely out of sight.</p> +<p>Nellie’s wits were returning. She was +obliged to do some rapid and clever thinking. +Fairfax was watching her with a sardonic smile +on his lips. Ripton, the manager, peered over +his shoulder and winked violently.</p> +<p>“Oh, Harvey dear,” she cried, plaintively, +“how disappointed I am. I have had strict orders +from the doctor to go straight home to bed +after every performance. I really can’t go with +you and Mr. Butler to-night. I wish you had +.gn +1 +telephoned or something. I could have told +you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></p> +<p>Harvey looked distressed. “What does the +doctor say it is?”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +<img src='images/illus-066.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 389px; height: 554px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 389px;'> +Fairfax was sitting on a trunk, a satisfied smile on his lips<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>“My heart,” she said, solemnly.</p> +<p>“Don’t you think you could go out for a—just +a sandwich and a bottle of beer?” he +pleaded, feeling that he had wantonly betrayed +his friendly neighbour.</p> +<p>“Couldn’t think of it,” she said. “The +nurse will be here at eleven. I’ll just have to +go home. He insists on absolute quiet for me +and I’m on a dreadful diet.” A bright thought +struck her. “Do you know, I have to keep my +door locked so as not to be startled by––”</p> +<p>The sharp, insistent voice of the callboy +broke in on her flow of excuses.</p> +<p>“There! I’ll have to go on in a second. The +curtain’s going up. Good-night, gentlemen. +Good-night, Harvey dear. Give me a kiss.”</p> +<p>She pecked at his cheek with her carmine +lips.</p> +<p>“Just half an hour at some quiet little restaurant,” +he was saying when she fled past him +toward the stage.</p> +<p>“Sorry, dear,” she called, then stopped to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +speak to Mr. Butler. “Thank you so much, +Mr. Butler. Won’t you repeat the invitation +some time later on? So good of you to bring +Harvey in. Bring Mrs. Butler in some night, +and if I’m better we will have a jolly little +spree, just the four of us. Will you do +it?”</p> +<p>She beamed on him. Butler bowed very low +and said:—</p> +<p>“It will give me great pleasure, Miss Duluth.”</p> +<p>“Good-night, then.”</p> +<p>“Good-night.”</p> +<p>When she returned to her dressing-room later +on, she found Fairfax there, sitting on a trunk, +a satisfied smile on his lips. She left the door +open.</p> +<p>Mr. Ripton conducted the two men across to +the stage door, leading them through the narrow +space back of the big drop. Chorus girls +threw kisses at Harvey; they all knew him. He +winked blandly at Butler, who was staring +straight before him.</p> +<p>“A great life, eh?” said Harvey, meaning +that which surrounded them. They were in the +alley outside the stage door. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></p> +<p>“I’m going to catch the ten-twenty,” said +Butler, jamming his hat down firmly.</p> +<p>“Ain’t you going to see the last act?” demanded +the other, dismayed.</p> +<p>Butler lifted his right hand to heaven, and, +shaking it the better to express the intensity +of his declaration, remarked:—</p> +<p>“I hope somebody will kick me all over town +if I’m ever caught being such a damned fool +as this again. I honestly hope it! I’ve been +made ridiculous—a blithering fool! Why, you—you––” +He paused in his rage, a sudden +wave of pity assailing him. “By George, I +can’t help feeling sorry for you! Good-night.”</p> +<p>Harvey hurried after him.</p> +<p>“I guess I’ll take it, too. That gets us out +at eleven-thirty. We can get a bite to eat in +the station, I guess.”</p> +<p>He had to almost trot to keep pace with Butler +crossing to the Grand Central. Seated side +by side in the train, and after he had recovered +his breath a bit, he said:—</p> +<p>“Confound it, I forgot to ask Nellie if it +will be wise for her to come out on Sunday. The +heart’s a mighty bad thing, Butler.”</p> +<p>“It certainly is,” said Butler, with unction. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p> +<p>At the station in Tarrytown he said “Good-night” +very gruffly and hurried off to jump +into the only cab at the platform. He had heard +all about Blakeville and the wild life Harvey +had led there, and he was mad enough to fight.</p> +<p>“Good-night, Mr. Butler,” said Harvey, as +the hack drove off.</p> +<p>He walked up the hill.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_III_MR_FAIRFAX' id='CHAPTER_III_MR_FAIRFAX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>MR. FAIRFAX</h3> +</div> +<p>He found the nursemaid up and waiting for +him. Phoebe had a “dreadful throat” and a +high temperature. It had come on very suddenly, +it seems, and if Annie’s memory served +her right it was just the way diphtheria began. +The little girl had been thrashing about in the +bed and whimpering for “daddy” since eight +o’clock. His heart sank like lead, to a far +deeper level than it had dropped with the base +desertion of Butler. Filled with remorse, he +ran upstairs without taking off his hat or overcoat. +The feeling of resentment toward Butler +was lost in this new, overpowering sense of +dread; the discovery of his own lamentable unfitness +for “high life” expeditions faded into +nothingness in the face of this possible catastrophe. +What if Phoebe were to die? He would +be to blame. He remembered feeling that he +should not have left her that evening. It had +been a premonition, and this was to be the price +of his folly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span></p> +<p>At three in the morning he went over to +rouse the doctor, all the time thinking that, even +if he were capable of forgiving himself for +Phoebe’s death, Nellie would always hold him +responsible. The doctor refused to come before +eight o’clock, and slammed the door in the disturber’s +face.</p> +<p>“If she dies,” he said to himself over and +over again as he trudged homeward, “I’ll kill +that beast of a doctor. I’ll tear his heart out.”</p> +<p>The doctor did not come till nine-thirty. They +never do. He at once said it was a bad attack +of tonsilitis, and began treatment on the stomach. +He took a culture and said he would let +Mr.—Mr. What’s-His-Name know whether +there was anything diphtheritic. In the meantime, +“Take good care of her.”</p> +<p>Saturday morning a loving note came from +Nellie, deploring the fact that she couldn’t come +out on Sunday after all. The doctor said she +must save her strength. She instructed Harvey +to dismiss Bridget and get another cook +at once. But Harvey’s heart had melted toward +Bridget. The big Irishwoman was the +soul of kindness now that her employer was in +distress. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></p> +<p>About nine o’clock that morning a man came +up and tacked a placard on the door and informed +the household that it was in quarantine. +Harvey went out and looked at the card. +Then he slunk back into Phoebe’s room and sat +down, very white and scared.</p> +<p>“Do you think she’ll die?” he asked +of the doctor when that gentleman called +soon afterward. He was shivering like a +leaf.</p> +<p>“Not necessarily,” said the man of medicine, +calmly. “Diphtheria isn’t what it used +to be.”</p> +<p>“If she dies I’ll jump in the river,” said +the little father, bleakly.</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” said the doctor. “Can you +swim?” he added, whimsically.</p> +<p>“No,” said Harvey, his face lighting up.</p> +<p>The doctor patted him on the back. “Brace +up, sir. Has the child a mother?”</p> +<p>Harvey stared at him. “Of course,” he said. +“Don’t you know whose child you are ’tending?”</p> +<p>“I confess I—er—I––”</p> +<p>“She is the daughter of Nellie Duluth.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” fell from the doctor’s lips. “And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +you—you are Miss Duluth’s husband? I didn’t +quite connect the names.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m her husband, name or no +name,” explained the other. “I suppose +I ought to send for her. She ought to +know.”</p> +<p>“Are you—er—separated?”</p> +<p>“Not at all,” said Harvey. “I maintain two +establishments, that’s all. One here, one in the +city.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I see,” said the doctor, who didn’t in +the least see. “Of course, she would be subject +to quarantine rules if she came here, Mr.—Mr.—ahem!”</p> +<p>“They couldn’t get along without her at the +theatre,” groaned the husband.</p> +<p>“I’d suggest waiting a day or two. Believe +me, my dear sir, the child will pull through. I +will do all that can be done, sir. Rest easy.” +His manner was quite different, now that he +knew the importance of his patient. He readjusted +his glasses and cleared his throat. “I +hope to have the pleasure of seeing Mrs.—er—your +wife, sir.”</p> +<p>“She has a regular physician in town,” said +Harvey, politely. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p> +<p>For two weeks he nursed Phoebe, day and +night, announcing to the doctor in the beginning +that his early training made him quite +capable. There were moments when he thought +she was dying, but they passed so quickly that +his faith in the physician’s assurances rose +above his fears. Acting on the purely unselfish +motive that Nellie would be upset by the news, +he kept the truth from her, and she went on +singing and dancing without so much as a word +to distress her. Two Sundays passed; her own +lamentable illness kept her away from the little +house in Tarrytown.</p> +<p>“If we tell her about Phoebe,” said Harvey +to Bridget and Annie, “she’ll go all to pieces. +Her heart may stop, like as not. Besides, she’d +insist on coming out and taking care of her, and +that would be fatal to the show. She’s never +had diphtheria. She’d be sure to catch it. It +goes very hard with grown people.”</p> +<p>“Have you ever had it, sir?” asked Annie, +anxiously.</p> +<p>“Three times,” said Harvey, who hadn’t +thought of it up to that moment.</p> +<p>When the child was able to sit up he put in +his time reading “David Copperfield” to her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p> +<p>Later on he played “jacks” with her and cut +pictures out of the comic supplements. By the +end of the month he was thinner and more +“peaked,” if anything, than she. Unshaven, +unshorn, unpressed was he, but he was too full +of joy to give heed to his own personal comforts +or requirements.</p> +<p>His mind was beginning to be sorely troubled +over one thing. Now that Phoebe was well and +getting strong he realised that Nellie would be +furious when she found out how ill the child +had been and how she had been deceived. He +considered the advisability of keeping it from +her altogether, swearing every one to secrecy, +but there was the doctor’s bill to be paid. When +it came to paying that Nellie would demand an +explanation. It was utterly impossible for him +to pay it himself. Thinking over his unhappy +position, he declared, with a great amount of +zeal, but no vigour, that he was going to get +a job and be independent once more. More +than that, when he got fairly well established +in his position (he rather leaned toward the +drug or the restaurant business) he would insist +on Nellie giving up her arduous stage work +and settling down to enjoy a life of comfort +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +and ease—even luxury, if things went as he +meant them to go.</p> +<p>One afternoon late in October, when the scarlet +leaves were blowing across his little front +yard and the screens had been taken from the +windows, a big green automobile stopped at his +gate and a tall man got out and came briskly +up the walk. Harvey was sitting in the +library helping Phoebe with her ABC’s when +he caught sight of the visitor crossing the +porch.</p> +<p>“Gentleman to see you,” said Annie, a moment +later.</p> +<p>“Is it the butcher’s man? I declare, I must +get in and attend to that little account. Tell +him I’ll be in, Annie.”</p> +<p>“It ain’t the butcher. It’s a swell.”</p> +<p>Harvey got up, felt of the four days’ growth +of beard on his chin, and pondered.</p> +<p>“Did he give his name?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Fairfax, he said.”</p> +<p>He remembered Fairfax. His hand ran over +his chin once more.</p> +<p>“Tell him to come in. I’ll be down in fifteen +minutes.”</p> +<p>He went upstairs on the jump and got his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +razor out. He was nervous. Only that morning +he had written to Nellie telling her of +Phoebe’s expensive illness and of her joyous +recovery. The doctor’s bill was ninety dollars. +He cut himself in three places.</p> +<p>Fairfax was sitting near the window talking +with Phoebe when he clattered downstairs ten +minutes later, deploring the cuts but pleased +with himself for having broken all records at +shaving. The big New Yorker had a way with +him; he could interest children as well as their +mothers and grown sisters. Phoebe was telling +him about “Jack the Giant Killer” when +her father popped into the room.</p> +<p>“Phoebe!” he cried, stopping short in +horror.</p> +<p>Fairfax arose languidly.</p> +<p>“How do you do, Mr.—ah—ahem! The little +girl has been playing hostess. The fifteen +minutes have flown.”</p> +<p>“Ten minutes by my watch,” said Harvey, +promptly. “Phoebe, dear, where did you get +that awful dress—and, oh, my! those dirty +hands? Where’s Annie? Annie’s the nurse, +Mr. Fairfax. Run right away and tell her to +change that dress and wash your hands. How +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +do you do, Mr. Fairfax? Glad to see you. How +are you?”</p> +<p>He advanced to shake the big man’s hand. +Fairfax towered over him.</p> +<p>“I was afraid you would not remember me,” +said Fairfax.</p> +<p>“Run along, Phoebe. She’s been very ill, +you see. We don’t make life any harder for +her than we have to. Washing gets on a +child’s nerves, don’t you think? It used to +on mine, I know. Of course I remember +you. Won’t you sit down? Annie! Oh, +Annie!”</p> +<p>He called into the stair hallway and Annie +appeared from the dining-room.</p> +<p>“Ann—Oh, here you are! How many times +must I tell you to put a clean dress on Phoebe +every day? What are her dresses for, I’d like +to know?” He winked violently at Annie from +the security of the portière, which he held at +arm’s length as a shield. Annie arose to the +occasion and winked back.</p> +<p>“May I put on my Sunday dress?” cried +Phoebe, gleefully.</p> +<p>“Only one of ’em,” said he, in haste. “Annie +will pick out one for you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></p> +<p>Considerably bewildered, Phoebe was led +away by the nurse.</p> +<p>“She’s a pretty child,” said Fairfax. If +his manner was a trifle strained Harvey failed +to make note of it. “Looks like her mother.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad you think so,” said the father, radiantly. +“I’d hate to have her look like me.”</p> +<p>Fairfax looked him over and suppressed a +smile.</p> +<p>“She is quite happy here with you, I suppose,” +he said, taking a chair.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir-ree.”</p> +<p>“Does she never long to be with her +mother?”</p> +<p>“Well, you see,” said Harvey, apologising for +Nellie, “she doesn’t see much of Miss—of her +mother these days. I guess she’s got kind of +used to being with me. Kids are funny things, +you know.”</p> +<p>“She seems to have all the comforts and +necessities of life,” said the big man, looking +about him with an affectation of approval.</p> +<p>“Everything that I can afford, sir,” said +Harvey, blandly.</p> +<p>“Have you ever thought of putting her in +a nice school for––” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p> +<p>“She enters kindergarten before the holidays,” +interrupted the father.</p> +<p>“I mean a—er—sort of boarding school,” +put in the big man, uneasily. “Where she could +be brought up under proper influences, polished +up, so to speak. You know what I mean. Miss +Duluth has often spoken of such an arrangement. +In fact, her heart seems to be set on +it.”</p> +<p>“You mean she—she wants to send her away +to school?” asked Harvey, blankly.</p> +<p>“It is a very common and excellent practice +nowadays,” said the other, lamely.</p> +<p>The little man was staring at him, his blue +eyes full of dismay.</p> +<p>“Why—why, I don’t believe I’d like that,” +he said, grasping the arms of his chair with +tense fingers. “She’s doing all right here. It’s +healthy here, and I am sure the schools are +good enough. Nellie has never said anything +to me about boarding school. Why—why, Mr. +Fairfax, Phoebe’s only five—not quite that, and +I—I think it would be cruel to put her off among +strangers. When she’s fifteen or sixteen, +maybe, but not now. Nellie don’t mean that, +I’m sure.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span></p> +<p>“There is a splendid school for little girls +up in Montreal—a sort of convent, you know. +They get the best of training, moral, spiritual, +and physical. It is an ideal life for a child. +Nellie has been thinking a great deal of sending +her there. In fact, she has practically decided +to––”</p> +<p>Harvey came to his feet slowly, dizzily.</p> +<p>“I can’t believe it. She wouldn’t send the +poor little thing up there all alone; no, sir! I—I +wouldn’t let her do it.” He was pacing the +floor. His forehead was moist.</p> +<p>“Miss Duluth appreciates one condition that +you don’t seem able to grasp,” said Fairfax, +bluntly. “She wants to keep the child as far +removed from stage life and its environments +as possible. She wants her to have every advantage, +every opportunity to grow up entirely +out of reach of the—er—influences which now +threaten to surround her.”</p> +<p>Harvey stopped in front of him. “Is this +what you came out here for, Mr. Fairfax? Did +Nellie tell you to do this?”</p> +<p>“I will be perfectly frank with you. She +asked me to come out and talk it over with +you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></p> +<p>“Why didn’t she come herself?”</p> +<p>“She evidently was afraid that you would +overrule her in the matter.”</p> +<p>“I never overruled her in my life,” cried +Harvey. “She isn’t afraid of me. There’s +something else.”</p> +<p>“I can only say, sir, that she intends to put +the child in the convent before Christmas. She +goes on the road after the holidays,” said Fairfax, +setting his huge jaw.</p> +<p>Harvey sat down suddenly, limp as a rag. +His mouth filled with water—a cold, sickening +moisture that rendered him speechless for a +moment. He swallowed painfully. His eyes +swept the little room as if in search of something +to prove that this was the place for +Phoebe—this quiet, happy little cottage of +theirs.</p> +<p>“Before Christmas?” he murmured.</p> +<p>“See here, Mr.—ah—Mr., here is the situation +in a nutshell:—Nellie doesn’t see why she +should be keeping up two establishments. It’s +expensive. The child will be comfortable and +happy in the convent and this house will be off +her hands. She––”</p> +<p>“Why don’t she give up her flat in town?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +demanded Harvey, miserably. “That’s where +the money goes.”</p> +<p>“She expects to give it up the first of the +year,” said Fairfax. “The road tour lasts till +May. She is going to Europe for the summer.”</p> +<p>“To Europe?” gasped Harvey, feeling the +floor sink under his feet.</p> +<p>He did not think to inquire what was to become +of him in the new arrangement.</p> +<p>“She needs a sea voyage, travel—a long +vacation, in fact. It is fully decided. So, you +see, the convent is the place for Phoebe.”</p> +<p>“But where do I come in?” cried the unhappy +father. “Does she think for a minute +that I will put my child in a convent so that +we may be free to go to Europe and do things +like that? No, sir! Dammit, I won’t go to +Europe and leave Phoebe in a––”</p> +<p>Fairfax was getting tired of the argument. +Moreover, he was uncomfortable and decidedly +impatient to have it over with. He cut in rather +harshly on the other’s lamentations.</p> +<p>“If you think she’s going to take you to +Europe, you’re very much mistaken. Why, +man, have you no pride? Can’t you understand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +what a damned useless bit of dead weight +you are, hanging to her neck?”</p> +<p>It was out at last. Harvey sat there staring +at him, very still; such a pathetic figure that it +seemed like rank cowardice to strike again. And +yet Fairfax, now that he had begun, was eager +to go on striking this helpless, inoffensive creature +with all the frenzy of the brutal victor who +stamps out the life of his vanquished foe.</p> +<p>“She supports you. You haven’t earned a +dollar in four years. I have it from her, and +from others. It is commonly understood that +you won’t work, you won’t do a stroke toward +supporting the child. You are a leech, a barnacle, +a—a—well, a loafer. If you had a drop +of real man’s blood in you, you’d get out and +earn enough to buy clothes for yourself, at least, +and the money for a hair cut or a shoe shine. She +has been too good to you, my little man. You +can’t blame her for getting tired of it. The +great wonder is that she has stood for it so +long.”</p> +<p>Words struggled from Harvey’s pallid lips.</p> +<p>“But she loves me,” he said. “It’s all understood +between us. I gave her the start in +life. She will tell you so. I––” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></p> +<p>“You never did a thing for her in your life,” +broke in the big man, harshly. He was consumed +by an ungovernable hatred for this little +man who was the husband of the woman he +coveted.</p> +<p>“I’ve always wanted to get a job. She +wouldn’t let me,” protested Harvey, a red spot +coming into each of his cheeks. “I don’t want +to take the money she earns. I never have +wanted to. But she says my place is here at +home, with Phoebe. Somebody’s got to look +after the child. We’ve talked it over a––”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to hear about it,” snapped +Fairfax, hitting the arm of his chair with his +fist. “You’re no good, that’s all there is to +it. You are a joke, a laughing stock. Do you +suppose that she can possibly love a man like +you? A woman wants a man about her, not +the caricature of one.”</p> +<p>“I intend to get a job as soon as––” began +Harvey, as if he had not heard a word his visitor +was saying.</p> +<p>“Now, see here,” exclaimed Fairfax, coming +to his feet. “I’m a man of few words. I +came out here to make you a proposition. It is +between you and me, and no one need be the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +wiser. I’m not such a fool as to intrust a thing +of this kind to an outsider. Is there any likelihood +of any one hearing us?”</p> +<p>Nellie’s husband shrank lower into his chair +and shook his head. He seemed to have lost +the power of speech. Fairfax drew a chair up +closer, however, and lowered his voice.</p> +<p>“You’ve got a price. Men of your type always +have. I told Nellie I would see you to-day. +I’ll be plain with you. She’s tired of +you, of this miserable attachment. You are impossible. +That’s settled. We won’t go into +that. Now I’m here, man to man, to find out +how much you will take and agree to a separation.”</p> +<p>Harvey stiffened. He thought for a moment +that his heart had stopped beating.</p> +<p>“I don’t believe I understand,” he muttered.</p> +<p>“Don’t you understand the word ‘separation’?”</p> +<p>“Agree to a separation from what? Great +God, you don’t mean a separation from +Phoebe?”</p> +<p>“Don’t be a fool! Use your brain, if you’ve +got one.”</p> +<p>“Do—you—mean—Nellie?” fell slowly, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +painfully from the dry lips of the little man +in the Morris chair.</p> +<p>“Certainly.”</p> +<p>“Does she want to—to leave me?” The +tears started in his big blue eyes. He blinked +violently.</p> +<p>“It has come to that. She can’t go on as +she has been going. It’s ridiculous. You are +anxious to go back to Blakeville, she says. +Well, that’s where you belong. Somebody’s +drug store out there you’d like to own, I believe. +Now, I am prepared to see that you get +that drug store and a matter of ten or twenty +thousand dollars besides. Money means nothing +to me. All you have to do is to make no +answer to the charges she will bring––”</p> +<p>Harvey leaped to his feet with a cry of abject +pain.</p> +<p>“Did she send you here to say this to me?” +he cried, shrilly, his figure shaking with suppressed +fury.</p> +<p>“No,” said Fairfax, involuntarily drawing +back. “This is between you and me. She +doesn’t know––”</p> +<p>“Then, damn you!” shrieked Harvey, shaking +his fist in the big man’s face, “what do you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +mean by coming here like this? What do you +think I am? Get out of here! I’m a joke, am +I? Well, I’ll show you and her and everybody +else that I’m a hell of a joke, let me tell you +that! I was good enough for her once. I won +her away from every fellow in Blakeville. I +can do it again. I’ll show you, you big bluffer! +Now, get out! Don’t you ever come here again, +and—don’t you ever go near my wife again!”</p> +<p>Fairfax had arisen. He was smiling, despite +his astonishment.</p> +<p>“I fancy you will find you can’t go so far +as that,” he sneered.</p> +<p>“Get out, or I’ll throw you out!”</p> +<p>“Better think it over. Twenty-five thousand +and no questions asked. Take a day or two +to think––”</p> +<p>With a shriek of rage Harvey threw himself +at the big man, striking out with all his might. +Taken by surprise, Fairfax fell away before +the attack, which, though seemingly impotent, +was as fierce as that of a wildcat.</p> +<p>The New Yorker was in no danger. He +warded off the blows with ease, all the time imploring +the infuriated Harvey to be sensible, to +be calm. But with a heroism born of shame +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +and despair the little man swung his arms like +windmills, clawing, scratching, until the air +seemed full of them. Fairfax’s huge head was +out of reach. In his blind fury Harvey did not +take that into account. He struck at it with +all the power in his thin little arms, always +falling so far short that the efforts were +ludicrous.</p> +<p>Fairfax began to look about in alarm. The +noise of the conflict was sure to attract the attention +of the servants. He began backing toward +the doorway. Suddenly Harvey changed +his fruitless tactics. He drove the toe of his +shoe squarely against the shinbone of the big +man. With a roar of rage Fairfax hurled himself +upon the panting foe.</p> +<p>“I’ll smash your head, you little devil,” he +roared, and struck out viciously with one of his +huge fists.</p> +<p>The blow landed squarely on Harvey’s eye. +He fell in a heap several feet away. Half-dazed, +he tried to get to his feet. The big man, +all the brute in him aroused, sprang forward +and drove another savage blow into the bleak, +white face of the little one. Again he struck. +Then he lifted Harvey bodily from the floor and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +held him up against the wall, his big hand on +his throat.</p> +<p>“How do you like it?” he snarled, slapping +the helpless, half-conscious man in the face with +his open hand—loud, stinging blows that almost +knocked the head off the shoulders. “Will +you agree to my proposition now?”</p> +<p>From Harvey’s broken lips oozed a strangled—</p> +<p>“No!”</p> +<p>Fairfax struck again and then let him slide +to the floor.</p> +<p>“You damned little coward!” he grated. +“To kick a man like that!”</p> +<p>He rushed from the room, grabbed his hat +and coat in the hall, and was out of the house +like a whirlwind.</p> +<p>The whir of a motor came vaguely, indistinctly +to Harvey’s ears. He was lying close +to the window. As if in a dream he lifted himself +feebly to his knees and looked out of the +window, not knowing exactly what he did nor +why he did it.</p> +<p>A big green car was leaving his front gate. +He was a long time in recalling who came up +in it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span></p> +<p>His breath was coming slowly. He tried to +speak, but a strange, unnatural wheeze came +from his lips. A fit of coughing followed. At +last he got upon his feet, steadying himself +against the window casing. For a long time +he stood there, working it all out in his dizzy, +thumping brain.</p> +<p>He put his hand to his lips and then stared +dully at the stains that covered it when he took +it away. Then it all came back to him with +a rush. Like a guilty, hunted thing he slunk +upstairs to his room, carefully avoiding the +room in which Phoebe was being bedecked in +her Sunday frock. Her high, shrill voice came +to his ears. He was weeping bitterly, sobbing +like a whipped child.</p> +<p>He almost fainted when he first peered into +the mirror on his bureau. His eyes were beginning +to puff out like great knobs, his face +and shirt front were saturated with his own +plucky blood. Plucky! The word occurred to +him as he looked. Yes, he had been plucky. He +didn’t know it was in him to be so plucky. A +sort of pride in himself arose to offset the pain +and mortification. Yes, he had defended his +honour and Nellie’s. She should hear of it! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +He would tell her what he had done and how +Fairfax had struck him down with a chair. +She would then deny to him that she had said +those awful things about him. She would be +proud of him!</p> +<p>Carefully he washed his hands and face. +With trembling fingers he applied court-plaster +to his lips, acting with speed because his eyes +were closing. Some one had told him that raw +beefsteak was good for black eyes. He wondered +if bacon would do as well. There was no +beefsteak in the house.</p> +<p>His legs faltered as he made his way to the +back stairs. Bridget was coming up. She +started back with a howl.</p> +<p>“Come here, Bridget,” he whispered. “Into +my room. Be quick!” He retreated. He would +employ her aid and swear her to secrecy. The +Irish know a great deal about fighting, he +reflected.</p> +<p>“In the name av Hivvin, sor, what has happened +to yez?” whispered Bridget, aghast in +the doorway.</p> +<p>“Come in and I’ll tell you,” said he, with a +groan.</p> +<p>Presently a childish voice came clamouring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +at the locked door. He heard it as from afar. +Bridget paused in her ministrations. He had +just said:—</p> +<p>“I will take boxing lessons and physical culture +of your brother, Bridget. You think he +can build me up? I know I’m a bit run down. +No exercise, you know. Still, I believe I would +have thrashed him to a frazzle if I hadn’t stumbled. +That was when he kicked me here. I got +this falling against the table.”</p> +<p>“Yis, sor,” said Bridget, dutifully.</p> +<p>In response to the pounding on the door, he +called out, bravely:—</p> +<p>“You can’t come in now, Phoebe. Papa has +hurt himself a little bit. I’ll come out soon.”</p> +<p>“I got my Sunday dress on, daddy,” cried +the childish voice. “And I’m all spruced up. +Has the nice gentleman gone away?”</p> +<p>His head sank into his hands.</p> +<p>“Yes, dearie, he’s gone,” he replied, in +muffled tones.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV_LUNCHEON' id='CHAPTER_IV_LUNCHEON'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>LUNCHEON</h3> +</div> +<p>For several days, he moped about the house, +not even venturing upon the porch, his face a +sight to behold. His spirits were lower than +they had been in all his life. The unmerciful +beating he had sustained at the hands of Fairfax +was not the sole cause of his depression. +As the consequences of that pummelling subsided, +the conditions which led up to it forced +themselves upon him with such horrifying immensity +that he fairly staggered under them.</p> +<p>It slowly dawned on him that there was something +very sinister in Fairfax’s visit, something +terrible. Nellie’s protracted stay in +town, her strange neglect of Phoebe, to say +nothing of himself, the presence of Fairfax in +her dressing-room that night, and a great many +circumstances which came plainly to mind, now +that he considered them worth while noticing, +all went a long way toward justifying Fairfax +in coming to him with the base proposition that +had resulted so seriously to his countenance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p> +<p>Nellie was tired of him! He did not belong +to her world. That was the sum and substance +of it. As he dropped out of her world, some +one else quite naturally rose to fill the void. +That person was Fairfax. The big man had +said that she wanted a separation, she wanted +to provide a safe haven for Phoebe. The inference +was plain. She wanted to get rid of +him in order to marry Fairfax. Fairfax had +been honest enough to confess that he was acting +on his own initiative in proposing the bribe, +but there must have been something behind +it all.</p> +<p>He had spoken of “charges.” What charge +could Nellie bring against him? He was two +days in arriving at the only one—failure to +provide. Yes, that was it. “Failure to provide.” +How he hated the words. How he despised +men who did not provide for their wives. +He had never thought of himself in that light +before. But it was true, all true. And Nellie +was slipping away from him as the result. Not +only Nellie but Phoebe. She would be taken +from him.</p> +<p>“I don’t drink,” he argued with himself, +“and I’ve never treated her cruelly. Other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +women don’t interest me. I never swear at her. +I’ve never beaten her. I’ve always loved her. +So it must be that I’m ‘no good,’ just as that +scoundrel says. ‘No good!’ Why, she knows +better than that. There never was a fellow who +worked harder than I did for Mr. Davis. I +drew trade to his store. Anybody in Blakeville +will swear to that. Haven’t I tried my best to +get a job in the same shows with her? Wasn’t +I the best comedian they had in the dramatic +club? I’ve never had the chance to show what +I could do, and Nellie knows it. But I’ll show +them all! I’ll make that big brute wish he’d +never been born. I’ll—I’ll assert myself. He +shan’t take her away from me.”</p> +<p>His resolutions soared to great heights, only +to succumb to chilly blasts that sent them shrivelled +back to the lowest depths. What could he +do against a man who had all the money that +Fairfax possessed? What could he offer for +Nellie, now that some one else had put a stupendous +price on her? He remembered reading +about an oil painting that originally sold +for five hundred francs and afterward brought +forty thousand dollars. Somehow he likened +Nellie to a picture, with the reservation that he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +didn’t believe any painting on earth was worth +forty thousand dollars. If there was such a +thing, he had never seen it.</p> +<p>Then he began to think of poor Nellie cast +helpless among the tempters. She was like a +child among voracious beasts of prey. No wonder +she felt hard toward him! He was to blame, +terribly to blame. In the highest, most exalted +state of remorse he wept, not once but often. +His poor little Nellie!</p> +<p>In one of these strange ever-growing flights +of combined self-reproach and self-exaltation +he so vividly imagined himself as a rescuer, +as an able-bodied defender against all the ills +and evils that beset her, that the fancy took the +shape of positive determination. He made up +his mind to take her off the stage, back to +Blakeville, and to an environment so sweet and +pure that her life would be one long season +of joy and happiness.</p> +<p>With the growth of this resolution he began +to plan his own personal rehabilitation. First +of all, he would let his face recover its natural +shape; then he would cultivate muscle and +brawn at the emporium of Professor Flaherty; +moreover, he would devote considerable attention +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +to his own personal appearance and to the +habits of the “men about town.” He would +fight the tempters with their own weapons—the +corkscrew, the lobster pick, the knife and +fork, and the nut-splitter!</p> +<p>He did not emerge from the house for five +days. By that time he was fairly presentable.</p> +<p>It was Annie’s day out, so he took Phoebe +for a little walk. As for Phoebe, she never +passed a certain door upstairs without kicking +at it with first one, then the other of her tiny +feet, in revenge for the way it had hurt her +father by remaining open so that he could bump +into it on that bloody, terrifying day. She +sent little darts of exquisite pain through him +by constantly alluding to the real devastator as +“that nice Mr. Fairy-fax.” It was her pleasure +to regard him as a great big fairy who had +promised her in secret that she would some +day be like Cinderella and have all the +riches the slipper showered upon that poor +little lady.</p> +<p>As they were returning home after a stroll +through a rather remote street, they came upon +Mr. Butler, who was down on his knees fixing +something or other about his automobile. Harvey +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +thought it a good opportunity to start his +crusade against New York City.</p> +<p>“Hello,” he said, halting. Butler looked up. +He was mad as a wet hen to begin with.</p> +<p>“Hello,” he snarled, resuming his work.</p> +<p>“I’ve been thinking about that little––”</p> +<p>“Get out of the light, will you?”</p> +<p>Harvey moved over, dragging Phoebe after +him.</p> +<p>“That little scheme of ours to dine together +in town some night. You remember we talked +about it––”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t,” snapped Butler.</p> +<p>“We might lunch together early next week. +I know a nice little place on Seventh Avenue +where you get fine spaghetti. We––”</p> +<p>“I’m booked for a whole month of luncheons,” +said Butler, sitting back on his heels to +stare at this impossible person. “Can’t join +you.”</p> +<p>“Some other time, then,” said Harvey, waving +his hand genially. “Your wife home yet?”</p> +<p>Butler got upon his feet.</p> +<p>“Say,” said he, aggressively, “do you know +she’s heard about that idiotic trip of mine to +town that night? Fairfax told everybody, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +somebody’s wife told Mrs. Butler. It got me +in a devil of a mess.”</p> +<p>“You don’t say so!”</p> +<p>“Yes, I do say so. Next time you catch +me—But, what’s the use?” He turned to his +work with an expressive shrug of his shoulders.</p> +<p>“I’ll have my wife explain everything to +Mrs. Butler the first time she comes out,” said +Harvey, more bravely than he felt. He could +not help wondering when Nellie would come out.</p> +<p>“It isn’t necessary,” Butler made haste to +assure him.</p> +<p>Harvey was silent for a moment.</p> +<p>“Fixing your automobile?” he asked, unwilling +to give it up without another effort.</p> +<p>“What do you suppose I’m doing?”</p> +<p>“It’s wonderful how fast one of these little +one-seated cars can go,” mused Harvey. +“Cheap, too; ain’t they?”</p> +<p>Butler faced him again, malice in his glance.</p> +<p>“It’s not in it with that big green car your +wife uses,” he said, distinctly.</p> +<p>“Big green––” began Harvey, blankly. +Then he understood. He swallowed hard, +straightened Phoebe’s hat with infinite care and +gentleness, and looking over Butler’s head, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +managed to say, quite calmly:—“It used to be +blue. We’ve had it painted. Come along, +Phoebe, Mr. Butler’s busy. We mustn’t bother +him. So long, Butler.”</p> +<p>“So long,” said Mr. Butler, suddenly intent +upon finding something in the tool-box.</p> +<p>The pair moved on. Out of the corner of +his eye Butler watched them turn the corner +below.</p> +<p>“Poor little guy!” he said to the monkey +wrench.</p> +<p>The big green car! All the way home that +juggernaut green car ran through, over, and +around him. He could see nothing else, think +of nothing else. A big green car!</p> +<p>That evening he got from Bridget the address +of her brother, Professor Flaherty, the +physical trainer and body builder.</p> +<p>In the morning he examined himself in the +mirror, a fever of restlessness and impatience +afflicting him with the desire to be once more +presentable to the world. He had been encouraged +by the fact that Butler had offered no +comment on the black rims around his eyes. +They must be disappearing.</p> +<p>With his chin in his hands he sat across the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +room staring at his reflection in the glass, a +gloomy, desolate figure.</p> +<p>“It wouldn’t be wise to apply for a job until +these eyes are all right again,” he was saying +to himself, bitterly. “Nobody would hire +a man with a pair of black eyes and a busted +lip—especially a druggist. I’ll simply have to +wait a few days longer. Heigh-ho! To-morrow’s +Sunday again. I—I wonder if Nellie +will be out to see us.”</p> +<p>But Nellie did not come out. She journeyed +far and fast in a big green car, but it was in +another direction.</p> +<p>Thursday of the next week witnessed the +sallying forth of Harvey What’s-His-Name, +moved to energy by a long dormant and mournfully +acquired ambition. The delay had been +irksome.</p> +<p>Nellie’s check for the month’s expenses had +arrived in the mail that morning. He folded +it carefully and put it away in his pocketbook, +firmly resolved not to present it at the bank. +He intended to return it to her with the announcement +that he had secured a position and +hereafter would do the providing.</p> +<p>Spick and span in his best checked suit, his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +hat tilted airily over one ear, he stepped briskly +down the street. You wouldn’t have known +him, I am sure, with his walking-stick in one +hand, his light spring overcoat over the other +arm. A freshly cleaned pair of grey gloves, +smelling of gasoline, covered his hands. On +the lapel of his coat loomed a splendid yellow +chrysanthemum. Regular football weather, he +had said.</p> +<p>The first drug store he came to he entered +with an air of confidence. No, the proprietor +said, he didn’t need an assistant. He went on +to the next. The same polite answer, with the +additional information, in response to a suggestion +by the applicant, that the soda-water +season was over. Undaunted, he stopped in +at the restaurant in the block below. The proprietor +of the place looked so sullen and forbidding +that Harvey lost his courage and instead +of asking outright for a position as manager +he asked for a cup of coffee and a couple +of fried eggs. As the result of this extra and +quite superfluous breakfast he applied for the +job.</p> +<p>The man looked him over scornfully.</p> +<p>“I’m the manager and the whole works combined,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +he said. “I need a dish-washer, come +to think of it. Four a week and board. You +can go to work to-day if––”</p> +<p>But Harvey stalked out, swinging his cane +manfully.</p> +<p>“Well, God knows I’ve tried hard enough,” +he said to himself, resignedly, as he headed for +the railway station. It was still six minutes of +train time. “I’ll write to Mr. Davis out in +Blakeville this evening. He told me that my +place would always be open to me.”</p> +<p>It was nearly one o’clock when he appeared +at Nellie’s apartment. Rachel admitted him. +He hung his hat and coat on the rack, deposited +his cane in the corner, and sauntered coolly +into the little sitting-room, the maid looking +on in no little wonder and uneasiness.</p> +<p>“Where’s my wife?” he asked, taking up +the morning paper from the centre table and +preparing to make himself at home in the big +armchair.</p> +<p>“She’s out to lunch, sir.”</p> +<p>He laid the paper down.</p> +<p>“Where?”</p> +<p>Rachel mentioned a prominent downtown +café affected by the profession. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></p> +<p>“Will you have lunch here, sir?” she inquired.</p> +<p>“No,” said he, determinedly. “Thank you +just the same. I’m lunching downtown. I—I +thought perhaps she’d like to join me.”</p> +<p>Rachel rang for the elevator and he departed, +amiably doffing his hat to her as he +dropped to the floor below.</p> +<p>At one of the popular corner tables in the +big café a party of men and women were seated, +seven or eight in all. Nellie Duluth had her +back toward the other tables in the room. It +was a bit of modesty that she always affected. +She did not like being stared at. Besides, +she could hold her audience to the very end, +so to speak, for all in the place knew she +was there and were willing to wait until she +condescended to face them in the process of +departure.</p> +<p>It was a very gay party, comprising a grand-opera +soprano and a tenor of world-wide reputation, +as well as three or four very well-known +New Yorkers. Manifestly, it was Fairfax’s +luncheon. The crowd at this table was observed +by all the neck-craners in the place. +Every one was telling every one else what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +every one knew:—“That’s Nellie Duluth over +there.”</p> +<p>As the place began to clear out and tables +were being abandoned here and there, a small +man in a checked suit appeared in the doorway. +An attendant took his hat and coat away from +him while he was gazing with kaleidoscopic +instability of vision upon the gay scene before +him. He had left his walking-stick in a street +car, a circumstance which delayed him a long +time, for, on missing it, he waited at a corner +in the hope of recognising the motorman on +his return trip up Madison Avenue.</p> +<p>The head-waiter was bowing before him and +murmuring, “How many, sir?”</p> +<p>“How many what?” mumbled Harvey, with +a start.</p> +<p>“In your party?” asked the man, not half +so politely and with a degree of distance in his +attitude. It did not look profitable.</p> +<p>“Oh! Only one, sir. Just a sandwich and +a cup of coffee, I think.”</p> +<p>There was a little table away over in the +corner sandwiched between the doors of entrance +and egress for laden waiters and ’bus +boys. Toward this a hastily summoned second +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +or third assistant conducted the newcomer. +Twice during the process of traversing this illimitable +space Harvey bumped against chairs +occupied by merry persons who suddenly became +crabbed and asked him who the devil he +was stumbling over.</p> +<p>A blonde, flushed woman who sat opposite +Nellie at the table in the corner caught sight of +him as he passed. She stared hard for a moment +and then allowed a queer expression to +come into her eyes.</p> +<p>“For Heaven’s sake!” she exclaimed, with +considerable force.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter? Your husband?” demanded +Nellie Duluth, with a laugh.</p> +<p>“No,” she said, staring harder. “Why, I +can’t be mistaken. Yes, as I live, it’s Mr.—Mr. +What’s-His-Name, your husband, Nellie.”</p> +<p>“Don’t turn ’round, Nellie,” whispered +Fairfax, who sat beside her.</p> +<p>“I don’t believe it!” cried Nellie, readily. +“It isn’t possible for Harvey to be here. +Where is he?” she demanded in the same +breath, looking over her shoulder.</p> +<p>Harvey was getting out of the way of a ’bus +boy and a stack of chinaware and in the way +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +of a waiter with a tray of peach Melbas when +she espied him.</p> +<p>“For the land’s sake!” she gasped, going +clear back to Blakeville for the expression. “I +don’t dare look, Carrie. Tell me, has he got +a—a fairy with him? Break it gently.”</p> +<p>“Fairy?” sneered Fairfax, suddenly uncomfortable. +“Why, he’s lost in the wood. +He’s alone on a desert isle. What the deuce is +he doing here?”</p> +<p>Harvey gave his order to the disdainful +waiter and then settled back in his chair for +the first deliberate look around the room in +quest of his wife.</p> +<p>Their eyes met. She had turned halfway +round in her chair and was looking at him with +wide-open, unbelieving eyes. He felt himself +suddenly tied hand and foot to the chair. Now +that he had found her he could do no more than +stare at her in utter bewilderment. He had +come tilting at windmills.</p> +<p>The flush deepened in her cheek as she +turned her attention to the dessert that had just +been set down before her. She was very quiet, +in marked contrast to her mood of the moment +before. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span></p> +<p>Fairfax made a remark which set the others +to laughing. She did not smile, but toyed nervously +with the dessert fork. Under cover of +the laughter he leaned over and whispered, an +anxious, troubled note in his voice:—</p> +<p>“I’ll call the head waiter and have him put +out before he does anything crazy.”</p> +<p>“Put out?” she repeated. “Why, what do +you think he’d try to do?”</p> +<p>“He’s got an ugly look in his eye. I tell you, +he’ll create a scene. That’s what he’s here for. +You remember what happened––”</p> +<p>She laughed shrilly. “He won’t shoot any +one,” she said in his ear. “Harvey create a +scene! Oh, that’s rich!”</p> +<p>“He hasn’t forgotten the thrashing I gave +him. He has been brooding over it, Nellie.” +Fairfax was livid about the eyes.</p> +<p>“Well, I respect him for trying to thrash +you, even though he got the worst of it.” She +looked again in Harvey’s direction. He was +still staring steadily at her. “He’s all alone +over there and he’s miserable. I can’t stand +it. I’m going over to sit with him.”</p> +<p>As she arose Fairfax reached out and grasped +her arm. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span></p> +<p>“Don’t be a fool,” he said, in dismay.</p> +<p>“I won’t,” she replied, sweetly. “Trust +me. So long, people. I’m going over to have +coffee with my husband.”</p> +<p>If the occupants of the big café were surprised +to see Nellie Duluth make her way over +to the table and sit down with the queer little +person in checks, not so Harvey. He arose to +greet her and would have kissed her if she had +not restrained him. He was gratified, overjoyed, +but not surprised.</p> +<p>“Hello!” she said, sharply, to cover the inward +disquiet that possessed her. She was +looking intently into his eyes as if searching +for something she dreaded.</p> +<p>“Hello!” was his response. He was still a +trifle dazed.</p> +<p>She sat down opposite him. Before she could +think of anything further to say the head +waiter rushed up to inquire if Miss Duluth and +her friend wouldn’t prefer a table at one of the +windows.</p> +<p>“No, this will do,” she said, thankful for the +interruption.</p> +<p>“We are doing very nicely,” said Harvey, +rather pompously, adding in a loud voice of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +authority:—“Tell that fellow to hustle my +luncheon along, will you?” Then, turning to +Nellie, he said:—“You don’t look as though +you’d ever been sick a day in your life, Nellie.”</p> +<p>She laughed uncomfortably. “How are you, +Harvey? And Phoebe?”</p> +<p>“Fine. Never better. Why don’t you come +out and see us occasionally?”</p> +<p>“May I order a cup of black coffee?” she +asked, ignoring the question. She was sorely +puzzled.</p> +<p>“Have a big one,” he urged, signalling a +waiter.</p> +<p>Her curiosity conquered. “What in +Heaven’s name brought you here, Harvey?”</p> +<p>He told her of the word Rachel had given +him. Nellie made a mental note of the intention +to speak plainly to Rachel.</p> +<p>“Who are your friends?” he asked. Just +then he caught a glimpse of Fairfax’s face. He +turned very cold.</p> +<p>“Mr. Fairfax is giving a luncheon for two +of the grand-opera people,” she explained.</p> +<p>He forced his courage. “I don’t want you +to have anything more to do with that man,” +he said. “He’s a scoundrel.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></p> +<p>“Now, don’t be silly,” she cried. “What +train are you going out on?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll stay in. I’ll go +up to your flat, I guess, for a couple of days. +Phoebe’s all right. She’s over the diphtheria +now––”</p> +<p>“Diphtheria?” gasped Nellie, wide-eyed, +overlooking his other declaration, which, by the +way, was of small moment.</p> +<p>“Almost died, poor kiddie.”</p> +<p>She flared up in an instant. “Why wasn’t +I told? What were you thinking of, you little +fool?”</p> +<p>“If you had taken the trouble to come out to +Tarrytown, you could have found out for yourself,” +he retorted, coolly. “Now, see here, +Nellie, I’ve come in to see you and to have a +very plain talk with you. So just hold your +horses. Don’t fly off the handle. I am the +head of this family and I’m going to boss it +from this time on.”</p> +<p>“You––” she began, in a furious little +shriek, her eyes blazing. She caught herself up +in time. Two or three people nearby looked up +at the sound of her raised voice. She lowered +it to a shrill, intense half-whisper. “What do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +you mean by coming here in this way? Everybody +is laughing at me. You make me ridiculous. +I won’t stand for it; do you hear?”</p> +<p>He was colder if possible than before, but he +was resolute.</p> +<p>“We’ve got to have an understanding, the +sooner the better,” he said, quietly.</p> +<p>“Yes, you’re right,” she repeated; “the +sooner the better.”</p> +<p>“We can’t talk here,” he said, suddenly conscious +that the eyes of many were upon them. +“Go over and ask that infernal sneak to excuse +you, and we’ll go up to the flat.”</p> +<p>“I’m going motoring this aft––”</p> +<p>“You do as I tell you!” said he, in a strange +voice.</p> +<p>“Why, Harvey––” she stammered, catching +her breath.</p> +<p>“When you’ve had your coffee,” he added.</p> +<p>She sipped her coffee in silence, in wonder, +in bitter resentment. He munched the club +sandwich and sucked the coffee through his +thin moustache with a vehemence that grated +on her nerves terribly.</p> +<p>“I’ve had all I want,” she said, suddenly +putting the little cup down with a crash. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></p> +<p>“Then go over and tell ’em you’ve got to go +home.”</p> +<p>She crossed the room, red-faced and angry. +He watched her as she made an announcement +to the party, saw them laugh uproariously, and +smiled in triumph over the evidence of annoyance +on the part of Fairfax. Nellie was whispering +something close to the big man’s ear, +and he was shaking his head vigorously. Then +she waved her hand to the party and started +away. Fairfax arose to follow her. As he did +so, Harvey came to his feet and advanced. The +big man stopped short, with a look of actual +alarm in his eyes, and went back to his seat, +hastily motioning to the head waiter.</p> +<p>Five minutes later Miss Duluth emerged from +the café, followed by the little man in the +checked suit.</p> +<p>An attendant blew his whistle and called out +down the line of waiting motors:—</p> +<p>“Mr. Fairfax’s car up!”</p> +<p>“Get me a taxi,” ordered Nellie, hastily.</p> +<p>The man betrayed his surprise. She was +obliged to repeat the order.</p> +<p>“What does a taxi to—to our place cost?” +demanded Harvey, feeling in his pocket. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></p> +<p>“Never mind,” she snapped. “I’ll pay for +it.”</p> +<p>“No, you won’t,” he asserted. “I raised +seventeen dollars yesterday on the watch +mother gave me. It’s my own money, Nellie, +remember that.”</p> +<p>Rachel was plainly amazed when the couple +walked into the apartment. The two at once +resumed the conversation they had carried on +so vigorously in the taxicab on the way up +from downtown. Nellie did not remove her +hat, sharply commanding Rachel to leave the +room.</p> +<p>“No,” she said, “she simply has to go to +the convent. She’ll be safe there, no matter +how things turn out for you and me, Harve, +I insist on that.”</p> +<p>“Things are going to turn out all right for +us, Nellie,” he protested, a plaintive note in +his voice. It was easily to be seen which had +been the dominating force in the ride home.</p> +<p>“Now, you’ve got to be reasonable, Harve,” +she said, firmly. “We can’t go on as we have +been going. Something’s just got to happen.”</p> +<p>“Well, doggone it, haven’t I said that I’ll +agree to your trip to Europe? I won’t put a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +stop to that. I see your point clearly. The +managers think it wise for you to do a bit of +studying abroad. I can see that. I’m not going +to be mean. Three months’ hard work +over there will get you into grand-opera sure. +But that has nothing to do with Phoebe. She +can go to Blakeville with me, and then when +you come back next fall I’ll have a job here in +New York and we’ll––”</p> +<p>“Don’t talk foolishness,” she blurted out. +“You’ve said that three or four times. First +you wanted me to go back to Blakeville to live. +You insisted on it. What do you think I am? +Why, I wouldn’t go back to Blakeville if Heaven +was suddenly discovered to be located there instead +of up in the sky. That’s settled. No +Blakeville for me. Or Phoebe either. Do you +suppose I’m going to have that child grow up +like—like”—she changed the word and continued—“like +a yap?”</p> +<p>“All I ask is that you will give me a chance +to show what I can do,” he said, earnestly.</p> +<p>“You can do that just as well with Phoebe +in the convent, as I’ve said before.”</p> +<p>“She’s as much my child as she is yours,” +he proclaimed, stoutly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></p> +<p>“Then you ought to be willing to do the +sensible thing by her.”</p> +<p>“Why, good Lord, Nell, she’s only five,” he +groaned. “She’ll die of homesickness.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense! She’ll forget both of us in a +month and be happy.”</p> +<p>“She won’t forget me!” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>“Well, I’ve said my say,” she announced, +pacing the floor. “Suppose we agree to disagree. +Well, isn’t it better to have her out of +the mess?”</p> +<p>“I won’t give her up, derned if I do!”</p> +<p>“Say, don’t you know if it comes to a question +of law, the Court will give her to me?”</p> +<p>“I’m not trying to take her away from you.”</p> +<p>“You’re trying to ruin my career.”</p> +<p>“Fairfax has put all this into your head, +Nellie, dear. He’s a low-down rascal.”</p> +<p>“He’s my friend, and a good one, too. I +don’t believe he offered you that money to +agree to a separation.”</p> +<p>“Darn it all, you can still see the scar on +my lip. That ought to prove something. If +I hadn’t stumbled, I’d have knocked him silly. +As it was, he kicked me in the face when I was +down.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></p> +<p>“He told me you assaulted him without +cause.”</p> +<p>“He lied.”</p> +<p>“Well, that’s neither here nor there. I’m +sorry you were beaten up so badly. It wasn’t +right, I’ll admit. He said you were plucky, +Harve. I couldn’t believe him at first.”</p> +<p>His face brightened.</p> +<p>“You give me a chance and I’ll show you +how plucky I am!” he cried. “Come on now, +Nellie, let’s make a fresh start.”</p> +<p>She was silent for a long time. At heart she +was fair and honest. She had lost her love +and respect for the little man, but, after all, +was that altogether his fault? She was sorry +for him.</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll think it over,” she said, at last.</p> +<p>“I’ll write to Mr. Davis to-night!” he cried, +encouraged.</p> +<p>“All right. I hope he’ll give you a job,” +said she, also brightening, but for an entirely +different reason.</p> +<p>“You’ll give up this awful thing of—of separating; +won’t you?”</p> +<p>“I’ll promise one thing, Harvey,” said she, +suddenly sincere. “I won’t do anything until +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +I come back from the road. That’s fair, isn’t +it? And I’ll tell you what else I’ll do. I will +let Phoebe stay with you in Tarrytown until +the end of the tour—in May.”</p> +<p>“But I’m going to Blakeville,” he protested.</p> +<p>“No,” said she, firmly, “I won’t agree to +that. Either you stay in Tarrytown or she goes +to the convent.”</p> +<p>“I can’t get work in Tarrytown.”</p> +<p>“You can tell Mr. Davis you will come out +to Blakeville in time for the opening of the +soda-water season. I’ll do the work for the +family till then. That’s all I’ll consent to. +I’ll ask for a legal separation if you don’t agree +to that.”</p> +<p>“I—I’ll think it over,” he said, feebly; “I’ll +stay here with you for a couple of days, +and––”</p> +<p>“You will do nothing of the sort!” she +cried. “Do you suppose I’m going to spoil +my chances for a separation, if I want to apply, +by letting you live in the same house with +me? Why, that would be wasting the two +months already gone.”</p> +<p>He did not comprehend, and he was afraid +to ask for an explanation. The term “failure +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +to provide” was the only one he could get +through his head; “desertion” was out of the +question. His brow was wet with the sweat of +a losing conflict. He saw that he would have +to accept her ultimatum and trust to luck to +provide a way out of the difficulty. Time would +justify him, he was confident. In the meantime, +he would ease his conscience by returning +the check, knowing full well that it would not +be accepted. He would then take it, of course, +with reservations. Every dollar was to be paid +back when he obtained a satisfactory position.</p> +<p>He determined, however, to extract a promise +from her before giving in.</p> +<p>“I will consent, Nellie, on the condition that +you stop seeing this fellow Fairfax and riding +around in his big green car. I won’t stand for +that.”</p> +<p>Nellie smiled, more to herself than to him. +She had Fairfax in the meshes. He was safe. +The man was madly in love with her. The instant +she was freed from Harvey he stood ready +to become her husband—Fairfax, with all his +money and all his power.</p> +<p>And that is precisely what she was aiming +at. She could afford to smile, but somehow she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +was coming to feel that this little man who was +now her husband had it in him, after all, to +put up a fierce and desperate fight for his own. +If he were pushed to the wall he would fight +back like a wildcat, and well she knew that +there would be disagreeable features in the +fray.</p> +<p>“If you are going to talk like that I’ll never +speak to you again,” she said, banishing the +smile. “Don’t you trust me?”</p> +<p>“Sure,” he said, and he meant it. “That’s +not the point.”</p> +<p>“See here, Harve,” she said, abruptly putting +her hands on his shoulders and looking +squarely into his eyes, “I want you to believe +me when I say that I am a—a—well, a good +woman.”</p> +<p>“I believe it,” he said, solemnly. Then, as +an after-thought, “and I want to say the same +thing for myself.”</p> +<p>“I’ve never doubted you,” said she, fervently. +“Now, go home and let things stand +as they are. Write to Mr. Davis to-night.”</p> +<p>“I will. I say, won’t you give me a kiss?”</p> +<p>She hesitated, still calculating.</p> +<p>“Yes, if you promise not to tell anybody,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +she said, with mock solemnity. As she expected, +he took it seriously.</p> +<p>“Do you suppose I go ’round telling people +I’ve kissed my wife?”</p> +<p>Then she gave him a peck on the cheek and +let it go as a kiss.</p> +<p>“When will you be out to see us?”</p> +<p>“Soon, I hope,” she said, quickly. “Now +go, Harve, I’m going to lie down and rest. +Kiss Phoebe for me.”</p> +<p>He got to the door. She was fairly pushing +him.</p> +<p>“I feel better,” he said, taking a long +breath.</p> +<p>“So do I,” said she.</p> +<p>He paused for a moment to frown in some +perplexity.</p> +<p>“Say, Nell, I left my cane in a street car +coming down. Do you think it would be worth +while to advertise for it?”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V_CHRISTMAS' id='CHAPTER_V_CHRISTMAS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>CHRISTMAS</h3> +</div> +<p>The weeks went slowly by and Christmas came +to the little house in Tarrytown. He had become +resigned but not reconciled to Nellie’s +continued and rather persistent absence, regarding +it as the sinister proclamation of her +intention to carry out the plan for separation +in spite of all that he could do to avert the catastrophe. +His devotion to Phoebe was more +intense than ever; it had reached the stage +of being pathetic.</p> +<p>True to his word, he wrote to Mr. Davis, who +in time responded, saying that he could give +him a place at the soda fountain in May, but +that the wages would of necessity be quite +small, owing to the fact that the Greeks had +invaded Blakeville with the corner fruit stands +and soft-drink fountains. He could promise +him eight dollars a week, or ten dollars if he +would undertake to come to the store at six +<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>a.m.</span> and sweep up, a task now performed by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +the proprietor himself, who found himself approaching +an age and a state of health that +craved a feast of luxury and ease hitherto +untasted.</p> +<p>Harvey was in considerable doubt as to his +ability to live on ten dollars a week and support +Phoebe, as well as to begin the task of +reimbursing Nellie for her years of sacrifice. +Still, it was better than nothing at all, so he +accepted Mr. Davis’ ten-dollar-a-week offer and +sat back to wait for the coming of the first of +May.</p> +<p>In the meantime he would give Nellie some +return for her money by doing the work now +performed by Annie—or, more advisedly +speaking, a portion of it. He would conduct +Phoebe to the kindergarten and call for her at +the close of sessions, besides dressing her in +the morning, sewing on buttons for her, undressing +her at night, and all such jobs as that, +with the result that Annie came down a dollar +a week in her wages and took an extra afternoon +out. In this way he figured he could save +Nellie at least thirty dollars. He also did the +janitor’s work about the place and looked after +the furnace, creating a salvage of three dollars +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +and a half a month. Moreover, instead of buying +a new winter suit and replacing his shabby +ulster with one more comely and presentable, +he decided to wear his fall suit until January +and then change off to his old blue serge spring +suit, which still seemed far from shiny, so far as +he could see.</p> +<p>And so it was that Nellie’s monthly check for +$150 did very nicely.</p> +<p>Any morning at half-past eight, except Sunday, +you could have seen him going down the +street with Phoebe at his side, her hand in his, +bound for the kindergarten. He carried her +little lunch basket and whistled merrily when +not engaged in telling her about Santa Claus. +She startled him one day by asking:—</p> +<p>“Are you going to be Santy this year, daddy, +or is mamma?”</p> +<p>He looked down at the rich little fur coat +and muff Nellie had outfitted her with, at the +expensive hat and the silk muffler, and sighed.</p> +<p>“If you ask questions, Santy won’t come at +all,” he said, darkly. “He’s a mighty cranky +old chap, Santy is.”</p> +<p>He did not take up physical culture with Professor +Flaherty, partly on account of the expense, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +partly because he found that belabouring +cannel coal and shaking down the furnace +was more developing than he had expected. +Raking the autumn leaves out of the front yard +also was harder than he had any idea it would +be. He was rather glad it was not the season +for the lawn mower.</p> +<p>Down in his heart he hoped that Nellie would +come out for Christmas, but he knew there was +no chance of it. She would have two performances +on that day. He refrained from telling +Phoebe until the very last minute that her +mother would not be out for the holiday. He +hadn’t the heart to do it.</p> +<p>He broke the news then by telling the child +that her mother was snowbound and couldn’t +get there. An opportune fall of snow the +day before Christmas gave him the inspiration.</p> +<p>He set up the little Christmas tree in the +back parlour, assisted by Bridget and Annie, +after Phoebe had gone to bed on Christmas +Eve. She had urged him to read to her about +Tiny Tim, but he put her off with the announcement +that Santa was likely to be around early +on account of the fine sleighing, and if he saw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +that she wasn’t asleep in bed he might skip the +house entirely.</p> +<p>The expressman, in delivering several boxes +from town that afternoon, had said to his +helper:—</p> +<p>“That little fellow that came to the door was +Nellie Duluth’s husband, Mr.—Mr.––Say, +look on the last page there and see what his +name is. He’s a cheap skate. A dime! Wot +do you think of that?” He held up the dime +Harvey had given him and squinted at it as +if it were almost too small to be seen with the +naked eye.</p> +<p>Nellie sent “loads” of presents to Phoebe—toys, +books, candies, fruits, pretty dresses, a +velvet coat, a tiny pair of opera glasses, strings +of beads, bracelets, rings—dozens of things calculated +to set a child mad with delight. There +were pocketbooks, handkerchiefs, squirrel stoles +and muffs for each of the servants, a box of +cigars for the postman, another for the milkman, +and a five-dollar bill for the janitor.</p> +<p>There was nothing for Harvey.</p> +<p>He looked for a long time at the envelope +containing the five-dollar bill, an odd little smile +creeping into his eyes. He was the janitor, he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +remembered. After a moment of indecision he +slipped the bill into another envelope, which he +marked “Charity” and laid aside until morning +brought the mendicant who, with bare +fingers and frosted lips, always came to +play his mournful clarionet in front of the +house.</p> +<p>Surreptitiously he searched the two big boxes +carefully, inwardly hoping that she had not +forgotten—nay, ignored—him. But there was +nothing there, not even a Christmas card! It +was the first Christmas she had....</p> +<p>The postman brought a small box addressed +to Phoebe. The handwriting was strange, but +he thought nothing of it. He thought it was +nice of Butler to remember his little one and +lamented the fact that he had not bought something +for the little Butlers, of whom there were +seven. He tied a red ribbon around the sealed +package and hung it on the tree.</p> +<p>After it was all over he went upstairs and +tried to read “Dombey & Son.” But a mist +came over his blue eyes and his vision carried +him far beyond the printed page. He was not +thinking of Nellie, but of his old mother, who +had never forgotten to send him a Christmas +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +present. Ah, if she were alive he would not be +wondering to-night why Santa Claus had +passed him by.</p> +<p>He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, closed +“Dombey & Son” for the night, and went to +bed, turning his thoughts to the row of tiny +stockings that hung from the mantelpiece +downstairs—for Phoebe had put to use all that +she could find—and then let them drift on +through space to an apartment near Central +Park, where Kris Kringle had delivered during +the day a little packet containing the brooch +he had purchased for his wife out of the money +he had preserved from the sale of his watch +some weeks before.</p> +<p>He was glad he had sent Nellie a present.</p> +<p>Bright and early the next morning he was up +to have a final look at the tree before Phoebe +came down. A blizzard was blowing furiously; +the windows were frosted; the house was cheerless. +He built the fires in the grates and sat +about with his shoulders hunched up till the +merry crackle of the coals put warmth into his +veins. The furnace! He thought of it in time, +and hurried to the basement to replenish the +fires. They were out. He had forgotten them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +the night before. Bridget found him there +later on, trying to start the kindling in the +two furnaces.</p> +<p>“I clean forgot ’em last night,” he said, +sheepishly.</p> +<p>“I don’t wonder, sor,” said Bridget, quite +genially for a cold morning. “Do you be after +going upstairs this minute, sor. I’ll have them +roaring in two shakes av a lamb’s tail. Mebby +there’s good news for yez up there. Annie’s +at the front door this minute, taking a telegram +from the messenger bye, sor. Merry Christmas +to ye, sor.”</p> +<p>“Merry Christmas, Bridget!” cried he, +gaily. His heart had leaped at the news she +brought. A telegram from Nellie! Hurrah! +He rushed upstairs without brushing the coal +dust from his hands.</p> +<p>The boy was waiting for his tip. Harvey +gave him a quarter and wished him a merry +Christmas.</p> +<p>“A miserable day to be out,” said he, undecided +whether to ask the half-frozen lad to stay +and have a bite of breakfast or to let him go +out into the weather.</p> +<p>“It’s nothin’ when you gets used to it,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +the blue-capped philosopher, and took his +departure.</p> +<p>“But it’s the getting used to it,” said Harvey +to Annie as she handed him the message. +He tore open the envelope. She saw the light +die out of his eyes.</p> +<p>The message was from Ripton, the manager, +and read:—</p> +<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:center'>“Please send Phoebe in with the nurse to see the matinée to-day.”<br /></p> +<p>The invitation was explicit enough. He was +not wanted.</p> +<p>If he had a secret inclination to ignore the +command altogether, it was frustrated by his +own short-sightedness. He gulped, and then +read the despatch aloud for the benefit of the +maid. When it was too late he wished he had +not done so.</p> +<p>Annie beamed. “Oh, sir, I’ve always wanted +to see Miss Duluth act. I will take good care +of Phoebe.”</p> +<p>He considered it beneath his dignity to invite +her into a conspiracy against the child, so +he gloomily announced that he would go in with +them on the one-o’clock train and stay to bring +them out. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span></p> +<p>The Christmas tree was a great success. +Phoebe was in raptures. He quite forgot his +own disappointment in watching her joyous +antics. As the distributor of the presents that +hung on the gaily trimmed and dazzling cedar, +he came at last to the little package from Butler. +It contained a beautiful gold chain, at the +end of which hung suspended a small diamond-studded +slipper—blue enamel, fairly covered +with rose diamonds.</p> +<p>Phoebe screamed with delight. Her father’s +face was a study.</p> +<p>“Why, they are diamonds!” he murmured. +“Surely Butler wouldn’t be giving presents +like this.” A card fluttered to the floor. He +picked it up and read:—“A slipper for my little +Cinderella. Keep it and it will bring good +luck.”</p> +<p>There was no name, but he knew who had +sent it. With a cry of rage he snatched the +dainty trinket from her hand and threw it +on the floor, raising his foot to stamp it +out of shape with his heel. His first vicious +attempt missed the slipper altogether, and +before he could repeat it the child was on the +floor clutching it in her fingers, whimpering +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +strangely. The servants looked on in astonishment.</p> +<p>He drew back, mumbling something under +his breath. In a moment he regained control +of himself.</p> +<p>“It—it isn’t meant for you, darling,” he +said, hoarsely. “Santy left it here by mistake. +We will send it back to him. It belongs +to some other poor little girl.”</p> +<p>“But I am Cinderella!” she cried. “Mr. +Fairy-fax said so. He told Santy to bring it +to me. Please, daddy—please!”</p> +<p>He removed it gently from her fingers and +dropped it into his pocket. His face was very +white.</p> +<p>“Santy isn’t that kind of a man,” he said, +without rhyme or reason. “Now, don’t cry, +dearie. Here’s another present from mamma. +See!”</p> +<p>Later in the morning, after she had quite +forgotten the slipper, he put it back in the box, +wrapped it carefully, and addressed the package +to L. Z. Fairfax, in New York City, without +explanation or comment.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +<img src='images/illus-134.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 416px; height: 598px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 416px;'> +Phoebe<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>Before the morning was half over he was +playing with Phoebe and her toys quite as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +childishly and gleefully as she, his heart in +the fun she was having, his mind almost wholly +cleared of the bitterness and rancour that so +recently had filled it to overflowing.</p> +<p>The three of them floundered through the +snowdrifts to the station, laughing and shouting +with a merriment that proved infectious. +The long-obscured sun came out and caught the +disease, for he smiled broadly, and the wind +gave over snarling and smirked with an amiability +that must have surprised the shivering +horses standing desolate in front of certain +places wherein their owners partook of Christmas +cheer that was warm.</p> +<p>Harvey took Phoebe and the nurse to the +theatre in a cab. He went up to the box-office +window and asked for the two tickets. The +seller was most agreeable. He handed out the +little envelope with the words:—</p> +<p>“A packed house to-day, Mr.—Mr.—er—ah, +and—sold out for to-night. Here you are, +with Miss Duluth’s compliments—the best +seats in the house. And here is a note for—er—yes, +for the nurse.”</p> +<p>Annie read the note. It was from Nellie, +instructing her to bring Phoebe to her dressing-room +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +after the performance, where they +would have supper later on.</p> +<p>Harvey saw them pass in to the warm theatre +and then slowly wandered out to the bleak, +wind-swept street. There was nothing for him +to do; nowhere that he could go to seek cheerful +companions. For an hour or more he wandered +up and down Broadway, his shoulders +hunched up, his mittened hands to his ears, water +running from his nose and eyes, his face +the colour of the setting sun. Half-frozen, he +at last ventured into a certain café, a place +where he had lunched no fewer than half-a-dozen +times, and where he thought his identity +might have remained with the clerk at the cigar +stand.</p> +<p>There were men at the tables, smoking and +chatting hilariously. At one of them sat +three men, two of whom were actors he +had met. Summoning his courage, he approached +them with a well-assumed air of +nonchalance.</p> +<p>“Merry Christmas,” was his greeting. The +trio looked at him with no sign of recognition. +“How are you. Mr. Brackley? How are you, +Joe?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></p> +<p>The two actors shook hands with him without +much enthusiasm, certainly without interest.</p> +<p>Light dawned on one of them. “Oh,” said +he, cheerlessly, “how are you? I couldn’t +place you at first.” He did not offer to introduce +him to the stranger, but proceeded to +enlighten the other players. “It’s—oh, you +know—Nellie Duluth’s husband.”</p> +<p>The other fellow nodded and resumed his +conversation with the third man. At the +same time the speaker leaned forward to +devote his attention to the tale in hand, +utterly ignoring the little man, who stood +with his hand on the back of the vacant +chair.</p> +<p>Harvey waited for a few moments. “What +will you have to drink?” he asked, shyly dropping +into the chair. They stared at him and +shook their heads.</p> +<p>“That seat’s engaged,” said the one called +“Joe,” gruffly.</p> +<p>Harvey got up instantly. “Oh,” he said, in +a hesitating manner. They went on with their +conversation as if he were not there. After +a moment he moved away, his ears burning, his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +soul filled with mortification and shame. In a +sort of daze he approached the cigar stand and +asked for a box of cigarettes.</p> +<p>“What kind?” demanded the clerk, laying +down his newspaper.</p> +<p>Harvey smiled engagingly. “Oh, the kind +I usually get!” he said, feeling sure that the +fellow remembered him and the quality he +smoked.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” snapped the clerk, scowling.</p> +<p>The purchaser hastily mentioned a certain +kind of cigarette, paid for it after the box had +been tossed at him, and walked away. Fixed +in his determination to stay in the place until +he was well thawed out, he took a seat at a +little table near the stairway and ordered a +hot lemonade.</p> +<p>He was conscious of a certain amount of attention +from the tables adjacent to the trio he +had accosted. Several loud guffaws came to +his ears as he sipped the boiling drink. Taking +an unusually copious swallow, he coughed and +spluttered as the liquid scalded his tongue and +palate. The tears rushed to his eyes. From +past experience he knew that his tongue would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +be sore for at least a week. He had such a +tender tongue, Nellie said.</p> +<p>For half an hour he sat there dreaming and +brooding. It was much better than tramping +the streets. A clock on the opposite wall pointed +to four o’clock. The matinée would be over at +a quarter to five. Presently he looked again. +It was five minutes past four. Really it wasn’t +so bad waiting after all; not half so bad as +he had thought it would be.</p> +<p>Some one tapped him on the shoulder. He +looked up with a start. The manager of the +place stood at his elbow.</p> +<p>“This isn’t a railway station, young feller,” +he said, harshly. “You’ll have to move on. +These tables are for customers.”</p> +<p>“But I’ve bought––”</p> +<p>“Now, don’t argue about it. You heard +what I said. Move along.”</p> +<p>The man’s tone was peremptory. Poor +Harvey looked around as if in search of a +single benevolent face, and then, without a word +of protest, arose and moved quickly toward the +door. His eyes were fixed in a glassy stare on +the dancing, elusive doorway. He wondered if +he could reach it before he sank through the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +floor. Somehow he had the horrible feeling +that just as he opened it to go out some one +would kick him from behind. He could almost +feel the impact of the boot and involuntarily +accelerated his speed as he opened the door to +pass into the biting air of the now darkening +street.</p> +<p>“I hate this damned town,” said he to himself +over and over again as he flung himself +against the gale that almost blew him off his +feet. When he stopped to take his bearings, +he was far above Longacre Square and still going +in the wrong direction. He was befuddled. +A policeman told him in hoarse, muffled tones +to go back ten blocks or so if he wanted to find +the theatre where Nellie Duluth was playing.</p> +<p>A clock in an apothecary’s shop urged him +to hurry. When he came to the theatre, the +newsboys were waiting for the audience to appear. +He was surrounded by a mob of boys +and men shouting the extras.</p> +<p>“Is the show out?” he asked one of them.</p> +<p>“No, sir!” shouted the boy, eagerly. +“Shall I call up your automobile, mister!”</p> +<p>“No, thank you,” said Harvey through his +chattering teeth. For a moment he felt distinctly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +proud and important. So shrewd a +judge of humanity as a New York “newsy” +had taken him to be a man of parts. For +awhile he had been distressed by the fear, almost +the conviction, that he was regarded by +all New York as a “jay.”</p> +<p>Belying his suddenly acquired air of importance, +he hunched himself up against the +side of the building, partly sheltered from the +wind, and waited for the crowd to pour forth. +With the appearance of the first of those home-goers +he would repair to the stage door, and, +once behind the scenes, was quite certain that +he would receive an invitation from Nellie to +join the gay little family supper party in her +dressing-room.</p> +<p>When the time came, however, he approached +the doorman with considerable trepidation. +He had a presentiment that there would +be “no admittance.” Sure enough, the grizzled +doorman, poking his head out, gruffly informed +him that no one was allowed “back” +without an order from the manager. Harvey +explained who he was, taking it for granted +that the man did not know him with his coat-collar +turned up. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></p> +<p>“I know you, all right,” said the man, not +unkindly. “I’d like to let you in, but—you +see––” He coughed and looked about rather +helplessly, avoiding the pleading look in the +visitor’s eyes.</p> +<p>“It’s all right,” Nellie’s husband assured +him, but an arm barred the way.</p> +<p>“I’ve got strict orders not to admit you,” +blurted out the doorman, hating himself.</p> +<p>“Not to admit me!” said Harvey, slowly.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, sir. Orders is orders.”</p> +<p>“But my little girl is there.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, I understand. The orders are for +you, sir, not for the kid.” Struck by the look +in the little man’s eyes he hastened to say, +“Maybe if you saw Mr. Ripton out front and +sent a note in to Miss Duluth, she’d change her +mind and––”</p> +<p>“Good Lord!” fell from Harvey’s lips as he +abruptly turned away to look for a spot where +he could hide himself from every one.</p> +<p>Two hours later, from his position at the +mouth of the alley, he saw a man come out of +the stage door and blow a whistle thrice. He +was almost perishing with cold; he was sure +that his ears were frozen. A sharp snap at the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +top of each of them and a subsequent warmth +urged him to press quantities of snow against +them, obeying the old rule that like cures like. +From the kitchens of a big restaurant came the +odours of cooking foodstuffs. He was hungry +on this Merry Christmas night, but he would +not leave his post. He had promised to wait +for Phoebe and take her out home with him in +the train.</p> +<p>With the three blasts of the whistle he stirred +his numb feet and edged nearer to the stage +door. A big limousine came rumbling up the +alley from behind, almost running him down. +The fur-coated chauffeur called him unspeakable +names as he passed him with the +emergency brakes released.</p> +<p>Before he could reach the entrance, the door +flew open and a small figure in fur coat and a +well known white hat was bundled into the machine +by a burly stage hand. A moment later +Annie clambered in, the door was slammed and +the machine started ahead.</p> +<p>He shouted as he ran, but his cry was not +heard. As the car careened down the narrow +lane, throwing snow in all directions, he +dropped into a dejected, beaten walk. Slowly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +he made his way in the trail of the big car—it +was too dark for him to detect the colour, but +he felt it was green—and came at last to the +mouth of the alley, desolate, bewildered, hurt +beyond all understanding.</p> +<p>For an instant he steadied himself against +the icy wall of a building, trying to make up +his mind what to do next. Suddenly it occurred +to him that if he ran hard and fast he +could catch the train—the seven-thirty—and secure +a bit of triumph in spite of circumstances.</p> +<p>He went racing up the street toward Sixth +Avenue, dodging head-lowered pedestrians with +the skill of an Indian, and managed to reach +Forty-second Street without mishap or delay. +Above the library he was stopped by a policeman, +into whose arms he went full tilt, almost +bowling him over. The impact dazed him. He +saw many stars on the officer’s breast. As he +looked they dwindled into one bright and +shining planet and a savage voice was bellowing:—</p> +<p>“Hold still or I’ll bat you over the head!”</p> +<p>“I’m—I’m trying to make the seven-thirty,” +he panted, wincing under the grip on his +arm. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></p> +<p>“We’ll see about that,” growled the policeman.</p> +<p>“For Heaven’s sake, Mr. Policeman, I +haven’t done anything. Honest, I’m in a +hurry. My little girl’s on that train. We live +in Tarrytown. She’ll cry her eyes out if +I––”</p> +<p>“What was you running for?”</p> +<p>“For it,” said Harvey, at the end of a deep +breath.</p> +<p>“It’s only seven-five now,” said the officer, +suspiciously.</p> +<p>“Well, it’s the seven-ten I want, then,” said +Harvey, hastily.</p> +<p>“I guess I’ll hold you here and see if anybody +comes chasin’ up after you. Not a word, +now. Close your trap.”</p> +<p>As no one came up to accuse the prisoner of +murder, theft, or intoxication, the intelligent +policeman released him at the expiration of +fifteen minutes. A crowd had collected despite +the cold. Harvey was always to remember that +crowd of curious people; he never ceased wondering +where they came from and why they +were content to stand there shivering in the +zero weather when there were stoves and steam +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +radiators everywhere to be found. To add to +his humiliation at least a dozen men and boys, +not satisfied with the free show as far as it +had gone, pursued him to the very gates in the +concourse.</p> +<p>“Darned loafers!” said Harvey, hotly, but +under his breath, as he showed his ticket and his +teeth at the same time. Then he rushed for +the last coach and swung on as it moved out.</p> +<p>Now, if I were inclined to be facetious or untruthful +I might easily add to his troubles by +saying that he got the wrong train, or something +of the sort, but it is not my purpose to be +harder on him than I have to be.</p> +<p>It was the right train, and, better still, Annie +and Phoebe were in the very last seat of the +very last coach. With a vast sigh he dropped +into a vacant seat ahead of them and began +fanning himself with his hat, to the utter amazement +of onlookers, who had been disturbed by +his turbulent entrance.</p> +<p>The newspaper Annie was reading fell from +her hands.</p> +<p>“My goodness, sir! Where did you come +from?” she managed to inquire.</p> +<p>“I’ve been—dining—at—Sherry’s,” he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +wheezed. “Annie, will you look and see if my +ears are frozen?”</p> +<p>“They are, sir. Good gracious!”</p> +<p>He realised that he had been indiscreet.</p> +<p>“I—I sat in a draught,” he hastened to explain. +“Did you have a nice time, Phoebe?”</p> +<p>The child was sleepy. “No,” she said, almost +sullenly. His heart gave a bound. +“Mamma wouldn’t let me eat anything. She +said I’d get fat.”</p> +<p>“You had quite enough to eat, Phoebe,” said +Annie.</p> +<p>“I didn’t,” said Phoebe.</p> +<p>“Never mind,” said her father, “I’ll take +you to Sherry’s some day.”</p> +<p>“When, daddy?” she cried, wide awake at +once. “I like to go to places with you.”</p> +<p>He faltered. “Some day after mamma has +gone off on the road. We’ll be terribly gay, +while she’s away, see if we ain’t.”</p> +<p>Annie picked up the paper and handed it to +him.</p> +<p>“Miss Duluth ain’t going on the road, sir,” +she said. “It’s in the paper.”</p> +<p>He read the amazing news. Annie, suddenly +voluble, gave it to him by word of mouth while +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +he read. It was all there, she said, to prove +what she was telling him. “Just as if I +couldn’t read!” said Harvey, as he began the +article all over again after perusing the first +few lines in a perfectly blank state of mind.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, the doctor says she can’t stand it +on the road. She’s got nervous prosperity and +she’s got to have a long rest. That Miss Brown +is going to take her place in the play after this +week and Miss Duluth is going away out West +to live for awhile to get strong again. She––What +is the name of the town, Phoebe?”</p> +<p>“Reno,” said Phoebe, promptly.</p> +<p>“But the name of the town isn’t in the paper, +sir,” Annie informed him. “It’s a place +where people with complications go to get rid +of them, Miss Nellie says. The show won’t be +any good without her, sir. I wouldn’t give two +cents to see it.”</p> +<p>He sagged down in the seat, a cold perspiration +starting out all over his body.</p> +<p>“When does she go—out there!” he asked, +as in a dream.</p> +<p>“First of next week. She goes to Chicago +with the company and then right on out to—to—er—to––” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></p> +<p>“Reno,” said he, lifelessly.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>He did not know how long afterward it was +that he heard Phoebe saying to him, her tired +voice barely audible above the clacking of the +wheels:—</p> +<p>“I want a drink of water, daddy.”</p> +<p>His voice seemed to come back to him from +some far-away place. He blinked his eyes several +times and said, very wanly:—</p> +<p>“You mustn’t drink water, dearie. It will +make you fat.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI_THE_REVOLVER' id='CHAPTER_VI_THE_REVOLVER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>THE REVOLVER</h3> +</div> +<p>He waited until the middle of the week for +some sign from her; none coming, he decided +to go once more to her apartment before it was +too late. The many letters he wrote to her during +the first days after learning of her change +of plans were never sent. He destroyed them. +A sense of shame, a certain element of pride, +held them back. Still, he argued with no little +degree of justice, there were many things to be +decided before she took the long journey—and +the short step she was so plainly contemplating.</p> +<p>It was no more than right that he should +make one last and determined effort to save her +from the fate she was so blindly courting. It +was due her. She was his wife. He had promised +to cherish and protect her. If she would +not listen to the appeal, at least he would have +done his bounden duty.</p> +<p>There was an ever present, ugly fear, too, +that she meant, by some hook or crook, to rob +him of Phoebe. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></p> +<p>“And she’s as much mine as hers,” he declared +to himself a thousand times or more.</p> +<p>Behind everything, yet in plain view, lay his +own estimate of himself—the naked truth—he +was “no good!” He had come to the point +of believing it of himself. He was not a success; +he was quite the other thing. But, granting +that, he was young and entitled to another +chance. He could work into a partnership with +Mr. Davis if given the time.</p> +<p>Letting the midweek matinée slip by, he made +the plunge on a Thursday. She was to leave +New York on Sunday morning; that much he +knew from the daily newspapers, which teemed +with Nellie’s breakdown and its lamentable consequences. +It would be at least a year, the +papers said, before she could resume her career +on the stage. He searched the columns daily +for his own name, always expecting to see himself +in type little less conspicuous than that accorded +to her, and stigmatised as a brute, an +inebriate, a loafer. It was all the same to him—brute, +soak, or loafer. But even under these +extraordinary conditions he was as completely +blanketed by obscurity as if he never had been +in existence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></p> +<p>Sometimes he wondered whether she could +get a divorce without according him a name. +He had read of fellow creatures meeting death +“at the hand of a person (or of persons) unknown.” +Could a divorce complaint be worded +in such non-committal terms? Then there was +that time-honoured shroud of private identity, +the multitudinous John Doe. Could she have +the heart to bring proceedings against him as +John Doe? He wondered.</p> +<p>If he were to shoot himself, so that she might +have her freedom without going to all the +trouble of a divorce or the annoyance of a term +of residence in Reno, would she put his name +on a tombstone? He wondered.</p> +<p>A strange, a most unusual thing happened to +him just before he left the house to go to the +depot. He was never quite able to account for +the impulse which sent him upstairs rather +obliquely to search through a trunk for a revolver, +purchased a couple of years before, +following the report that housebreakers were +abroad in Tarrytown, and which he had +promptly locked away in his trunk for fear that +Phoebe might get hold of it.</p> +<p>He rummaged about in the trunk, finally unearthing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +the weapon. He slipped it into his +overcoat pocket with a furtive glance over his +shoulder. He chuckled as he went down the +stairs. It was a funny thing for him to do, +locking the revolver in the trunk that way. +What burglar so obliging as to tarry while he +went through all the preliminaries incident to +destruction under the circumstances? Yes, it +was stupid of him.</p> +<p>He did not consider the prospect of being arrested +for carrying concealed weapons until he +was halfway to the city, and then he broke into +a mild perspiration. From that moment he +eyed every man with suspicion. He had heard +of “plain clothes men.” They were the very +worst kind. “They take you unawares so,” +said he to himself, with which he moved closer +to the wall of the car, the more effectually to +conceal the weapon. It wouldn’t do to be +caught going about with a revolver in one’s +pocket. That would be the very worst thing +that could happen. It would mean “the +Island” or some other such place, for he could +not have paid a fine.</p> +<p>It occurred to him, therefore, that it would +be wiser to get down at One Hundred and Tenth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +street and walk over to Nellie’s. The policemen +were not so thick nor so bothersome up there, +he figured, and it was a rather expensive article +he was carrying; one never got them back from +the police, even if the fine were paid.</p> +<p>Footsore, weary, and chilled to the bone, he +at length came to the apartment building +wherein dwelt Nellie Duluth. In these last few +weeks he had developed a habit of thinking of +her as Nellie Duluth, a person quite separate +and detached from himself. He had come to +regard himself as so far removed from Nellie +Duluth that it was quite impossible for him to +think of her as Mrs.—Mrs.—he had to rack his +brain for the name, the connection was so +remote.</p> +<p>He had walked miles—many devious and +lengthening miles—before finally coming to the +end of his journey. Once he came near asking +a policeman to direct him to Eighty-ninth +Street, but the sudden recollection of the thing +he carried stopped him in time. That and the +discovery of a sign on a post which frostily informed +him that he was then in the very street +he sought.</p> +<p>It should go without the saying that he hesitated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +a long time before entering the building. +Perhaps it would be better after all to write to +her. Somewhat sensibly he argued that a letter +would reach her, while it was more than +likely he would fall short of a similar achievement. +She couldn’t deny Uncle Sam, but she +could slam the door in her husband’s face. +Yes, he concluded, a letter was the thing. Having +come to this half-hearted decision, he proceeded +to argue himself out of it. Suppose that +she received the letter, did it follow that she +would reply to it? He might enclose a stamp +and all that sort of thing, but he knew Nellie; +she wouldn’t answer a letter—at least, not that +kind of letter. She would laugh at it, and perhaps +show it to her friends, who also would be +vastly amused. He remembered some of them +as he saw them in the café that day; they were +given to uproarious laughter. No, he concluded, +a letter was not the thing. He must see +her. He must have it out with her, face to face.</p> +<p>So he went up in the elevator to the eleventh +floor, which was the top one, got out and walked +down to the sixth, where she lived. Her name +was on the door plate. He read it three or four +times before resolutely pressing the electric +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +button. Then he looked over his shoulder +quickly, impelled by the queer feeling that some +one was behind him, towering like a dark, +threatening shadow. A rough hand seemed +ready to close upon his shoulder to drag him +back and down. But no one was there. He +was alone in the little hall. And yet something +was there. He could feel it, though he could +not see it; something sinister that caused him +to shiver. His tense fingers relaxed their grip +on the revolver. Strangely the vague thing +that disturbed him departed in a flash and he +felt himself alone once more. It was very odd, +thought he.</p> +<p>Rachel came to the door. She started back +in surprise, aye, alarm, when she saw the little +man in the big ulster. A look of consternation +sprang into her black eyes.</p> +<p>He opened his lips to put the natural question, +but paused with the words unuttered. +The sound of voices in revelry came to his ears +from the interior of the apartment, remote but +very insistent. Men’s voices and women’s +voices raised in merriment. His gaze swept +the exposed portion of the hall. Packing boxes +stood against the wall, piled high. The odour +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +of camphor came out and smote his sense of +smell.</p> +<p>Rachel was speaking. Her voice was peculiarly +hushed and the words came quickly, jerkily +from her lips.</p> +<p>“Miss Duluth is engaged, sir. I’m sorry she +will not be able to see you.”</p> +<p>He stared uncertainly at her and beyond her.</p> +<p>“So she’s packing her things,” he murmured, +more to himself than to the servant. +Rachel was silent. He saw the door closing in +his face. A curious sense of power, of authority, +came over him. “Hold on,” he said +sharply, putting his foot against the door. +“You go and tell her I want to see her. It’s +important—very important!”</p> +<p>“She has given orders, sir, not to let +you––”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m giving a few orders myself, and +I won’t stand for any back talk, do you hear? +Who is the master of this place, tell me that?” +He thumped his breast with his knuckles. +“Step lively, now. Tell her I’m here.”</p> +<p>He pushed his way past her and walked into +what he called the “parlour,” but what was to +Nellie the “living-room.” Here he found +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +numerous boxes, crates, and parcels, all prepared +for shipment or storage. Quite coolly +he examined the tag on a large crate. The +word “Reno” smote him. As he cringed he +smiled a sickly smile without being conscious +of the act. “Wait a minute,” he called to +Rachel, who was edging in an affrighted manner +toward the lower end of the hall and the +dining-room. “What is she doing?”</p> +<p>Rachel’s face brightened. He was going to +be amenable to reason.</p> +<p>“It’s a farewell luncheon, sir. She simply +can’t be disturbed. I’ll tell her you were here.”</p> +<p>“You don’t need to tell her anything,” said +he, briskly. The sight of those crates and boxes +had made another man of him. “I’ll announce +myself. She won’t––”</p> +<p>“You’d better not!” cried Rachel, distractedly. +“There are some men here. They will +throw you out of the apartment. They’re big +enough, Mr.—Mr.––”</p> +<p>He grinned. His fingers took a new grip on +the revolver.</p> +<p>“Napoleon wasn’t as big as I am,” he said, +much to Rachel’s distress. It sounded very +mad to her. “Size isn’t everything.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></p> +<p>“For Heaven’s sake, sir, please don’t––”</p> +<p>“They seem to be having a gay old time,” +said he, as a particularly wild burst of laughter +came from the dining-room. He hesitated. +“Who is out there?”</p> +<p>Rachel was cunning. “I don’t know the +names, sir. They’re—they’re strangers to +me.”</p> +<p>At that instant the voice of Fairfax came to +his ears, loudly proclaiming a health to the invalid +who was going to Reno. Harvey stood +there in the hall, listening to the toast. He +heard it to the end, and the applause that followed. +If he were to accept the diagnosis of +the speaker, Nellie was repairing to Reno to be +cured of an affliction that had its inception +seven years before, a common malady, but not +fatal if taken in time. The germ, or, more +properly speaking, the parasite, unlike most +bacteria, possessed but two legs, and so on and +so forth.</p> +<p>The laughter was just dying away when Harvey—who +recognised himself as the pestiferous +germ alluded to—strode into the room, followed +by the white-faced Rachel.</p> +<p>“Who was it, Rachel?” called out Nellie, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +from behind the enormous centrepiece of roses +which obstructed her view of the unwelcome visitor.</p> +<p>The little man in the ulster piped up, +shrilly:—</p> +<p>“She don’t know my name, but I guess you +do, if you’ll think real hard.”</p> +<p>There were ten at the table, flushed with wine +and the exertion of hilarity. Twenty eyes were +focussed on the queer, insignificant little man +in the doorway. If they had not been capable +of focussing them on anything a moment before, +they acquired the power to do so now.</p> +<p>Nellie, staring blankly, arose. She wet her +lips twice before speaking.</p> +<p>“Who let you in here?” she cried, shrilly.</p> +<p>One of the men pushed back his chair and +came to his feet a bit unsteadily.</p> +<p>“What the deuce is it, Nellie?” he hiccoughed.</p> +<p>Nellie had her wits about her. She was very +pale, but she was calm. Instinctively she felt +that trouble—even tragedy—was confronting +her; the thing she had feared all along without +admitting it even to herself.</p> +<p>“Sit down, Dick,” she commanded. “Don’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +get excited, any of you. It’s all right. My +husband, that’s all.”</p> +<p>The man at her right was Fairfax. He was +gaping at Harvey with horror in his face. He, +too, had been expecting something like this. +Involuntarily he shifted his body so that the +woman on the other side, a huge creature, was +partially between him and the little man in the +door.</p> +<p>“Get him out of here!” he exclaimed. +“He’s just damned fool enough to do something +desperate if we––”</p> +<p>“You shut up!” barked Harvey, in a sudden +access of fury. “Not a word out of you, +you big bully.”</p> +<p>“Get him out!” gasped Fairfax, holding his +arm over his face. “What did I tell you? +He’s crazy! Grab him, Smith! Hurry up!”</p> +<p>“Grab him yourself!” retorted Smith, in +some haste. “He’s not gunning for me.”</p> +<p>What there was to be afraid of in the appearance +of the little ulstered man who stood there +with his hands in his pockets I cannot for the +life of me tell, but there was no doubt as to the +consternation he produced in the midst of this +erstwhile jovial crowd. An abrupt demand of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +courtesy urged him to raise his hand to doff +his hat in the presence of ladies. Twenty terrified +eyes watched the movement as if ten lives +hung on the result thereof. Half of the guests +were standing, the other half too petrified to +move. A husband is a thing to strike terror +to the heart, believe me, no matter how trivial +he may be, especially an unexpected husband.</p> +<p>“Go away, Harvey!” cried Nellie, placing +Fairfax between herself and the intruder.</p> +<p>“Don’t do that!” growled the big man, +sharply. “Do you suppose I want him shooting +holes through me in order to get at you?”</p> +<p>“Is he going to shoot?” wailed one of the +women, dropping the wineglass she had been +holding poised near her lips all this time. The +tinkle of broken glass and the douche of champagne +passed unnoticed. “For God’s sake, +let me get out of here!”</p> +<p>“Keep your seats, ladies and gents,” said +Harvey, hastily, beginning to show signs of confusion. +“I just dropped in to see Nellie for +a few minutes. Don’t let me disturb you. She +can step into the parlour, I guess. They’ll excuse +you, Nellie.”</p> +<p>“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” snapped Nellie, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +noting the change in him. “Go away or I’ll +have a policeman called.”</p> +<p>He grinned. “Well, if you do, he’ll catch +me with the goods,” he said, mysteriously.</p> +<p>“The goods?” repeated Nellie.</p> +<p>“Do you want to see it?” he asked, fixing her +with his eyes. As he started to withdraw his +hand from his overcoat pocket, a general cry of +alarm went up and there was a sudden shifting +of positions.</p> +<p>“Don’t do that!” roared two or three of the +men in a breath.</p> +<p>“Keep that thing in your pocket!” commanded +Fairfax, huskily, without removing his +gaze from the arm that controlled the hidden +hand.</p> +<p>Harvey gloated. He waved the hand that +held his hat. “Don’t be alarmed, ladies,” he +said. “You are quite safe. I can hit a silver +dollar at twenty paces, so there’s no chance of +anything going wild.”</p> +<p>“For God’s sake!” gasped Fairfax. Suddenly +he disappeared beneath the edge of the +table. His knees struck the floor with a resounding +thump.</p> +<p>“Get away from me!” shrieked the corpulent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +lady, kicking at him as she fled the +danger spot.</p> +<p>Harvey stooped and peered under the table +at his enemy, a broad grin on his face. Fairfax +took it for a grin of malevolence.</p> +<p>“Peek-a-boo!” called Harvey.</p> +<p>“Don’t shoot! For the love of Heaven, +don’t shoot!” yelled Fairfax. Then to the men +who were edging away in quest of safety behind +the sideboard, china closet, and serving +table:—“Why don’t you grab him, you +idiots?”</p> +<p>Harvey suddenly realised the danger of his +position. He straightened up and jerked the +revolver from his pocket, brandishing it in full +view of them all.</p> +<p>“Keep back!” he shouted—a most unnecessary +command.</p> +<p>Those who could not crowd behind the sideboard +made a rush for the butler’s pantry. +Feminine shrieks and masculine howls filled the +air. Chairs were overturned in the wild rush +for safety. No less than three well-dressed +women were crawling on their hands and knees +toward the only means of exit from the room.</p> +<p>“Telephone for the police!” yelled Fairfax, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +backing away on all-fours, suggesting a crawfish.</p> +<p>“Stay where you are!” cried Harvey, now +thoroughly alarmed by the turn of affairs.</p> +<p>They stopped as if petrified. The three men +who were wedged in the pantry door gave over +struggling for the right of precedence and +turned to face the peril.</p> +<p>Once more he brandished the weapon, and +once more there were shrieks and groans, this +time in a higher key.</p> +<p>Nellie alone stood her ground. She was +desperate. Death was staring her in the face, +and she was staring back as if fascinated.</p> +<p>“Harvey! Harvey!” she cried, through +bloodless lips. “Don’t do it! Think of +Phoebe! Think of your child!”</p> +<p>Rachel was stealing down the hall. The little +Napoleon suddenly realised her purpose and +thwarted it.</p> +<p>“Come back here!” he shouted. The +trembling maid could not obey for a very excellent +reason. She dropped to the floor as if +shot, and, failing in the effort to crawl under +a low hall-seat, remained there, prostrate and +motionless. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>He then addressed himself to Nellie, first cocking +the pistol in a most cold-blooded manner. +Paying no heed to the commands and exhortations +of the men, or the whines of the women, +he announced:—</p> +<p>“That’s just what I’ve come here to ask +you to do, Nellie; think of Phoebe. Will you +promise me to––”</p> +<p>“I’ll promise nothing!” cried Nellie, exasperated. +She was beginning to feel ridiculous, +which was much worse than feeling terrified. +“You can’t bluff me, Harvey, not for a +minute.”</p> +<p>“I’m not trying to bluff you,” he protested. +“I’m simply asking you to think. You can +think, can’t you? If you can’t think here with +all this noise going on, come into the parlour. +We can talk it all over quietly and—why, great +Scott, I don’t want to kill anybody!” Noting +an abrupt change in the attitude of the men, +who found some encouragement in his manner, +he added hastily, “Unless I have to, of course. +Here, you! Don’t get up!” The command +was addressed to Fairfax. “I’d kind of like to +take a shot at you, just for fun.”</p> +<p>“Harvey,” said his wife, quite calmly, “if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +you don’t put that thing in your pocket and go +away I will have you locked up as sure as I’m +standing here.”</p> +<p>“I ask you once more to come into the parlour +and talk it over with me,” said he, wavering.</p> +<p>“And I refuse,” she cried, furiously.</p> +<p>“Go and have it out with him, Nellie,” +groaned Fairfax, lifting his head above the edge +of the table, only to lower it instantly as Harvey’s +hand wabbled unsteadily in a sort of attempt +to draw a bead on him.</p> +<p>“Well, why don’t you shoot?” demanded +Nellie, curtly.</p> +<p>“No! No!” roared Fairfax.</p> +<p>“No! No!” shrieked the women.</p> +<p>“For two cents I would,” stammered Harvey, +quite carried away by the renewed turmoil.</p> +<p>“You would do anything for two cents,” said +Nellie, sarcastically.</p> +<p>“I’d shoot myself for two cents,” he wailed, +dismally. “I’m no use, anyway. I’d be better +off dead.”</p> +<p>“For God’s sake let him do it, Nellie,” +hissed Fairfax. “That’s the thing; the very +thing.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p> +<p>Poor Harvey suddenly came to a full realisation +of the position he was in. He had not +counted on all this. Now he was in for it, and +there was no way out of it. A vast sense of +shame and humiliation mastered him. Everything +before him turned gray and bleak, and +then a hideous red.</p> +<p>He had not meant to do a single thing he had +already done. Events had shaped themselves +for him. He was surprised, dumfounded, +overwhelmed. The only thought that now ran +through his addled brain was that he simply had +to do something. He couldn’t stand there forever, +like a fool, waving a pistol. In a minute +or two they would all be laughing at him. It +was ghastly. The wave of self-pity, of self-commiseration +submerged him completely. +Why, oh why, had he got himself into this dreadful +pickle? He had merely come to talk it over +with Nellie, that and nothing more. And now, +see what he was in for!</p> +<p>“By jingo,” he gasped, in the depth of +despair, “I’ll do it! I’ll make you sorry, Nellie; +you’ll be sorry when you see me lying here +all shot to pieces. I’ve been a good husband to +you. I don’t deserve to die like this, but––” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +His watery blue eyes took in the horrified expressions +on the faces of his hearers. An innate +sense of delicacy arose within him. “I’ll +do it in the hall.”</p> +<p>“Be careful of the rug,” cried Nellie, gayly, +not for an instant believing that he would carry +out the threat.</p> +<p>“Shall I do it here?” he asked, feebly.</p> +<p>“No!” shrieked the women, putting their +fingers in their ears.</p> +<p>“By all means!” cried Fairfax, with a loud +laugh of positive relief.</p> +<p>To his own as well as to their amazement, +Harvey turned the muzzle of the pistol toward +his face. It wabbled aimlessly. Even at such +short range he had the feeling that he would +miss altogether and looked over his shoulder +to see if there was a picture or anything else on +the wall that might be damaged by the stray +bullet. Then he inserted the muzzle in his +mouth.</p> +<p>Stupefaction held his audience. Not a hand +was lifted, not a breath was drawn. For half a +second his finger clung to the trigger without +pressing it. Then he lowered the weapon.</p> +<p>“I guess I better go out in the hall, where +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +the elevator is,” he said. “Don’t follow me. +Stay where you are. You needn’t worry.”</p> +<p>“I’ll bet you ten dollars you don’t do it,” +said Fairfax, loudly, as he came to his feet.</p> +<p>“I don’t want your dirty money, blast you,” +exclaimed Harvey, without thinking. “Good-by, +Nellie. Be good to Phoebe. Tell ’em out +in Blakeville that I—oh, tell ’em anything you +like. I don’t give a rap!”</p> +<p>He turned and went shambling down the hall, +his back very stiff, his ears very red.</p> +<p>It was necessary to step over Rachel’s prostrate +form. He got one foot across, when she, +crazed with fear, emitted a piercing shriek and +arose so abruptly that he was caught unawares. +What with the start the shriek gave him and +the uprising of a supposedly inanimate mass, +his personal equilibrium was put to the severest +test. Indeed, he quite lost it, going first into +the air with all the sprawl of a bronco buster, +and then landing solidly on his left ear where +there wasn’t a shred of rug to ease the impact. +In a twinkling, however, he was on his feet, +apologising to Rachel. But she was crawling +away as fast as her hands and knees would +carry her. From the dining-room came violent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +shouts, the hated word “police” dominating +the clamour.</p> +<p>He slid through the door and closed it after +him. A moment later he was plunging down +the steps, disdaining the elevator, which, however +fast it may have been, could not have been +swift enough for him in his present mood. The +police! They would be clanging up to the building +in a jiffy, and then what? To the station +house!</p> +<p>Half-way down he paused to reflect. Voices +above came howling down the shaft, urging the +elevator man to stop him, to hold him, to do all +manner of things to him. He felt himself +trapped.</p> +<p>So he sat down on an upper step, leaned back +against the marble wall, closed his eyes tightly, +and jammed the muzzle of the revolver against +the pit of his stomach.</p> +<p>“I hate to do it,” he groaned, and then pulled +the trigger.</p> +<p>The hammer fell with a sharp click. He +opened his eyes. If it didn’t hurt any more +than that he could do it with them open. Why +not? In a frenzy to have it over with he pulled +again and was gratified to find that the second +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +bullet was not a whit more painful than the +first. Then he thought of the ugly spectacle he +would present if he confined the mutilation to +the abdominal region. People would shudder +and say, “how horrible he looks!” So he considerately +aimed the third one at his right eye.</p> +<p>Even as he pulled the trigger, and the hammer +fell with the usual click, his vision centred +on the black little hole in the end of the barrel. +Breathlessly he waited for the bullet to emerge. +Then, all of a sudden, he recalled that there had +been no explosion. The fact had escaped him +during the throes of a far from disagreeable +death. He put his hand to his stomach. In a +dumb sort of wonder he first examined his +fingers, and, finding no gore, proceeded to a +rather careful inspection of the weapon.</p> +<p>Then he leaned back and dizzily tried to remember +when he had taken the cartridges out +of the thing.</p> +<p>“Thank the Lord,” he said, quite devoutly. +“I thought I was a goner, sure. Now, when +did I take ’em out?”</p> +<p>The elevator shot past him, going upward. +He paid no attention to it.</p> +<p>It all came back to him in a flash. He remembered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +that he had never loaded it at all. +A loaded pistol is a very dangerous thing to +have about the house. The little box of cartridges +that came with the weapon was safely +locked away at the bottom of the trunk, +wrapped in a thick suit of underwear for protection +against concussion.</p> +<p>Even as he congratulated himself on his remarkable +foresight the elevator, filled with excited +men, rushed past him on the way down. +He heard them saying that a dangerous lunatic +was at large and that he ought to be––But +he couldn’t hear the rest of it, the car being so +far below him.</p> +<p>“By jingo!” he exclaimed, leaping to his +feet in consternation. “They’ll get me now. +What a blamed fool I was!”</p> +<p>Scared out of his wits, he dashed up the +steps, three at a jump, and, before he knew it, +ran plump into the midst of the women who +were huddled at Nellie’s landing, waiting for +the shots and the death yells from below. They +scattered like sheep, too frightened to scream, +and he plunged through the open door into the +apartment.</p> +<p>“Where are you, Nellie?” he bawled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +“Hide me! Don’t let ’em get me. Nellie! +Oh, Nellie!”</p> +<p>The shout would have raised the dead. Nellie +was at the telephone. She dropped the receiver +and came toward him.</p> +<p>“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself!” she +squealed, clutching his arm. “What an awful +spectacle you’ve made of yourself—and me! +You blithering little idiot. I––”</p> +<p>“Where can I hide?” he whispered, hopping +up and down in his eagerness. “Hurry up! +Under a bed or—anywhere. Good gracious, +Nellie, they’ll get me sure!”</p> +<p>She slammed the door.</p> +<p>“I ought to let them take you and lock you +up,” she said, facing him. The abject terror +in his eyes went straight to her heart. “Oh, +you poor thing!” she cried, in swift compassion. +“You—you wouldn’t hurt a fly. +You couldn’t. Come along! Quick! I’ll do +this much for you, just this once. Never +again! You can get down the back steps +into the alley if you hurry. Then beat it +for home. And never let me see your face +again.”</p> +<p>Three minutes later he was scuttling down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +the alley as fast as his eager legs could carry +him.</p> +<p>Nellie was holding the front door against the +thunderous assault of a half dozen men, giving +him time to escape. All the while she was +thinking of the depositions she could take from +the witnesses to his deliberate attempt to kill +her. He had made it very easy for her.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII_THE_LAWYER' id='CHAPTER_VII_THE_LAWYER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>THE LAWYER</h3> +</div> +<p>He was dismally confident that he would be arrested +and thrown into jail on Friday. It was +always an unlucky day for him. The fact that +Nellie had aided and abetted in his undignified +flight down the slippery back steps did not in +the least minimise the peril that still hung like +a cloud over his wretched head. Of course, he +understood: she was sorry for him. It was the +impulse of the moment. When she had had +time to think it all over and to listen to the +advice of Fairfax and the others, she would +certainly swear out a warrant.</p> +<p>As a measure of precaution he had slyly +tossed the revolver from a car window somewhere +north of Spuyten Duyvil, and, later on +at home, stealthily disposed of the box of cartridges.</p> +<p>All evening long he sat huddled up by the fireplace, +listening with all ears for the ominous +sound of constabulary thumpings at the front +door. The fierce wind shrieked around the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +corners of the house, rattling the shutters and +banging the kitchen gate, but he heard nothing, +for his own heart made such a din in response +to the successive bursts of noise that all else +seemed still by comparison.</p> +<p>His efforts to amuse the perplexed Phoebe +were pitiful. The child took him to task for +countless lapses of memory in his recital of +oft-told and familiar fairy tales.</p> +<p>But no one came that night. And Friday, +too, dragged itself out of existence without a +sign from Nellie or the dreaded officers of the +law. You may be sure he did not poke his nose +outside the door all that day. Somehow he was +beginning to relish the thought that she would +be gone on Sunday, gone forever, perhaps. He +loved her, of course, but distance at this particular +time was not likely to affect the enchantment. +In fact, he was quite sure he would worship +her a great deal more comfortably if she +were beyond the border of the State.</p> +<p>The thought of punishment quite overshadowed +a previous dread as to how he was +going to provide for Phoebe and himself up to +the time of assuming the job in Davis’ drug +store. He had long since come to the conclusion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +that if Nellie persisted in carrying out her +plan to divorce him he could not conscientiously +accept help from her, nor could he expect to +retain custody of the child unless by his own +efforts he made suitable provision for her. His +one great hope in the face of this particular difficulty +had rested on the outcome of the visit to +her apartment, the miserable result of which we +know. Not only had he upset all of his fondest +calculations, but he had heaped unthinkable +ruin in the place he had set aside for them.</p> +<p>There was nothing consoling in the situation, +no matter how he looked at it. More than once +he regretted the emptiness of that confounded +cylinder. If there had been a single bullet +in the thing his troubles would now be over. +Pleasing retrospect! But not for all the money +in the world would he again subject himself to +a similar risk.</p> +<p>It made him shudder to even think of it. It +was hard enough for him to realise that he had +had the monumental courage to try it on that +never to be forgotten occasion. As a matter of +fact, he was rather proud of it, which wouldn’t +have been at all possible if he had succeeded in +the cowardly attempt. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p> +<p>Suppose, thought he with a qualm—suppose +there had been a bullet! It was now Saturday. +His funeral would be held on Saturday. By +Saturday night he would be in a grave—a lonesome, +desolate grave. Nellie would have seen +to that, so that she could get away on Sunday. +Ugh! It was most unpleasant!</p> +<p>The day advanced. His spirits were rising. +If nothing happened between then and midnight +he was reasonably secure from arrest.</p> +<p>But in the middle of the day the blow +fell. Not the expected blow, but one that +stunned him and left him more miserable +than anything else in the world could have +done.</p> +<p>There came a polite knock at the door. +Annie admitted a pleasant-faced, rather ceremonious +young man, who said he had business +of the utmost importance to transact with Mr.—Mr.—He +glanced at a paper which he drew +from his pocket, and supplying the name asked +if the gentleman was in.</p> +<p>Harvey was tiptoeing toward the dining-room, +with Phoebe at his heels, when the +stranger entered the library.</p> +<p>“Pardon me,” called the young man, with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +what seemed to Harvey unnecessary haste and +emphasis. “Just a moment, please!”</p> +<p>Harvey stopped, chilled to the marrow.</p> +<p>“It was all a joke,” he said, quickly. “Just +a little joke of mine. Ha! Ha!” It was a +sepulchral laugh.</p> +<p>“I am John Buckley, from the offices of +Barnes & Canby, representing Miss Duluth, +your wife, I believe? It isn’t a pleasant duty I +have to perform Mr.—Mr—er—but, of course, +you understand we are acting in the interests +of our client and if we can get together on +this––”</p> +<p>“Can’t you come some other day?” stammered +Harvey, holding Phoebe’s hand very +tightly in his. “I’m—I’m not well to-day. +We—we are waiting now for the health officer +to—to see whether it’s smallpox or just a rash +of––”</p> +<p>The pleasant young gentleman laughed.</p> +<p>“All the more necessary why we should +settle the question at once. If it is smallpox +the child would be quarantined with you—that +would be unfortunate. You don’t appear to +have a rash, however.”</p> +<p>“It hasn’t got up to my face yet,” explained +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +Harvey, feebly. “You ought to see my body. +It’s––”</p> +<p>“I’ve had it,” announced the young man, +glibly; “so I’m immune.” He winked.</p> +<p>“What do you want?” demanded Harvey, +bracing himself for the worst. “Out with it. +Let’s see your star.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m not a cop. I’m a lawyer.”</p> +<p>The other swallowed noisily.</p> +<p>“A lawyer?”</p> +<p>“We represent Miss Duluth. I’ll get down +to tacks right away, if you’ll permit me to sit +down.” He took a chair.</p> +<p>“Tacks?” queried Harvey, a retrospective +grin appearing on his lips. “Gee! I wish I’d +thought to put a couple––But, excuse me, I +can’t talk without my lawyer being present.”</p> +<p>The visitor stared. “You—do you mean to +say you have retained counsel?”</p> +<p>“The best in New York,” lied Harvey.</p> +<p>Buckley gave a sigh of relief. He knew a lie +when he heard one.</p> +<p>“I’d suggest that you send the little girl out +of the room. We can talk better if we are +alone.”</p> +<p>After Phoebe’s reluctant departure, the visitor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +bluntly asked Harvey which he preferred, +State’s prison or an amicable adjustment without +dishonour.</p> +<p>“Neither,” said Harvey, moistening his lips.</p> +<p>Thereupon Mr. Buckley calmly announced +that his client, Miss Duluth, was willing to +forego the pleasure of putting him behind the +bars on condition that he surrendered at once +the person of their child—their joint child, he +put it, so that Harvey might not be unnecessarily +confused—to be reared, educated, and +sustained by her, without let or hindrance, from +that time forward, so on and so forth; a bewildering +rigmarole that meant nothing to the +stupefied father, who only knew that they +wanted to take his child away from him.</p> +<p>“Moreover,” said Mr. Buckley, “our client +has succeeded in cancelling the lease on this +cottage and has authorised the owner to take +possession on the first of the month—next +Wednesday, that is. Monday morning, bright +and early, the packers and movers will be here +to take all of her effects away. Tuesday night, +we hope, the house will be quite empty and +ready to be boarded up. Of course, Mr.—Mr.—er—, +you will see to it that whatever +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +trifling effects you may have about the place +are removed by that time. After that, naturally, +little Miss Phoebe will be homeless unless +provision is made for her by—er—by the court. +We hope to convince you that it will be better +for her if the question is not referred to a court +of justice. Your own good sense will point the +alternative. Do I make myself quite clear to +you?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Harvey, helplessly.</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll be a little more explicit,” said +the lawyer, grimly. “A warrant will be issued +for your arrest before two o’clock to-day if you +do not grasp my meaning before that hour. It +is twelve-ten now. Do you think you can catch +the idea in an hour and fifty minutes?”</p> +<p>Harvey was thoughtful. “What is the +smallest sentence they can give me if I—if I +stand trial?”</p> +<p>“That depends,” said Mr. Buckley, slightly +taken aback, but without submitting an explanation. +“You don’t want to bring disgrace +on the child by being branded as a jailbird, do +you?”</p> +<p>“Nellie won’t have the heart to put me in +jail,” groaned the unhappy little man. “She—she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +just can’t do it. She knows I’d die for +her. She––”</p> +<p>“But she isn’t the State of New York,” explained +her counsel, briskly. “The State +hasn’t anything in the shape of a heart. Now, +I’m here to settle the matter without a contest, +if that’s possible. If you want to fight, all +right. You know just what you’ll get. Besides, +isn’t it perfectly clear to you that Miss +Duluth doesn’t want to put you in jail? That’s +her idea, pure and simple. I don’t mind confessing +that our firm insisted for a long time on +giving you up to the authorities, but she +wouldn’t have it that way. She wants her +little girl, that’s all. Isn’t that perfectly +fair?”</p> +<p>“She’s—she’s going to give up the house?” +murmured Harvey, passing his hand over his +eyes.</p> +<p>“Certainly.”</p> +<p>“It’s a mighty inconvenient time for us to—to +look for another place––”</p> +<p>“That’s just what I’ve been saying to you,” +urged Buckley. “The Weather Bureau says +we’ll have zero weather for a month or two. I +shudder to think of that poor child out in––” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></p> +<p>“Oh, Lord!” came almost in a wail from the +lips of Phoebe’s father. He covered his face +with his hands. Mr. Buckley, unseen, smiled +triumphantly.</p> +<p>At four o’clock Phoebe, with all her childish +penates, was driven to the station by Mr. Buckley, +who, it would appear, had come prepared +for the emergency. Before leaving he gave +the two servants a month’s wages and a two +weeks’ notice dating from the 18th of December +and left with Harvey sufficient money to +pay up all the outstanding bills of the last +month—with a little left over.</p> +<p>We draw a curtain on the parting that took +place in the little library just before the cab +drove away.</p> +<p>Phoebe was going to Reno.</p> +<p>Long, long after the departure her father +lifted his half-closed blue eyes from the coals in +the grate and discovered that the room was ice-cold.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>He understood the habits of astute theatrical +managers so well by this time that he did not +have to be told that the company would journey +to Chicago by one of the slow trains. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +comfort and convenience of the player is seldom +considered by the manager, who, as a rule, +when there is time to spare, transports his production +by the least expensive way. Harvey +knew that Nellie and the “Up in the Air” company +would pass through Tarrytown on the +pokiest day train leaving New York over the +Central. There was, of course, the possibility +that the affluent Nellie might take the eighteen-hour +train, but it was somewhat remote.</p> +<p>Sunday morning found him at the Tarrytown +station, awaiting the arrival or the passing of +the train bearing the loved ones who were casting +him off. He was there early, bundled in +his ulster, an old Blakeville cap pulled down +over his ears, a limp cigarette between his lips. +A few of the station employés knew him and +passed the time of day.</p> +<p>“Going in rather early, ain’t you, Mr.—Mr.—” +remarked the station master, clapping +his hands to generate warmth.</p> +<p>“No,” said Harvey, leaving the inquirer in +the dark as to whether he referred to a condition +or a purpose.</p> +<p>A couple of hours and a dozen trains went by. +Harvey, having exhausted his supply of cigarettes, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +effected the loan of one from the ticket +agent.</p> +<p>“Waiting for some one, sir?” asked that +worthy. “Or are you just down to see the +cars go by?”</p> +<p>“What time does the Chicago train go +through?” asked Harvey.</p> +<p>“Any particular one?”</p> +<p>“No; I’m not particular.”</p> +<p>“There’s one at eleven-forty.”</p> +<p>“I’m much obliged.”</p> +<p>He was panic-stricken when the train at last +appeared and gave unmistakable signs of stopping +at Tarrytown. Moved by an inexplicable +impulse, he darted behind a pile of trunks. His +dearest hope had been that Phoebe might be +on the lookout for him as the cars whizzed +through, and that she would waft a final kiss to +him. But it was going to stop! He hadn’t +counted on that. It was most embarrassing.</p> +<p>From his hiding place he watched the long +line of sleepers roll by, slower and slower, until +with a wheeze they came to a full stop. His +eager eyes took in every window that passed. +There was no sign of Phoebe. Somewhat emboldened, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +he ventured forth from shelter and +strolled along the platform for a more deliberate +scrutiny of the windows.</p> +<p>The feeling of disappointment was intense. +He had never known loneliness so great as this +which came to him now. The droop to his +shoulders became a little more pronounced as he +turned dejectedly to re-enter the waiting-room. +The train began to move out as he neared the +corner of the building. The last coach crept +by. He watched it dully.</p> +<p>A shrill cry caught his ear. His eyes, suddenly +alert, focussed themselves on the observation +platform of the private car as it picked up +speed and began the diminishing process. +Braced against the garish brass bars that enclosed +the little platform was Phoebe, in her +white fur coat and hood, her mittened fingers +clutching the rail, above which her rosy face +appeared as the result of eager tiptoeing. The +excellent Rachel stood behind the child, cold +and unsmiling.</p> +<p>“Hello, daddy!” screamed Phoebe, managing +to toss him a kiss, just as he had hoped and +expected.</p> +<p>The response cracked in his throat. It was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +a miserable croak that he sent back, but he blew +her a dozen kisses.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, daddy!” came the shrill adieu, +barely audible above the clatter of the receding +train.</p> +<p>He stood quite still until the last coach vanished +up the track. The tears on his cheeks +were frozen.</p> +<p>Some one was speaking to him.</p> +<p>“Ain’t you going West with ’em, Mr.—, Mr.—?” queried the baggage master.</p> +<p>Harvey gazed at him dumbly for a moment +or two. Then he lifted his chin.</p> +<p>“I—I’ve got to wait over a few days to see +to the packing and storing of my household effects,” +he said, briskly. Then he trudged up +the hill.</p> +<p>Sure enough, the packers appeared “bright +and early” Monday morning, just as Buckley +had said they would. By nine o’clock the house +was upside down and by noon it was full of excelsior, +tar paper, and crating materials. The +rasp of the saw and the bang of the hammer +resounded throughout the little cottage. Burly +men dragged helpless and unresisting articles +of furniture about as if they had a personal +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +grudge against each separate piece, and +pounded them, and drove nails into them, and +mutilated them, and scratched them, and splintered +them, and after they were completely conquered +marked their pine board coffins with the +name “Nellie Duluth,” after which they were +ready for the fireproof graveyard in Harlem.</p> +<p>Dazed and unsteady, Harvey watched the +proceedings with the air of one who superintends. +He gave a few instructions, offered one +or two suggestions—principally as to the state +of the weather—and was on the jump all day +long to keep out of the way of the energetic +workmen. He had seen Marceline at the Hippodrome +on one memorable occasion. Somehow +he reminded himself of the futile but +nimble clown, who was always in the way and +whose good intentions invariably were attended +by disaster.</p> +<p>The foreman of the gang, doubtless with a +shrewd purpose in mind, opened half the windows +in the house, thus forcing his men to work +fast and furiously or freeze. Harvey almost +perished in the icy draughts. He shut the +front door fifty times or more, and was beginning +to sniffle and sneeze when Bridget took +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +pity on him and invited him into the kitchen. +He hugged the cook stove for several hours, +mutely watching the two servants through the +open door of their joint bedroom off the kitchen +while they stuffed their meagre belongings into +a couple of trunks.</p> +<p>At last it occurred to him that it would be +well to go upstairs and pack his own trunk before +the workmen got to asking questions. He +carried his set of Dickens upstairs, not without +interrogation, and stored the volumes away at +the bottom of his trunk. So few were his individual +belongings that he was hard put to fill +the trays compactly enough to prevent the shifting +of the contents. When the job was done +he locked the trunk, tied a rope around it and +then sat down upon it to think. Had he left +anything out? He remembered something. He +untied the knots, unlocked the trunk, shifted +half of the contents and put in his fishing tackle +and an onyx clock Nellie had given him for +Christmas two years before.</p> +<p>Later on he repeated the operation and made +room for a hand saw, an auger, a plane, and a +hatchet; also a smoking-jacket she had given +him, and a lot of paper dolls Phoebe had left +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +behind. (Late that night, after the lights were +out, he remembered the framed motto, “God +Bless Our Home,” which his dear old mother +had worked for him in yarns of variegated hues +while they were honeymooning in Blakeville. +The home was very cold and still, and the floor +was strewn with nails, but he got out of bed +and put the treasure in the top tray of the +trunk.)</p> +<p>Along about four in the afternoon he experienced +a sensation of uneasiness—even alarm. +It began to look as if the workmen would have +the entire job completed by nightfall. In considerable +trepidation he accosted the foreman.</p> +<p>“If it’s just the same to you I’d rather you +wouldn’t pack the beds until to-morrow—that +is, of course, if you are coming back to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Maybe we’ll get around to ’em and maybe +we won’t,” said the foreman, carelessly. +“We’ve got to pack the kitchen things to-morrow +and the china.”</p> +<p>“You see, it’s this way,” said Harvey. +“I’ve got to sleep somewhere!”</p> +<p>“I see,” said the foreman, and went on with +his work, leaving Harvey in doubt. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span></p> +<p>“Have a cigar?” he asked, after a doleful +pause. The man took it and looked at it +keenly.</p> +<p>“I’ll smoke it after a while,” he said.</p> +<p>“Do the best you can about the bed in the +back room upstairs,” said Harvey, engagingly.</p> +<p>An express wagon came at five o’clock and +removed the servants’ trunks. A few minutes +later the two domestics, be-hatted and cloaked, +came up to say good-bye to him.</p> +<p>“You’re not leaving to-day?” he cried, +aghast.</p> +<p>“If it’s just the same to you, sor,” said +Bridget. “We’ve both got places beginnin’ +to-morry.”</p> +<p>“But who’ll cook my––”</p> +<p>“Niver you worry about that, sor; I’ve left +a dozen av eggs, some bacon, rolls, and––”</p> +<p>“All right. Good-bye,” broke in the master, +turning away.</p> +<p>“Good luck, sor,” said Bridget, amiably. +Then they went away.</p> +<p>His dismal reflections were broken by the +foreman, who found him in the kitchen.</p> +<p>“We’ll be back early in the morning and +clean up everything. The van will be here at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +ten. Is everything here to go to the warehouse? +I notice some things that look as though they +might belong to you personally.”</p> +<p>There were a few pieces of furniture and +bric-à-brac that Harvey could claim as his own. +He stared gloomily at the floor for a long +time, thinking. Of what use were they to him +now? And where was he to put them in case +he claimed them?</p> +<p>“I guess you’d better store everything,” he +said, dejectedly. “They—they all go together.”</p> +<p>“The—your trunk, sir; how about that?”</p> +<p>“If you think you’ve got room for it, I––”</p> +<p>“Sure we have.”</p> +<p>“Take it, too. I’m going to pack what +clothes I need in a suitcase. So much easier to +carry than a trunk.” He was unconsciously +funny, and did not understand the well-meant +guffaw of the foreman.</p> +<p>It was a dreary, desolate night that he spent +in the topsy-turvy cottage. He was quite alone +except for the queer shapes and shadows that +haunted him. When he was downstairs he +could hear strange whisperings above; when he +was upstairs the mutterings were below. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +Things stirred and creaked that had never +shown signs of animation before. The coals +in the fireplace spat with a malignant fury, as +if blown upon by evil spirits lurking in the +chimney until he went to bed so that they +might come forth to revel in the gloom. The +howl of the wind had a different note, a wail +that seemed to come from a child in pain; forbidding +sounds came up from the empty cellar; +always there was something that stood directly +behind him, ready to lay on a ghostly hand. He +crouched in the chair, feeling never so small, +never so impotent as now. The chair was partially +wrapped for crating. Every time he +moved there was a crackle of paper that +sounded like the rattle of thunder before the +final ear-splitting crash. As still as a mouse +he sat and listened for new sounds, more sinister +than those that had gone before; and, like +the mouse, he jumped with each recurring +sound.</p> +<p>Towering crates seemed on the verge of +toppling over upon him, boxes and barrels appeared +to draw closer together to present a +barrier against any means of escape; cords +and ropes wriggled with life as he stared at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +them, serpentine things that kept on creeping +toward him, never away.</p> +<p>Oh, for the sound of Phoebe’s voice!</p> +<p>“Quoth the raven, nevermore!” That +sombre sentence haunted him. He tried to +close his ears against it, but to no purpose. It +crept up from some inward lurking place in his +being, crooning a hundred cadences in spite of +all that he could do to change the order of his +thoughts.</p> +<p>Far in the night he dashed fearfully up to +his dismantled bedroom, a flickering candle in +his hand. He had gone about the place to see +that all of the doors and windows were fastened. +Removing his shoes and his coat, he +hurriedly crawled in between the blankets and +blew out the light. Sleep would not come. He +was sobbing. He got up twice and lighted the +candle, once to put away the motto, again to +take out of the trunk the cabinet size photograph +of himself and Nellie and the baby, taken when +the latter was three years old. Hugging this to +his breast, he started back to bed.</p> +<p>A sudden thought staggered him. For a +long time he stood in the middle of the room, +shivering as he debated the great question this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +thought presented. At last, with a shudder, +he urged his reluctant feet to carry him across +the room to the single gas jet. Closing his eyes +he turned on the gas full force and then leaped +into the bed, holding the portrait to his heart. +Then he waited for the end of everything.</p> +<p>When he opened his eyes broad daylight was +streaming in upon him. Some one was pounding +on the door downstairs. He leaped out of +bed and began to pull on his shoes.</p> +<p>Suddenly it occurred to him that by all rights +he should be lying there stiff and cold, suffocated +by the escaping gas. He sniffed the +air. There was no odour of gas. With a gasp +of alarm he rushed over and turned off the stopcock, +a cold perspiration coming out all over +him.</p> +<p>“Gee, I hope I’m in time!” he groaned +aloud. “I don’t want to die. I—I—it’s different +in the daytime. The darkness did it. +I hope I’m––” Then, considerably puzzled, +he interrupted himself to turn the thing on +again. He stood on his toes to smell the tip. +“By jingo, I remember now, that fellow turned +it off in the meter yesterday. Oh, Lord; what +a close call I’ve had!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></p> +<p>He was so full of glee when he opened the +door to admit the packers that they neglected, +in their astonishment, to growl at him for +keeping them standing in the cold for fifteen +or twenty minutes.</p> +<p>“Thought maybe you’d gone and done it,” +said the foreman. “Took poison or turned on +the gas, or something. You was mighty blue +yesterday, Mr.—Mr. Duluth.”</p> +<p>With the arrival of the van he set off to pay +the bills due the tradespeople in town, returning +before noon with all the receipts, and something +like $20 left over. The world did not +look so dark and dreary to him now. In his +mind’s eye he saw himself rehabilitated in the +sight of the scoffers, prospering ere long to +such an extent that not only would he be able +to reclaim Phoebe, but even Nellie might be +persuaded to throw herself on his neck and beg +for reinstatement in his good graces. With +men like Harvey the ill wind never blows long +or steadily; it blows the hardest under cover of +night. The sunshine takes the keen, bitter +edge off it, and it becomes a balmy zephyr.</p> +<p>Already he was planning the readjustment +of his fortunes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p> +<p>At length the van was loaded. His suitcase +sat on the front porch, puny and pathetic. The +owner of the house was there, superintending +the boarding up of the windows and doors. +Harvey stood in the middle of the walk, looking +on with a strange yearning in his heart. All +of his worldly possessions reposed in that +humble bag, save the cotton umbrella that he +carried in his hand. A cotton umbrella, with +the mercury down to zero!</p> +<p>“Well, I’m sorry you’re leaving,” said the +owner, pocketing the keys as he came up to the +little man. “Can I give you a lift in my cutter +down to the station?”</p> +<p>“If it isn’t too much bother,” said Harvey, +blinking his eyes very rapidly.</p> +<p>“You’re going to the city, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“The city?”</p> +<p>“New York.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Harvey, wide-eyed and thoughtful, +“I—I thought you meant Blakeville. I’m +going out there for a visit with my Uncle Peter. +He’s the leading photographer in Blakeville. +My mother’s brother. No, I’m not going to +New York. Not on your life!”</p> +<p>All the way to the station he was figuring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +on how far the twenty dollars would go toward +paying his fare to Blakeville. How far could +he ride on the cars, and how far would he have +to walk? And what would his crabbed old +uncle say to an extended visit in case he got +to Blakeville without accident?</p> +<p>He bought some cigarettes at the newsstand +and sat down to wait for the first train to turn +up, westward bound.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII_BLAKEVILLE' id='CHAPTER_VIII_BLAKEVILLE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>BLAKEVILLE</h3> +</div> +<p>If by any chance you should happen to stop +off in the sleepy town of Blakeville, somewhere +west of Chicago, you would be directed at once +to the St. Nicholas Hotel, not only the leading +hostelry of the city, but—to quote the advertisement +in the local newspaper—the principal +hotel in that Congressional district. After +you had been conducted to the room with a +bath—for I am sure you would insist on having +it if it were not already occupied, which +wouldn’t be likely—you would cross over to +the window and look out upon Main Street. +Directly across the way you would observe a +show window in which huge bottles filled with +red, yellow, and blue fluids predominated. The +sign above the door would tell you that it was +a drug store, if you needed anything more illuminating +than the three big bottles.</p> +<p>“Davis’ drug store,” you would say to your +wife, if she happened to be with you, and if +you have been at all interested in the history +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +of Mr.—Mr.—Now, what is his name?—you +would doubtless add, “It seems to me I have +heard of the place before.” And then you +would stare hard to see if you could catch a +glimpse of the soda-water dispenser, whose +base of operations was just inside the door to +the left, a marble structure that glistened with +white and silver, and created within you at +once a longing for sarsaparilla or vanilla and +the delicious after effect of stinging gases coming +up through the nostrils, not infrequently +accompanied by tears of exquisite pain—a +pungent pain, if you please.</p> +<p>At the rush periods of the day you could not +possibly have seen him for the crowd of thirsty +people who obstructed the view. Everybody +in town flocked to Davis’ for their chocolate +sundaes and cherry phosphates. Was not +Harvey behind the counter once more? With +all the new-fangled concoctions from gay New +York, besides a few novelties from Paris, and +a wonderful assortment of what might well +have been called prestidigitatorial achievements!</p> +<p>He had a new way of juggling an egg phosphate +that was worth going miles to see, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +as for the manner in which he sprinkled nutmeg +over the surface—well! no Delsartian +movement ever was so full of grace.</p> +<p>Yes, he was back at the old place in Davis’. +For a year and a half he had been there. So +prosperous was his first summer behind the +“soda counter” that the owner of the place +agreed with him that the fountain could be +kept running all winter, producing hot chocolate, +beef tea, and all that sort of thing. Just +to keep the customers from getting out of the +habit, argued Harvey in support of his plan—and +his job.</p> +<p>You may be interested to learn how he came +back to Blakeville. He was a fortnight getting +there from Tarrytown. His railroad ticket +carried him to Cleveland. From that city he +walked to Chicago, his purpose being to save a +few dollars so that he might ride into Blakeville. +His feet were so sore and swollen when +he finally hobbled into his Uncle Peter’s art +studio, on Main Street, that he couldn’t get his +shoes on for forty-eight hours after once taking +them off. He confessed to a bit of high living +in his time, lugubriously admitting to his uncle +that he feared he had a touch of the gout. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +was subject to it, confound it. Beastly thing, +gout. But you can’t live on lobster and terrapin +and champagne without paying the price.</p> +<p>His uncle, a crusty and unimpressionable +bachelor, was not long in getting the truth out +of him. To Harvey’s unbounded surprise the +old photographer sympathised with him. Instead +of kicking him out he took him to his +bosom, so to speak, and commiserated with +him.</p> +<p>“I feel just as sorry for a married man, +Harvey,” said he, “as I do for a half-starved +dog. I’m always going out of my way to feed +some of these cast-off dogs around town, so why +shouldn’t I do the same for a poor devil of a +husband? I’ll make you comfortable until you +get into Davis’, but don’t you ever let on to +these damned women that you’re a failure, or +that you’re strapped, or that that measly little +wife of yours gave you the sack. No, sir! Remember +who you are. You are my nephew. I +won’t say as I’m proud of you, but, by thunder! +I don’t want anybody in Blakeville to know +that I’m ashamed of you. If I feel that way +about you, it’s my own secret and it’s nobody’s +business. So you just put on a bold front and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +nobody need know. You can be quite sure I +won’t tell on you, to have people saying that +my poor dead sister’s boy wasn’t good enough +for Ell Barkley or any other woman that ever +lived.</p> +<p>“But it’s a lesson to you. Don’t—for God’s +sake, don’t—ever let another one of ’em get her +claws on you! Here’s ten dollars. Go out and +buy some ten-cent cigars at Rumley’s, and +smoke ’em where everybody can see you. Ten-centers, +mind you; not two-fers, the kind I +smoke. And get a new pair of shoes at +Higgs’. And invite me to eat a—an expensive +meal at the St. Nicholas. It can’t cost more’n +a dollar, no matter how much we order, but you +can ask for lobster and terrapin, and raise +thunder because they haven’t got ’em, whatever +they are. Then in a couple of days you +can say you’re going to help me out during the +busy season, soliciting orders for crayon portraits. +I’ll board and lodge you here and give +you four dollars a week to splurge on. The +only thing I ask in return is that you’ll tell people +I’m a smart man for never having married. +That’s all!”</p> +<p>You may be quite sure that Harvey took to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +the place as a duck takes to water. Inside of a +week after his arrival—or, properly speaking, +his appearance in Blakeville, for you couldn’t +connect the two on account of the gout—he was +the most talked-of, most envied man in the +place. In the cigar stores, poolrooms, and at +the St. Nicholas he was wont to regale +masculine Blakeville with tales of high life in +the Tenderloin that caused them to fairly +shiver from attacks of the imagination, and +subsequently to go home and tell their women +folk what a gay Lothario he was, with the result +that the interest in the erstwhile drug +clerk spread to the other sex with such remarkable +unanimity that no bit of gossip was complete +without him. Every one affected his society, +because every one wanted to hear what +he had to say of the gay world on Manhattan +Island; the life behind the scenes of the great +theatres, the life in the million dollar cafés and +hotels, the life in the homes of fashionable New +Yorkers,—with whom he was on perfectly amiable +terms,—the life in Wall Street. Some of +them wanted to know all about Old Trinity, +others were interested in the literary atmosphere +of Gotham, while others preferred to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +hear about the fashions. But the great majority +hungered for the details of convivial +escapades—and he saw to it that they were +amply satisfied. Especially were they interested +in stories concerning the genus “broiler.” +Oh, he was really a devil of a fellow.</p> +<p>When the time came for him to begin his +work as a solicitor for crayon portraits his +reputation was such that not only was he able to +gain admittance to every home visited, but he +was allowed to remain and chat as long as he +pleased, sometimes obtaining an order, but always +being invited to call again after the lady +of the house had had time to talk it over with +her husband.</p> +<p>Sometimes he would lie awake in his bed trying +in vain to remember the tales he had told +and wondering if the people really believed him. +Then he was prone to contrast his fiction with +the truth as he knew it, and to blame himself +for not having lived the brightly painted life +when he had the opportunity. He almost +wept when he thought of what he had missed. +His imagination carried him so far that he +cursed his mistaken rectitude and longed for +one lone and indelible reminiscence which he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +could cherish as a real tribute to that beautiful +thing called vice!</p> +<p>In answer to all questions he announced +that poor Nellie had been advised to go West +for her health. Of the real situation he said +nothing.</p> +<p>No day passed that did not bring with it the +longing for a letter from Nellie or a word from +Phoebe. Down in his heart he was grieving. +He wanted them, both of them. The hope that +Nellie would appeal to him for forgiveness grew +smaller as the days went by, and yet he did not +let it die. His loyal imagination kept it alive, +fed it with daily prayers and endless vistas of +a reconstructed happiness for all of them.</p> +<p>Toward the end of his first summer at Davis’ +he was served with the notice that Nellie had +instituted proceedings against him in Reno. It +was in the days of Reno’s early popularity as a +rest cure for those suffering from marital maladies; +impediments and complications were not +so annoying as they appear to be in these latter +times of ours. There was also a legal notice +printed in the Blakeville <i>Patriot</i>.</p> +<p>The shock laid him up for a couple of days. +If his uncle meant to encourage him by maintaining +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +an almost incessant flow of invectives, +he made a dismal failure of it. He couldn’t +convince the heartsick Harvey that Nellie was +“bad rubbish” and that he was lucky to be rid +of her. No amount of cajolery could make him +believe that he was a good deal happier than he +had ever been before in all his life; he wasn’t +happy and he couldn’t be fooled into believing +he was. He was miserable—desperately miserable. +Looking back on his futile attempts to +take his own life, he realised now that he had +missed two golden chances to be supremely +happy. How happy he could be if he were only +dead! He was rather glad, of course, that he +failed with the pistol, because it would have been +such a gory way out of it, but it was very stupid +of him not to have gone out pleasantly—even +immaculately—by the other route.</p> +<p>But it was too late to think of doing it now. +He was under contract with Mrs. Davis, Mr. +Davis having passed on late in the spring, and +he could not desert the widow in the midst of the +busy season. His last commission as a crayon +solicitor had come through Mrs. Davis, two +months after the demise of Blakeville’s leading +apothecary. She ordered a life-size portrait +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +of her husband, to be hung in the store, +and they wept together over the prescription—that +is to say, over the colour of the cravat and +the shade of the sparse thatch that covered the +head of the departed. Mrs. Davis never was to +forget his sympathetic attitude. She never +quite got over explaining the oversight that had +deprived him of the distinction of being one of +the pall-bearers, but she made up for it in a +measure by insisting on opening the soda fountain +at least a month earlier than was customary +the next spring, and in other ways, as you will +see later on.</p> +<p>Just as he was beginning to rise, phœnixlike, +from the ashes of his despond, the <i>Patriot</i> reprinted +the full details of Nellie’s complaint as +they appeared in a New York daily. For a +brief spell he shrivelled up with shame and horror; +he could not look any one in the face. Nellie’s +lawyers had made the astounding, outrageous +charge of infidelity against him!</p> +<p>Infidelity!</p> +<p>He was stunned.</p> +<p>But just as he was on the point of resigning +his position in the store, after six months of +glorious triumph, the business began to pick +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +up so tremendously that he wondered what had +got into people.</p> +<p>His uncle chucked him in the ribs and called +him a gay dog! Men came in and ordered sundaes +who had never tasted one before, and they +all looked at him in a strangely respectful way. +Women smirked and giggled and called him a +naughty fellow, and said they really ought not +to let him wait on them.</p> +<p>All of a sudden it dawned on him that he was +“somebody.” He was a rake!</p> +<p>The New York paper devoted two full columns +to his perfidious behaviour in the Tenderloin. +For the first time in his life he stood in +the limelight. Nellie charged him with other +trifling things, such as failure to provide, desertion, +cruelty; but none of these was sufficiently +blighting to take the edge off the delicious clause +which lifted him into the seventh heaven of a +new found self-esteem! His first impulse had +been to cry out against the diabolical falsehood, +to deny the allegation, to fight the case to the +bitter end. But on second thought he concluded +to maintain a dignified silence, especially as he +came to realise that he now possessed a definite +entity not only in Blakeville, but in the world +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +at large. He was a recognised human being! +People who had never heard of him before were +now saying, “What a jolly scamp he is! What +a scalawag!” Oh, it was good to come into his +own, even though he reached it by a crooked +and heretofore undesirable thoroughfare. Path +was not the word—it was a thoroughfare, lined +by countless staring, admiring fellow creatures, +all of whom pointed him out and called him by +his own name.</p> +<p>Mothers cautioned their daughters, commanding +them to have nothing to do with him, and +then went with them to Davis’ to see that the +commands were obeyed. Fathers held him up +to their sons as a dreadful warning, and then +made it a point to drop in and tell him what they +thought of him with a sly wink that pleased and +never offended him.</p> +<p>He mildly protested against the sensational +charge when questioned about it, saying that +Nellie was mistaken, that her jealousy led her +to believe a lot of things that were not true, +and that he felt dreadfully cut up about the +whole business, as it was likely to create a +wrong impression in New York. Of course, he +went on, no one in Blakeville believed the foolish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +thing! But in New York—well, they were +likely to believe anything of a fellow there!</p> +<p>He moved in the very centre of a great white +light. Reporters came in every day and asked +him if there was anything new, hoping, of +course, for fresh developments in the great +divorce case. Lawyers dropped in to hint that +they would like to take care of his interests. +But there never was anything new, and his +New York lawyers were perfectly capable of +handling his affairs, particularly as he had decided +to enter no general denial to the charges. +He would let her get her divorce if she wanted it +so badly as all that!</p> +<p>“I’d fight it,” said the editor of the <i>Patriot</i>, +counselling him one afternoon.</p> +<p>“You wouldn’t if you had a child to consider,” +said Harvey, resignedly, quite overlooking +the fact that there were nine growing children +in the editor’s household.</p> +<p>“She’s too young to know anything about +it,” argued the other, earnestly.</p> +<p>Harvey shook his head. “You don’t know +what it is to be a father, Mr. Brinkley. It’s a +terrible responsibility.”</p> +<p>Mr. Brinkley snorted. “I should say it is!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span></p> +<p>“You’d think of your children if your wife +sued you for divorce and charged you with––”</p> +<p>“I’d want my children to know I was innocent,” +broke in the editor, warmly.</p> +<p>“They wouldn’t believe it if the lawyers got +to cross-examining you,” said Harvey, meaning +well, but making a secret enemy of Mr. Brinkley, +who thought he knew more of a regrettable +visit to Chicago than he pretended.</p> +<p>Late in the fall several important epoch-making +things happened to Harvey. Nellie was +granted a divorce and the custody of the child. +His uncle fell ill and died of pneumonia, and he +found himself the sole heir to a thriving business +and nearly three thousand dollars in bank. +Mrs. Davis blandly proposed matrimony to him, +now that he was free and she nearing the halfway +stage of mourning.</p> +<p>He was somewhat dazed by these swift turns +of the wheel of fate.</p> +<p>His first thought on coming into the fortune +was of Phoebe, and the opportunities it laid +open to him where she was concerned. His +uncle had been dilatory in the matter of dying, +but his nephew did not have it in his kindly +heart to hold it up against the old gentleman. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +Still, if he had passed on a fortnight earlier, the +decree might have been anticipated by a few +days and Phoebe at least saved for him. Seeing +that the poor old gentleman had to die anyway, +it seemed rather inconsiderate of fate to put it +off so long as it did. As it was, he would have +to make the best of it and institute some sort of +proceedings to get possession of the child for +half of the year at the shortest.</p> +<p>He went so far as to slyly consult an impecunious +lawyer about the matter, with the result +that a long letter was sent to Nellie setting +out the facts and proposing an amicable arrangement +in lieu of more sinister proceedings. +Harvey added a postscript to the lawyer’s +diplomatic rigmarole, conveying a plain hint to +Nellie that, inasmuch as he was now quite well-to-do, +she might fare worse than to come back +to him and begin all over again.</p> +<p>The letter was hardly on its way to Reno, +with instructions to forward, when he began to +experience a deep and growing sense of shame; +it was a pusillanimous trick he was playing on +his poor old woman-hating uncle. Contemplating +a resumption of the conjugal state almost +before the old gentleman was cold in his grave! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +It was contemptible. In no little dread he wondered +if his uncle would come back to haunt +him. There was, at any rate, no getting away +from the gruesome conviction, ludicrous as it +may seem, that he would be responsible for the +brisk turning over of Uncle Peter, if nothing +more.</p> +<p>On top of this spell of uneasiness came the +surprising proposition of Mrs. Davis. Between +the suspense of not hearing from Nellie and +the dread of offending the dead he was already +in a sharp state of nerves. But when Mrs. +Davis gently confided to him that she needed +a live man to conduct her affairs without being +actuated by a desire to earn a weekly salary he +was completely stupefied.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mrs. Davis,” +he said, beginning to perspire very freely.</p> +<p>They were seated in the parlour of her house +in Brown Street. She had sent for him.</p> +<p>“Of course, Harvey, it is most unseemly of +me to suggest it at the present time, seeing as I +have only been in mourning for three months, +but I thought perhaps you’d feel more settled +like if you knew just what to expect of me.”</p> +<p>“Just what to expect?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></p> +<p>“Yes; so’s you could rest easy in your mind. +It would have to be quite a ways off yet, naturally, +so’s people wouldn’t say mean things +about us. They might, you know, considering +the way you carried on with women in New +York. Not for the world would I have ’em say +or even think that anything had been going on +between you and me prior to the time of Mr. +Davis’ death, but—but you know how people +will talk if they get a chance. For that reason I +think we’d better wait until the full period of +mourning is over. That’s only about a year +longer, and it would stop––”</p> +<p>“Are—are you asking me to—to marry you, +Mrs. Davis?” gasped Harvey, clutching the +arms of the chair.</p> +<p>“Well, Harvey,” said she, kindly, “I am +making it easy for you to do it yourself.”</p> +<p>“Holy––” began he, but strangled back the +word “Mike,” remembering that Mrs. Davis, a +devout church member, abhorred anything that +bordered on the profane.</p> +<p>“Holy what?” asked she, rather coyly for a +lady who was not likely to see sixty again unless +reincarnated.</p> +<p>“Matrimony,” he completed, as if inspired. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span></p> +<p>“I know I am a few years older than you, +Harvey, but you are so very much older than I +in point of experience that I must seem a mere +girl to you. We could––”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Davis, I—I can’t do it,” he blurted +out, mopping his brow. “I suppose it means +I’ll lose my job in the store, but, honestly, I +can’t do it. I’m much obliged. It’s awfully +nice of you to––”</p> +<p>“Don’t be too hasty,” said she, composedly. +“As I said in the beginning, I want some one to +conduct the store in Mr. Davis’ place. But I +want that person to be part owner of it. No +hired man, you understand? Now, how would +a new sign over the door look, with your name +right after Davis? Davis &—er—er––Oh, +dear me!”</p> +<p>“I’ll—I’ll buy half of the store,” floundered +he. “I want to buy a half interest.”</p> +<p>“I won’t sell,” said she, flatly. “I’m determined +that the store shall never go out of the +family while I am alive. There’s only one way +for you to get around that, and that’s by becoming +a part of the family.”</p> +<p>“Why—why, Mrs. Davis, I’m only thirty +years old. You surely don’t mean to say +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +you’d—you’d marry a kid like me? Let’s see. My +mother, if she was alive, wouldn’t be as old +as––”</p> +<p>“Never mind!” interrupted she, with considerable +asperity. “We won’t discuss your +mother, if you please. Now, Harvey, don’t be +cruel. I am very fond of you. I will overlook +all those scandalous things you did in New +York. I can and will close my eyes to the +wicked life you led there. I won’t even ask +their names—and that’s more than most women +would promise! I won’t––”</p> +<p>“I can’t do it,” he repeated two or three +times in rapid succession.</p> +<p>“Think it over, Harvey dear,” said she, impressively.</p> +<p>“I’ll buy a half interest if you’ll let me, but +I’ll be doggoned if I’ll marry a stepmother for +Phoebe, not for the whole shebang!”</p> +<p>“Stepmother!” she repeated, shrilly. “I +don’t intend to be a stepmother!”</p> +<p>“Maybe I meant grandmother,” he stammered +in confusion. “I’m so rattled.”</p> +<p>“Nellie has got Phoebe. She’s not yours +any longer. How can I be her stepmother? Answer +that.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span></p> +<p>“You can’t,” said he, much too promptly.</p> +<p>“Well, promise me one thing, Harvey dear,” +she pleaded; “promise me you’ll take a month +or two to think it over. We couldn’t be married +for a year, in any event, so what’s the sense +of being in such a hurry to settle the matter +definitely?”</p> +<p>Harvey reflected. He found himself in a +very peculiar predicament. He had gone +to her house with the avowed intention of +offering her three thousand dollars and the +studio in exchange for a half interest +in the drug store. Now his long cherished +dream seemed to be turning into a nightmare.</p> +<p>“I will think it over,” he said, at last, in +secret desperation. “But can’t you give me a +year’s option?”</p> +<p>“On me?”</p> +<p>“On the store.”</p> +<p>“Well, am I not the store?”</p> +<p>“No ma’am,” said he, hastily. “I can’t +look at you in that light. I can’t think of you +as a drug store.”</p> +<p>“I am sure I would make you a good and +loving wife, Harvey. If Davis were alive he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +could tell you how devoted I was to him in all +the––”</p> +<p>“But that’s just the trouble, he isn’t alive!” +cried poor Harvey, at his wits’ end. “Give me +eight months.”</p> +<p>“In the meantime you will up and marry +some one else. Half the girls in town are crazy—no, +I won’t say that,” she made haste to interrupt +herself, suddenly realising the tactlessness +of the remark. “Come up to dinner next +Sunday and we will talk it over again. It is the +best drug store in Blakeville, Harvey; remember +that.”</p> +<p>“I will remember it,” he said, blankly, and +took his departure.</p> +<p>As he passed Simpson’s book store he dashed +in and bought a New York dramatic paper. +Hurriedly looking through the route list of companies, +he found that the “Up in the Air” +company was playing that week in Philadelphia. +Without consulting his attorney he telegraphed +to Nellie:—“Am in trouble. Uncle Peter is +dead. Left me everything. Will you come +back? Harvey.”</p> +<p>The next day he had a wire from Nellie, +charges collect:—“If he left you everything, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +why don’t you pay for telegrams when you send +them? Nellie.”</p> +<p>He replied:—“I was not sure you were with +the company, that’s why. Shall I come to Philadelphia? +Harvey.”</p> +<p>Her answer:—“Not unless you are looking +for more trouble. Nellie.”</p> +<p>His next:—“There’s a woman here who +wants me to marry her. Won’t you help me? +Harvey.”</p> +<p>Her last:—“There’s a man here who is going +to marry me. Why don’t you marry her? +Naughty! Naughty! Nellie.”</p> +<p>He gave up in despair at this. On Sunday he +allowed Mrs. Davis to bullyrag him into a tentative +engagement. Then he began to droop. He +had done a bit of investigating on his own account +before going up to dine with her. She +had been married to Davis forty-two years and +then he died. If their only daughter had lived +she would be forty-one years of age, and, if +married, would doubtless be the mother of a +daughter who might also in turn be the mother +of a child. Figuring back, he made out that under +these circumstances Mrs. Davis might very +easily have been a great-grandmother. With +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +this appalling thought in mind, he was quite firm +in his determination to reject the old lady’s proposal. +Mrs. Davis taking Nellie’s place! +Pretty, gay, vivacious Nellie! It was too absurd +for words.</p> +<p>But he went home an engaged man, just the +same.</p> +<p>They were to be married in September of the +following year, many months off.</p> +<p>That afternoon he saw a few gray hairs just +above his ears and pulled them out. After that +he looked for them every day. It was amazing +how rapidly they increased despite his efforts +to exterminate them. He began to grow careless +in the matter of dress. His much talked of +checked suits and lavender waistcoats took on +spots and creases; his gaudy neckties became +soiled and frayed; his fancy Newmarket overcoat, +the like of which was only to be seen in +Blakeville when some travelling theatrical +troupe came to town, looked seedy, unbrushed, +and sadly wrinkled. He forgot to shave for +days at a time.</p> +<p>His only excuse to himself was, What’s the +use?</p> +<p>During the holidays, in the midst of a cheerful +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +season of buying presents for Phoebe—and +a bracelet for Nellie—he saw in the <i>Patriot</i>, under +big headlines, the thing that served as the +last straw for his already sagging back. The +announcement was being made in all the metropolitan +newspapers that “Nellie Duluth, the +most popular and the most beautiful of all the +comic opera stars,” was to quit the stage forever +on the first of the year to become the wife +of “the great financier, L. Z. Fairfax, long a +devoted admirer.”</p> +<p>The happy couple were to spend the honeymoon +on the groom’s yacht, sailing in February +for an extended cruise of the Mediterranean +and other “sunny waters of the globe,” primarily +for pleasure but actually in the hope of +restoring Miss Duluth to her normal state of +health. A breakdown, brought on no doubt by +the publicity attending her divorce a few months +earlier, made it absolutely imperative, said the +newspapers, for her to give up the arduous work +of her chosen profession.</p> +<p>Harvey did not send the bracelet to her.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The long winter passed. Spring came and in +its turn gave way to summer. September drew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +on apace. He went about with an ever increasing +tendency to look at the wall calendar with a +fixed stare when he should have been paying +attention to the congratulations that +came to him from the opposite side of the +counter or showcase. His baby-blue eyes +wore the mournful, distressed look of an +offending dog; his once trim little moustache +drooped over the corners of his mouth; his +shoulders sagged and his feet shuffled as he +walked.</p> +<p>“Harvey,” said Mrs. Davis, not more than a +fortnight before the wedding day, “You look +terribly peaked. You must perk up for the +wedding.”</p> +<p>“I’m going into a decline,” he said, affecting +a slight cough.</p> +<p>“You are going to decline!” she shrilled, in +her high, querulous voice.</p> +<p>“I said ‘into,’ Minerva,” he explained, +dully.</p> +<p>“I do believe I’m getting a bit deaf,” she +said, pronouncing it “deef.”</p> +<p>“It will be mighty tough on you if I should +suddenly go into quick consumption,” said he, +somewhat hopefully. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></p> +<p>“You mustn’t think of such a thing, dearie,” +she protested.</p> +<p>“No,” said he, letting his shoulders sag +again. “I suppose it’s no use.”</p> +<p>Just a week to the day before the 6th of September—the +one numeral on the calendar he +could see with his eyes closed—he shuffled over +to the tailor’s to try on the new Prince Albert +coat and striped trousers that Mrs. Davis was +giving him for a wedding present. He puffed +weakly at the cigarette that hung from his lips +and stared at the window without the slightest +interest in what was going on outside.</p> +<p>A new train of thought was taking shape in +his brain, as yet rather indefinite and undeveloped, +but quite engaging as a matter for contemplation.</p> +<p>“Do you know how far it is to Reno?” +he asked of the tailor, who paused in the +process of ripping off the collar of the new +coat.</p> +<p>“Couple of thousand miles, I guess. Why?”</p> +<p>“Oh, nothing,” said Harvey, blinking his +eyes curiously. “I just asked.”</p> +<p>“You’re not thinking of going out there, are +you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></p> +<p>“My health isn’t what it ought to be,” said +Harvey, staring westward over the roof of the +church down the street. “If I don’t get better +I may have to go West.”</p> +<p>“Gee, is it as bad as all that?”</p> +<p>Harvey’s lips parted to give utterance to a +vigorous response, but he caught himself up in +time.</p> +<p>“Maybe it won’t amount to anything,” he +said, noncommittally. “I’ve got a little cough, +that’s all.” He coughed obligingly, in the way +of illustration.</p> +<p>“Don’t wait too long,” advised the kindly +tailor. “If you get after it in time it can be +checked, they say, although I don’t believe it. +In the family?”</p> +<p>“Not yet,” said his customer, absently. “A +week from to-day.” A reflection which puzzled +the tailor vastly.</p> +<p>Whatever may have been in Harvey’s mind +at the moment was swept away forever by the +sudden appearance in the shop door of Bobby +Nixon, the “boy” at Davis’.</p> +<p>“Say, Harvey,” bawled the lad, “come on, +quick! Mrs. Davis is over at the store and she’s +red-headed because you’ve been away for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +more’n an hour. She’s got a telegram from +some’eres and––”</p> +<p>“A telegram!” gasped Harvey, turning +pale. “Who from?”</p> +<p>“How should I know?” shouted Bobby. +“But she’s got blood in her eye, you can bet on +that.”</p> +<p>Harvey did not wait for the tailor to strip the +skeleton of the Prince Albert from his back, but +dashed out of the shop in wild haste.</p> +<p>Mrs. Davis was behind the prescription counter. +She had been weeping. At the sight of +him she burst into fresh lamentations.</p> +<p>“Oh, Harvey, I’ve got terrible news for you—just +terrible! But I won’t put up with it! I +won’t have it! It’s abominable! She ought to +be tarred and feathered and––”</p> +<p>Harvey began to tremble.</p> +<p>“Somebody’s doing it for a joke, Mrs. +Davis,” he gulped. “I swear to goodness I +never had a thing to do with a woman in all my +life. Nobody’s got a claim on me, honest +to––”</p> +<p>“What are you talking about, Harvey?” demanded +Mrs. Davis, wide-eyed.</p> +<p>“What does it say?” cried he, pulling himself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +up with a jerk. “I’m innocent, whatever +it is.”</p> +<p>“It’s from your wife,” said Mrs. Davis, +shaking the envelope in his face. “Read it! +Read the awful thing!”</p> +<p>“From—from Nellie?” he gasped.</p> +<p>“Yes, Eller! Read it!”</p> +<p>“Hold it still! I can’t read it if you jiggle it +around––”</p> +<p>She held the envelope under his nose.</p> +<p>“Do you see who it’s addressed to?” she +grated out. “To me, as your wife. She +thinks I’m already married to you. Read that +name there, Harvey.”</p> +<p>He read the name on the envelope in a sort +of stupefaction. Then she whisked the message +out and handed it to him, plumping herself +down in a chair to fan herself vigorously while +the prescription clerk hastened to renew his +ministrations with the ammonia bottle, a task +that had been set to him some time prior to the +advent of Harvey.</p> +<p>Suddenly Harvey gave a squeal of joy and +instituted a series of hops and bounds that +threatened to create havoc in the narrow, bottle-encircled +space behind the prescription wall. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +He danced up and down, waving the telegram +on high, the tails of his half-finished wedding +garment doing a mad obbligato to the tune of +his nimble legs.</p> +<p>“Harvey!” shrieked Mrs. Davis, aghast.</p> +<p>“Yi-i-i!” rang out his ear-splitting yell. +Pedestrians half a block away heard it and felt +sorry for Mrs. Wiggs, the unhappy wife of the +town sot, who, it went without saying, must be +on another “toot.”</p> +<p>“Harvey!” cried the poor lady once more.</p> +<p>“She’s going to faint!” shouted the prescription +clerk in consternation.</p> +<p>“Let her! Let her!” whooped Harvey. +“It’s all right, Joe! Let her faint if she wants +to.”</p> +<p>“I’m not going to faint!” exclaimed Mrs. +Davis, struggling to her feet and pushing Joe +away. “Keep quiet, Harvey! Do you want +customers to think you’re crazy? Give me that +telegram. I’ll attend to that. I’ll answer it +mighty quick, let me tell you. Give it to me.”</p> +<p>Harvey sobered almost instantly. His jaw +fell. The look in her face took all the joy out +of his.</p> +<p>“Isn’t—isn’t it great, Minerva?” he murmured, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +as he allowed her to snatch the message +from his unresisting fingers.</p> +<p>She glared at him. “Great? Why, you +don’t think for a moment that I’ll have the brat +in my house, do you? Great? I don’t see what +you can be thinking of, Harvey. You must be +clean out of your head. I should say it ain’t +great. It’s perfectly outrageous. Where’s the +telegraph office, Joe? I’ll show the dreadful +little wretch that she can’t shunt her child off +on me for support. Not much. Where is it, +Joe? Didn’t you hear what I asked?”</p> +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” acknowledged Joe, blankly.</p> +<p>“You can’t be mean enough—I should say +you don’t mean to tell her we won’t take +Phoebe?” gasped Harvey, blinking rapidly. +“Surely you can’t be so hard-hearted as +all––”</p> +<p>“That will do, Harvey,” said she, sternly. +“Don’t let me hear another word out of you. +The idea! Just as soon as she thinks you’re +safely married to some one who can give that +child a home she up and tries to get rid of her. +The shameless thing! No, sir-ree! She can’t +shuffle her brat off on me. Not if I know what +I’m––” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span></p> +<p>She fell back in alarm. The telegram fluttered +to the floor. Harvey was standing in +front of her, shaking his fist under her nose, his +face contorted by a spasm of fury.</p> +<p>“Don’t you call my little girl a brat,” he +sputtered. “And don’t you dare to call my +wife a shameless thing!”</p> +<p>“Your wife!” she gasped.</p> +<p>He waved his arms like a windmill.</p> +<p>“My widow, if you are going to be so darned +particular about it,” he shouted, inanely. +“Don’t you dare send a telegram saying +Phoebe can’t come and live with her father. I +won’t have it. She’s coming just as fast as I +can get her here. Hurray!”</p> +<p>Mrs. Davis lost all of her sternness. She dissolved +into tears.</p> +<p>“Oh, Harvey dear, do you really and truly +want that child back again?” she sniffled.</p> +<p>“Do I?” he barked. “My God, I should +say I do! And say, I’d give my soul if I +could get Nellie back, too. How do you like +that?”</p> +<p>The poor woman was ready to fall on her +knees to him.</p> +<p>“For Heaven’s sake—for my sake—don’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +speak of such a thing. Don’t try to get her +back. Promise me! I’ll let the child come, but—oh! +don’t take Nellie back. It would break +my heart. I just couldn’t have her around, not +if I tried my––”</p> +<p>Harvey stared, open-mouthed. “I didn’t +mean that I’d like to have you take her back, +Minerva. You haven’t anything to do with it.”</p> +<p>She stiffened. “Well, if I haven’t, I’d like +to know who has. It’s my house, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Don’t make a scene, Minerva,” he begged, +suddenly aware of the presence of a curious +crowd in the front part of the store. “Go +home and I’ll send the telegram. And say, if +I were you, I’d go out the back way.”</p> +<p>“And just to think, it’s only a week till the +wedding day,” she choked out.</p> +<p>“We can put it off,” he made haste to say.</p> +<p>“I know I shall positively hate that child,” +said she, overlooking his generous offer. “I +will be a real stepmother to her, you mark my +words. You can let her come if you want to, +Harvey, but you mustn’t expect me to treat her +as anything but a—a—an orphan.” She was a +bit mixed in her nouns.</p> +<p>A brilliant idea struck him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span></p> +<p>“You’d better be nice to her, Mrs. Davis, +if you know what’s good for you. Now, don’t +flare up! You mustn’t forget you’ve broken +the law by opening a telegram not intended +for you.”</p> +<p>“What?”</p> +<p>“It isn’t addressed to you,” he said, examining +the envelope. “Your name is still +Mrs. Davis, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Of course it is.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, what in thunder did you open a +telegram addressed to my wife for? That’s my +wife’s name, not yours.”</p> +<p>“But,” she began, vastly perplexed, “but +it was meant for me.”</p> +<p>“How do you know?” he demanded.</p> +<p>Her eyes bulged. “You—you don’t mean +that there is another one, Harvey?”</p> +<p>He winked with grave deliberateness. +“That’s for you to find out.”</p> +<p>He darted through the back door into the +alley, just as she collapsed in the prescriptionist’s +arms. In the telegraph office he read and +re-read the message, his eyes aglow. It was +from Nellie and came from New York, dated +Friday, the first. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:1.0em; '>“Am sending Phoebe to Blakeville next Monday to make her +home with you and Harvey. Letter to-day explains all. Have +Harvey meet her in Chicago Tuesday, four <span style='font-variant:small-caps'>p.m.</span>, Lake Shore.”</p> +<p>He scratched his chin reflectively.</p> +<p>“I guess it don’t call for an answer, after +all,” he said as much to himself as to the +operator.</p> +<p>Nellie’s letter came the next afternoon, addressed +to Harvey. In a state of great excitement +he broke the seal and read the poignant +missive with eyes that were glazed with wonder +and—something even more potent.</p> +<p>She began by saying that she supposed he +was happily married, and wished him all the +luck in the world. Then she came abruptly to +the point, as she always did:—“I am in such +poor health that the doctors say I shall have to +go to Arizona at once. I am good for about +six months longer at the outside, they say. Not +half that long if I stay in this climate. Maybe +I’ll get well if I go out there. I’m not very +keen about dying. I hate dead things; don’t +you? Now about Phoebe. She’s been pining +for you all these months. She doesn’t like Mr. +Fairfax, and he’s not very strong for her. To +be perfectly honest, he doesn’t want her about. +She’s not his, and he hasn’t much use for anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +or anybody that doesn’t belong to him. +I’ve got so that I can’t stand it, Harvey. The +poor little kiddie is so miserably unhappy, and +I’m not strong enough to get out and work for +her as I used to. I would if I could. I think +Fairfax is sick of the whole thing. He didn’t +count on me going under as I have. He hasn’t +been near me for a month, but he says it’s because +he hates the sight of Phoebe. I wonder. +It wasn’t that way a couple of years ago. But +I’m different now. You wouldn’t know me, +I’m that thin and skinny. I hate the word, but +that’s what I am. The doctors have ordered +me to a little place out in Arizona. I’ve got +to do what they say, and what Fairfax says. +It’s the jumping-off place. So I’m leaving in +a day or two with Rachel. My husband says +he can’t leave his business, but I’m not such +a fool as he thinks. I won’t say anything more +about him, except that he hasn’t the courage +to watch me go down by inches.</p> +<p>“I can’t leave Phoebe with him and I don’t +think it best to have her with me. She ought +to be spared all that. She’s so young, Harvey. +She’d never forget. You love her, and she +adores you. I’m giving her back to you. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +Don’t—oh, please don’t, ever let her leave +Blakeville! I wish I had never left it, much +as I hate it. I remember your new wife as being +a kind, simple-hearted woman. She will +be good to my little girl, I know, because she +is yours as well. If I could get my health back, +I’d work my heart out trying to support her, +but it’s out of the question. I have nothing to +give her, Harvey, and I simply will not let +Fairfax provide for her. Do you understand? +Or are you as stupid and simple as you always +were? And as tender-hearted?”</p> +<p>There was more, but Harvey’s eyes were so +full of tears he could not read.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>He was waiting in the Lake Shore station +when the train pulled in on Tuesday. His legs +were trembling like two reeds in the wind and +his teeth chattered with the chill of a great +excitement. Out of the blur that obscured his +vision bounded a small figure, almost toppling +him over as it clutched his not too stable legs +and shrieked something that must have pleased +him vastly, for he giggled and chortled like one +gone daft with joy.</p> +<p>A soulless guard tapped him on the shoulder +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +and gruffly ordered him to “get off to one side +with the kid,” he was blocking the exit—and +flooding it, he added after a peep at Harvey’s +streaming eyes.</p> +<p>Rachel, tall and sardonic, stood patiently by +until the little man recovered from his +ecstasies.</p> +<p>“I thought you were staying with my—with +Mrs. Fairfax,” he said, gazing at her in amazement. +He was holding Phoebe in his arms, and +she was so heavy that his face was purple from +the exertion.</p> +<p>“You’d better put her down,” said Rachel, +mildly. “She’s not a baby any longer.” With +that she proceeded to pull the child’s skirts +down over the unnecessarily exposed pink legs. +Harvey was not loath to set her down, a bit +abruptly if the truth must be told. “Mrs. +Fairfax is still in the drawing-room, sir. She +doesn’t want to get off until the crowd has +moved out.”</p> +<p>Harvey stared. “She’s—on—the—train?”</p> +<p>“We change for the Santa Fe, which leaves +this evening for the West. I’ll go back to her +now. The way is quite clear, I think. Good-bye, +Phoebe. Be a good––”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +<img src='images/illus-236.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 426px; height: 578px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 426px;'> +He stopped, aghast, petrified<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></div> +<p>“I’m going with you!” cried Harvey, +breathlessly. “Take me to the car.”</p> +<p>Rachel hesitated. “You will be surprised, +sir, when you see her. She’s very frail, +and––”</p> +<p>“Come on! Take me to my wife at once!”</p> +<p>“You forget, sir. She is not your wife +any––”</p> +<p>“Oh, Lordy, Lordy!” fell dismally from his +lips.</p> +<p>“And you have a new wife, I hear. So, if +I were you, I’d avoid a scene if––”</p> +<p>But he was through the gate, dragging +Phoebe after him. Rachel could not keep up +with them. The eager little girl led him to +the right car and he scurried up the steps, +bursting into drawing-room B an instant +later.</p> +<p>Nellie, wrapped in a thick garment, was lying +back in the corner of the seat, her small, white +face with its great dark eyes standing out with +ghastly clearness against the collar of the +ulster that almost enveloped her head.</p> +<p>He stopped, aghast, petrified.</p> +<p>“Oh, Nellie!” he wailed.</p> +<p>She betrayed no surprise. A wan smile +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +transfigured her thin face. With an effort she +extended a small gloved hand. He grasped it +and found there was so little of it that it +seemed lost in his palm. The sweat broke out +on his forehead. He could not speak. This +was Nellie!</p> +<p>Her voice was low and husky.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, Harvey. Be good to Phoebe, +old fellow.”</p> +<p>He choked up and could only nod his head.</p> +<p>“We can get out now, Mrs. Fairfax,” said +Rachel, appearing at the door. “Do you think +you can walk, or shall I call for a––”</p> +<p>“Oh, I can walk,” said Nellie, with a touch +of her old raillery. “I’m not that far gone. +Good-bye, Harvey. Didn’t you hear me? Don’t +stand there watching me like that. It’s bad +enough without––”</p> +<p>He turned on Rachel furiously.</p> +<p>“Where is that damned Fairfax? Why isn’t +he here with her? The dog!”</p> +<p>“Hush, Harvey!”</p> +<p>“He’s mean to mamma,” broke in Phoebe, +in her high treble. “I hate him. And so does +mamma. Don’t you, mamma?”</p> +<p>“Phoebe! Be quiet!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></p> +<p>“Where is he?” repeated Harvey, shaking +his finger in Rachel’s face.</p> +<p>“What are you blaming me for?” demanded +the maid, indignantly. “Everybody blames +me for everything. He’s in New York, that’s +where he is. Now, you get out of here!”</p> +<p>She actually shoved him out into the aisle, +where he stood trembling and uncertain, while +she assisted her mistress to her feet and led +her haltingly toward the exit.</p> +<p>Nellie looked back over her shoulder at him, +quite coquettishly. She shook her head at him +in mild derision.</p> +<p>“My, what a fire-eater my little Harvey has +become,” she said. He barely heard the words. +“Your new wife must be scared half out of +her wits all the time.”</p> +<p>He sprang to her side, gently taking her arm +in his hand. She lurched toward him ever so +slightly. He felt the weight of her on his arm +and marvelled that she was so much lighter +than Phoebe.</p> +<p>“I’m not married, Nellie dear!” he cried. +“It’s not to be till Friday. You got the date +wrong. And it won’t be Friday, either. No, sir! +I’m not going to let you go all the way out there +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +alone. I said I’d look out for you when we +were married, and I’m going to. You’ve got a +husband, but what good is he to you? He’s a +brute. Yes, sir; I’m going with you and I +don’t give a cuss who knows it. See here! See +this wad of bills? Well, by jingo, there’s more +than three thousand dollars there. I drew it +out this morning to give to you if you were +hard up. I––”</p> +<p>“Oh, Harvey, what a perfect fool you are!” +she cried, tears in her eyes. “You always were +a fool. Now you are a bigger one than ever. +Go away, please! I can get along all right. +Fairfax is paying for everything. Put that +roll away! Do you want to be held up right +here in the station?”</p> +<p>“And I’ve still got the photograph gallery,” +he went on. “It’s rented and I get $40 a month +out of it. I’ll take care of you, Nellie. I’ll see +you safely out there. Then maybe I’ll have to +come back and marry old Mrs. Davis, God help +me! I hate to think of it, but she’s got her +mind set on it. I don’t believe I can get out of +it. But she’ll have to postpone it, I can tell +you that, whether she likes it or not. Maybe +she’ll call it off when she hears I’ve eloped with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +another man’s wife. She thinks I’m a perfect +scamp with women, anyway, and this may turn +her dead against me. Gee, I hope it does! Say, +let me go along with you, Nellie; please do. +You and I won’t call it an elopement, but maybe +she will and that would save me. And that +beast of a Fairfax won’t care, so what’s the +harm?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Nellie, looking at him queerly. +“Fairfax won’t care. You can be sure of +that.”</p> +<p>“Then I’m with you, Nellie!” he shouted.</p> +<p>“You are a perfectly dreadful fool, Harvey,” +she said, huskily.</p> +<p>“I know it!” he exclaimed.</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-ad1.png' alt='' title='' style='' /><br /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-ad2.png' alt='' title='' style='' /><br /> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 0.21c --> +<!-- timestamp: Sun Apr 05 22:29:54 -0600 2009 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's What's-His-Name, by George Barr McCutcheon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT'S-HIS-NAME *** + +***** This file should be named 28512-h.htm or 28512-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/5/1/28512/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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